XVI
Tales of Trees
They journeyed south and the wind seemed to wish to drive them backward with its breath. None of the companions complained; they plodded onward and, if at all, made the off-handed remark, ever in a whispered voice, of a pleasure or comfort they missed. The halflings suffered the most, though they did not slack their efforts or fall behind until they were very weary. They buoyed each other with cheerful words and jests, even as they limped or tightened their belts. Legolas felt a great admiration for them.
Especially for Frodo. He uttered no word of desire or need, but allowed himself to be guided forward, putting all of his energy into keeping up with the long stride of Aragorn and Mithrandir. His eyes were often down-cast, watching the rough road, but on clear nights he looked up at the stars, and to Legolas' eyes he seemed to shine faintly with that light, even as one of his own people might.
What Legolas himself missed the most once the journey began was not hot food or smooth drink, but trees and the company of other Elves. He had gone on ventures before; alone, stealthful missions where he had risked his life without aid, for his King and father, as well as dangerous errands in the company of the guard. But he had not traveled with other races before, and never with such a mixed group. He became aware quickly of their limitations, and it brought him worry at first.
And nowhere had he traveled before where there were no trees. Even the desolation of the Dragon had offered small copses of worried shrubs and wind-bitten pines, with the leafy sea of Mirkwood on the verdant horizon.
Like all Eldar, Legolas did not need to sleep, not as Men or Halflings or Dwarves needed it. To lie helpless and without senses seemed a dangerous and foolish past time to the Elf. Legolas could rest even as he walked the lands, his mind dwelling on peaceful things while his eyes and ears and nose served him in vigilance. When the first day came and lots were drawn for watches, Legolas drew first sleep.
He laughed. "I have no need to lie in the dust. Let another take such rest as they need and I will watch instead."
Gandalf came to him and spoke softly. "We must each become accustomed to the needs and responsibilities of this Companionship. The young hobbits look up to you. They will try to be as tireless and brave as we bigger folk appear to them. I fear they will exhaust themselves trying to match your example. Lie down and take a rest, though you need it not, at least until they grow used to our differences."
"As you wish, Mithrandir." Legolas did lie down, and though his eyes were unclosed and he listened sharply to every moment of the passing hours, he also thought about what this journey would do to the hobbits. A great change would be wrought upon each, even if they met no hardship greater than distance. The thought of what might be encountered chilled his heart.
After that day he watched the hobbits closely, trying to learn more of their ways. He noticed that the youngest one, Peregrin, fairly bubbled with energy and curiosity, and needed more food than any of his companions. Like a hummingbird he was, always fluttering. Legolas would slip small portions of his own rations to the hobbit, stealfully so as to be unnoticed by the others; except by the sharp-eyed Aragorn whom the Elf had noted was doing a similar thing for Frodo, by way of Samwise. Frodo's strength had to be kept up, for his road would be the hardest.
Legolas could not even envision it. He knew the hobbit intended to carry out his task, even as terrified as he was, but the Elf could not see him going through with it. Deep in his heart, Legolas believed that the journey would end the brave ring-bearer and that one of his cousins would have to step forward into his place. Why else send three more on this venture?
Legolas kept this fatalistic belief to his private thoughts. He had seen great things done with no more magic than hope, and he would not deal a wounding word to those who were still capable of faith. Yet it tore at his heart to watch them sitting around after a long march, their faces pinched with weariness, laughing quietly at Pippin's antics or as Merry told a humourous tale. How long would they live out here in the wild lands without Aragorn and himself to watch over them? And the Man from the South.
Legolas once thought that the greatest burden he would bear on this journey would be his endurance of a Dwarf's company, but it was Boromir that gave Legolas the most annoyance. Proud, as if he had invented the concept, never did he pass up the opportunity to tell the Companion about his beloved city. White walls and white towers; silver, black, and grey; Legolas was not impressed by such descriptions. Where was the life, that which was protected, was watched over? Why did they fight in Minas Tirith, if they had only stone and granite tombs kept there? Never spoke him of a garden or a tree. Never, that is, until one night when the inquisitive Took asked him about the design on his bracers and the Man's answer caught Legolas' unfocused attention.
"The White Tree of Gondor? Have you heard nothing of it in your small country? You are isolated, indeed!" Boromir began. Legolas was grateful that it was still too dark for his companions to see his disgust at the Man's condescending words. "It grows in the court of the King... or grew, rather. It died the same year as Belecthor II, Steward of the Citadel, and no sapling could be found to replace it. It still stands in the court, bowed sadly over the pool, waiting for the return of the King." Boromir's eyes flicked to the dark Ranger that sat some feet away, watching the lightening sky.
"But why was no sapling found?" asked Peregrin, still curious. He had bade the Man remove his armoured sleeve so that he could look at it more closely. Placing it on his own arm, it looked ridiculously large. Merry traced the embossed leather with a curious finger.
"Many years lie between the planting of that tree from its predecessor. It is said that it came from a scion of the White Tree in NĂºmenor. Isildur brought a fruit from that sacred tree and planted it in Minas Ithil. From that tree a seedling was brought to Minas Tirith, after the Dark Lord captured that fair city and burned the tree. He planted it in memory of his brother Anarion. It is the symbol of our people. It is said," and here Boromir touched Aragorn again with his eyes briefly, "that when the true King returns to Gondor, the tree will bloom again."
"That will be a relief, I am sure!" remarked Pippin, yawning sleepily. "I would much prefer a living symbol than a dead one! What?" Pippin winced as Merry elbowed him. "Oh! No offense, Lord Boromir!" The halfling hastened to rise and bow, but Boromir merely laughed.
"There is no offense taken, Pippin," the man said. "You speak in weariness and innocence. When you look upon the Citadel and the Court of the King, you will understand. May we all look upon it soon, and may I dream of my White City tonight!" and Boromir rolled himself in his blanket, taking first sleep as was his lot.
Legolas had nearly laughed aloud at the halfling's remark, so close to his own thoughts. The conversations faded as each companion fell asleep, except for Legolas and Gimli whose lots were to watch together this night.
