The War of Light and Shadow
By Freddie23
Disclaimer: I own nothing Tolkien created.
A/N: Thank you to all who reviewed. Here's the next chapter for you.
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Chapter 12 - In The Land of Blossoms Dreaming
"Aragorn. Get up." A voice called to him but Aragorn snuggled further down into the warmth of the blanket shrouded. "Aragorn!"
"Go away," the boy grumbled, his voice muffled by fabric. He was too tired for this. Besides, it was too early to wake up yet. A few more minutes would surely not hurt.
At this reply hand gripped Aragorn's shoulder and shook him roughly. "Come on. Up. Now."
Opening his eyes to dull daylight, which nevertheless made his head ache, Aragorn blinked blearily, trying to remember when exactly he had fallen asleep the night before for he couldn't immediately recall. Then he did remember…Legolas. "Legolas?" he exclaimed, sitting up abruptly and looking about for the Elf who was no longer by his side as he would have expected.
"Over here," Legolas called, attracting Aragorn's attention over to the river.
The boy got up, forgetting his fatigue, and trotted over to Legolas. "What are you doing?"
"Fixing this," the Elf answered, nodding to the small boat that was bobbing on the muddy waters of the Anduin.
"What is that?"
"It's a boat," Legolas explained with a smile.
Rolling his eyes, Aragorn said, "I can see that. Where did it come from?"
"I walked the riverbank earlier this morning and found it tied to a tree a little way down. It didn't need too much repairing. At the very least it'll get us across the river."
"Oh. When did you have time to do this?"
Pressing his hand as hard as he could down onto the bottom of the boat to check that there were no leaks, Legolas replied, "I got up early. I thought I'd see what I could do with this. Turns out it's not too bad at all."
"Good." Aragorn tried to peer around Legolas to see his face, which was cast downwards and partially hidden by a curtain of dirty blonde hair. Rather reluctantly he asked, "How are you feeling today?"
Legolas turned to face his ward with a genuine, placating smile. "I am fine, thank you, Aragorn." When he noticed the boy's slightly disbelieving look at this assurance, he moved away from his dawn project and laid his hand on the young man's shoulder, squeezing tightly. "Honestly, Aragorn; I was merely tired last night. Nothing is wrong with me. I don't want you worrying on it anymore, understand?"
"Yes. As long as you are sure that you're alright."
"I am positive." Legolas smiled down reassuringly at him then clapped him roughly on the back, saying, "Go pack up our things then we can get going."
Obediently, Aragorn wandered slowly back over to their tiny campsite and started stuffing the blanket and the two now full canteens back into their bags. Out of the corner of his eye, he continued to surreptitiously watch the Elf, who remained by the riverside, ensuring the boat was entirely safe before casting off. Certainly, Legolas looked better this morning than he had looked the night before, and yet there still seemed to be something off about his demeanour, something that Aragorn could not quite place.
"Aragorn, come on," Legolas called over to him impatiently.
With a heavy sigh, Aragorn pulled the two bags over his shoulders and stomped over to the riverbank.
"Get in," the Elf told him and he looked sceptically at the boat bobbing on the water. "It is perfectly sound."
Despite his nerves about sailing on the choppy waters, Aragorn didn't doubt that Legolas had made certain that the small boat was safe to travel in before he allowed his ward to set foot on it. He was positive that his guardian would do nothing to endanger him. So, accepting Legolas' hand in helping him board, he climbed awkwardly into the small, disconcertingly rocking vessel. Sitting down proved somewhat more of a challenge in the confined wooden space that moved whenever he made so much as a tiny movement himself and he gripped the sides as if to keep it from tipping. When he looked up at Legolas for reassurance, the Elf was grinning at him in amusement.
"What?" Aragorn demanded angrily.
"Nothing. You have never been in a boat before?"
"Obviously not." Legolas chuckled at him again, reaching for the tiny length of frayed rope that tethered the boat to the shore. "Stop laughing," Aragorn snapped grumpily as Legolas stepped effortlessly onto the boat. The boy's hands shot out to grip the sides again though as it dipped slightly in the river.
Still standing with complete ease and reaching for the long stick he planned to use as a paddle, Legolas laid one hand over his heart, and straightening out his features, said, "My apologies. Hold on tight."
"You're not funny," the boy told him in a dour tone even though he did indeed grab the edges of the boat for security.
"I think I'm a little funny," the Elf flashed him a smile.
The boat ride across the choppy, contaminated Anduin was short but it seemed impossibly perilous to the boy, who had never sailed on any body of water before. He didn't like the sensation at all; the way the small, seemingly ill-constructed boat swayed in the current as Legolas guided it confidently across the width of the Anduin, or the way it tipped dangerously at even the slightest movements of its occupants, or the small puddle of water that had formed disconcertingly at the bottom of the boat, threatening a leak at any moment.
When they reached the other side of the Great River, Aragorn gratefully scrambled out of the vessel before his guardian even had chance to tell him to disembark. He was rather amazed that it had served them so faithfully despite all expectations to the contrary. He had, at several points, been utterly convinced that the boat would spring a leak and sink halfway across the murky waters.
"That wasn't so terrible, was it?" Legolas teased as he dragged the boat up onto the slanted riverbank.
"No. Let's not ever do it again."
At this, Legolas just chuckled and Aragorn wondered at yet another change in the variable emotions of the Elf appointed as his guardian. He didn't think he'd ever heard Legolas laugh as much in his presence as he had done this morning. It was a refreshing change from the downcast, serious Elf he'd come to know.
After salvaging the short length of rope and hiding the boat just in case they had cause to use it again, Legolas led the boy away from the fast-flowing, polluted River Anduin. Once again, Legolas had reverted back to his usual, quiet, withdrawn self. More worrying than that though, he now seemed wary.
After a few minutes walking they moved into what, Legolas recognised with difficulty, had once been the great and beautiful golden forest of Lothlorien. Last time he had walked these paths, the forest had been radiant with luscious greenery untouched by Shadow; trees singing with the sheer joy of the life running through them and wandering amongst them and excitement at the presence of one of the visiting Woodland Elves – Prince of the Woodland Elves, no less - amidst their boughs. Last time, he had been greeted by the friendly, smiling faces of the well-trained Galadhrim and his old friend, and March Warden of the forest, Haldir. The vast landscape had consisted of the vivid green, glittering gold and ethereal silver of the Mallorn trees, the sun had beamed down on them and the wind had sung to him through the rustling leaves.
But now, as his thinly booted feet cracked the dried-out bracken littering the gently sloped ground, the exiled prince saw only death. The once magnificent trees, some older even than those Elves who had once danced among them and inhabited their high branches, had been stripped bare, their trunks no longer shining silver but rather a sad, dull grey, scratched and torn by the unmistakable dark presence of the Enemy. No luscious greenery remained in their canopies, the bare branches clawing ominously at the heavily clouded sky. Legolas could hear no song from them anymore, not even desperate wails of pain and despair akin to those he had heard in the dying moments of his homeland. These were dead, empty husks with no trace of spirit left within them.
It would have saddened him had he not been braced for it. After all, by now, the deathly silence of the world around him should have been more natural to him than the singing of the earth.
Quite the opposite to the Elf, Aragorn looked about himself in unconcealed wonder. They may have been dead, but the trees were the biggest and most impressive he had ever seen in his life.
"I have never seen anything like this," the boy breathed, concentrating more on the towering trunks than where he was putting his feet and he very nearly ran into Legolas twice in his distraction. "Have you ever seen anything like this?"
"No," Legolas mused darkly, cautiously looking around the decimated trees as he walked.
Something was definitely wrong here. And yet he didn't feel the need to draw out his weapons. Thus he did not believe the threat to be coming from Orcs or the rabid Wild Men they had encountered twice before on their travels. But he remained on edge.
"Legolas, where exactly are we going?"
"To find the Lady Galadriel."
Aragorn nodded, but at the same time, asked, "Is Lothlorien very big?"
"If she is still here then she will be in Caras Galadhon, the main city. We'll head there first."
"Do you know where it is?"
A small smile came to Legolas' pale lips and he glanced over at the boy. "Have I ever gotten you lost before?"
"Yes."
"Do not fear. I know where we're going."
The silver trees may have been different but fortunately the basic landscape had not changed too drastically in the wake of the War or with the passage of time. He recognised the gently sloping paths that would lead to the city in the centred in the heart of the great forest. Mostly the paths had become hidden over time but Legolas knew the way well enough not to need a walkway.
They travelled constantly throughout the day and Legolas made them carry on through the night as well. By the pale light of dawn, Aragorn found himself looking upon even greater trees, taller than anything he had ever imagined.
Breathing a sigh of amazement, Aragorn turned awed, dark eyes toward Legolas, who was simply squinting up at the stripped, naked trees. For some unfathomable reason, the Elf had half expected the guardians of the ancient city to have withstood the ravages of the Orcs and time. And yet it seemed that they had fared no better than any other on Middle Earth in the wake of the War.
"This way," Legolas said in a soft voice, leading his young charge through what had once been the city's defences.
Nothing challenged them as they entered Caras Galadhon. No silent shadows clad in the formal green-brown uniform of Lothlorien leapt down at them from atop the naked trees' branches, bows at the ready, demanding to know their purpose in entering the home of the Lady of Light. Legolas was surprised, however, to find that the trees that made up the vast city of Caras Galadhon still held in their boughs the remains of the homes of the people of Lorien. The place seemed deserted, however. There was no gentle tune on the breeze, none of the light-hearted singing that the residents of Lothlorien adored so much. It was completely still and quiet. Not even a slight breeze waved over the city. It was quite eerie to behold.
"Come on," the Elf prompted Aragorn, who had moved closer to his guardian and was now stood at Legolas' side, also chilled by the quiet.
As they walked through the ruined city, Aragorn followed Legolas closely. He didn't like the feel of this place at all, he realised, now that the initial awe had worn off. Everything was much too quiet. Not even the gentle rumbling from Mordor, which permeated the thick air wherever else they had been so far, could be heard amongst the towering trees.
Legolas nonetheless walked confidently past empty homes positioned high in the once perceived safety of the trees, heading quickly now for his intended destination.
When he reached what he knew to be roughly the mid-point of the city, Legolas came to a stop at the base of a simply massive tree, by far more ancient than any other in the Golden Wood.
"This way," the Elf instructed in a hushed voice, not even looking at the boy as he led him around the base of the enormous trunk towards a high, dark staircase that spiralled all the way up the side of the dull grey trunk.
"Up there?" Aragorn asked anxiously, glancing upwards, not relishing the thought of climbing up the rickety structure.
"The Lady Galadriel resides at the very top – the highest point in the city," Legolas explained flippantly, already starting to ascend.
Looking with an uncertain frown down at the wooden steps, some of which were clearly cracked, Aragorn asked, "Wait. Are you sure it's safe?"
"Quite sure. This is Elven engineering, Aragorn, built to withstand the test of time; it won't…" Before he could go any further in his easy reassurance, the step he trod on fell apart, tumbling a couple of feet to the ground close to where Aragorn still stood. Gripping the warped railing to regain his momentarily lost balance, Legolas looked down sheepishly at the boy, who was now glaring back at him, his arms crossed over his chest in a very 'I-told-you-so' manner.
"Elven engineering?" he asked dryly of his guardian
"Perhaps we should take it slowly," Legolas conceded with a short nod of his head.
"Mm. Very slowly," Aragorn agreed, gripping the railing tightly and stepping only where Legolas had already trod to reduce the likelihood of plummeting to his death.
Progress was slow as they ascended the spiralling staircase. The steps mostly held out, only one or two falling when Legolas gingerly tested them with his foot before treading on them properly. Aragorn stayed close to his guardian, watching tensely Legolas' every movement so he could copy it exactly.
By the time they reached the top platform, Aragorn's nerves were almost ripped to shreds and he breathed a loud sigh of sheer relief that they had not both fallen to their deaths traversing the ancient and crumbling staircase, which Elven or not was a death trap now.
Now safely on the landing, Legolas tossed his ward back an 'I-told-you-so' look, which the boy scowled at, making Legolas stifle a laugh. Then, ignoring the scathing gaze his Human charge had pinned on him, Legolas walked slowly across the creaky wooden boards towards an open doorway on the other side of the platform.
Trying desperately not to look down through the gaps in the wood at the ground far below him, Aragorn followed Legolas. He kept close to the railings that now acted as the only barrier from the huge drop, just in case one of the precarious boards fell away from under his feet.
"Be careful," he warned Legolas in a quiet voice laced with fear.
Walking with irritating boldness across the centre of the landing, Legolas glanced back at him and smiled calmly. Apparently, the Elf wasn't in the least bit worried, although for a change this fact did nothing to ease Aragorn's fears.
"Afraid of heights, too?" Legolas asked in a normal voice. "Add that to the list along with sailing."
"I am not afraid of the height. I'm afraid of falling from the height," Aragorn stressed. Legolas simply nodded in all serious, which in itself was mocking, and continued towards the doorway. "And I don't think it's entirely unreasonable given the circumstances."
"Calm down; you're not going to fall."
Doing his best to make himself believe Legolas' words and follow his trusted mentor's instructions, Aragorn kept his gaze levelled on the doorway ahead of them rather than on the ground far beneath him.
Because of his boldness and, perhaps foolish, continuing confidence in Elven structures, Legolas reached the door first and stepped inside the next room. Not keen on being left on his own to face his possible demise at the hands of gravity, Aragorn hurried after him, only to be met with more rotting wood, this time forming a long, covered hallway. It was dark under the wooded canopy but Aragorn was able to see that Legolas was already halfway along the structure.
As he walked quickly after the Elf, Aragorn kept his body tensed, ready for the fall. Cobwebs hung from the gently vaulted ceiling and tangled in his hair, startling him, and he swiped them away in disgust.
"Don't tell me you're afraid of spiders too?" Legolas' voice echoed tauntingly along the corridor.
"No," Aragorn snapped back in annoyance, even as he continued in his struggle to slap the webs off his sleeves.
He heard Legolas chuckle softly, tensely, and wished he could have thought up a better response to the jibe.
When he looked up again though, satisfied that he was not crawling with spiders, Legolas was standing in the room beyond, dull light casting an almost ghostly glow over him.
"Come on," the Elf encouraged, not bothering to turn. "It's perfectly safe."
Aragorn hurried over to where Legolas was stood in what appeared to be merely an antechamber, this place once more open to the elements – although this time obviously by design rather than by the ravages of time. To one side of them stood a set of high, intricately carved and decorated double doors, one of which stood at an odd, crooked angle, having fallen off its hinges long ago.
"The throne room," Legolas explained, nodding towards the broken doors.
As the Elf went to move forward though, Aragorn snatched the sleeve of his jacket, saying in a soft voice, "Are you sure it's safe?"
"I believe evil once blew through this city long ago, but it failed to linger here. We are safe, I think."
"Great. After you," the boy offered, extending his arm in the direction of the broken doors in a gesture of mock polite invitation.
Legolas cast him a wry glance from the corner of his eye and walked over to the door, reaching out to turn the doorknob. As he did so, the broken panel fell out, slamming to the floor with an echoing bang, sending plumes of dust billowing upwards, engulfing the two of them.
Aragorn startled at the loud noise but Legolas didn't even wait for the dust to settle before stepping over the fallen door and into the throne room where the king and queen of Lorien spent most of their days when Lothlorien was peaceful and golden.
The room, like everything else they had come across so far, differed greatly from his last, admittedly now a little faded, memory of it. Once, bright, silver light had shone through the white-walled room, beaming through the windows; now not even the dull light of a typical post-War day crept through the cracks in the boarded-up windows.
Clearly, the city had braced itself for the inevitable onslaught of Orc attackers. As they'd walked through the main grouping of houses of Caras Galadhon, Legolas had noticed that many of the doors and windows of the vacant properties had been panelled up. After decades standing untouched in the wake of its abandonment by the Elves, Lorien was no longer the place of wonder that Legolas had visited in his childhood, it was as every other place now. Dead.
Confirming his worst fears, the two silver thrones upon which Galadriel and her husband Celeborn had once ruled sat cold and empty, covered in years of dust, the silver wood cracked and warped. No one had sat here for a long time.
Legolas ascended the half a dozen steps up to the twin thrones and trailed one thin finger over the arm rest. Resigned to the fact that the Lady of Light was no longer here, Legolas turned on the spot, looking about the sizeable room.
Off to one side of the hall hung a long, tattered curtain and the Elf's keen eyes picked up on something behind it, the relief just about visible through the faded, tatty fabric. Curiosity compelled him forwards and he swept the curtain aside.
The cry that Aragorn gave startled Legolas more than the sight that greeted him behind the drapery. His head snapped towards the young boy who was now stood close to him, a horrified look etched onto his pale face. Legolas laid his hand on his startled young ward's shoulder in reassurance before returning his grim gaze back to the skeleton that still hung from one of the beams by a length of silver Elvish rope.
Legolas sighed sadly, recognising the emblem of the Galadhrim, guards of the Golden Wood, emblazoned on the front of the tattered tunic. This was a soldier.
"Orcs didn't do this, did they?" Aragorn asked innocently, quietly, never having seen this kind of death before.
"No, they did not."
"Then what…?"
"He probably felt he had no other choice," Legolas told him distractedly as he pulled a knife from the bag he carried and reached up on tiptoe to cut the rope from which the tragic Elf was hanging.
"What are you doing?" Aragorn asked as the body dropped to the dusty floor with a sickening cracking noise and a cloud of dust.
Pulling the rope from around the broken, skeletal neck, Legolas told him, "We can use this." As he then proceeded to check the Elf for weapons, which unfortunately were absent, he told his charge, "Give me a hand."
Aragorn busied himself with winding up the length of rope into a neat coil as Legolas coldly stripped the long dead Elf of his clothes, hoping they could salvage something of use from the guard's scant personal belongings. He tried to avoid focusing on the gruesome task his mentor was performing at his side, performing it seemed without any hint of emotion. It was at times like this that he became almost frightened of Legolas. He couldn't imagine his true father, Arathorn, ever doing anything quite so callous. His father would have mourned the passing of a member of his kin. Aragorn himself had been to countless 'funerals' during his time with the Rangers of the North where they honoured their fallen soldiers - not that he really remembered much; he'd been so young when he'd left the gallant men.
Finished with his morbid task, Legolas stood up and backed away from the stripped corpse.
"Let's go," he told the boy, who'd by now finished winding up the rope.
"Wait. Shouldn't we…?" Aragorn nodded toward the desiccated body.
Following Aragorn's gaze, Legolas shrugged. "Should we what?"
"You know, bury him or…?"
His face morphing from curious to unreadable in an instant, Legolas shook his head. "We don't have time to hang about. Now come on."
Before Aragorn could speak again, Legolas had left his side after casting a discreet sad look back at the body.
How Legolas could feel nothing at this tragic life ended, Aragorn didn't know. And it was not like they really didn't have the time. They had nothing but endless time on their hands with nothing now to aim for.
However, having no other choice, he reluctantly trailed after Legolas. The Elf led him back along the corridor and they proceeded to hurriedly explore the tree home of the Lord and Lady of Imladris. The Elf remained in complete silence as he checked each of the empty rooms. Only the upper level went unexplored as the staircase leading up to it had completely fallen to pieces over time and even Legolas would not dare to try to ascend further.
Once they had exhausted their search of the house of the rulers of Lothlorien, Legolas led his sulking young charge back down the rickety staircase to the forest floor.
"What now?" Aragorn finally broke the thick silence.
Without looking down at the boy, Legolas walked off and mumbled, "This way."
Rolling his eyes in exasperation at the Elf's once more dour mood, Aragorn followed.
Legolas led him through the trees, following, it seemed, some kind of path that Aragorn could not see. He longed to break the awful silence that had descended between them since the throne room, to pry another joke from the stern Elf, but Legolas stared straight ahead as he walked, not paying any attention at all to his uncomfortable young companion.
When they reached a small clearing littered only with a couple of fallen trees, Legolas stopped and looked around as though searching for something. Aragorn wanted to ask what but Legolas seemed so deep in concentration that he didn't like to disturb him from his thoughts.
Legolas then suddenly walked over to a tall stone plinth, covered in dirt and moss. He ran his fingers almost tenderly over the cold stone and Aragorn noticed that he wore a sad look once more upon his face.
"Legolas? Are you…?"
Stepping back away from the plinth, Legolas said shortly, "Let's go."
"Um, alright." The Elf strode away, the firm look replacing sadness again as he stared straight ahead of him, not even so much as glancing from his path. "Where are we going?" Aragorn asked as he jogged to keep up with the Elf's striding pace.
"To find somewhere to rest."
"Oh. But it's still early; shouldn't we keep searching for Galadriel?"
"No."
Confused, Aragorn asked, "Why not?"
"She's not here."
"What?" the boy exclaimed, hurrying to catch up with his Elven guardian so he could further demand an explanation. "What do you mean she's not here? We came all this way." Legolas did not respond to him, just continued walking, his eyes now scanning the houses built in the trees for a suitably intact place to stay for the night. "Hold on a minute," Aragorn called, grabbing the sleeve of the Elf's jacket to bring him to a halt and Legolas finally did stop at the imploring gesture. "Maybe they're living somewhere else in the city – or just another part of Lothlorien," Aragorn suggested in near desperation.
"She's not."
"How can you be so sure?"
Legolas suddenly turned on the boy and grabbed both his arms in a tight grip. "Close your eyes." At Aragorn's confused look, the Elf demanded, "Close your eyes." This time, Aragorn did as he was told, his eyelids fluttering shut. "Now," Legolas started in a softer voice after giving his ward a minute to adjust, "what do you feel?"
"Feel? Uh, nothing," Aragorn shrugged.
"Exactly."
Aragorn opened his eyes again, frowning; he did not understand the point of the exercise. "What does that mean?"
"Even humans should be able to feel it, although perhaps not so blatantly as the Firstborn; the presence of the enchantment. It once protected the borders of the wood and those who lived within them. This land has been laid to waste." Legolas sighed heavily, letting his hands fall from Aragorn's arms, dropping to his sides wearily. In a softer voice, he said, "There is no hint of magic left here anymore. They're gone."
Silenced by the sad words from his guardian, Aragorn nodded in understanding. A sudden chill made him shudder and he looked up to Legolas.
"So what do we do now?"
"Fine somewhere to rest for the night."
"That's not what I meant. What are we going to do after tonight? Do we keep searching for her?" Aragorn asked as they started walking again, this time with considerably less urgency.
It took Legolas a long time to come up with the most worrying infuriating answer Aragorn thought possible. "I don't know."
The boy knew that tone so well that he kept quiet despite the multiple questions now running through his head, not to mention all the complaints that sprung to mind. He followed behind his guardian at a safe distance, absorbed in his own thoughts. So much so that when Legolas stopped he carried on walking and Legolas had to call him back.
"Here?" Aragorn asked, looking up into the thick branches, on which was a flet with a real house on top that actually looked habitable.
"As good as any."
Not the best criteria, Aragorn thought, but he nodded and said, "Alright," nonetheless.
Legolas nodded in return and started up the ladder, this one fortunately nowhere near as unstable as the previous one they'd climbed, although perhaps a little more awkward given that it went straight up rather than spiralling gently up the trunk.
The home was boarded up like all the others; they had to kick the door down to gain entrance it was so tightly locked up, which actually proved good for them as the inside of the place was well-protected from the elements and any potential intruders and so had remained in good condition. Legolas looked briefly around. It was small but had one bedroom, a bathroom, a kitchen and sitting room; more than Aragorn had ever seen before. Whilst Legolas walked around with caution, the boy went in amazement. He had never seen inside a real home before. It was utterly fascinating to him.
Deciding that the place was both suitable for their needs and safe, Legolas laid his bags on the filthy couch in the sitting room and Aragorn followed suit.
"Did you used to live in a place like this?" Aragorn asked curiously.
"No," the Elf answered bluntly, turning his back on the boy, not leaving any room for further questions. Indeed this small flet was a far cry from where he had grown up in the palace of Mirkwood. However, this was still by far the best place he'd stayed in for years.
"Have a look around, see if you can find any food," Legolas told the silenced boy. He didn't think he would get anywhere near that lucky but it was worth a try.
"Fine." Aragorn decided to give up on making conversation with the once more dour Elf and set about pulling open the doors in the small kitchen area, searching the multiple drawers and cupboards for anything that might be considered edible. Mostly they contained only a selection of utensils that Aragorn had never seen before and could not fathom the use of. There were a few wooden storage jars sat on the counters but when Aragorn opened them they were either completely empty or contained substances that smelled so awful that they made him gag. "There's nothing here," Aragorn told Legolas in disappointment as he turned a metal cooking pot experimentally over in his hands – he'd never seen one before.
"Check in the top cupboards or look for a larder," Legolas responded, having returned from a second look around the house.
"Larder?"
Sighing deeply in impatience despite the fact that he knew that Aragorn could have no way of knowing the word or what it meant, Legolas strode into the kitchen to join his ward, glanced around and then tugged open a full-sized door revealing several shelves stacked with food.
"Larder," Legolas told him in explanation. "Look through the containers and packages, see if there's anything we can eat."
Moving into the place Legolas had just vacated, Aragorn scanned the shelves. Several more storage containers lined them and there were two sacks laid on the floor, which smelled absolutely rotten so Aragorn decided that he wouldn't even investigate them. However, as per Legolas' instruction, he pulled the lids off the jars and searched thoroughly for something resembling food.
The first few he tried were empty, their contents probably having decomposed long ago. A long, deep wooden chest stored at the very back of the cobweb-adorned cupboard was so heavy that Aragorn could hardly lift it. Taking this as a good sign, Aragorn heaved the box off the shelf and took it to the counter where it slapped down with a loud knock, dust shooting up into Aragorn's face and making him cough.
Waving his hand before his face to clear the air, Aragorn then prised the lid off to reveal the contents.
Inside were at least twenty smaller packages with brown leaf wrappers protecting whatever was inside them. When Aragorn went to pick one up, the leaves he touched even with light fingers crumbled. Brushing the flaked pieces aside, Aragorn's eyes widened when he saw completely intact, untouched by the usual decomposition after so many years, sticks of what looked to be some kind of bread.
Excitement at his find bubbled in his chest and he called out loud Legolas' name as he'd noticed his guardian had disappeared from sight again. At the boy's shout though, he came running back in.
"What? What's wrong?" the Elf demanded, looking in panic around the room for whatever had made his charge yell.
"Look what I found," Aragorn grinned, apparently not noticing the terror that had been momentarily plastered on Legolas' face when he feared the boy was in trouble. "Food!" the boy grinned obliviously, holding up one of the wafers for Legolas to see.
Taking a composing breath, Legolas stepped over to the excited teenager to look at what he had found.
"Huh," he exclaimed, taking the wafer from Aragorn's hand. "Lembas. Long-lasting and very filling."
"It lasted all these years?"
"Sealed in a container, wrapped in Mallorn leaves, yes. Elven soldiers take it with them when they're forced away from home for a long time."
"Does it taste good?" Aragorn wondered, leaning down to sniff the box.
"Of course."
Lifting out some of the packets, Aragorn complained, "Some of them are mouldy."
"Salvage what you can. Throw the rest away; it's useless to us anyway."
"This is good though, right? This can last us a while," the boy enthused.
"Yes," Legolas smiled thinly, walking towards the front door.
"Where are you going?"
"To collect some wood." Legolas nodded toward the stove in the kitchen. "We can be warm tonight."
"I am starting to really like Lothlorien," Aragorn laughed brightly.
Legolas couldn't help but smile in return; the boy's good mood was infectious and he found the grim despondence he'd felt since first setting foot within Lothlorien's shattered borders at last beginning to soften. True, Lady Galadriel, with her immense power to protect and defend, no longer resided within this forest, but perhaps this visit wouldn't be a complete waste of time after all. At the very least it was a chance to rejuvenate for the monumental task that lay ahead of them.
To Be Continued…