Chapter 22: Into The Wild (Legolas & Co)
(~***~)
The elves set out towards Edoras. It was a little farther than they strictly needed to go, but they did need to swing west to avoid the marshes and treacherous rocks around the Falls of Rauros. Going to Edoras would support their story as well, for no true horse merchant would miss a stop in Rohan.
More importantly, Lossrilleth had recently sat down with Thranduil and explained her concerns about their finances. After reviewing the rough accounts she'd been keeping, he had agreed they should try not to sell any more of their dwindling gems if it could be avoided. They didn't know how long they'd have to last.
Instead, they had decided to sell the horse herd in Rohan where they might get the best price. (Thranduil had an eye for under-employed yearlings that should be training as war horses, not farmhands. They would bring a good profit if sold to the right buyer.) Then they could restock if they wished to before heading north into less developed country.
Keeping the mountains on their left, the elves left the city and the towns that had grown around the King's roads. For a brief distance they passed only occasional remote villages. Quicker than seemed possible to Legolas (even though he had seen it on the improved map Farren had given them), the buildup resumed.
Where there had once been only primitive villages, there were towns and even small cities. Still, they avoided them in favor of making camps when they could. They found the human settlements oppressive.
Both Thranduil and Lossrilleth noticed a change in Legolas as they rode into Rohan. No one could ever call him chatty, but now he was completely silent. Lossrilleth thought he had the same distant look she'd noticed on his face as they walked through Minas Tirith to Fen Hollen. When she felt for him in fёa, he seemed withdrawn.
He left the camp to hunt one night without saying a word, which was stunningly unusual considering that (frankly) he'd been a little clingy so far on this quest. Lossrilleth watched him leave with raised eyebrows.
"I think this place must be full of ghosts. He has never once been in Rohan – or Gondor for that matter - at a time when Aragorn was not living," Thranduil commented when Legolas had gone.
"Is this about Aragorn?" she asked her father-in-law. "Is this not the way to the Glittering Caves? He visited Gimli frequently in those years after the war, yes? He would have come this way many times."
Thranduil looked over at her from the string of horses he was coaxing into eating the weedy grass at their campsite, surprised. Always the dwarf, he thought. How on earth Legolas had become so enamored with such a creature, Thranduil might never understand. But this was the way to Aglarond, so he confirmed Lossrilleth's thinking.
"How long has it been since he has said anything positive to you about his friends?" she asked the old king.
But Thranduil could not remember the last time Legolas had shared such a thing with him, or in his presence. If they were mentioned, there was only grief.
The next morning as they were saddling the horses, Lossrilleth found that the buckle of her saddle had fallen off. (Thranduil suspected she'd pulled the stitches out herself during the night somehow. If that was true, she could be sneakier than he'd given her credit for.)
"Oh dear," she said to her companions. "I suppose I could take out my elvish clothes and ride astride. We are not in very inhabited places yet."
"No!" Legolas told her, snapping out of his distraction at the thought of the men of Rohan gaping at her in leggings. "We have seen men every day this week. You ride with me as we did before we found that saddle for you. These are horse lands, we can surely get your tack fixed in one of these towns."
Lossrilleth grumbled under her breath about the ridiculous things humans imposed on their women, but did as he asked. When Thranduil raised an eyebrow at her where Legolas could not see, she winked at her father-in-law.
Lossrilleth sat behind her husband, holding him perhaps more tightly than was strictly necessary to keep her balance – allegedly the point. She began to coax stories of his old friends out of him. Not the great tales she already knew, but small ones. She asked him little things, such as whether Gimli snored terribly, or if Aragorn had been an early riser. (Yes, and yes.)
"Did you really have a competition over your body counts during battles?" Lossrilleth asked him. "It is morbid, is it not?"
"You are probably right, it is morbid," Legolas agreed with chagrin. "But one has to find a way to keep heart in terrible battles. I think that is one of the dwarfs' great talents. They embrace their strength and live in defiance of despair, no matter how dark the days become."
"I think there is honesty in the way they live. I imagine they would find the gossips of Valinor as distasteful as I do. Better to speak plainly if you wish to criticize someone," Lossrilleth said. Thranduil shook his head at her. Why begin a conflict unnecessarily with people you were going to know forever?
She continued, "I for one am not opposed to brash humor and loud celebrations from time to time! Sometimes the energy of life is very great or very terrible, and gentle manners only fail to rise to the occasion."
"I think you would have liked each other, had you the chance to meet," Legolas said, smiling despite himself. He was thinking about the sense of humor Gimli and Lossrilleth shared.
"Have I told you about the drinking game?" Legolas asked her. His mood had lifted out of the grey fog he'd been stuck in for days. He found he was looking forward to telling this story to someone who would appreciate it, for once.
"After the battle at Helm's Deep?" she asked.
"No, in Aglarond," Legolas said. "His father, Gloin, was not happy that I had been invited into dwarf lands. We had some unfriendly dealings when he came through Mirkwood," Legolas admitted. He had come to feel badly about how rude he had been to Gloin then.
"In Aglarond, Gloin challenged me to the same sort of drinking game. I would have declined so as not to offend him, but Gimli goaded me until I agreed. He bet against his own father and never said a word about what had happened the first time," Legolas said, unable to fight off laughter as Lossrilleth chortled, her body shaking against him in glee.
"He won much on that bet. I was sure they would all hate me, but Gimli convinced them it was humorous and only served his father right for being ungracious to a guest," Legolas said.
"He gave me the money and told me to spend it all to have the men of Rohan send a great cart of ale barrels to the Glittering Caves. The next time I visited, my reception was much warmer."
"That is a good friend," Lossrilleth laughed. Legolas took one hand off the reins to wrap his fingers through hers where her arm was around his waist. It was a balm to speak of these happy memories.
Thranduil thought back over times Legolas had tried to speak about his mortal companions in Valinor. He might have received some shared admiration for Elessar, whose deeds were very great. When it came to the dwarf, the best he could wish for was a polite smile. The difference between those tellings and the ones Legolas shared now, laughing and smiling with this lady Thranduil suddenly felt unspeakably fond of, was painfully plain.
And, if he was being honest, it was harder to hate the dwarf so much after hearing such tales. The dwarf ceased to feel like a type of creature and, instead, Thranduil could not help but think of Gimli as a person.
(~***~)
The elves never made it to Edoras, for it was not necessary. The men of Rohan took little time concluding that they respected the tall Northman's eye for horses. In one of the larger towns the elves managed to sell their high-maintenance wards at a good profit. They left Rohan with full saddlebags and a small herd of feisty mountain ponies that they'd purchased at a bargain from an owner who was beyond tired of the animals' mischief. For a herd leader like Thranduil, they marched like soldiers.
From there they found their way to the big road that followed the Anduin above the Falls of Rauros. But their straightforward progress quickly fell apart as they followed the river. A sickness had been passing through the villages along the Anduin for months by the time they arrived. After a long season of watching their oldest and youngest die, parched and exhausted, the villagers were wary about hosting strangers from the North, where the plague had originated. The 'Northmen' were run out of town twice, left to fend for themselves along the road, which was beset by opportunistic robbers and other desperate men. It was clear this route was not going to be an option.
When they had discussed the path North with Farren before they left, he had cautioned them against the abandoned track that sat in the shadow of the Misty Mountains North of Edoras. There were too many strange tales of dangers most thought were relegated to the past. Goblins – could you imagine? No one went there, in case it was true.
But the older elves had faced such perils before and were willing to take some risks to get away from the unpredictable humans along the inhabited path. Goblins, at least, they could kill without angering the Valar, Thranduil noted.
Lossrilleth was not enthusiastic about this, but she shut her mouth and followed her more experienced companions' suggestion for once. To her silent frustration, the mountain track was much slower going. It was not kept up, so they slogged through high grasses, overgrown thickets, and twisted woods inch by watchful inch, picking burrs off the ponies every night.
In Fangorn Forest, Legolas began looking forlorn again. Lossrilleth undertook another bout of coaxing positive memories out of him before he could get too gloomy. He did notice what she was doing. It was nice to have someone around who tried to cheer him up, and who genuinely wished to know about his late friends.
On a cloudy night, not far from the Nimrodel, Legolas and Lossrilleth had been keeping watch together when Lossrilleth suddenly saw something moving over by their ponies. She pulled on Legolas's sleeve, gesturing with her head when she had his attention. He looked, seeing nothing for a long moment. Then a wink of starlight glinted on metal, and he heard a muffled footstep.
Thranduil was resting just a few steps away. Legolas nudged Lossrilleth and looked at his father, indicating that she should get his attention if she could.
Lossrilleth faked a yawn and ambled towards the resting elf, acting unhurried. She bumped him with her foot as she passed. Thranduil woke easily and glanced up at her. He was not in the habit of taking deep rest out in the wilds on paths where goblins had been known to travel.
Lossrilleth held her knife against her side where he could see it, but whoever was over by the horses could not. She caught Thranduil's eye and looked in the direction they'd seen the flash of metal. He gave her the smallest nod and turned over, feigning rest as he made sure his swords were ready to be unsheathed at a moment's notice.
Legolas had wanted her to return immediately, but she looped around to his own bedroll. He could not figure out what she was thinking until he saw her hook a foot under his quiver of arrows. Not a bad idea, he thought to himself. Archery was the only skill she'd been practicing since they had first met in Valinor going on two centuries ago. It was a decent instinct to go for the weapon she was most experienced with.
The pack of goblins that was stalking them could tell the travelers were wary. They had hoped they would catch them sleeping, but it did not seem that they would make things so easy. But it was just three humans. They didn't look like soldiers – they even had a woman with them. Sleeping or no, this should be an easy win with a pack of armed goblins, they reasoned.
And they needed it: as with all the non-human people, their population was dwindling as they were hemmed in, their food sources and territory growing sparser by the decade. Even if they left with just the ponies, it would be better eating than they'd had in a long time.
The goblins rushed at their quarries, growling in the hopes of intimidating them. Five rushed at Legolas, who was the one most clearly standing watch. He had his knives in his hands the moment they started moving. Millennia of muscle memory took hold as he dodged their weapons and cut them down. It was almost a relief to face this now after all the unknowns he'd been trying to figure out lately. Finally, something familiar.
The other five had gone for the sleeping man and the woman. But they were unpleasantly surprised to find that the sleeper quickly unfolded into a towering figure with two precision weapons in his hands. Three of them ganged up on him, trying to divide his attention by coming at him from all directions. Thranduil was unimpressed. Three goblins died swiftly and without ceremony.
The two smallest goblins had gone for the woman, certain she would be the easiest prey. When Lossrilleth heard the attack begin, she'd grabbed the bow and quiver. In the darkness she could see the outline of two shapes hurtling at her. She could hear them shouting in fury as she drew the bow and fired. The heavy sound of a body falling with a grunt hit her ears and she flinched. What had she even shot? Or who? Panicky thoughts flitted through her mind.
Her hesitation cost her time. The second goblin was on her before she could draw again. She only just caught its blade with her own in time to stop her throat from being cut. Lossrilleth let out a yelp. The creature had her on the back foot, fending off its thrusts as it tried to get her away from the others. She could not think fast enough. She was blanking on how to get out of this pattern. She could only defend, defend, defend, as the blade slashed at her in the dark.
Thranduil heard her cry and came to her aid. The thing gasped and dropped its weapon as she saw the dark shine of a sword emerge from its chest before it dropped to the ground, gurgling.
From across their clearing, she heard a final shriek and thud near Legolas, then silence.
"Are you alright?" Thranduil asked her, putting a hand on her shoulder to steady her.
"Yes," she replied, hating the shaky sound of her voice. "And you – are you alright?"
"I am fine," Thranduil replied. "It was only a small group, I think. Legolas – " he started to call out. Legolas was already jogging over to join them.
"I counted five," he told his father. "They were weaker than the goblins we used to see in the mountains. Shorter," he commented. Thranduil grunted in agreement.
"Four more here. This one," he kicked the carcass at their feet, "gave Lossrilleth some trouble."
"I killed one more," she said, trying not to sound defensive. "That makes ten of them."
"Are you hurt?" Legolas asked her, concerned to hear that she'd had a difficult time.
"No, it did not touch me," she replied. She was not enjoying being fussed over. She felt peeved at needing to be rescued. She tried to push those feelings aside. Not about me and my ego, she reminded herself strictly. It didn't help that she still had a big dose of adrenaline running through her, making her body hum and sweat. Meanwhile these two were totally nonplussed. Ugh.
Thranduil went to do a perimeter sweep of their camp and look at the first goblin she'd shot, wanting to be certain that it was dead.
"You did not get yourself or anyone else hurt. That is a good first fight," Legolas said, trying to encourage her.
"Well – someone got hurt," she mumbled. Was feeling a little sick, thinking back at the thud in the dark as she'd shot into the invisible people rushing towards her.
"Have you ever killed before?" Legolas asked her, although he was almost certain he knew the answer. He'd taught her how to use the bow years ago, but every time it came time to hunt, she'd always found an excuse to defer to him.
"I killed a rat once," she replied with a hard swallow. "It was caught in a trap and was badly injured. I did not want to let it linger and suffer." She decided not to mention that she'd cried afterwards.
Thranduil returned from his inspection, saying, "You can add a goblin to that list now. That was a respectable shot in the dark. Too bad you did not shoot the second one." She'd shot the goblin through the gut – not ideal, but it had worked. A shot in the chest would have been more reliable.
Lossrilleth let out a frustrated huff. "I hesitated," she admitted to her companions.
"I heard the first one go down. It sounded so… human. I did not know what – or who – I was shooting at, and I panicked. I wasted time and lost the advantage."
"That is a useful observation," Thranduil replied, sounding a bit clinical. She did need to learn better.
"It was good enough for a first fight, Lossrilleth," he said a little kindlier. His mind was mostly focused on assessing their current situation, but he was aware that this had been an impactful moment for the younger elf. However minor it seemed to him.
"Yes, teacher," she said respectfully. "What happens next? Right back to the watch, or do we move camp?"
"We have made much noise now, it could attract more attention," Legolas thought out loud.
"We will make more noise moving horses in this darkness," Thranduil countered. "I hear nothing else at the moment. We will watch for an hour or two. If it stays quiet, take your rest. If not, it will be a little lighter by then and we can move."
These goblins had been starving, he had noticed. The elves had been out here for quite a while, and it had been entirely silent up until now. The goblins must have strayed far from home looking for food. There may not be more.
"Come with me," Legolas said, taking Lossrilleth and leading them across the camp. He settled an arm across her shoulders as they started scanning the forest for any suspicious movements. She accepted this comfort, resting her own hand on his back.
"Many healers avoid killing," he said quietly. "Perhaps that is where your path lies."
"I would rather not kill anything if I have a choice," she acknowledged. "So long as I can do what is necessary when there is no choice."
"Exactly," he agreed. He could tell she was trying to downplay how shaken she was. But he'd caught on by now that she would likely prefer to save face rather than receive the extra attention. He gave her an affectionate squeeze, just so she'd know he knew.
Lossrilleth took a deep breath and made herself loosen her tense muscles. This had easily been the most terrifying night of her life, for all that she was trying to act calm for the hardened warriors she was travelling with. A not insignificant part of her wanted to bury her face into Legolas's chest and cry like a child. But another part wanted to be able to handle it with some dignity. She had this bond now that was unlike anything any human had ever experienced, but she had her own inner resources too, she reminded herself.
She felt him tighten his one-armed embrace on her and sent her own smile into the darkness. She understood. She returned the gesture, then settled herself down with some deep breaths. They had all made it to the other side of the ordeal safe. That, she decided, was the best thing to focus on.
(~***~)
The rest of their journey North was largely uneventful, although it was long on the wild track they'd chosen. Too long, Lossrilleth thought. She counted the months passing with dismay. Each new moon brought not only dark nights, but fresh dread in her heart. Although Legolas was not accustomed to counting time so carefully, his wife's mood was catching.
"What do you think Angharad is doing now?" She would muse to him in the darkness. Their girl was having to wait so long for them, all alone.
My daughter counts time like I do, he tried to tell himself. Its passage will not be wearing on her this way. He could almost convince himself.
