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 note one additional review of Chapter 3, by grumpy123, and I would like to thank the following reviewers of Chapter 4: invisigoth3, leralonde, JastaElf, 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 have not heard 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 5: An Offer of Adventure
Their spirits and their bodies uncoiling after the anxious excitement of battle, Estel and Legolas slept longer than they were accustomed, and when they awoke, they found that Mithrandir and Radagast had already arisen and gone outside to breakfast upon cold mutton. "Ah, here are the slug-a-beds," declared Mithrandir as Legolas and Estel emerged from the cottage. "Radagast and I were beginning to wonder whether you had turned into Trolls fearful of the morning light. Come and have your breakfast before it is noon time and courtesy demands that we dine with our hosts and so lose the opportunity to set out whilst it is still morning."
Estel and Legolas could see no reason for forgoing what no doubt would have been a generous lunch, but they obeyed Mithrandir and quickly breakfasted upon the leftover mutton. Soon they were strapping up their packs and preparing to return to the Great East Road to reclaim their horses. Rædwulf emerged from his cottage as they made ready to depart the village. "You will not stay, my friends?" he said. "You would be very welcome."
"I thank you for your courtesy," Mithrandir replied, "but we have an errand cannot wait."
"If ever you pass this way again," Rædwulf said, "be sure you may count upon our hospitality."
"I don't doubt it, my friend," Mithrandir replied. "Nor do I doubt your courage, which I am as likely to call upon as your hospitality. Guard well the Great East Road!"
Indeed, for several decades the portion of the Road that passed near this village was very well protected, and as a result the village prospered, for traders journeying to and fro Breeland preferred to camp near the well-defended village, and its enterprising inhabitants took the opportunity to sell the travelers fresh eggs and vegetables. Rædwulf's son Hroðgar, headman after his father, never allowed his folk to relax their vigilance; nor did Hroðgar's eldest son Wulfgar, who also served as chieftain. Hroðgar had two additional sons, Beowulf and Garwulf, who founded villages nearby, and these villages, too, were defended by sentries and stockades. The Wulfings, as the tribe came to be known, were still powerful fifty years later, when they offered their hospitality to a lone Halfling who wandered into their territory. He seemed a little doddering, but amongst his vague utterances he made mention of Rivendell, and so the Wulfings escorted him safe to the borders of Imladris. And thus did the Wulfings repay Mithrandir's trust. But, as I have said, this event was not to take place for another fifty years.
Meanwhile, Mithrandir, Radagast, Estel, and Legolas bade Rædwulf goodbye, and the villagers gathered to watch them depart. Among them was Ælfgifu. Her face covered with biscuit crumbs, she stood beside her mother. With one hand she waved at the travelers; in her other, she still clutched her toy bird.
"I hope Ælfgifu will have joy," Legolas said thoughtfully.
Mithrandir, who perhaps already had some inkling of the Wulfgar, Beowulf, and Garwulf to come, smiled. "I think this bride of Hroðgar will indeed have joy," he said.
"This bride of Hroðgar?" repeated Legolas. "That is an odd turn of phrase. Will Hroðgar have more than one wife?"
"Oh, I was thinking of another Hroðgar. His bride had some cause for unhappiness. But never you mind that. March on!"
Mithrandir strode swiftly off, his energy belying the appearance of age. Legolas mulled this over. When he had first met Mithrandir, the wizard was already an old man. Although centuries had passed and the Istar had not gotten any younger, neither had he gotten any older, seemingly. "Not a day over five-hundred," the wizard would always say when pressed about his age, but he had been making the same claim for half a millennium.
The Elf's ruminations were interrupted by Estel. "Look," the young Man said, pointing up. In the trees perched numerous vultures.
"We must be passing the spot where the Southron bodies were dragged after the battle," said Legolas, shuddering a little. The travelers quickened their pace until they had left that doleful place behind.
When they reached the Great East Road, they rested a little, eating a few bites of bread and sipping from their water skins. Legolas took this as an opportunity to ask Mithrandir where they would go next.
"Since you have encountered Radagast, shall we still go on to Breeland?" the young Elf asked.
"Yes, for I should like to gain news of that place. I should also like to spend a few days in the Shire and its environs so that I may renew some acquaintances amongst the Tooks and the Brandybucks. There is also a Baggins I shouldn't mind visiting."
Their brief meal at an end, the travelers called for their horses, who trotted up obligingly. As they rode, to Legolas's vexation, Mithrandir began to talk about Dwarves.
"You must know, Legolas, that there was once a great Dwarf kingdom at Erebor."
"I have heard of it," the young Elf said reluctantly. "The Dwarves of Erebor used to trade with the Men of Lake-town."
"Yes, and then the Men of Lake-town would turn about and trade the dwarven goods to the Elves of your father's kingdom. You have eaten a great many meals off plates gilded in the smithies of the Lonely Mount."
Mithrandir returned to the subject when they camped for the night. As Estel prepared the evening meal, the wizard pulled out a parchment and examined it.
"I believe that Erestor had you study a great many maps, Legolas," Mithrandir observed. "What do you make of this map of Erebor?"
Suppressing a grimace, Legolas took the parchment. Sitting cross-legged, he laid it across his knees. "Yes," he said, "here is Erebor in relation to various landmarks." He shrugged. "I have seen many maps like this," he said, handing the parchment back to the wizard.
"Like this, yes, but lacking in certain crucial details—such as how one may enter the Lonely Mountain in despite of the firedrake who dwells within its halls."
Legolas tried to look bored, but the mention of the firedrake spurred his interest. He had seen pictures of dragons in books—everyone had—but a real, live dragon, well, only the oldest amongst the Eldar had encountered such a beast. In the Hall of Fire Glorfindel could on occasion be wheedled into telling tales of battles with worms, and Elrond at his most indulgent would describe flights of dragons wheeling across the evening skies. Generally, though, Legolas and his foster-brothers had had to make do with the dry anatomies of Erestor. "Here," the tutor would say, gesturing to a chart, "is a diagram of the two chief branches of the worm family. On the left we see the cold drakes, on the right the firedrakes. Elrohir, are you paying attention? Good. Now, the main difference between the two branches is that—"
"The one breathes fire and the other doesn't," interrupted Elrohir. "Everyone knows that, Master Erestor."
The tutor looked reproachfully at Elrohir and then, as he usually did, began over again. "I was on the verge of explaining," he resumed loftily, "that on this diagram are illustrated the two chief branches of the worm family, the cold drakes on the left, the firedrakes on the right."
"Master Erestor," Elladan interrupted, "wouldn't it be proper to say that you weren't on the verge of explaining but that you were indeed explaining?"
The tutor glared at the younger twin, cleared his throat, and recommenced. Elladan opened his mouth to speak again but Legolas—or Anomen, as he was then called—jogged his elbow. "You are merely going to prolong the lesson," he whispered, "for he will begin all over again all over again." So the elflings sat as still as they could whilst Erestor expatiated upon the distinctions between flying dragons and non-flying ones, the variations in coloration between this and that breed, the hardness of scales and talons, the configurations of wings, and so on and so forth. That pedantic lecture ought to have been enough to quell any interest Legolas might have had in dragons, but at its conclusion, the young Elf eagerly asked how best to battle a drake. "Battle a drake!" Erestor exclaimed, horrified. "One ought not to battle a drake unless it is absolutely unavoidable. Have you not heard the saying, 'Let sleeping dragons lie'?"
Legolas had heard the phrase—usually when either Elrohir or Elladan warned him that he ought not to rile Glorfindel—but the adage was not sufficient to dampen his curiosity. And now here was Mithrandir holding a map that promised an adventure involving a drake.
Mithrandir looked at him and quirked an eyebrow, as if he knew what the young Elf was thinking. "Well, my lad, have you any interest in traveling to the Lonely Mountain?"
"With you?"
"Not primarily. The rightful owner of this map is a Dwarf. Thorin Oakenshield, to be precise. At the moment he is traveling to Breeland with twelve companions. Thirteen Dwarves in all. Mortals think that number an unlucky one."
"So you are looking for a fourteenth companion?"
"Exactly." Mithrandir looked inquiringly at his young companion.
Legolas hung fire. On the one hand, Mithrandir was offering him an opportunity to go on a great adventure. On the other hand, thirteen Dwarves were mixed up in it. Still, a dragon! This inducement was very nearly enough. Legolas wavered, his curiosity about drakes just about balancing his antipathy toward Dwarves.
In the end, what decided the matter was Legolas's knowledge that Thranduil would be furious if his son got involved with the scheme. Legolas was not certain whether his father would be most upset at the prospect of his son encountering the Dwarves or the dragon, but upset he would be.
With some regret, Legolas shook his head. "I am sorry, Mithrandir, but I cannot. The Dwarves must chance the quest as a band of thirteen."
"Perhaps not," Mithrandir replied. "There is another," he added softly, as if speaking to himself, "and peradventure he is in fact better suited to the task. It may be," the wizard continued more loudly, "that I shall be able to interest you in another adventure at a later time. Said adventure may lack dragons, but there are creatures enough in this world that may take the place of drakes if one is in the market for a quest."
Legolas was relieved that Mithrandir did not hold his refusal against him, and he hoped the wizard proved to be right about a future adventure. 'I shall have to get round my father's objections', the young Elf said to himself, 'but perhaps circumstances shall arise that will allow me to do so'.
By now Estel had finished preparing a tasty stew, and Legolas put aside all notions of quest and adventure. The young Elf took up his bowl and discovered himself to be very, very hungry. He devoured his portion rapidly and looking longingly at the pot, which, alas, had contained only enough for one serving for each traveler.
Estel caught his friend's eye and grinned. "Still hungry, Legolas?"
"You know that I am," Legolas retorted.
Still grinning, Estel went to his pack and withdrew a small parcel. "Biscuits!" cried Legolas. "The Cook gave you biscuits, too!"
"We-ell," Estel said slowly, "he didn't exactly give them to me—but it is his own fault that he left them out where I could get at them!"
Mithrandir and Legolas began to laugh heartily, and Radagast joined in (although he did not, in point of fact, know what was so humorous about the discovery that Estel was carrying biscuits). After a moment, Estel began to laugh as well. Then, when they had recovered, Estel shared out the treats; and Legolas, although he did not have any crumbs on his face, went to sleep that night as content as any village urchin possessed of a full stomach and secure in the knowledge that he was well loved.
