Out of Mirkwood
Scribbles-on-Parchment
August 31, 2019
Chapter 8 – Found
Thranduil was trapped in a nightmare. His son, his lhasgalen, was missing. Legolas could be hurt or dying, and he knew not where. Thranduil had gotten no sleep because of this; his mind too anxious to rest. Instead he had spent the night pacing around the great hall waiting for any news of Legolas. Thalion had not left his side trying to offer words of comfort, but they fell only on deaf ears.
The patrols had returned just after nightfall as it was fruitless and dangerous to continue searching in the dark. Upon their return they had been ushered straight to the king to deliver their report. Everyone had felt a wave of sadness when the young prince's golden head had not been spotted amongst the returning ellyn. The young prince was loved by all in the realm.
As the sun broke over the horizon the next morning, Thranduil stood in Legolas's room looking at the bed which remained empty.
After an agitated night in the palace, the patrols had headed out just before the sun had risen. Kélion had promised his adar that he would not fail and would bring Legolas back with him by nightfall. Yet everyone's hopes that their young prince would be returned well and whole were rapidly dwindling. How could one so young and inexperienced survive a night alone in the forest?
Êmand had awoken from his drugged just as the patrols left and has been very peeved when the healers had still not allowed him to get up and join. This was driving the poor Silvan mad. The stress of having his young charge missing was showing clearly on his face and in his unusually harsh mannerisms.
Kélion led his patrol through the surrounding forest, desperate to find his brother. What had led Legolas to be so foolish as to leave the palace in the first place? His heart was heavy with regret. If only he had not left Legolas alone with his adar. Or he should have at least gone to speak with the young ellon as soon as he knew what had happened.
All the elves in the palace knew that the loss of Legolas would be a blow too great for the king to withstand. If the elfling was found dead then the king would be doomed to fade. Even so they held onto a slim hope that the Sinda had been able to survive the night and would be found alive.
Several leagues away from the palace, Legolas lay unaware of the ellyn desperately searching for him. Two small puncture wounds decorated the pale skin on his lower left arm.
The spider had gorged itself on the blood of its dead kin before scuttling over to investigate the faintly glowing eldar on the ground. By this time the sun had started to rise and the shadows were starting to retreat.
The greedy beast had just decided it was ready to feast on the sweet, fresh blood of the elfling when it had heard a commotion in the trees. More prey. After biting the young elf to ensure it would not get away, the monster had hurried off into the undergrowth. A couple of minutes later it was dead and two figures entered the clearing.
Legolas had been trying to wake up for several minutes. The back of his head was pounding and his whole left arm felt as if it were on fire. At one point he had tried to open his eyes but had given up after several failed attempts. He felt weak, nauseous, and terribly tired. All the Sinda wanted to do was drift back into the blissful darkness of unconsciousness.
He was about to give in to its seductive call when he heard muddled voices above him and everything suddenly came rushing back. The fight with his adar, his ensuing flight from the palace, and the elf who had left him for dead. Legolas's blue eyes snapped open.
"Do you think he's alive?" Estel asked worriedly.
By all accounts the archer appeared to be dead. He lay perfectly still, cloak hiding his face from view. An intricately carved quiver was strapped to his back, still holding many green and gold fletched arrows.
Elrohir was bent over the cloaked figure.
"Hold on and let me see."
The ellon reached out to pull back the stranger's hood and feel for a pulse, when the figure's head suddenly shot up and he began to struggle to his feet.
Estel let out a yelp surprise and back away quickly. He had not expected the archer to ever move again. Both brothers watched as the cloaked figure stumbled back several paces until his back was against a tree. He was obviously scared or wary of them.
"It is alright friend. We will not harm you." Elrohir spoke softly in Westron.
Yet this seemed only to agitate the archer further. Estel wished that he could make out the stranger's face for he desperately wanted to know who this person was.
"You are hurt," Elrohir continued, slowly walking toward the frightened figure, "Will you let me help you?"
Legolas's muddled and aching head was having a hard time understanding what was going on. He had gotten to his feet to find two strange elves beside him. Terrified he had scrambled back several paces. The sudden movement had made him feel completely sick and had sent shooting pains up his arm and into his chest. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath to try and calm his churning stomach.
They are the ones from last night, his mind yelled desperately at him, they are going to kill you.
"You are hurt."
Legolas jerked his head up. He had not heard one of the elves approach him. The young prince pressed his back against the tree and looked around frantically. He needed to find a way to escape and get back to the palace.
"Will you let me help you?"
The gentle voice came again. Legolas realized that this voice was not speaking in the sweet-sounding Sindarin he was used to hearing, instead it was harsh sounding Westron. He froze. Since when did anyone in his adar's realm speak Westron?
Êmand had taught him the language of the edan because of his interest in languages, however, it was never used by anyone in the palace.
"What is your name?"
Legolas wrinkled his brow. Had his mysterious attacker from last night suddenly forgotten his name or was this just some trick? He gritted his teeth as another wave of pain washed over him.
"Baw! Ego!" Legolas moaned as the eldar put a hand on his shoulder sending a sharp stab of agony through his arm. Why had his adar not yet come to get him?
Elrohir drew his hand back at the sound of elvish. It was not any dialect he had ever heard before but he was still able to understand what the archer had said.
"Pedil edhellen?" He wanted the stranger to pull pack his hood so he could see if it truly was one of the eldar.
Based on the craftsmanship of the arrows and the style of clothing, he would not be surprised if it was. If this was indeed an elf then did he perhaps even know him? There were few of the eldar that still dwelled anywhere on arda, and even fewer that traveled freely throughout it. Many chose to stay within the peaceful borders of his ada's realm.
"Do you hail from Imladris?"
At this question the archer visibly tensed however, Elrohir could not tell if it was from fear or pain. Throughout the conversation the figure had begun to lean more and more heavily on the tree behind him and it was obvious that his strength was quickly failing.
"Let us help you mellon"
Legolas could feel his body giving out on him. His vision had faded to a sickening shade of grey.
I am going to pass out, the young prince thought desperately.
He could just make out the word Imladris, before his head started to buzz. A second later his eyes rolled back in his head and he fell forward into the arms of the ellon sinking into the welcoming darkness.
Estel ran forward to help his brother as the archer passed out. He helped Elrohir lower the unconscious being to the forest floor.
"Why was he so afraid of us? Do you think he is from Imladris?" Estel asked at the puzzled look on his brother's face.
"He is scared and in pain and I am frankly not surprised he was frightened, for I do not think he knew where he was," Elrohir gently removed the quiver from the stranger's back and set it off to the side, "Now if he is an elf or not… let us see."
The Noldo slowly lifted the hood of the cloak.
Elvish Translations:
lhasgalen – green leaf
adar - father
baw – no or don't
ego – be gone
pedil edhellen – do you speak elvish
ada - dad
mellon – friend