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Chapter Fourteen: I Almost Die...Again

I may be a prince of Mirkwood, but I am also a prize idiot.

Fact: I charged into the darkness alone.

Fact: I fell off a cliff, losing my primary means of defense in the process.

It was exactly the same sort of thing I lectured Aragorn against doing. And here I was, in the same sort of predicament.

My topple off the cliff was not a clean, graceful fall into the river below. No, my right shoulder slammed into a boulder first—this is when I dropped my knife—and then I hit the water hard, ice-cold water from snow-melt off the mountains. For anyone who tries to tell you that elves don't feel the cold, this is a lie. We might not feel it to the same degree as our mortal friends, but we feel it. When I plunged into that icy river, I thought my lungs shriveled to the size of an acorn. I broke the surface of the water gasping. I knew I needed to pull it together; the swift current of the Anduin pushed at me, it was still dark as pitch, and I needed to find my knife and get out of the water, but in the moment, all I could do was bob up and down in a full body shudder and gasp for air. The more I tried to choke down mouthfuls of air, a fetid stench burned the back of my throat.

Death was in the air.

With my bow still on the riverbank above and my knife somewhere in the river, I was unarmed and alone.

A breeze gathered, parting the clouds, and a thin strip of moonlight reflected off the river. My knife! I grabbed for it, only an arm's length away. The handle felt oddly warm and sticky. I held it up in the moonlight only to see that the blade dripped in gore.

When the clouds lifted completely from the moon, I saw red everywhere. Blood streaked my chest, my torso, my hands. My chest still throbbed from the hit I had taken, and my shoulder felt on fire. I stumbled toward the edge of the river, fighting the push of the current.

Suddenly as before, the acrid stench thickened on the breeze. My enemy, that unseen creature, had returned. I pushed myself against a large outcropping of stones along the side of the riverbed. I longed for my bow, but praise the Valar, I at least found my knife in time. The smell and the sound of the beast's breathing grew stronger.

From behind the rock, I heard a guttural snarl, followed by ripping, flesh being torn from the bone. The water thrashed and swelled against my hiding place and then flecks of bone and meat floated past me. The splashing stopped. I waited. I knew the fell beast still lingered. I could hear and smell its breath. Is this how it would all end? I rolled my shoulders back and gripped my knife. I mouthed a silent prayer to the Valar for courage and began to edge around the side of the rock. A pair of great, golden slits for eyes watched my every move.

I would slay this monster if I could see it, but I could hardly discern its form for all the steam rising from the river. The beast's lidless, serpentine gaze gave forth a yellow beam of light and pierced through the thick vaporous curls of smoke and steam to glower at me. I returned its stare, anticipating any move the beast might make. I had only one knife and only one chance.

Finally, I spoke, "We seek nothing but peace. Leave us, and no harm will come to you."

The creature snorted, and twin columns of steam shot toward the sky. His narrow orbs brightened, and then he spoke, "Well met, son of Mirkwood."

His eyes bored into mine, never ceasing. I stood rooted, finding I could neither look away nor move.

I opened my mouth to speak but couldn't seem to make the words come out. My tongue felt dull and overstuffed. I could no longer feel the quiver on my back or my dagger in his hand. My shoulder ceased its throbbing as my entire body melted into numbness. My mind wandered. I was neither awake nor asleep. The world vanished around me, save the golden eyes of the beast.

The creature taunted, "Nothing to say? Pity. You are weak. I read it in your eyes. You, prince of Mirkwood, standing alone with your little knife, thinking you could defeat me. I desire a much more formidable opponent. If you lead me to him, I will spare your life and most of your pitiful company." He licked his chops. "It has been so very long since I have savored the taste of elven kind, or should I say it had been so long, until tonight that is."

I fell under his spell, and the beast's twisting words fettered my heart in self-loathing. All might have been lost had nature not intervened. It began to rain. Only slow, lazy drops met the river at first. Then lightning rent the heavens and a torrent of rain swept forth.

The night rain melted away the steam and mist on the river, washed away the blood and grime from my face, and I blinked, the numbness gone. The pain in my shoulder roared back, but I could also feel the comforting weight of the knife in my hand. I remembered where I was, and the peril I faced. My heart hammered in my chest. I gripped my knife tighter and waited for opportunity.

Lightning flashed again, and the creature blinked. Now was my chance. I dove underwater and quickly swam toward my foe. I burst from the river, slashing wildly at dark, glistening scales. Faster than elven eyes could trace, the beast twisted out of my knife's path. Lightning blinded the sky once more, and I saw my opponent clearly for the first time.

Amidst the choppy water and pouring rain, I saw the grim silhouette of wicked wings and claws, a long snout and cruel fangs.

Dragon. The word alone made me cringe.

The dragon snarled, "Fool! Your sad weapons cannot mar this armor!"

I reached back and threw my knife with all my might toward the dragon's luminous eyes. In one swift movement, the dragon lifted his wings and shot up to meet the rain in the sky. My knife splashed back into the Anduin. I missed. I reached into my quiver and pulled out an arrow. Of course, I did not have a bow, but even an arrow alone was better than facing a dragon with bare fists.

The dragon beat his wings furiously in the sky, shredding the clouds. I peered up at him, marveling at the span of the beast's wings and waited for the worst. I did not have to wait very long, for the dragon pulled in his wings and swooped upon the Anduin. He roared and bright flames licked the river in a fiery blaze.

I ducked underwater and clung to the rocks on the riverbed. The water churned overhead in violent swirls of orange and red. Did dragons prefer their elves boiled before they ate them? I peered upward and could see orange flames dancing above the river's surface. The dragon flapped his wings and rose to the height of the moon before plunging back toward the river, the fire of his breath torching the air before him. The temperature of the water warmed pleasantly at first but soon became unbearable. Once when I was still an elfling, I accidentally knocked a full bowl of hot soup into my lap, scalding the whole side of my leg. I had never known such pain. Now as the heat climbed, I felt like I was in that bowl of soup. I pulled myself along the riverbed to deeper, cooler water and glanced upward again.

The surface appeared dark. I waited. Elves can hold their breaths for a remarkable amount of time, but even I began to feel lightheaded. I stretched my arms and hands out in the murky water, groping for anything that I could grip to ease the pain. As my hands wandered, something sharp sliced his fingers, and I could see a stream of red trail through the water. I carefully pulled it into sight and could scarcely believe my good fortune. I had found my knife again. I pushed myself off the riverbed and swam for air. Chest heaving, I broke through the surface and brandished my knife.

The sky was dark, and the air, clear. I listened. All seemed still, and more importantly, the smell of dragon's breath had vanished. The dragon could have easily killed me. What made him leave now? My mind turned toward the camp, and the hackles on the back of my neck rose. The camp! My warrior's arrows and spears were no match for the dragon's resilient armor.

I swam through the river toward the ravine wall. All I could think about was an endless loop of innocent faces, elves who had trusted me with their lives and their families lives, and I kept seeing the dead piles of orcs from the roadside. If such a thing happened to my people… I could not bear to think of the possibility.

I wrung out my sopping hair and sheathed my knife while I studied the ravine wall before me. From a vast experience of climbing the tallest trees in Mirkwood, climbing the ravine should prove quite simple. With a great sense of urgency, I picked a spot with ample hand and foot holds and began to hoist myself upward. Climbing in the dark with wet boots and hands added a degree of difficulty I certainly didn't need at the time. I reached the midway point when my left hand slipped from the softened earth and wet, slick rocks.

My right arm shot out and grabbed a bulky root protruding from the dirt. Oh, Valar take me. Pain raked through my right side as if an invisible hand reached in and twisted all the muscles in my hurt shoulder. I let go and slid back down to the base of the ravine. I muttered some dwarvish curses, courtesy of Gimli, and began to climb again, this time favoring my left shoulder entirely. Eventually my fingers met with soft grass on the top of the ledge, and I pulled myself out of the ravine. Not looking back, I rushed toward the site of the fallen trees, hoping to find my bow untouched.

I dropped to my knees when I saw it. I feared the dragon had trampled it to pieces or ruined it with his breath. Letting out a sigh of relief, I stood, bow in hand. There was always hope, I reminded myself and tore through the shadows and trees toward the camp.

Miredhel must have seen me coming and rushed toward me at the edge of the camp. She still had her blanket in her hands and only stopped before we almost collided.

"Legolas, what happened to you? Have you been hurt?" she asked.

I glanced down and took note of the dirty black-red streaks covering my tunics and leggings. My eyes darted past her where the elven camp seemed peaceful and quiet.

"My lord?" she asked, her eyes concerned.

I reached out and gripped her by the arm and steadied myself. "Lady, tell me, the camp…is it safe?"

"Of course it is," she said and eyed me warily. "Except for the brief rain, it has been quiet all night, but you...you are clearly not well. Come back to the camp with me and see a healer."

I dropped my voice to a whisper. "There is no time, Miredhel. We must leave immediately and head for Mirkwood with great speed."

Her mouth dropped open. "In the middle of the night?"

I nodded firmly. "Yes, and as soon as possible. Return to the camp and help to ready the others."

"What happened?" she said, curiously peering into the inky night behind me.

I looked down and realized I still held onto her arm. I gently let go and looked up at her face. "I do not wish to alarm you, but we are in grave danger, and the sooner we can ride, the better."

She nodded and headed toward the camp where she and the other elves began to prepare for a quick departure. I hurried toward the site where I left my friends earlier. Farothin glanced at the my return and then snapped his head back. His eyes trailed down my disheveled figure, fully noting the dark stains and scorch marks on my wet clothing. "Sir, what…?

I cut him off, "Farothin, I had a run-in with our mystery foe. He disappeared, but could return at any moment. I need you to finish rounding up all the horses. We must ride to night."

"They scattered everywhere, my lord. I doubt we will be able to find them all tonight."

"Then find as many as possible. Get the twins to help you."

"Eledhel and Belegil left the night watch to find you after the horses stampeded. You did not meet them on your way back?"

I groaned. "Go ahead and start trying to recover our herd, Farothin. Get some of the other warriors to find them." I walked the perimeter of the night watch, asking if anyone had seen Eledhel or Belegil since they left. No one had. I looked back to the camp. Miredhel had succeeded in getting most of the shelters and supplies packed away and there was Sulindal speaking with his brother on the southern side. Good, Belegil had returned.

I joined them. Before they could comment on my appearance, I said, "I know, I know. I look horrible, but that is the least of my concerns. Where is Eledhel?"

Belegil and Sulindal exchanged looks. "He did not find you?" asked Belegil.

I cleared my throat. "Listen, I told Miredhel to start breaking camp."

"I noticed that," said Sulindal. "I can only guess that you mean to leave tonight."

"Right away." I added, "I want you both to take a headcount of the entire company. Make sure you account for everyone. Farothin gathers the horses even as we speak. As soon as he returns, we ride for the bridge." Our peaceful journey had quickly changed into a risky night time maneuver, and while I still felt odd acting the part of a benevolent peace-time lord, being a commander in dangerous territory was something I knew how to do.

The brothers saluted and quickly went to work. It did not take very long for them to complete their task, and I noted their grim expressions as they returned to report.

"All are accounted for…save two—Eledhel and Valraen."

"Valraen, one of the younger warriors? Could he have left the night watch to help Farothin?"

"We do not believe so. I found strange tracks near the area where he was last seen."

"Strange tracks…" My heart twisted. I didn't need to hear any more to know what became of him.

"Yes, Valraen's tracks head toward the river, and then disappear," Sulindal said.

"And then I found his bow, cracked, and some arrows on the ground," Belegil added.

I failed him, Valraen, so young, and his death was on me, on my hands. "If I could have given my life to save him, I would." Sulindal reached out to brace my shoulder.

"So would we all, Legolas, but there is little we can do for now," he said.

Farothin returned and brought his fist to his chest in salute. "We have rounded up all of the horses save five."

"That is no matter. Some of us can ride double," Sulindal reasoned.

"I am sure Lady Limaer would give up her horse if it meant she could ride with the prince," Belegil joked.

I grimaced. "Make sure everyone is ready to ride. We can brook no more delays." I collected my pack and was thankful to see Arod standing to the side, nickering at me to notice him. I wanted to stall a little longer, hoping that Eledhel would return. At least I could take the time to change tunics. Using Arod as a changing screen, I peeled off my sopping wet, bloodied shirt. I tried eyeballing the back of my right shoulder, which already began to turn a nasty shade of mottled yellow and purple. I prodded it with my fingers. Yes, definitely sore. If only I had some sweet maiden who could rub a little salve on it later. In spite of the dread settling in, I could not help but grin a little at the idea. I pulled the clean tunic over my head, settled my pack, and mounted Arod.

The other elves waited in the dim light; by their worried faces, I could tell they clearly knew something was wrong—they just didn't know how grim our situation truly was. Unfortunately, the task of telling them fell to me.

"A great evil has risen in the form of a dragon," I announced. Most of the company gasped, and their eyes widened in panic and disbelief. "You know the truth of this in your heart. You can sense the threat, as do I. I will not say 'do not fear,' for it is well that you should. Ride hard, stay together, and never look back." I looked at them encouragingly. "Take heart, for the Valar are with us this night."

The others mounted their horses, and I watched Miredhel desperately scan the ranks for her brother. His horse stood ready by her own, and she paled as the others departed one by one until the camp stood empty. She stood there a moment, bag in hand still peering into the darkness past the trees before turning to meet my gaze pleadingly. She hurried to my side. "Prince Legolas, please. We cannot leave just yet. I implore you. My brother has not returned."

"I would not leave your brother behind for any amount of gold," I said softly to her.

"Then why is everyone leaving?" she asked, her eyes wet as she gestured to the line of riders departing the camp.

"You are leaving. I am staying," I said and turned my head toward Belegil. "Lead the company on toward the bridge and then take the road to the southern wood. Be on your guard and watch the skies. I will find Eledhel and meet you on the road."

"Legolas, no," protested Sulindal, "allow me to stay here as well."

"No, Sulindal. The company will need your watchful eyes. Go with them, and I will be right behind you."

With my permission, Belegil gave the signal, and the elves and horses charged forward disappearing into the long shadows of the night. I watched them go and sighed. I was on my own again. I had kept Eledhel's horse with me, ever hopeful I might return him to the rightful owner. I paused for a moment, wondering if it would perhaps be better to wait at the empty campsite or to go and actually look for him. I decided the best course was to wait.

I had just seen—and talked to—a dragon. A cold shudder worked up my spine.

I thought back to the days before the Battle of the Five Armies when I had borne witness to the desolation of Smaug. The dragon had completely razed Lake-town and killed many men. Bard the bowman managed to bring Smaug down, and certainly the knowledge that a great worm could be slayed with a well-placed arrow brought some measure of comfort. I then tried to recall every tale my father ever told me of brave elves and wicked dragons like Glaurung, Ancalagon, Scatha, and Sulthaur. I was in the middle of desperately trying to remember the name of the elf who smote the dragon that sacked Talath Nimlost when a breeze stirred behind me. I straightened my back and stealthily pulled my bow to the side. Something approached. In one fluid motion, I flipped around Arod to the ground, fitted an arrow to my bow, and took aim at the shadows.

"Legolas!" It was Eledhel. His face, which had been looking tight and grim, became a myriad of emotions, first relief and joy at seeing me there, and then bewilderment at everyone else's disappearance. "Where is everyone?" he asked.

"Where have you been?" I hissed, trading his worry for anger.

"I might say the same to you!" Eledhel shot back. "I found one of our horses back there, well, parts of the legs and head." Arod snorted and stamped his hooves. "Sorry, friend-horse," Eledhel apologized and added, "I feared your master here might have met the same fate."

"I almost did," I acknowledged and good-naturedly slapped Eledhel on the back. "Come, we must hurry. The company rides ahead." We mounted our horses and pursued our friends. Following, the gleam of the Anduin, Eledhel and I hastened toward the bridge. I kept my eyes fixed on the night sky as I told him of my encounter with the dragon.

"You know," I concluded, "I remember as an elfling foolishly promising my father that one day I would slay a dragon, just like Earandil! Reality has proved to be quite different than my dreams."

"It always does, Legolas!" Eledhel chuckled and urged his horse to quicken its pace. "Let us see if we can catch them before sunrise!" We raced toward the dawn, trusting that the rising sun would bring with it new hope.

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