Special thanks for this chapter goes to Haldir's Heart and Soul, whose suggestion really helped improve this part of the story (from my perspective, at least). Thanks for the idea! Hope you like what I've done with it (and there's still a little bit more to come in the next chapter).
Chapter Twelve: Rivendell
Thankfully, they passed through the rest of the forest with little trouble. Their company was large enough that all but the most desperate of predators would pass them by, yet small enough to not attract much attention from the darker denizens of the forest.
The battle with the spiders had left them all on edge, and Brithdil knew he wasn't the only one glad to be out of the forest.
The air of the plains was such a welcome change to that of Mirkwood. He would never admit it, but Brithdil often felt a bit claustrophobic living within the palace. He wasn't old enough to remember what the forest was like before the shadow fell, and had ventured out to Dale enough with his father to know that the lands beyond the forest were much more peaceful.
Brithdil shook his head, dispelling those thoughts to focus on the area around him. Gilfaroth had halted the company just as dusk was falling, and Brithdil had been assigned first watch along with Meledur.
He sighed, rotating his injured shoulder with a grimace. The wound the spider had left was healing quickly, despite a slight infection. He had managed to keep the infection hidden from Gilfaroth and the rest of the company, knowing that he would be sent back to the palace if there was the least concern that he might become ill. The infection was only slight, and after cleaning the wound properly it was already beginning to disappear.
The elf glanced casually back at the circle of elves around the fire. One of the older warriors was telling a story, and Brithdil hoped it had nothing to do with spiders. He hated spiders. Although, he couldn't help think with a grin, it was becoming quite the trend for him to save Prince Legolas from spiders.
"Captain Brithdil?"
Brithdil bit back a groan. "Lady Meluial," he said casually. He didn't mind her presence—truly, he was quite fond of Meluial—but the princess had been pestering him since the battle with the spiders to let her look after the wound on his arm. He appreciated the concern, but he didn't want her to find out it had been infected.
"Please, don't call me 'Lady'," Meluial said with a sigh.
"In which case, then, you should not call me 'Captain'," Brithdil replied, glancing over at her. The princess's gaze was focused on the tree line, just visible in the darkness of night. "Is something wrong?"
Meluial shook her head. "Do you think we'll make it to Rivendell with no further trouble?" she asked quietly.
The captain shrugged. "I hope so," he said evenly. "Yet...I must say I doubt it."
The she-elf nodded silently. "I fear the same," she finally said. "Brithdil...what if we run into trouble crossing the mountains? There are only nine of us...what if we can't protect Legolas?"
She said nothing about her own safety, even though she was a princess of Mirkwood. Brithdil just smiled and gently took her hand, squeezing it to offer some reassurance and then releasing it. "I promise you, Meluial, that I would die before I let anything happen to your brother." Or you, he added mentally.
"Thank you," Meluial whispered, smiling briefly before turning back to the circle of the camp.
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Three days later, Meluial was beginning to believe her concerns had been ill-founded. They had yet to cross the High Pass, but so far they had gone unchallenged by any creature in the land. Granted, part of this was probably due to the shape-changer who was rumored to be settling the land near the river but the elves were all grateful for the peaceful journey.
They had crossed the Anduin easily—there hadn't been enough rains lately to make the ford dangerous, and were now camped a few hours from the High Pass under threatening storm clouds.
The Misty Mountains loomed in the distance, a dark and foreboding picture of things to come. The princess shuddered as she sat down next to Luinlothiel, easily shifting Legolas into her lap so her sister could have a few moments to herself.
"See the mountains?" Meluial whispered. "We'll start crossing them tomorrow, and the day after we'll be in Rivendell."
Legolas followed her gaze, blue eyes wide in wonder. He had lived his entire life in the palace, so the plains and the mountains had been amazing to him. It had secretly delighted his sisters—and the other members of the company—to see how curious he was of the world around him. Perhaps being away from the shadow of Mirkwood had helped, but over the last few days Legolas hadn't seemed so despondent.
"Meluial?" he whispered.
"Yes?"
"Have you ever been there?"
Meluial smiled. "Oh, yes. I've been to Rivendell many times, and even all the way to Lothlorien."
"What's it like?"
The princess's smile broadened. He had never shown any interest in Rivendell before...this was certainly hopeful. "It's beautiful, even more than the palace—but don't tell Ada I said that," she added in a conspiring tone. Legolas almost giggled, and Meluial's heart lightened immensely. There was still hope that he could recover, then. "It's very light there," she said, drawing on her first impression of Lord Elrond's realm. "There is no shadow, like the one over our home. The elves there live in houses, like the elves in the village. There is a huge garden, and they are always singing and laughing and telling stories. It is just so peaceful there, and nothing dangerous can ever come in."
"No spiders?"
Had it not been for the tragic events in their family's past, Meluial might have laughed at his question. "No, Legolas, I have never seen a spider beyond a tiny house spider in that place."
Legolas sighed, nodding solemnly, and snuggled back against Meluial. "Will Ada come and see me?" he asked in a voice so quiet that she scarcely heard him.
"He'll try," Meluial said brightly, though she did not know if he would be able to. "But I will...and I'm sure Gilfaroth and Luni will, too."
"And Brithdil?"
Meluial smiled again. At some point Legolas had grown very attached to the captain...probably because the dark-haired elf had killed the spider that was attacking them. "We'll see," she simply said. "How are you feeling today?"
The elfling just shook his head, looking up at Meluial with sad eyes.
"It will be all right," the princess said, hugging him close. His curiosity was a good sign, but she knew Legolas still had a long way to go before he was completely healed.
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Brithdil gritted his teeth as another burst of wind tore through the company. He pulled his hood a little lower to escape the driving rain. It had begun during the night, and it looked as though the storm could continue for days, which made their journey through the High Pass all the more difficult. He knew Gilfaroth was concerned that the twilight-like darkness of the day might encourage orcs to venture out, but that the older elf was also worried that a rain this heavy would flood the lower-lying plain. It had come down to crossing the pass or going back over the Anduin and risking delay if those waters rose.
He shook a rain-soaked strand of hair out of his face, urging his horse ahead a few paces to ride beside Lady Luinlothiel. "Are you all right?" he called over the rain.
The princess looked over at him in surprise. "Yes, I'm fine," she replied, reaching up to tuck her hair back into her hood. Legolas peeked out from where Luinlothiel had sheltered him under his cloak, and Brithdil spared a smile for the prince.
"Let me take him."
Gilfaroth's voice startled Brithdil, as the rain had hampered his hearing.
"I'm fine," Luinlothiel protested.
"You're exhausted, and the rain isn't helping," the captain retorted, shaking his head at his wife. "Let me take him."
Brithdil moved to one side, reaching out a hand to steady Gilfaroth's horse as the elfling was switched over. The older elf gently wrapped his cloak around the prince, sheltering him from the rain and wind.
"Don't you think we should turn back?" Brithdil asked as they pulled away from Luinlothiel.
"It's too dangerous," Gilfaroth replied. "We'd never make it."
"Why?"
The older elf speared him with a sharp look. "Can't you sense them?"
Brithdil shivered. He had hoped it was just his imagination, but if Gilfaroth had felt the same there was no doubt. There were orcs nearby. "Are they coming out?" he asked, his hand automatically straying toward his quiver.
"I think they're waiting to see what we do," Gilfaroth replied, scanning the sides of the mountains. He hesitated, looking down at the elfling in his cloak. "If they should attack, Brithdil, I want you to take command," he finally said in a low voice.
The younger elf was stunned. "Me?"
"Yes. You are a captain, the others will follow you."
"What about you?" he asked.
"I will take Legolas and run," Gilfaroth replied simply. "I wouldn't admit it to Luni, but her horse is not suited for such a flight...mine is."
Brithdil nodded, understanding his friend's reasoning. "All right," he agreed. "Should we draw them out?"
"No," the older elf shook his head, still scanning for signs of orc activity. "We should try to get as far as possible before being drawn into battle."
They both heard the stifled noise from inside Gilfaroth's cloak, and he looked down with an encouraging smile for the elfling. "Do not fear," he said softly. "We'll protect you."
Brithdil opened his mouth to agree, but his senses suddenly flared with danger. "Go!" he hissed, pushing Gilfaroth away from him as a crude arrow struck the ground between them.
The older elf needed no more encouragement, and in an instant he leaned over the horse, whispering into its ear and urging it forward.
Brithdil did not spare him another glance, turning his attention back to directing the company. "Hold your ground!" he called. "We can't lead them toward the prince!"
He caught Luinlothiel's eye, hoping she would understand what her husband did. She lowered her head, nodding. "Get down," he called, leaping from his horse and running over to pull her off hers as the elves around them drew the fire from the orcs. "Stay out of sight if you can."
Bows sang around him, and he could hear the hideous screeches of orcs on the ledges above them.
All was going well, until one of the elves fell with an arrow in his shoulder. It tore Brithdil's heart, but he could not pull anyone else away from the battle to tend to the injured warrior. He noticed another elf drawing close to the injured one, to help protect him from other arrows.
An orc body tumbled off one of the ledges, spooking the already-nervous horses. Brithdil wasted no effort restraining the animals, calling for the warriors to let them go.
He caught a glimpse of an orc in the wall on the other side of the pass, and raised his bow to shoot it but was suddenly thrown to one side as another landed on him from above. He rolled to his feet, and was again thrown aside as something ran into him.
Sharp pain tore through his shoulder, and he cried out as the orc-blade that had pierced him was pulled free.
He shuffled back awkwardly, pulling one of his knives out and steadying himself as he face the creature that had attacked him, his injured arm hanging uselessly. He could see other orcs jumping down from the ledges as their arrows ran out, advancing to overwhelm the elves. With grim satisfaction he noticed that, thanks to the one who had caught him by surprise, none of the others were caught off-guard.
The orc gave an inarticulate cry, charging with its blade raised. Brithdil fought him off, wishing he had the use of both his arms. Catching the orc's sword with his knife, he kicked out into the creature's gut, knocking it back a few steps.
The orc didn't stop to catch its breath, pressing the elf even further. Brithdil battled the orc for a few moments before he faltered, slipping on a muddy patch and landing painfully on one knee. Another of the creatures attacked from the side, punching the wound in his arm. Under the press of the two orcs, Brithdil was knocked to the ground. He tried to get back up, but one orc placed its foot on his chest, pressing down until the elf struggled to breathe, the other stepping on his wrist to trap his knife.
Brithdil gasped for air, his eyes catching the orc's blade as it raised it to deliver the killing stroke.
He steeled himself for death, but the orc suddenly stopped, awkwardly. Before Brithdil could begin to wonder what was going on, the creature toppled over, an arrow embedded in its back. The second orc snarled, pushing the first off and pulling Brithdil up by his tunic until their faces were almost touching.
Gagging at the creature's foul breath, Brithdil tightened his fingers around his knife and stabbed the orc in the side, kicking it away as it howled in pain. The orc's movement wrenched the knife out of his grasp, and Brithdil jerked his feet away as the orc grabbed for his legs.
He caught a blur of movement out of the corner of his eye, and suddenly a gray-cloaked figure was standing over the orc, stabbing its sword down into creature's body.
The gray-cloaked stranger extended a hand, the hood of his cloak falling back to reveal an elf with light blond hair and gray-blue eyes. "Are you all right?" the elf asked in concern.
Brithdil nodded breathlessly, wide eyes taking in the twelve elves who had somehow appeared to help battle the orcs. "How did you find us," he asked in astonishment.
A slight smile pulled at the light-haired elf's lips. "That is a very long story."
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Gilfaroth ducked under another branch, urging his horse on through the forest at the borders of Lord Elrond's realm.
"We're almost there," the elf muttered, both to the elfling and himself. The ride through the pass had been harrowing, as orcs seemed to come from every side as though drawn by the seemingly-easy target of a lone elf.
Their flight had lasted through the day into sunset, as the rain finally stopped and the clouds dispersed. He had pushed his horse to its limit, knowing that more lives than Legolas' hung in the balance now.
If he could find a patrol—or if a patrol would find him—he could send them back to aide the company. Gilfaroth's heart was pounding painfully, and he prayed that his wife and the others were still alive.
The horse stumbled, and Gilfaroth barely managed to keep his seat. He swung off the horse, still holding Legolas close. "It's all right," he murmured, gently patting the good animal's neck as it stood panting and heaving, its sides flecked with foam. "Thank you, Belamír," he whispered. "We're safe now."
The horse whickered, lowering its head tiredly. Gilfaroth sighed and patted the horse one more time, glancing down the path to Rivendell. They had been a little more than a day's journey from the city when the orcs had attacked.
"Legolas?" Gilfaroth knelt down, letting the elfling stand. "Are you all right?"
The prince nodded, rubbing his sleeve across his eyes. "Where's Luni?" he asked.
"I hope she's safe," Gilfaroth replied with a sigh, thinking back to leaving his wife under the orc's attack. "Are you ready to keep going?"
Legolas nodded again, holding his arms up to be carried. Gilfaroth bit back a wry chuckle and lifted the elfling up, settling him against his hip. He could tell that the prince was exhausted—truth be told so was he. He did not want to stop unless they had to, so with Belamír trailing tiredly behind Gilfaroth hiked down the path.
"Halt! Who goes there!"
Gilfaroth breathed a sigh of relief. He hadn't been walking long, perhaps ten minutes, when the patrol halted him. "Gilfaroth of Mirkwood," he called back. "I am member of the household of King Thranduil."
An elf stepped out of the shadows of the wood. "Greetings," he called. "What brings you here, and on foot?" he asked, casting a curious glance at the elfling held in Gilfaroth's arms.
"I come on an urgent errand for Lord Elrond," Gilfaroth replied, recognizing the elf from a previous trip. "I was riding, but," the elf gestured wordlessly to Belamír. "Please, I need to see Lord Elrond as soon as possible. Orcs attacked my party in the High Pass, and I rode here as swiftly as I could."
Another elf appeared out of the shadows, leading a horse. "What errand is so urgent that you would risk such a flight."
"The king's son," Gilfaroth explained, gently brushing Legolas' hair aside so the other elves could see his face. "Prince Legolas."
"What happened to him?" the first elf asked in concern, noticing the paleness to the young face.
"It would take too long to explain," Gilfaroth said hurriedly, setting the sleeping elfling on the horse's broad back at the second elf's urging, mounting behind him. "My company is still in danger in the pass," he said, his voice tight with concern.
"We will go after them," the second elf said. "Someone will care for your horse and bring him up when he has recovered a bit," he added.
"Thank you," the wood-elf nodded gratefully, putting one arm around Legolas to steady him for the final leg of their journey.
The second elf nodded, gently swatting the horse's rump as Gilfaroth rode off.
Night was falling fast, and full darkness had come over the land by the time Gilfaroth reached the Last Homely House (or, rather, the First as it was sometimes called by those who traveled west). Exhaustion was pulling at him, and he barely noticed the elves who poured out of the house to take his horse and help him down.
The prince still clutched in his arms, Gilfaroth nearly stumbled as he was led through the crowd to a tall, regal elf.
"Lord Elrond," Gilfaroth bowed. "I am Gilfaroth of Mirkwood, here on behalf of King Thranduil."
Elrond nodded, gently taking Gilfaroth by the arm to lead him into the house. "Welcome to Rivendell," the older elf said formally.
Gilfaroth barely noticed that Lord Elrond was leading him to the healing rooms. He did not know if the rest of his company had fallen to the orcs, but he knew he had fulfilled the king's request.
Legolas was safe in Rivendell.
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PS: The plausible (I promise!) explanation for the Lorien Elves' appearance (yes, that's who they were) is in the next chapter, as well as the long-awaited arrival of Elladan and Elrohir.