Revision uploaded November 2022
*** Songs: The Wild Song, Written by Michael McGlynn, performed by Anúna with solo by Lynn Hilary.
Dramatis Personæ
Aglarebon – Woodland Stallion
Aragorn/Strider – Male, Chieftain of the Dúnedain
Baradon/Sculls – Male, Ranger
Camaenor – Male, Master at Arms
Cordoves – Female, Ranger
Eryndes – Female, Mistress of Carthal
Faron/Dusk – Male, Hunting Master
Foruyndes – Female, Mistress of Stores
Gueniel – Female, Midwife
Laeron/Wren – Male, Ranger
Lobordir/Joust – Male, Master of Stables
Mereniel/Swan – Female, Ranger
Mydedis – Female, Mistress of Housekeeping
Nestdôl – Male, Master of Healing
Sali – Female, Mistress of Kitchen
Sindar/Master Elf /Legolas – Sinda Male
Úrion/Bear – Male, Second in Command
Legolas watched Aragorn wince for the fifth time up at the sun as it streamed down hotly upon them. The day was yet to reach noon, but all men of the company were sweating atop their equally sweaty mounts as they ambled along the long straight stony road. The fifteen men and one elf had completed their morning patrol and were now headed back south along the north road towards Carthal for a welcome respite.
The scorching morning air had all but melted away the joyous spirits of last night's feast. The sounds of heavy hoof-falls against loose stones and the occasional snorting from hot, impatient horses cut into the dreary buzzing of insects at play in the long grass.
Legolas watched Aragorn rub his temples with yet another wince. His friend was not well this morning.
The breezeless, sultry day did not cause Aragorn's suffering.
"How fares your head?" Legolas asked him with a deliberate overabundance of cheer. Aragorn drunk far too much ale last night, just as Legolas warned him. Even now as they and their company of rangers slowly rode back towards the manor, Aragorn would not increase the pace passed a decent walk. During their patrol that morning, Aragorn didn't slow the company in favour of his or indeed anyone else's head, but as now they were making their way homeward, a small compensation was consented.
"My head is just fine," Aragorn grumbled at his side. They walked their horses together along the road in front of their patrol, Aglarebon, the taller of the two. Both horses grumbling impatiently amongst themselves.
Legolas held off allowing his mirth to spread to his face, "Perhaps next time you will heed my wisdom and not drink to excess."
"Perhaps next time you will try to take part of a celebration and enjoy yourself," Aragorn muttered, "instead of your usual prideful, aloof self."
"I was perfectly amiable."
Aragorn shot him a glare, "Tell that to my sister."
Legolas's brow rose, "Sixty years and not once did you mention having a sister."
"Sindar," Aragorn sighed, sitting up in his saddle, "it has been only just over thirty years since her father and brother died and I swore her family. Tell me just how long it took you to tell me your real name?"
"Not even after I named you brother did you tell me about her. You kept her secret, from me." Legolas shifted in saddle, keeping his eyes forward to the road ahead.
"(I am sorry)."
Legolas didn't answer.
"I didn't think it was important. But now I see my error and I am sorry. Brother, look at me."
Biting the inside of his cheek, Legolas slowly looked across to him.
"I did not keep it secret out of malice or mistrust."
"You suggest a purpose for hiding her?"
Aragorn nodded then winced from the pain the movement caused, "I learnt long ago the value of discretion and never more so than with own my kin. I never mention her when I am away from Carthal the same as I never mentioned having a . . . notable honour-brother."
"Notable?"
Aragorn's lips lifted, his eyes full of humour, "Would you prefer infamous?"
With a scoff, Legolas shook his head. "I am hardly infamous." Turned away to again search the horizon. "Explain why did you not speak of her in time since my arrival? Why has none of your people?"
"To how many of my people do you regularly speak? And for me, I merely waited for her return to make a proper introduction."
"Her own discretion was as per your instruction?"
"When you met along the road? Aye. I have been hunted since birth. You cannot fault the necessity for discretion."
As satisfied as he was going to get, Legolas sighed nasally. "Very well, I accept your apology. Should I expect more? Am I to run into any hidden sons or daughters-"
"Nay. I promise you."
Silence hung in the between them.
"It was twenty-four years."
Aragorn looked at him blankly.
"I gave you my real name after twenty-four years."
The man frowned, rubbing the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand, "Are you certain? My mind remembers more years."
"Perhaps your mind is aged?"
"I am not old."
Legolas shrugged and patted Aglarebon on the neck hearing him again rumbling his displeasure at the company's languid pace. "If you were to keep your hair clean and fixed neatly to your head and not on your face, you might seem younger."
"I maintain you are envious."
"Of a hairy face?" Legolas snorted, "Why would I want to look like a dwarf?"
"Women are fond of beards; a well grown beard symbolises manhood, adulthood."
"If you are suggesting I look childlike because I lack the mortal's beard," he turned his gaze from the grass plains to his friend, "you will wake up one morn shaven head to toe."
"I'd never suggest such a thing," Aragorn told him but not without an air of mischief, "again."
His glare melted and Legolas could not help but laugh, to which Aragorn joined.
Aragorn's inherent ability to put him at ease also brought out Legolas's more light-hearted side. They both lived serious lives; each born to high expectations and higher danger. This connection drew both man and elf together into a close companionship.
After sixty years of steadfast camaraderie, shared humour and the accepting each other's differences, they were brothers.
"I am surprised the ale left you enough mind to make jokes," He taunted, returning his surveillance.
"There is always a great deal humour with you around, melloneg."
Legolas heard Aragorn's laugh from his right side, and would've thrown back a retort, but a flash of disturbance in the long grass captured his attention.
Two hundred metres away to his left, the long reeds moved against the wind and shadows danced to a tune of their own. He narrowed his eyes, focusing on the grass and the moving figures and shifting shadows.
"Sindar?" Aragorn asked, all previous mirth forgotten.
Silently, Legolas held up his hand and within a horse stride the company came to a muted halt. "Man cenig? (What do you see?)" Aragorn whispered softly from his side.
Calmly he turned to face Aragorn and his men, each of them waiting with abated breath. "You should take care to whom you speak of such nonsense, human," His voice raised loud enough to carry.
Holding up both hands he signalled to the company two fists with pinkie fingers interlocked together – orcs, footman. He then held up both pointers in a cross then with the right hand held up one finger extended with another one bent – ten.
"Oh," Aragorn said just as loudly, "Is that so, elf? What are you going to do about it?"
Fingers extended; Legolas swept his hand to the left. Making a fist first he then splayed his fingers; nine fingers only – to the left, one hundred and ninety meters.
"It would be wise for folk who smell like pigs and wield bows like infants not to start something they cannot finish." He then covered his eyes with his left hand – taking cover.
"This coming from an elf who has never done a day's hard labour or touched a woman?" Aragorn snarled harshly, whilst nodding to Legolas before looking to all the others. He made a sweeping gesture towards Legolas then pumped his fist before dropping his hand to rest on the hilt of his sword – Sindar to take lead. Blitz attack on my command.
In answer, ten of the men calmly mirrored Aragorn and hands to the hilts of their swords. Four of the men with bows followed Legolas's lead and quietly as possible took out arrows from their quivers.
Legolas laughed cruelly, "The women you touch? Cows and mules appeal more and smell better!" Moving his foot forward, he grazed Aglarebon's left flank with his toe. When Aglarebon snorted gently, he nodded to Aragorn. Ready.
Aragorn nodded at first, then in an instant he unsheathed his sword, ten others following in unison, and shouted, "You dare insult our women, elf!"
Legolas simply smiled and with another tap of his toe, Aglarebon shot forward then to the left in a blinding flash of speed.
Two arrows flew from his bow. The instant they found their mark, four more arrows from the rangers, flying in unison towards long grass.
The battle cries of the rangers filled the air.
The orcs pounced out of the long grass arms. They roared their own battle cries, daring the rangers to do their worst.
Two more arrows met their targets with deadly accuracy before Aglarebon and the other horses ran straight over the orcs.
Of the ten, no eleven, orcs Legolas saw from the road, five remained standing to meet the horses crushing over the top of them; hooves meeting flesh, swords striking necks and arrows piercing.
Spotting one orc apart from the group, Legolas threw his horse after him. Close enough, Legolas leaped from his saddle to pounce.
Rolling to his feet he drew both knives and spun them cockily.
The orc who'd been slammed face first into the ground regained his feet fast. Casually Legolas sauntered closer. The orc snarled and charged at him; blade raised high.
Unleashing a vicious kick, the orc plummeted back to the dirt with a muted cry.
Legolas shoved the heel of his boot down on the back of the orc's head and held him there. The orc's weapon was beyond reach, and Legolas took a glance at the rangers. The clash had been quick, concise and all the orcs slain.
Except this one.
None of the rangers suffered any injuries he could see.
Aragorn looked about them and was also satisfied, "Make doubly sure they're dead and set a fire."
The orc under Legolas's boot screamed a curse, loud but muffled with his face pressed unforgivably into the ground.
Legolas cruelly sneered down at his captive, "Want me to make this easy for you?"
"Filthy elf!"
Legolas bared his teeth, digging his heel in even harder, "Be careful of whom you call filthy, wretch, or you may find yourself tied up and left for the crows alive."
When the orc did not answer, Legolas eased off the pressure in his foot but did not allow the orc to stand, "The choice is yours; quick death or," he paused with a malicious grin, "not so quick."
"I will tell you nothing!"
"Very well," Legolas gestured to the closet ranger, "Peg him to the ground."
"Sindar," Aragorn came over to stand by him, "We don't have any pegs."
Even so the ranger and another grabbed the orc by his wrists and hauled him to his feet. Legolas having released his hold and stepped back. "No pegs?" he mused lightly, searching about them for inspiration, "Very well, tie him to the tree over there."
The rangers began pulling the orc off towards the tree just beyond the pile of dead orcs.
"No!" cried the orc, pulling desperately at the rangers holding him.
"No?" Aragorn asked, "Then you have something to offer?"
"We are here to end the Dúnedain!"
Legolas quirked his brow at Aragorn.
Aragorn was equally unimpressed, "What news is this to us? For thousands of years, you have tried and failed."
Legolas gestured to the rangers with his knife, "Continue. Make sure to remove his armour and clothing."
"Wait!" cried the orc, "We seek to discover the heir. The heir walks amongst those at Carthal!"
"Hold," Legolas ordered the rangers. "Speak, orc."
"The heir to the throne of men; my master believes he lives," the orc said. "He believes the heir is a Carthal ranger! We destroy Carthal, we destroy the heir."
"That's what the orc said, the heir is a Carthal ranger?" Úrion repeated in disbelief.
Aragorn nodded then rubbed his forehead, his ill state worsened since their long gallop back to the manor. "That is what he said though he may have been lying to save himself from a tortuous death."
Legolas poured more water into his friend's cup and firmly urged for him to drink, "A unique lie. Of all the information the orc may have offered?"
Úrion also placed more plain bread in front of Aragorn, "How could Gundabad's foot-soldiers know this would be of interest to us?"
"Why would it not? They have hunted the last of Isildur's bloodline for years." They sat in the great hall, having arrived back at the manor just in time for the serving of lunch. Hundreds of Dúnedain packed the tables around them, leaving their leaders to dine together undisturbed. Three of the other morning patrols had yet to return from their assigned routes and so Aragorn, Úrion and Legolas were spared a crowded table, with the rest of the table only half filled by Strider's lieutenants. Platters filled with the leftovers from last night's feast, cold meats, cheeses and bread lay mostly untouched, waiting for the rest of the rangers to return.
"Strider is known only as chieftain of the Dúnedain, nothing more. A simple ranger who rose swiftly through the ranks to become leader," Aragorn moved his ministrations to his temples, "an equally simple Gundabad foot soldier would not know more," he paused, "Unless what was said is true and the orc master is looking for the heir here at Carthal."
"But why now? Surly the orcs have not the numbers?" Úrion asked.
"They are massing numbers, this we already know," Aragorn answered, "But Angmar is a long way from Mordor."
"More information is needed before being side-tracked by speculation," Legolas said, eyeing Aragorn. "Should you not take a tonic? Or perhaps I shall go find Nestdôl for you?" He started to rise to his feet.
"No." Aragorn stopped him with a hand to his arm and sighed in defeat. "I will find Eryndes. She will have what I need."
Legolas watched Aragorn cast his eyes about the hall.
"Kitchen," Legolas offered coolly, but scowled when Aragorn raised an eyebrow at him.
Legolas glared at his back until he disappeared through the kitchen door. Taking a piece of cold pork, he tore off a bite with his teeth.
Úrion reached over to Aragorn's abandoned bread and put it onto his own plate. The man had a fierce appetite, as one might expect for a man of his build, but Úrion also hated seeing any food go uneaten. All Carthal Dúnedain hated it. They were a poor people and food was never so plentiful that wastage was ever acceptable. Úrion poured on a spoonful of honey and took a bite, "Strider won't see Nestdôl. Not unless he's dying and none of the other healers were about."
Curiosity sparked, he asked, "Incompetence?"
"Nay, Nestdôl's as good as come."
"Then why?"
Úrion shrugged, chewing more of the bread, "I don't rightly know. A family feud I think, going on few decades. Probably started with old Fuieryn, when she was alive."
"Fuieryn?" he asked, taking another good hunk of cheese from the platter.
"She was the old healing mistress."
Legolas focused on breaking the cheese along his bread, getting it smooth and even, "Not the wisest course to become at odds with the healing master."
"Strider's got no concern there," Úrion told him, "Most times he takes care of his own needs and all of our healers are just as competent. Even the midwives are capable healers."
Taking a bite, Legolas chewed the bread and cheese thoughtfully.
"Quick thinking with the orc, keeping him alive long enough to interrogate."
Looking up he saw the men from this morning's patrol coming over to sit with them. Although there was no formal, rigid rule regarding rank and eating etiquette, it was never usual for the lower ranked rangers to sit with their leaders. Úrion seemed surprised too, but did not speak, feigning a pressing interest in his food.
"It is a common mistake to consider even the lowest soldier unworthy of interrogation," He told them, "For even the lowest soldier will know more than his interrogators if they do not interrogate."
"You had that orc shaking so bad; right scared he was."
"He really thought you'd string him to a tree alive for the sport of birds."
Legolas saw the mirth on Úrion's face.
"There no was deception," Legolas told them, "I would have left him to the crows if he refused to speak. His kind have done far worse."
One of the men nodded, "He's lucky you gave him a quick death. I might have strung him up anyway."
"I am not in the habit of breaking my word."
They waited for something from him.
Sitting back in his seat, Legolas regarded them, "Strider is pleased by your actions this morning," His lip twitched upwards, "and so I am. Your execution was flawless."
From the instant gratitude on their faces, he'd guessed their intent correctly.
"Thank you, Sindar," one acknowledged.
"The mock fight with you and Aragorn? It was hard to keep a straight face and not laugh."
"However," Legolas put in firmly, "your horses are another matter. I believe further work should be done to train them to be quicker off the mark; Aglarebon was forced to slow his charge."
Another grinned, "What horse could match him? Mayhap you'll allow him to cover our mares and breed his speed into our stock?"
The suggestion of mixing Aglarebon's prized bloodline with the warhorses of the Dúnedain did not sit well with him. "While I am sure he would be happy to oblige," the men snickered, "I am not."
The men laughed in good nature, "It was worth a try."
"If you would, Sindar, some of us were wondering," Legolas turned to the one speaking. It was the younger of the men, "Some of us, well, might benefit from your instruction with the bow, if you, if you would be willing?"
Legolas remembered this was one of the archers from the patrol, though he did not know his name. Each of them was holding their breath.
He inclined his head, "I would be honoured."
Their smiles returned.
"We are grateful," the youngest ranger grinned, whilst not meeting Legolas' eyes.
"Be at the target area in an hour and we shall begin."
The rangers nodding, and clueing in on his dismissal, politely took their leave.
"Baradon and few others been waiting, wanting to ask you for weeks now."
"Indeed?" He breathed in deeply than sighed. It really was time for him to start learning their names, "Baradon? Which is he?"
"Baradon's the one who made the request. He's a little shy but a worthy ranger. He will be one of your finer students." The man eyed him, "You do know it is high honour to be asked?"
"Of course, I do."
Úrion shrugged nonchalantly, "Peace, my friend, just making sure. In your culture maybe it's not so?"
"If you are asking Sindar to reveal something about himself, you will be sorely disappointed," Aragorn's voice cut into their conversation, coming back to sit down at his spot. "Took me twenty-four years just to be trusted with his name."
"Twenty-four years?" Úrion snorted loudly. "Is that all? I would've expected at least fifty."
Legolas ignored Úrion, "Unlike the thirty years to discover you have a sister?"
"You didn't know? Pray, don't tell her that."
Legolas shook his head then changed the subject, "You retuned sooner than expected."
"Eryndes has many tonics close at hand. Won't take but a few moments to work," Aragorn said then glanced to Úrion, "Bear, I want you to increase the numbers in your patrol today. After this morning I am not keen to take any chances."
Úrion nodded and said with mirth, "I'd ask Sindar to accompany us, but he's teaching some of our archers this afternoon."
"Teaching?" Aragorn asked him in surprise, "You never offered to teach me."
Legolas stood and brushed away the possibility of a wayward crumb on his jerkin, "In all these years you have not once asked."
As it turned out, the tonic was enough to cure Aragorn sufficiently for him to join Úrion's patrol and left shortly after lunch.
An hour after Aragorn and Úrion's patrol departed, Legolas made his solo way to the archery ground. The archery practice area was on the furthest east side of the compound, running along the stone wall in one of the largest hay paddocks. It was just over a good five minutes' walk, passed the bath house, the huge wood pile, chook houses, around the south wing of the manor he met up with the south cart road. Following the cart road, he passed the blacksmith and carpenter workshops and the brew-house on the right side, orchards of fruit trees and hay/grain sheds on the left.
Bees flew around him on their way to collect their bounties from the flowering vegetables left seed in the vegetable gardens. Crossing the northeast road of the manor grounds and climbing over the stock fence, he landed into the post-harvest hay field. Fortunate the Dúnedain harvested the paddock yesterday, or they would have had to contend with the armpit high long grass.
It was not much of a training area, especially comparing to compound where he formally learned the bow; this was just a couple dozen old targets on easels just in front of the perimeter stonewall.
What was a surprise however was the sheer number of people gathering and a lot young, younger than Legolas expected.
Walking to the group, he estimated sixty rangers and another twenty older children.
So much for a quick lesson to hone pre-existing skills. They were going to have to share targets. His eyes scanned faces; none were familiar enough to put a name to face, apart from Baradon.
Bashful Baradon approached him, "I am sorry if you're displeased, but once folk heard, word spread quickly."
"Do not be troubled, Baradon," he told the young ranger, "I am not displeased."
Baradon nodded guardedly, "We are all honoured to receive instruction from you."
"However, this would seem to go beyond simple instruction," Legolas eyed him pointedly, "I cannot adequately teach so many all at once."
"Of course," Baradon agreed hastily, "We wouldn't expect you to teach basics," he waved to the rangers who Legolas had already seen in action over the past month, "Many who have come are well skilled and would benefit more from your one-on-one instruction. The rest can be taught the basics in a group," Baradon finished then looked down, "If that is acceptable to you?"
Legolas folded his arms across his chest, "I know none of their names."
The young man looked up in surprise, "I can help you."
"Very well. You will assist me," he confirmed. He turned to include all those gathered and spoke loudly, "Shall we begin?"
Baradon nodded, taking his place beside Legolas and they walked around to the front of the large group. The Dúnedain stared at him in silence. Legolas inclined his head to them in polite acknowledgement for their attendance and then began.
When the sun was casting its last hour of bright light over the fields, Legolas drew his first lesson to a close. The younger ones were tired and eager to return to the manor for a cooling drink or equally cool bath. Few the others elected to remain behind and practice until dinner time.
Upon seeing Aragorn's patrol come through from the south gate far in the distance, he'd left the practice area.
Aragorn held his hand up in greeting and slid down from his horse.
"No further incidents?"
Aragorn tossed the reins to Úrion, who nodded and led the patrol back to the stables. The two of them fell into step towards the manor, "Surprisingly nothing. Not that I was expecting to encounter a great host, but I did expect something. Evidence of further orc incursion."
"The orcs are playing with us," Legolas reminded him offhandedly, "This we learnt from their intentionally obvious and muddled tracks."
Aragorn wiped away the beads of sweat from his brow, "For years the orcs satisfied themselves with random raids and stealing stock. But to say they are here for me? Is it possible the orcs we slaughtered this morning were deliberately placed?"
"You think they expected our languid pace because of your ill-head?"
Aragorn chuckled, "It does sound ridiculous when you say it like that."
"Unless they know your fondness for too much ale."
"What is needed is further intelligence," Aragorn said, ignoring his barb, "I'd like to commence the scouting missions we spoke of."
"You already know I agree."
For many minutes they continued to walk together along the dusty road, only the hot breeze and their boots against the stones and dirt making any noise.
"Something busies your mind, melloneg."
Legolas didn't answer immediately, and they continued along the road towards the manor.
"I accept I tend to be unapproachable," Legolas told him finally, cutting into their silence, "Considering the reverent distance my own people kept from the moment of my birth, it is only natural I grew uncustomed to being alone. Even in the wild with your rangers, I was one amongst dozens who all desired space apart from one another."
"But?"
Legolas pursed his lips. "Here it does not serve at all. The Dúnedain are comfortable with familiarity."
"You're uncomfortable here?"
"Not any more so than when I first came to live amongst men sixty years ago."
"However?"
"There is something that troubles me," Legolas hesitated, "It is one thing to be considered unapproachable. It is something else entirely to see fear in those who should call you friend."
"They're afraid of you? I don't believe it for a second. As you said, most folk are unwilling to approach you. And you pretend to like it, instead of admitting the truth. That you're lonely."
Legolas jaw squared.
Aragorn smiled knowingly, "This time it is you who forgets. You've admitted this truth to me on four separate occasions."
Legolas looked away to the side. "Although you may be correct about me, I see the trepidation in their eyes."
"Surely not," Aragorn debated, "what cause would they have to fear you?"
"My father."
"None know the name of your father."
"They know I am a lord. A lord who enjoys the king's ear?" Legolas levelled his eyes at Aragorn, "They may believe I have the power to withdraw Thranduil's support for the Dúnedain and in fact, that is my mission here."
Aragorn wanted to argue, he could see it on his face, but in the end, he conceded, "Perhaps. This why you offered to become their teacher?"
"I did not offer, I was requested," Legolas correctly lightly, "Úrion told me they were too apprehensive to make the request until today, whilst their courage remained high after our skirmish with the orcs."
Aragorn was frowning down at the ground.
"Being feared does not sit well with me, it never has."
"This would be solved if you allowed yourself to become familiar with folk. You may find you like them."
"That may take a long time."
"Don't say that," Aragorn hissed at him. "Please. These are my people. They are good, decent folk. Families working hard just to survive."
Legolas looked Aragorn in the eye. "You are right. That was wrong of me. I will . . . make the effort."
"You should start immediately. This very night," Aragorn said, "Lobordir is a good man. You should start with him."
Without warning the hairs on the back of Legolas' neck stood up in alarm. Instinctively his eyes shot to the side to the lone figure crouching there behind the old cart, his muscles stiffening ready for combat. The power of his eyes saw the grass depressed by two feet from under the cart, the breeze interrupted, and the shadow cast in relation to the sun's position and determined his hunter was of slight body and weight.
"Sindar?" queried Aragorn gently
"Nothing," he reassured his friend. "Just a child playing at stalking."
Aragorn glanced towards the cart, "A worthy prey you make to practice honing their skills."
"I have not encountered this one before," He commented, continuing to walk with Aragorn along the road towards the south side of the manor.
"Most of the farmer's children come here after their home duties for lessons and the elder children help out with the running of the manor," he explained, "More and more will come once the crops are cleared."
Reaching the manor's southern wing, they threaded their way through the washing tubs, bath house and wood pile to the outside kitchen area beside the windows of the great hall. Normally there were a half dozen wooden tables set up there for the larger preparation of food. Today, however, the tables numbered three times more, especially under the shelter of the centuries old cherry tree growing in the elbow of the great house.
Aragorn led him amongst them, threading them through the tables and benches, children, and women. In the late afternoon, the people finished their days chores and duties, returning to the west side to take advantage of the shade provided by the three houses high building.
However, the main hustle was from those who had yet to finish their days labour. Women, young and old, surrounded each of the tables, aprons bloodied, hands bloody, and each of their faces flustered from the heat. Children also worked, standing on wooden boxes to reach the tabletop, their hands also busy with labour.
They all sang the same song in unison.
Other children took the bones for boiling, hides for cleaning and drying, and other waste from the beasts they carted around the corner to where Legolas could not see.
"A lot is dried or salted. All this will last us the worst of the winter months," Aragorn told him. "They have to work quickly, especially with this heat and there is another six days' worth after today."
Legolas nodded in understanding. There was a little more than eighty women, all butchering. Hogs, deer, wild cattle, fowls, even one table crammed full of fish. Eight women moved quickly with the fish less the flesh rot before salted and dried.
"An impressive undertaking," Legolas commented. He swept his eyes to his friend, "Why only the women and children?"
"It's tradition for the womenfolk to work the provisions," Aragorn smirked. "I am not sure the women would allow the men to assist."
Legolas watched them, their faces as fatigued as their eyes, "Have you not offered?"
"This day is over. They will stop soon and begin to prepare food the evening meal."
"What about tomorrow?"
Aragorn shot him an amused look, "You are welcome to offer your services."
Stopping at one of the tables with twelve women hacking away proficiently at a deer, Aragorn spoke to one of the women with her dark hair pinned into a tight bun at the back of her neck. "Gueniel? How fairs Amdiel?"
The woman nodded to him and spoke in a tired voice, "Very well, Strider. She's resting, but eager to have done with it. We expect movement within the week."
"I'm glad to hear it." Aragorn beamed at Legolas, "A new baby."
"I have heard."
Aragorn nudged him.
"I-I hope all goes as expected . . . midwife," Legolas offered while throwing Aragorn a frown.
The woman took his measure with poorly veiled disdain, "We all hope that."
"Finished singing ladies?" Aragorn spoke across the table to the group.
It was the midwife who answered, her tone not gaining any warmth, "We have six days henceforth. We cannot sing without respite."
Aragorn looked to his right, "Eryndes? Do you not have one more song? The rangers are just now returning from patrol."
Legolas ventured to look at her. Aragorn's sister looked just as weary in her bearing as the other women, and kept her eyes down to her task, "Aragorn, we are tired."
"I thought you never tired of singing?"
She lifted her head to stare at her brother with something akin to defeat. Her bright-as-the-sky eyes were just as weary as the rest of her.
Aragorn held her gaze until her eyes dropped back down to her hands and their task, then started to sing. The other women picked up the song immediately and soon enough the whole company of women and children were once again singing as one.
Legolas leaned in to not draw attention when he spoke, "(Why do you insist? Can you not see her fatigue)?"
"I do. But it is important in these times to keep everyone together and spirits high. The rangers return from patrols, they need to feel their efforts have merit and rewarded by hot food and sweet singing."
Legolas looked around at the women again, then to the men filling in through the road and fields.
"Can not the rangers also sing?"
Aragorn gave a start then smiled and inclined his head to him. He took a position besides his sister and proudly joined in the singing, his voice at once in beautiful harmony with the women. Waving at the rangers who had come to gather around to watch the singing, he soon had them all raising their voices in song.
"A pale bird flies over open sea
Singing sweet soul music to me
The ancient winds crying cold and flying free
Carry winter whispers through the trees
A soft voice murmurs a haunting melody
As it flows to the river from a stream
The gentle breeze carries youthful memory
Through the shaded valley of my dreams
I have come through the darkness
Touched the moon's new fallen dew
I have found there a place
Where the wild song echoes, echoes in my heart
There the dawn is wide with the scent of spring
With a red sun burning on the tide
In the hazel forest the blackbird sings
Of a secret place I keep inside
I have travelled far, I have made the road my home
But that music never will depart
I have walked the shoreline where seabirds cry alone
But a wild song echoes in my heart
I have come through the darkness
Touched the moon's new fallen dew
I have found there a place
Where the wild song echoes, echoes in my heart."
The song done; Aragorn bent to whisper in his sister's ear. The woman nodded, not stopping from her work.
"What did you say to her?" Legolas quietly asked when Aragorn returned to him.
"I told her you do not eat venison."
"The women in the kitchen already knew this whole month passed."
"You are our guest and there is no harm in being sure," he nodded towards the hall, "Let us go inside and have an ale before debrief."
"Have you not suffered enough?"
Aragorn gave him a patient look and led them towards the manor.
"Have I not suffered enough?" Legolas muttered under his breath.
Together they walked through the side door along the south wing and straight into the great hall, Aragorn handed him a freshly filled mug of ale, "I noticed you did not join in singing."
Regretfully, he took the mug. "And those within earshot are to be grateful."
"Perhaps the women can afford you a lesson."
"I suffered all the singing lessons I care to."
Aragorn chuckled into ale. "Speaking of lessons, what was the result of yours?"
Weaving their way through the corridors and up three flights of stairs, they entered the war room. Legolas allowed Aragorn to lead them in and was not surprised to see twenty men, each one with a report to deliver.
"Well enough," Legolas said at last. "Most of them will improve vastly under my tutelage."
Both rounded the great table where the whole of the great north was mapped in detail; from the towering mountains of Angmar in the northeast to the great river snaking along the dividing range towards to sea in the far southwest.
"Vanity?"
Legolas slowly shifted his gaze from the table back to Aragorn. "Fact."
Aragorn shook his head with a smile, "I am grateful for your efforts."
"Shall we?" Legolas grunted, gesturing to the table and the men surrounding them.
"My friends."
At Aragorn's greetings, the men stopped their own conversations and stood tall and silent in wait for their chieftain.
Aragorn looked amongst them before beginning, "Yes, let us begin. As you already know, this morning my patrol, covering sector twelve encountered an orc party here," he pointed to the map. It was a long straight part of the east road, plains of grassland, flat, and trees sparse. "If they were lying in wait for an ambush, they were poorly led. The grass afforded them sparse cover, but that all that was to their advantage. We believe ambush was not their intention."
Úrion continued without pause, "Upon interrogation, it was revealed they seek Isildur's heir here at Carthal; and in seeking to destroy Carthal, they seek to destroy him."
Silence filled the room.
"Do they know who?" asked one of Aragorn's lieutenants whose name Legolas didn't know.
"There's no reason to believe they do," Aragorn negated. "However, the orc did tell us their plan to destroy him beyond a doubt with the complete annihilation of Carthal, and every one of its people."
"How could they know this?" called another ranger.
"There's a spy amongst us," accused another.
"Who would be evil to betray us to the enemy?"
"We have to find this turncoat!"
"Who could he be?"
"We should start questioning-."
Discipline kept Legolas from rolling his eyes at Aragorn and Úrion.
"Peace, friends," Úrion deep voice boomed, "It is not even clear the orc was telling the truth. His choice was between offering information for a merciful death or left alive for the birds."
"Indeed," Aragorn agreed. "We must not get ahead of ourselves and treat this orc words as innocuous until more have gathered more information. On no account do we start accusing each other of collaboration or inciting panics."
"How'd an orc know this information was worth something to us?"
"We cannot know. Instead, we must continue gathering intelligence." Aragorn paused to look at his lieutenants, "I don't say the orc's words cause no concern. Their attempts to confound us has kept secret their true intentions. Are they massing, do they prepare for an all-out attack, or is this just a small band enjoying whatever chaos and panic? This is the point; we do not yet know. What I can say is the enemy has sought to destroy Carthal for thousands of years and yet here we remain. Sindar?"
Legolas stepped forward, "Intelligence is key if the enemy's plans are to be discovered."
"You plan to scout them?" the man he recognised as Lobordir asked.
"I do," Legolas confirmed. "But not only I. These coming days Aragorn, Úrion and I will seek those rangers who are willing and have the potential to become elite mounted scouts."
"We have scouts already," a tall, ugly man scoffed.
Legolas offered no words, letting his silence speak for him.
Lorbordir understood, "So your impromptu archery lesson this afternoon? You're testing us for this new unit?"
"Today's lesson was impromptu. Your young Baradon interrupted my lunch with his request."
"Sindar and I will train this group for the next few weeks and be ready to commence deep reconnaissance missions within the month. At noon debrief tomorrow I want a list of rangers from each of you, rangers who you think have the skill," Aragorn paused, "and fortitude, for make no mistake, these missions will be dangerous. Give your lists to Faron, Lobordir, Úrion, Sindar or myself for us to condense for final selection."
Aragorn looked to Úrion, who had been quiet for the last few minutes, "Úrion, shall we continue with the debrief?"
It would be another before hour Aragorn was satisfied and broke up the debrief. All headed downstairs to the great hall for their much anticipated second day of festivities.
Aragorn went off to visit the pregnant woman, Amdiel, and left Legolas to navigate the hall alone.
The hall was quieter this evening, back the usual couple hundred. With the tables sparsely occupied, Legolas sat to wait for Aragorn. None bothered him while he waited.
If he'd have though ahead, he might've brought his tiny chest set he'd brought from Eryn Galen, down with him from his bedchamber. It would've given him something to do.
Gradually more folk trickled into the hall. The air inside was just as sticky as the outside, the sunshine outside giving way to darkened clouds, thick and promising a lasting deluge.
Eventually the women of the kitchen announced dinner. The end of the hall next to the kitchen entrance was the usual set up; the people lined up while the women and elder children spoon out portions.
The smell caught his nose.
Offal.
Kidney, liver, and heart.
So that's what they did with the waste animal parts.
Swallowing hard, he nodded in thanks to the women spooning out the stew.
"An extra spoon for you, Sindar?" The woman was smiling encouraging at him.
He tried to feel grateful. These people were poor. "No, thank you. This is plenty."
She cooed for what must have appeared to her as self-discipline, and not disgust. "Well, there's loaves of barley bread and butter on the table. Honey too. You help yourself, won't you?"
Her pot of revulsion in gravy aside, the old woman's kindness wasn't lost on Legolas. "Thank you-" he stopped, hiding a grimace, realising he should really know her name. She'd always shown such kindness towards him the whole month passed.
"Good evening, Mydedis," A ranger Legolas was familiar with spoke to the women, "Extra for me tonight. I'm famished."
"Save your winks for the maidens, Lorbordir. You'll get your share."
Lorbordir clutched his heart, "You cut me to the wick."
When Mydedis spooned stew on Lorbordir's plate, the ranger handed him a set of wooden utensils. "Not quite the fare you're used to, I'd wager."
Legolas took a moment to answer. This man was the third leader of rangers, a horse-master, and consistently jovial. They'd spoken a few times and Legolas was partial to the man's company.
But he was still cautious about speaking absolute truths. "I am grateful-"
"Yes, I'm sure you are," The man laughed and gestured to Legolas' plate, "Just try think of something better, a memory, a happier meal. That's what I do when it's time to castrate the calves, lambs and goats."
Legolas hesitated, "Why?"
"Nothing gets wasted here in Carthal, my friend."
With a shudder, Legolas went and sat down in his spot, Lobordir taking the seat opposite him. The man eagerly tucked into his trencher, pulling handfuls of barley bread and sopping at the gravy.
A warrior's discipline was one thing. The amount of discipline to stomach un-palatable foods was even greater.
Legolas would not offend his hosts though, and aking a spoonful of stew, he put it in his mouth.
He did as the ranger Lorbordir had suggested. He thought of a memory of food, one of so far back to when he was a mere elfling, so many years before . . .
Night had fallen peacefully within the Woodland Realm, but inside the king's private suite, there was no peace.
Father bore down upon him with an ill-temper. "What is wrong with it?"
Legolas shrugged, shifting the bit-sized pieces of savoury pastry squares around the salad greens lumped on his gold filigree plate.
"Legolas, you are going to sit there until you eat all of it."
"Do not be so harsh with him," mother's gentle voice came from the doorway. "He does not share your appetites."
Legolas stifled his amusement. He was about to get his wish, unless his father caught him laughing.
"My appetite? I have a healthy appetite, while my son eats a mouse-share. At this rate the realm will have a rodent for a prince."
"Thranduil," She reproached gently, "One day he will believe you are serious."
"Maybe I should be? What does he eat but the sweets you keep giving him?"
"He eats the food he wants, yes, but also the food I give him; he is only twenty-three years old. A little early to be concerned?" She came over to sit next to Legolas, her arms pulling him against her. She smelt of flowers and warmth and home. "What can I get you, my darling?"
Inwardly, Legolas grinned. "Cake."
"You see?" Father pointed at him. "Cake!"
"You can have cake," Mother squeezed him tighter to her chest, "Only if you eat a proper dinner first. Now, what will you eat?"
Not quite the victory he'd hope for. But still . . .
Lifting his head up to face his mother, he asked in a time-tested mix of request and compliance. "Pork pie?"
"We can get you a slice of pork pie," She kissed his brow once, twice. "And once your plate is clean, including the salad, you can have any cake you wish."
"My love, you are spoiling him."
"Any cake?" Legolas asked, strategically keeping his gaze solely on his mother. His father could not be trusted not to see through his scheming.
She didn't look at father either. "Any cake you want."
Legolas swallowed the last of the stew without once grimacing. He drank down his ale, for once the fetid tasting drink was preferable. Grabbing more barley bread, he slathered it with butter and honey, the honey dipping down his fingers, and shoved it in his mouth.
"If you're still hungry, the women'll be happy to give you more."
Legolas chewed the bread, it was fresh, dense, and along with the butter and honey, a far cry better than the offal stew.
It was quite good.
Swallowing, he answered Lobordir, "I ate my share."
"Anymore and he'll run for the guardroom," Úrion came walking up and taking a seat beside Lobordir.
Aragorn sat beside Legolas with his own trencher. "Don't despair. The women are good cooks, and most meals won't turn your stomach."
"I have survived worse," Legolas told them.
"I hate to tell you, Sindar," Úrion chimed in knowingly, "but this summer, a time of plenty. Wait until winter when the women get creative."