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Chapter 9: Horses at Last
From a thicket Legolas spied upon yet another band of Southrons. The Elf had been amazed by the volume of trade between Mordor and Harad. Even though it was based upon greed and self-interest on the part of each, this alliance between the two lands troubled the Elf. He brooded over what the union might portend for the Elves and the other Free Peoples of Middle-earth. More immediately, though, he was distressed because whenever Southron traders drew near he and his companion were forced to go to ground. They were losing much time in this fashion. Had circumstances been different, these delays would have been no more than a species of annoyance, but Legolas was anxious to convey Mithrandir to Imladris as soon as possible. It was plain that Shelob had left the wizard with an injury that would not heal without the proper medicine, and the Elf therefore wished to place his friend under the care of Elrond as soon as possible. As Legolas had watched Mithrandir seemingly lose strength by the hour, he had at first merely worried about the wizard. Now, however, he had reached the point of alarm, for he feared that the Istar would be unable to walk before too many more days had passed. Yet they were still deep within the badlands that surrounded Mordor.
While he watched the Southrons set up their camp for the night, the Elf formed a desperate resolution. He slipped away to return to Mithrandir and to lay his plan before him. The wizard, though, spoke before the Elf could. "Legolas," he said firmly, "I do not believe that I will be able to walk upon the morrow. You must leave me and make your way north, away from this deadly place."
Abandoning Mithrandir was not to be contemplated, and Legolas acted as if he had not heard the wizard speak. Instead, he commenced to declaim the speech he had been preparing.
"Mithrandir, your injury festers, and hereabouts grow none of the herbs that would have efficacy against the poison in your veins. But I cannot leave you to fetch those that do. It would take too many days to travel thence and return, and you would sicken all the more in the meanwhile. Moreover, during all that time you would be exposed to danger and helpless to defend yourself. Nor can I carry you the distance—that would still take too many days, for we would have to travel even more slowly than we have these past few days. Therefore, I must contrive to lay my hands upon a horse so that together you and I may continue to make our way north."
"A horse, Legolas? And how do you propose to do that? We are still many miles from the lands of the Rohirrim."
"True, but those merchants I spied, I could go to their camp and return from thence with a mount."
"Legolas, they trade with the forces of the Dark Lord. They will hardly sell a horse to you, an Elf!"
"I don't propose to buy a horse, Mithrandir," Legolas replied coolly. "Hasn't the Cook told you? I am an accomplished sneak-thief!"
Mithrandir was well aware of the exploits to which Legolas' alluded, but the wizard still looked troubled.
"Legolas, if they should set eyes upon you, things may go badly—will go badly. Scruffy human that he is, Aragorn could pull off an encounter with such scoundrels, but you!?"
"Then I shall go as a scruffy human myself. Mithrandir, you must trim my hair man-fashion."
Mithrandir looked as thunderstruck as if Legolas had just proposed that the wizard turn him into an Orc.
"Trim your hair! That will hardly turn you into a ruffian! What about your ears? And your skin?"
"You must leave enough hair so that I may cover my ears. As for my skin, I shall rub dirt into it. And you must loan me your tunic and leggings, Mithrandir. Mine will never do."
Legolas hastily undid his braids and sat with his back to Mithrandir. Reluctantly, the wizard took hold of a hank of the Elf's hair and hacked it off at the nape. He continued cutting in this fashion, leaving Legolas' hair long enough to cover the tips of his ears but not so long as to make him look out of place amongst Men.
"I am sorry, Legolas," muttered the wizard as he sawed away.
"You needn't apologize," said Legolas. "It is not as if you are hacking off one of my hands. Besides, I shall have an eternity to grow my hair as long as ever it was."
His hair having been hacked short, Legolas doffed his garments and boots and pulled on Mithrandir's leggings and tunic. They were much too large, making it look as if Legolas were a waif dressed in cast-off clothes. That was all to the good, for it was in keeping with the disguise Legolas intended. Once dressed, Legolas rubbed dirt upon his face, hands, and feet until at last Mithrandir laughed and said Aragorn had never looked worse.
"Good!" declared Legolas. "If I am spied, I hope to pass as a beggarly urchin. They should not harm me then, I think, for I would pose no threat to them."
"The Haradhrim have slain many harmless folk," Mithrandir warned. "They are Men who, when bored, have been known to kill for the sheer amusement of it."
"Then I shall contrive to keep them otherwise entertained," Legolas promised.
Slipping back into the thicket, Legolas again studied the Southron encampment. The horses were being kept in its center, no doubt because the Men feared their mounts being dragged off by wolves or wargs or being stolen by rival bands of traders. Legolas considered and swiftly dismissed two options. He couldn't stroll into the camp and proffer silver for a horse. The Men looked ruffianly enough that they would likely keep both silver and horse. No doubt they would try to enslave him into the bargain. If he wished, he could pick several off with his bow and steal a horse in the resulting confusion, but he had no mind to slay Men for their horses. Not when there was another way. Setting his weapons aside, Legolas began to sing some doggerel verse that he had learned from Tom Bombadil long ago when he had been an elfling and had journeyed through the Old Forest in company with Mithrandir. The Elf knew that to a Man he would sound very young, not at all like a being who had dwelt in Arda for hundreds of years. He also knew that to their eyes he would look slight, his thinness belying the strength of the muscles hidden beneath the baggy leggings and ragged tunic. But he wanted to look not only young but foolish. Still singing, he staggered toward the camp, one shoulder hunched higher than the other, a silly grin o'erspreading his face.
As he had expected, all faces were turned toward him as he lurched into the light of the cook fire, but he noted with satisfaction that no one reached toward a weapon. Instead, the Men responded to his appearance with hoots and guffaws.
"A mooncalf," shouted one Man, "what has slipped his tether and wandered away from his keepers!"
Several of the Men began to low like cattle, and Legolas, still grinning stupidly, joined in. After a bit, though, he began to whinny, as he did so waving his hands toward the horses. The Men laughed anew.
"Has wit enough to tell the difference between a cow and a horse," observed one.
"Wonder if he has enough wit to scour these pots," said another, nodding toward the vessels scattered by the fire.
"Likely he does, else no one would have kept him—and someone must have kept him, for no lackwit could survive on his own in these parts."
"Let's see what he can do, then," said the first Man. "Here, boy," he called, picking up a pot and holding it out toward Legolas. Obediently, Legolas took it from him. Kneeling down, he picked up a handful of sand and began to vigorously scour the interior of the vessel.
"There now," the Man said triumphantly. "He has been somebody's skivvy, doubtless. Well, finder's keepers. If his master's been so careless as to lose him, so much the worse for him. We'll do right by the boy, won't we?"
This statement was met with laughter.
"Lackwits is the best kind of skivvy," observed a Man who was rolling himself up in his blanket, "for they don't know enough to demand their share of the loot."
"That's true," agreed another. "Lackwits is better than slaves that way. A slave may get uppity or try to run away, but a lackwit never will."
"Although they can get lost," observed a third. "Like this one, now. He's wandered into our camp, but only because he has wandered out of somebody else's. How are we to know the same thing won't happen all over again?"
"Tie him up," somebody suggested.
This suggestion was met with hoots.
"What's the good of a skivvy what's been tied up?" came the shout. "Couldn't fetch and carry if he were suchlike."
"I have a better idea," opined one Man. "That sheep what we stole—it had a bell upon it. I kept it, I did, for I thought it might be worth a penny or two. What say we hang it about the neck of this here lackwit? If he begins to wander off, we could retrieve him by the sound of the bell."
This suggestion was met with shouts of approval. The Man rummaged about in his pack and drew forth a bell. He held it up and shook it. Then, grinning, he advanced on Legolas. The Elf forced himself to remain still as the Man hung the bell from a thong and then tied the thong about the Sinda's neck.
"Now, then," said the Man, pleased with his cleverness, "we can let this lad out of our sight and still be sure of him. What shall we have him do first?"
"He's fond of horses, in't he?" suggested one. "Let 'im see to the horses this night, for I am tired of sitting watch on 'em."
This suggestion met with universal approval, and one of the Men seized Legolas by the arm and dragged him into the midst of their small herd. "Now then, younker," he growled, shaking Legolas a little to be sure of his attention, "you are to stay with the horses. Do you understand?"
Legolas nodded his head vigorously, all the while grinning foolishly.
"Mind you do as you're told," threatened the Man. "If you don't stay in the midst of this herd, you will be whipped."
More vigorous nodding on the part of Legolas. 'You may be sure', the Elf said to himself, 'that I will indeed stay with these horses'. Still grinning, he stroked the neck of one of the horses, who very much seemed to appreciate the attention.
Satisfied, the Man returned to the fire, where he sat for a while exchanging ribald stories with his companions. Then, one by one, the Southrons fell asleep until only the sentry remained awake. Eventually, seeing how calm the horses were in the care of the 'lackwit', this Man, too, fell asleep.
As soon as he heard the last Southron begin to snore, Legolas removed the bell from his neck and hung it upon the smallest horse, a mare. This horse he hobbled so that it would not stray. Speaking softly to the others, he led them out of the camp, as he did so grinning at the sound of the bell, which sounded each time the hobbled mare moved slightly. He stopped briefly to retrieve his weapons, and then he urged the herd onward. When he could no longer hear the bell, he stopped and selected the two strongest looking mounts. These he tied to a tree. The others he drove off to the south, towards the Morgul Vale. He expected that the Men would follow the larger herd rather than bother about two strays. At any event, he meant for him and Mithrandir to be far away by the time the theft was discovered. Quickly he returned to the two horses, untied them, and led them to where Mithrandir lay resting.
"Wake up, Mithrandir," he said, gently shaking the wizard's uninjured shoulder. "You may sleep again once we are mounted."
He had to half drag the wizard to the horse and boost him upon its back, but as quick as could be they were on their way northward. The ground was too broken for them to travel at a pace faster than a walk, but Legolas reminded himself that proceeding at a walk was better than not proceeding at all.
They rode steadily throughout the night, no longer needing to stop frequently so that Mithrandir might rest and recover. When the sun arose, Legolas decided that they should press on. He walked in order to spare a horse, and ever so often he would have Mithrandir switch mounts. They were making good time now, for their path grew less broken.
As the sun set, they crossed into the lands of the Rohirrim. When they came to a stream, Legolas bathed his hands, face, and feet and once again garbed himself in his elven garments. Mithrandir gladly resumed his own tunic and leggings, for he had complained at having to ride a horse with his legs protected only by drawers. Legolas had not spared the time it would have taken to steal a saddle, and the wizard did not let the Elf forget it. Though Mithrandir's scolding was unreasonable, Legolas did not allow himself to be troubled by it. An irascible wizard was better than a dying one, and the Elf took Mithrandir's ill-humor as a sign that he would have the strength to recover from his wound.
The land grew grassier, and the moon arose. Legolas and the two horses proceeded at a trot. As for Mithrandir, he lay with his head upon his horse's neck. Suddenly, Legolas came to a halt and pulled on the leading reins, causing the horses to likewise halt. Mithrandir lifted his head.
"What is the matter, Legolas?" he asked, concerned.
"You had better dismount, Mithrandir," Legolas said calmly. "We are about to have guests, and we will want to greet them properly."
Mithrandir slid from his horse but held on to the headstall for support. Soon he could see what Legolas had espied: a band of mounted warriors. "Rohirrim," he said in relief.
"Yes," agreed Legolas, "Rohirrim. What is it that Men say as a sort of jest? 'I have good news, and I have bad news'."
"What is the good news?" asked Mithrandir, puzzled.
"As you have already observed, those who approach are Rohirrim."
"And the bad news?"
"These horses that I stole from the Southrons: The Southrons stole them from the Rohirrim first."
"Oh dear," exclaimed the wizard. "Oh dear."