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Erestor had not had the heart to wake Gandalf and
Legolas and since he was not tired and the stars shone too brightly at the clear
night-sky, the ancient elf had decided to combine the beautiful with the
necessary and spend the night awake. He had sung Elbereth’s song more than
once. The past weeks had made it clear that he had lost contact to the living
world outside the walls of Imladris and he gave himself the promise that he
would go outside more often in the near future.
The only excitement of the next day was to keep
Legolas under control. The young elfling who was not used to being overly cautious
constantly drifted off the path and out of sight when following tracks of
rabbits and other little creatures. Finally even Gandalf lost patience and
bristling his bushy eyebrows he very authoritatively commanded Legolas to stay at
his side. It would do no good when the prince would get hurt during their
travel. Gandalf could not afford to lose Thranduil’s liking. When the small company
made camp, both adults were unnerved and tired, Legolas was sulking and to top
it all off it started to rain heavily.
The downpour not only quenched the fire, it forced the
three travelers to huddle around a tree-trunk and duck beneath drenched
blankets used as a means to keep the rain away. Dawn was late and the sky slate-grey
and low above them as they passed the mountain-pass. Although none of the three
was truly afflicted by the cold, none of them liked traveling in soaking wet,
heavy robes and their mood wasn’t too bright – a perfect match to the crying
sky above.
It must have been shortly after noon when they got
caught in an ambush. The sound of the rain falling into countless puddles must
have drowned-out the orcish footfalls until they were attacked. Gandalf grabbed
Legolas and put him in front of the Wizard on his horse while he drew his
sword.
Erestor froze for a moment, then realized that he did
have a weapon to fight. The Noldor drew the shimmering blade just in time to
parry a crudely made orcish weapon. The elf’s blade bit deeply into the dark
metal and with a wild yanking motion Erestor wrestled the weapon out of the
orc’s hands, sending it through the air in a high arc. Not waiting for a
reaction, the counselor slashed the foe’s ribcage, innards pouring out in a
gush of black blood, the creature screaming terribly. Erestor realized that his
horse would replace his feet and that from above he would have some advantage.
So he drove his heels into the horse’s flanks and came onto the orcs like a
dark storm-could, his blade being like lightning, striking with deadly
accuracy.
Gandalf decapitated two orcs before one managed to
injure his left arm with which he held Legolas safely in place. The elfling
undeniably meant a hindrance to the Istar’s fighting but he would never abandon
the young prince. He was truly glad for Erestor’s presence since the old Noldor
obviously recalled much of his former warrior-abilities.
Out of the shrubbery
suddenly another elf broke forth, howling his battle-cry. He attacked the orcs
mercilessly, he and his blade dancing a deadly pas-de-deux, the sword slashing
the enemies like a thirsty predator, greedy for the black blood of orcs.
When it was over, the only
sound was Glorfindel's sword being repetitiously thrust into orcs to ensure
they would be dead and stay like that forever.
"Well met,
Glorfindel." Gandalf greeted the powerful warrior who now cleaned his
blade with a face of utter disgust. "Your arrival could not have been more timely, old
friend." Gandalf checked on Legolas who sat pale and quiet on the horse
"Are you alright, little one?" the old wizard asked softly. Legolas
nodded, eyes dancing between the slain corpses and the warrior who stood in his
light leather armor, a smirk on his face. And in that moment Legolas knew he
wanted to be like this elf!
The tortured whinny of
Erestor's gelding cut through the treacherous calm and they all stared: Erestor
knelt at the beast's side, talking to him. Gandalf and Glorfindel exchanged a
quick glance - both knew there was nothing to rescue the poor beast.
"Step aside."
Glorfindel said.
Erestor looked up
defiantly. Only now he realized how much he had gotten used to the
gentle-gaited gelding during the past
weeks "No..." the protest was more like a strangled sound of pain
than anything else.
"Erestor, come."
Gandalf gently but determinedly pulled the counselor to a stand and then pulled
him against his chest, facing away from the horse. the ugly sound of blade
cutting flesh and sinew and bone told the raven haired Noldo that the horse was
dead.
"I had wondered what
took you so long, so I decided to look out for you." Glorfindel sheathed
his sword after he had cut-off the bedroll from the dead horse's saddle. He
eyed the elfling curiously. "Where did you find this elfling?"
Gandalf had released
Erestor who, as quickly as he could, stepped away, regaining his composure.
"He is to be a fosterling in Lord Elrond's household. His name is Legolas.
Well, I suggest we hurry along - who know how many more of these maggots are
around?" Gandalf grabbed the reins and briskly walked on.
Glorfindel who saw Erestor
struggle to keep up and eventually stumble, grabbed the counselor's arm in an
attempt to help him.
Erestor flinched
"Don't touch me!" he hissed. He was not used to accepting help, in fact
Erestor took pride in being independent. And certainly he would not let this
rude, simple warrior change that.
Gandalf stopped and turned,
guilt written all across his face - he had actually forgotten about Erestor's
condition. "Somebody should make
sure that Legolas is safe on the big horse when it might stumble. Why don't you
mount, Erestor, and hold the little one?"
"I can do well on my
own!" Legolas protested, finally finding his voice again and – more than
ever – wanting to appear ‘grown-up’.
“You can as long as the way
is easy. But soon the way leads downhill along steep slopes, so Erestor will
make sure you stay where you are.” Gandalf explained. Legolas made a face but
did not argue any more. Erestor soon mounted Gandalf’s steed and while he held
the reins in one hand he had an arm lightly around the elfling’s narrow waist
to prevent the prince from falling down.
The adults were speaking in
Quenya for they knew the Sindarin prince would not understand it. Gandalf told
Glorfindel exactly who Legolas was and why he was brought – without true
knowledge of King Thranduil – to Imladris.
“Does Elrond know?”
Glorfindel wondered. Everybody knew how deep-set the hate between Mirkwood and
Imladris was.
“Lord Elrond” said Erestor
indignantly, reminding Glorfindel of the respect to be paid to the Lord of the
house, “Lord Elrond will certainly agree to Mithrandir’s plan as he sees the
advantage of it. It had never been Lord Elrond’s wish to have such discord
between our people, especially because the reason is so unjust – yet painful.”
From his highly-seated position Erestor’s voice sounded even more condescending
than it usually was and Glorfindel had already a sharp retort ready but
Gandalf’s arm stopped him from voicing it.
Despite their hurried pace
it was already dark when they arrived at the Last Homely House. Young Legolas
was sound asleep, resting in Erestor’s arm and leaning back against the
counselor’s chest.
“Give me the boy.”
Glorfindel reached up and pulled the childe into his strong arms without waking
the little one. Erestor was relieved – he had felt awkward with the gangly
bundle in his arms. He had forgotten how to deal with elflings – the twins and
Arwen had long since grown up.
TBC...
