My stories sometimes track Tolkien's version of Middle-earth, sometimes Jackson's.
This story should be considered part of "The Nameless One" series because in it Legolas is referred to as Elrond's foster son. It is set after Legolas's reunion with Thranduil, so Legolas goes by his proper name rather than by Anomen. Legolas has come back to visit Rivendell at a point at which Estel is a late adolescent.
I would like to thank the following reviewers of Chapter 2 of Bravely unto Breeland: invisigoth3, leralonde, and CAH. I am delighted to receive any and all responses, whether reviewers are logged in or not. If you do happen to be logged in, I will use the reply feature to get back to you unless you have disabled the private messaging feature. (Please notice that the fanfiction site has changed its system so that responses to reviews go out via the private messaging feature. That is why the people who have disabled that feature did not hear back from me.)
This chapter may incorporate incidents and/or quotations from the book and/or movie versions of The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings. The chapter may also draw upon posthumous publications edited by Christopher Tolkien, such as The Silmarillion.
Beta Reader: Dragonfly is the beta reader for Parallel Quest, but shorter pieces like this one are posted without a reader. If you catch any errors, please let me know.
Chapter 3: A Bird in the Hand
Legolas choked back the bile that rose in his throat and forced himself to approach the corpse. As he did so, the vulture stooped, its neck stretched and wings spread in an attempt to lay claim to the carcass. Legolas drew his knife and stood as tall as he could, trying to look more threatening than he felt. The vulture opened its beak and beat its wings. Legolas made slashing motions and continued to advance upon the vulture. The scavenger began to back away. Legolas lowered his arm and addressed the bird. "There is some deer offal in a glade near the Great East Road," he said. The vulture bobbed its head as if it understood the young Elf's words and rose upon its mighty wings, heading in the direction of the road.
Legolas sheathed his knife and knelt by the body. From the moment he had spied it, he had known it was not Estel, for the body was not clad in elvish garments. Was it one of the Southrons, slain by his fellows? Carefully Legolas turned the body over and examined it. The Man's throat had been cut. He was not a foreigner, for he was dressed in clothes like those worn by the Men of Breeland. Nearby were a bow and a quiver and a pack. The pack had been rifled, its contents scattered on the ground. Flint, steel, a small whetstone, a water skin. The sort of objects carried by a hunter.
Legolas sat back on his heels and considered. The slain Man had been in pursuit of game and had had the misfortune to encounter the Southrons, and they had murdered him. Perhaps they had not wanted their presence to be reported to any villagers who lived hereabouts. That would be in keeping with the fact that they were concealing themselves in the forest and not following the Great East Road as peace-loving travelers would.
Suddenly Legolas sensed that someone or something drew near. He was in the middle of a glade that offered no concealment. Quickly he threw himself down beside the body and assumed a corpse-like stillness, with his hand on his knife hilt.
"It's only me, Legolas."
Legolas took a deep breath and sat up.
"You have given up trailing the Southrons?"
"They have stopped to make camp. I returned to see to the body."
"We haven't the tools to bury it, and we dare not burn it, for the Southrons might see the smoke."
"I know, but I thought we might at least pile brush and rocks over it. There is a creek not so very far away. Its bed would provide the rocks."
Estel took the Man's pack and went off to fill it with rocks. Meanwhile, Legolas examined the body for some tokens that could be used to identify the Man's body to his kinsmen. Around the Man's wrist was a bracelet of knotted twine from which dangled a few wooden beads. The pattern of beads and knots was irregular, as if the bracelet had been fashioned by a child. Legolas removed the bracelet from the Man's wrist and slipped it into his waist pouch. The Man's knife was missing from its sheath. Very likely this object was one of the few things that the Southrons felt was valuable enough to steal. The human's pouch lay beside him. Legolas picked it up, expecting it to be empty, but he felt a lump within it. He reached into the pouch and retrieved it. It was a carving of a bird, one side finished, the other side roughed out.
When Estel returned to the glade, Legolas was sitting cross-legged contemplating something that he held in his hands.
"What is that?" asked Estel.
"It was going to be a child's toy, I think," Legolas replied. He put the carving in his pouch and helped Estel wrap the body in one of their blankets. Then they placed the bow and the quiver beside the body and heaped brush over it, using the rocks to weigh down the branches.
"We do not have enough rocks," Legolas observed.
"I will fetch more," Estel said.
Legolas again sat cross-legged. He took the bird from his pouch and began to carefully whittle at the unfinished side. He set the toy down when Estel returned with more rocks but resumed his whittling when Estel went back to the creek for another packful.
After spreading the third load of rocks, the two friends retreated from the glade to shelter in a more protected place. As they rested, Legolas explained to Estel that Mithrandir had gone on to Bree, leaving them to decide on their own how to deal with the Southrons.
"They are evil Men, these Southrons," Estel said soberly. "I trailed them to the glade, where the Man had lain down his bow and was eating his lunch of bread and cheese. Smiling, they hailed him. He arose and returned their greetings, his hands held palm upward in a gesture of peace. Still smiling, the Southrons came forward, and when they were near enough, two of them seized the Man's arms while a third cut his throat. Then they rummaged through his pack and his pouch before departing, leaving his body to be despoiled by scavengers."
Yes, evil Men, and very dangerous. Legolas thought of Elladan and Elrohir, who had lately battled and defeated such a band. He shook his head. Both Elrond and Glorfindel had disapproved of the twins' actions. Moreover, Estel was with him. He had to see to Estel's safety.
"Estel, come morning we must retrieve our horses and return to Rivendell to alert our father to the presence of these Men."
"No, Legolas, we must not."
"Estel, Ada must be told. He will want to send out Glorfindel to deal with them."
"We must deal with them ourselves."
"Estel, you are being as foolish as a child!"
The moment Legolas uttered those words, he regretted them. Estel would surely be petulant at being reminded of his youth. But Estel proved Legolas wrong. "We must deal with them ourselves," the young Man said calmly, "because there is no time to warn our father quickly enough to avert a horrendous crime, one even worse than the one committed in yonder glade."
Estel spoke so earnestly that when he paused Legolas nodded at him to go on.
"Beyond the glade," Estel continued, "is a well-trodden path. The Southrons followed it until they drew near a village. Then they turned aside and set up a camp. They chose wood carefully so that their cook fire would give off no smoke. They glutted themselves with venison, and then they began to sharpen their swords and check the fletching of their arrows. I am certain that when it is full dark they mean to attack that village."
Legolas slipped a hand inside his pouch and fingered the bird where it lay next to the bracelet that had surely been fashioned by a child. He looked up at the waxing moon. They had several hours before it would set.
"We must go to the village and warn its folk," he said. "They are not warriors, but with a warning and our assistance, they may be able to defeat these raiders."
"Why do we not attack the camp ourselves?"
"We are only two. We could pick off several, but then they would pursue us."
"Even so, the Southrons would have to give over their plan of attacking the village. That would buy us time to do as you first wished—return to Rivendell to seek the aid of our own warriors."
"You are surely right," Legolas agreed, "that knowing themselves discovered they would abandon any plan of attacking the village. But they would merely remove to some other place, and another village would be destroyed and its people slaughtered. If we rally the folk in this village, we may not only save them, we may put an end to this threat altogether." Until the next band of raiders arrived, he added to himself. But what was it that Mithrandir was always saying? All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given to us? Yes, that was it. And what had been given to them, Legolas decided, was the opportunity to save this village.
As one, Estel and Legolas arose, and Estel led the way to the path. They followed this track until they had almost reached the Southron encampment, which they carefully skirted. Then they crept to the verge of the village. All was dark save for one cottage in whose window a lamp burned. Cautiously they approached it. Just as they reached it, the door was flung open and a woman emerged, her expression hopeful. When she saw the strangers, the joy vanished from her face, replaced by wariness. She took a step back and seized the handle of the door as if preparing to slam it shut. Legolas raised his hands palm upward. "Please, Aunt," he said, "we mean no harm. But there are those hereabouts that do. They have already slain one Man, and they are lurking nearby, weapons ready, preparing to attack this village."
When Legolas said that they had already slain one Man, the woman, who was already pale, turned ashen. "This Man," she whispered, "tell me about him."
Slowly Legolas pulled the bracelet from his pouch. "He wore this," he said softly.
The woman crumpled, and Legolas caught her as she fell. With Estel's help, he carried her into the cottage, where they found a small child huddled upon a bedstead. She scrambled off the bed and ran to her mother. "I thought it was Dada," she whimpered. "Why is it not Dada?"
The woman clutched at the child as Estel and Legolas helped her to the bed. Once she was upon it, her arms wrapped around her daughter, she suddenly grew fierce. "How came you by that bracelet?" she demanded. "Happens you slew him yourself?"
"No, Aunt," protested Legolas. "Would we have come to this village with the blood of one of its inhabitants upon our hands? Please, Aunt, summon your village headman, and we will lead him to where the murderers are encamped. He will see that you are in grave danger, and he will know what to do."
The woman stared intently at Legolas, and he met her gaze steadfastly. At last she nodded and arose. Wrapping her daughter in a shawl, she led Estel and Legolas to the house of the headman. It was a cottage only a little larger than the others in the village. At her insistent knocking, a light was lit within. "Who is it?" called a Man. "Mildryð," answered the woman. "My Leofwine is dead, and here are some folk come with news of his murder."
Estel and Legolas heard a bar being drawn, and a Man cautiously opened the door and peered out. "Murder? That cannot be so! Leofwine was a friend to everyone."
"To everyone hereabouts, yes," Legolas said. "But his murderers were strangers. Yonder lurks a band of Southrons. As we speak, they sharpen their swords. Come with us and we will show you their encampment."
The Man stared at him suspiciously. "An Elf," he muttered. "As much a stranger as any Southron. How do I know you don't mean to murder me as well?"
Estel suddenly spoke up. "If you would have surety, then I shall remain here a hostage," he declared. "If you do not return safe, your fellows may slay me."
"Nay, Estel," protested Legolas. "You know the location of the Southron camp as well as I do. You guide this Man whilst I remain a hostage."
"You move more quietly than I," retorted Estel. "I should stay in the village."
"But you have seen their camp in daylight, and I have not."
Estel opened his mouth to reply yet again, but the Man gestured that they be silent. "I think," he said wryly, "that it is not necessary that either of you remain a hostage. So careful are you of each other's welfare that I do not believe it is within either of you to be a murderer."
He addressed the woman. "Mildryð, you and your Ælfgifu shelter within." He turned and spoke to a woman who had stood half hidden behind him. "Friðuswið, wake Hroðgar and tell him he must go round to every cottage and rouse the Men."
"You will be careful, my husband?" the woman said anxiously.
The Man shrugged dismissively. "It is not for nothing that my parents named me Rædwulf," he declared.
"The names that parents give children are naught but wishes," Friðuswið scoffed.
"Yet it is often the case that children grow into their names," Legolas said, "as is seen in this instance, for your husband is a wise-wolf indeed to trust our word. As for you, in this household you are doubtless the bringer of peace."
"So it is true what is said of the Elves," observed the woman, her lips quirking slightly. "They are Fair Folk for they speak fair."
"Enough speech, fair or foul," interrupted Estel. "These Men will attack as soon as it is full dark. The moon has passed its zenith and begins to descend toward the tree tops."
Heeding Estel's words, Legolas swiftly led Rædwulf into the forest. As they approached the Southron's camp, Estel took over and guided them to a spot from which he had observed the camp. As Legolas and Estel had feared, the Men were prepared for battle. Despite the lateness of the hour, the Southrons were booted, and not a single bedroll was spread out beneath the trees. "I have seen enough," Rædwulf said after observing the encampment for a little while. He made as if to slip back toward the village but suddenly swore softly and crouched down once more.
"I believed you," he whispered to Legolas, "and now I have seen something that will make my Men believe you as well. Look at that Southron who is carving a hunk of venison from that haunch. Look at the knife he wields."
Legolas looked carefully and saw that the hilt of the knife was carved in the shape of a bird's head.
"That was Leofwine's knife," Rædwulf said softly. "He had it of his father, who was a notable carver, a skill that he passed on to his son along with the knife. Leofwine would never have parted with that blade."
Somberly, the three slipped away from the encampment and turned their steps toward the village. It was time to make plans for the battle to come.
