COTTONCROW'S CRY
Chapter three
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With the destruction of the One ring, the Fellowship that had been formed in Rivendell to protect the Ring Bearer, had all gone its separate ways.
Aragorn, now crowned king of Gondor, stayed in Minas Tirith, where he ruled in justice and kindness for many years, helped in his charge by Faramir, his Stewart and ruler of Ithilian; Éomer, king of Rohan; and by Arwen, his companion and queen.
Gandalf stayed with him for a time, before joining the other ring-bearers in the Grey Harbours, from where they parted to the lost lands of Valinor.
The Hobbits, Frodo, Sam, Merry and Pippin, returned to their Shire lands, where they lived many adventures more, until and after Frodo's departure.
And Legolas, the elf, joined Gimli, the dwarf on a journey of their own, fulfilling the promises both had made, of returning to the Glittering Caves and the forest of Fangorn, where the Ents dwelled.
While the caves drove the elf speechless with their beauty, Gimli could not help but to admit that, as far as forests went, Fangorn had a charm of its own that had pleased him.
Content to have visited the places where their hearts had felt more at home, home they decided to go next, for long had they stayed away from their kin and kindred. As their realms were in close proximity, they decided to travel together. Although the dark of Mordor was vanquished, some paths were still not safe to travel alone.
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Looking at the landscape that surrounded them, one could hardly believe that anything of evil could ever sprout out of it.
They walked in the cool shade of the near forest, its trees tall and lusty with leaves, deep greens in a sea of brown, red and gold. Tiny white flowers, like snowflakes, painted the lower branches and surrounding ground in fake winter colors.
"Confess, friend Gimli, magnificent and imposing as any cave you know might be, none can ever match the beauty and serenity of the woods," Legolas said lightly, his eyes reflecting the azure of the clear sky.
"Bah! Fair opinion that is bound to be, coming from a wood-elf!" Gimli grunted by his side. "The only thing I'm ready to confess is that these blasted trees are giving me an itch worse than fleas do!" He said, rubbing his red nose for the nth time.
Legolas laughed.
"I do believe you are right." he said, pointing to white cotton-like flowers that the breeze was carrying from the trees. "It's the blossom season... You're not the first one to be affected by it."
Gimli sneezed in reply, mumbling under his breath something that Legolas chose not to understand.
The elf took a deep breath, mocking the suffering dwarf. His nose filled to its content in the sweet and fresh scent of green leaves, springwoods and fertile earth... and then he gagged.
"What?" Gimli asked in mocked concern for the face the elf was making. "Flower up your nose?"
"Orcs!" Legolas hissed between his clenched teeth.
"What!? Here? Now?"
But the elf wasn't there to listen any longer. Gimli swore and drop his bag, following his friend, who had climbed up a tree branch and was already entering the woods. Not too far off, they found the owners of the smell that Legolas had caught.
A group of about a dozen Orcs sat around their catch, eating.
"There ain't that many," Gimli whispered, eager to end the idle days of his axe. "We can take them!"
"They're doing no wrong," the elf pointed out, watching as the Orcs struggled amongst themselves for the larger pieces.
Gimli grumbled.
"Give them enough time to sniff you, like you did them, and you will see them do wrong, first hand!"
Legolas was about to agree with that argument, when the chance was stolen from his hands. Gimli sneezed.
The Orcs' attentions quickly shift from the food to the two intruders, gathering their weapons. Their bloodshot, cat-like eyes locked with the elf and dwarf with a promise of certain death. They moved slowly, menacing in their gestures and taunts, the dense canopy of the green roof turning their screeches and grunts all the more disturbing and evil. A flock of birds flew away in panic, and the first Orc fell dead, an arrow' shaft and fletching sticking from his forehead.
Gimli landed on top of the group of Orcs like a force of Nature. Dwarfish curses filled the air as he wielded his axe with all the strength and might of a sturdy, long seasoned warrior. Two fell under his broad blade before they could even attack.
"Hey, elf!" He shouted over the battle's noise, lopping heads like a farmer chopping crops. "We never settled our score, did we?"
Legolas smiled as his arrows found three more targets.
"You mean, you never admitted defeat?" He said, replacing the bow for his two white handle knives, in the same fast and fluid movement.
"We should settle it now!" Gimli said, pretending the elf hadn't said a thing.
They were down to the last three Orcs, when a deep growl shook the ground under their feet. Branches moaned and were crunched under the paws of the large troll, its massive arms and fists smashing the surrounding vegetation as if it was made of wet paper. Under the protection of the leave-leaden branches, the troll moved unhindered and unafraid of the sun's light, led in to the fight by a second group of Orcs.
Leaderless, they had wandered lost in these lusty woods for too long, without tasting the blood of their enemies and having for sport only a few lost humans or wild beasts that they could find. But those died all too soon in their hands, feeble things that they were.
Now, the time to parch that thirst had finally come. Perhaps they would restrain from killing their attackers swiftly and, instead, make their tortured screams warm up this night.
The trees cried out their warning to the wood-elf, their leaves trembling in fear of the violence in their mist. They could not move or defend themselves, but their concern lied not on their own salvation, but on the innocent blood that they did not want to see spilled upon their roots.
The remaining Orcs, seeing the arrival of reinforcements, took new heat in battle, certain that victory was theirs.
Gimli roared and launched himself to meet them head on, the bulk of his small but heavy body adding more strength to the power of his axe. An Orc lost his head as he ventured to face the dwarf, fooled in to believing him an easier opponent because of his size. The others behind him didn't fell in to the same mistake, trying instead to surround the warrior and attack all at once. Gimli didn't miss a beat, as he swung his axe around, taking as many adversaries down as he could.
To Gimli's left, Legolas held his twin knives, dancing around his own group of Orcs. His blades had already tasted the flesh of four of them, when the large troll came charging through, throwing bodies around, mindless of whether they were friends or foes, for a Troll has no friends. He came to a stop in front of the elf, scaring away the last Orcs he fought.
Legolas looked from the club in the beast's hand, high up in to its face, taking in the size of his adversary.
The troll, as if trying to terrify his opponent, seemed to grow even larger, growling and waving his fists. Unfortunately for him, his heavier bulk and mass were of no help when fighting an elf. To Legolas, he seemed to move like an oversized fly, struggling through molasses, delayed in time like the thunder that never manages to catch the lightning bolt.
The troll attacked, raising his club high up above his head. When the splintered weapon hit the ground, with the force of rockslide, the elf was no longer there. Pain reached the creature's brain, telling him something bled in his legs, before falling heavily to the earth, like a puppet whose strings had been cut.
The trickiest part done, to bring his opponent to his level, Legolas easily slit the beast's throat, ending the troll's suffering.
The elf took a deep breath and turned around, ready to face whatever foes were left. Alive, he found only Gimli, a smug smile on his lips, seating on top of a rather large, and very dead, Orc.
"No need to say it," Legolas raised his hands in surrender. "This counts only as one," he said, pointing to his last kill.
Gimli smiled.
"Aye!"
Legolas paused, taking out a cloth to clean the black blood from his blades, mentally counting.
"Ten then."
The dwarf's smug expression widened across his beard.
"What an unfortunate thing it must be, for an elf to be bested by a dwarf..." he said, tasting his victory. "My axe felled twelve!"
"Half starved and tired as they were, what a victory it must be..." Legolas teased him.
Gimli's smugness notched down a few inches. Snorting, he stored his axe away.
"A victory none the less... and as the winner, I believe it is my privilege to claim a prize on the loser!" He announced, enjoying the uneasiness his words were causing.
"And just what do you pretend to claim?" The elf asked, not liking the mischievous look in his friend's eyes.
Gimli scratched his beard, apparently lost in thought.
"My boots have served me well..." he started, trying not to laugh at the suspicious way in which Legolas was regarding his worn and mud caked old boots, "... but I'm afraid I've worn their soles too thin. You will help my tired boot soles, by carrying me," he finished with a smile.
Legolas blinked.
"You can't be serious!"
"A game is a game, master Elf, and the sport tastes all the better when the prize is worthy!" Gimli lectured, getting ready for his 'ride'. He stopped in the middle of the trees and looked at the still stunned elf. "Unless you fear that that fragile elven constitution of yours proves to be too weak for my strong dwarven body?"
Legolas eyed the 'strong dwarven body' from the top of its red haired head to the tip of the heavy chain mail, which Gimli still insisted on wearing.
"I thought Dwarves had no love for riding."
Gimli nodded.
"We see no need for it, for our legs are strong and able," he agreed with pride, "but tis not everyday that one rides such a regal mount, hey princeling?" He teased his friend.
The look in Legolas' bright eyes promised sure retribution... later.
Together, they piled the troll and Orc's corpses away from the trees, and set them on fire, resting for a while before continuing on their way. Neither wanted to spend the night anywhere near the lingering smell of the vile creatures. When they left, Gimli was allowed on Legolas' back, claiming his award.
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