Chapter 12: Not Your Mama's BBQ

So I'm going to skip over the dreadful goodbyes in Lothlorien and get right to the point where my neat little plans for Ithilien start to have some real difficulties, and by real difficulties, I mean worse problems than my pathetic love life.

You know the great thing about traveling with a huge group of elves? Well, for one, we look amazing. We know how to travel in style. But looking fabulous and traveling in a huge group has its drawbacks. You might as well paint a huge target on your back. "Look how pretty we are! Come attack us!"

I started having these thoughts as soon as we left the sheltered borders of Lothlorien. I did my due diligence and sent scouts ahead. Farothin was eager to prove himself. He was delighted to ride ahead and make sure the road was safe. But not five minutes into the journey, I had to send Eledhel forward to tell one of the elf maidens to take the jingle bells off her horse's mane and tail. Then not ten seconds later, Limaer—whom I'm not wholly unconvinced might just still be bitter about what happened a few nights ago—unwraps this enormous pennant and lets it stream out behind her. It had metallic thread and glitter all over it. Goblins could probably see that wretched thing from Mordor. And if you're for one second thinking that I shouldn't know what glitter is? Please. Are you forgetting who my father is? He invented the stuff. Scratch that. He probably had dwarves invent it, and then he took credit for it.

As soon as she unfurled the banner, Lady Limaer looked over her shoulder, like she was waiting for me to see it. Oh, I saw it all right. I politely nudged Arod in her direction. Now I could have sent Eledhel or Belegil over there to deal with her, but given the recent events, ahem, between us, I thought I better go talk to her. No point in giving her an opportunity to repeat any unflattering rumors, right?

Lady Limaer patted her curls and smiled at me like we were old friends. "Your lordship," she said in honeyed tones, "I am thrilled to be in your company. What an exciting adventure this will be!"

"I hope not, Lady Limaer," I said flatly. "It would be my wish that we make this journey without notice or incident, which is why I must insist that you roll up your flag and put it away for now."

Her lip quivered. "I made it myself for Ithilien...for you, my lord." The banner figured at least three arms in length, tapering to a point at the end. She had worked a large leaf onto the fabric, emblazoned in green and gold.

"I am flattered, my lady, but I must ask you to bind it. We cannot risk drawing too much attention to our party."

A visible pout formed on her lips, and I couldn't help but notice that quite a few of the other elves, including Miredhel, looked on with a mix of interest and amusement.

I lowered my voice. "As soon as we reach safer territory, we will unfurl it to the admiration of all. I promise."

Limaer considered my words and then reached for the banner, rolling it up to stow with her saddle bag. I bowed my head toward her and then whispered to Arod to pick up his gait enough to put a little distance between us. I caught up with Eledhel riding alongside his sister.

Neither of them said a word. I glanced at Eledhel who slyly shook his head in disbelief, and Miredhel only looked away, the corners of her mouth turning up.

Perhaps I would have asked her what she found so amusing, but a shout rang out from the front of our caravan.

"My lord, make haste!"

"Come quickly!"

Eledhel and I shared a worried glance before urging our mounts through the procession and then into the open to gallop ahead. Why had Belegil thought it necessary to shout like that? Something must have happened, and Farothin's sudden reappearance confirmed my suspicions.

"What news, Farothin?" I tried to keep my voice calm, but the young scout's ashen face worried me.

"I found something that I think you must see…" Farothin said unsteadily. "I have never seen anything like this."

"Well," Sulindal quietly pointed out, "that is not really saying much, Farothin. You are still very young."

Farothin shot him a withering look. "I doubt that even Prince Legolas has seen the likes of this, and he is more traveled than us all."

Valar help me. "Lead us to it," I said. "How far from the company is it?"

"Not even a ten minute ride from here, but I think we should go alone. I don't think the rest of the elves should see this...not the ladies, and especially not the children." Farothin worriedly glanced back at the rest of the elves.

"That bleak, huh?" said Eledhel, a little surprised. "Not just a log blocking the path?"

"Farothin, you, Eledhel and I shall go investigate. Belegil, I want you and your brother to stay here. Alert the other warriors to the possibility of immediate danger. I want you to flank both sides of the company, weapons ready," I ordered, already wishing that our journey could pass uneventfully. It was not the last time I wished that!

We followed Farothin at full gallop, and much to my dismay, I could smell the site before the rise of the next hill gave way and we could see it. Burnt flesh, loads of it, and from the stench, I knew it was orc. Heaping mounds of swollen, twisted black bodies littered the path before us. Even the ground was a rotted red. Some of the bodies still smoked, polluting the air with a yellow-gray haze.

"Farothin," Eledhel complained loudly, "have you never seen us burn the bodies of the orcs we killed in battle?"

"No, Eledhel." I dismounted and walked to the nearest pile. The stink alone made me want to gag, but what I saw was worse. "Look at this," and I pointed to some of the limbs and heads, "these bodies did not die by any blade. This is not the work of elves or men or even dwarves. These bodies…" I grimaced. "These have been chewed on, eaten by someone or something."

Eledhel and Farothin both blanched. Eledhel swung off his horse to survey the scene closer. He gingerly picked up a severed arm, still clutching a crude broad sword. He studied the ragged end, gray bone and ligaments.

"Orcs eat their own, do they not? Could they not have quarreled and then feasted on the remains of their victims? Farothin guessed.

I only wish all this was some kind of malevolent barbecue.

"No, look at the splintering of the bone in his arm, as if it were snapped from the body by sheer force." Eledhel shuddered and dropped the arm in disgust. "And where is the rest of its body?" His eyes skirted the remains.

I had a bad feeling about this. "I hope we don't find out the answer any time soon," I said and knelt in the dust to look for tracks. I wished Aragorn was there with me. He could make sense out of the smallest detail. Some of the tracks were clearly orcish, but the others—I couldn't tell what they were. I looked up and gave Farothin what I hoped passed for a reassuring smile. "Perhaps we may count this as a blessing. The tale of these orcs was at least fifty crouching in wait for an ambush, presumably waiting for us to pass by."

"But why are they burned to a crisp now?" Farothin looked about in confusion, but his sharp eyes caught something he had not noticed before. "Come, Legolas! Eledhel! Quickly!"

Some tall grassy weeds concealed a mortally wounded orc, he gasped painfully and muttered curses in Black Speech when he saw us. His abdomen had been slashed, leaving his entrails to tangle in the grass and soil.

"What happened here?" I asked softly. "Tell us, and we will ease your passing."

"Elves…" the orc drew a ragged breath and then spit in my direction. Farothin's blade was in his hand the next moment, ready to avenge the insult.

I stood untouched. I had seen too much of death lately to be fazed by one dying orc. This ugly scene would be one more of many to try and forget. "Tell us, orc. What happened to your people?" I met his eyes, dim and wide with pain. The foul cry of a carrion bird broke the silence. The orc's eyes rolled back in his head.

"Ghâsh, ghâsh," he choked out.

"Slit his throat, Farothin," I said flatly and walked back to my horse. Eledhel followed.

"Legolas, what did he say? What did it mean?"

"Ghâsh means fire. I do not know, Eledhel, and that is what worries me the most." Farothin joined us, wiping the last traces of black blood from his knife.

"I fear for our company. Let us quickly rejoin them," I said and paused. "Let's keep this to ourselves for now, shall we?"

We raced back to the rest of our traveling companions, and I issued a silent prayer to the Valar for safety and speed in our travels. We would not reach the Woodland Realm quickly enough now to please me. Perhaps my father and his network of spies would have intelligence on what happened here. I couldn't help but remember Galadriel's words to her people regarding this journey:

Your days of peril are not yet over…Beware, your road is not for the weary or timid. Much peril lies in store for those who would travel the roads to Ithilien. I have foreseen it.

Really, Galadriel? You saw a big roasted pile of orcs in the middle of the road in your mirror and couldn't have told me to go the long way around? I vainly wished once more that our journey would pass uneventfully—not for the last time!

Author's note:

So yeah… finished up Kingsfoil, and I thought to myself...I should add more to the Building Ithilien Special Edition, and here we are.

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