I borrow characters and settings from Tolkien but they are not mine. I gain nothing other than the enriched imaginative life I assume he meant me to gain.

Many thanks to Nilmandra for beta reading this chapter.

*******

2.  Arrivals

Todith lifted his hand in signal and slowed his horse at the edge of a small clearing with a stream running through it.  “We will rest here for a while and eat,” he called, dismounting.

Legolas slid to the ground, conscious of Beliond right behind him.  His keeper had consistently ridden at the rear of the little group so that he always had Legolas in his sight.  Legolas was already tired of what felt like constant surveillance.  This was worse than being at home with his father and both brothers, he thought dismally. 

They turned the horses loose, and he went to take a drink from the stream and refill his water skin.  A moment later, Beliond crouched next to him and held his own water skin in the stream.  Legolas glanced behind him to see Todith settling across the clearing from them, in the shade of an oak tree, apparently seeking some respite from the warm summer noontide.  He would try to be reasonable, he thought, and turned to Beliond.

“I realize that you are responsible for watching my back, Beliond,” he said in a low voice, “but do you have to do it now?”

Beliond turned his head and regarded him through narrowed gray eyes.  “If I am to fulfill my oath to my king, yes, I do.”

“But we are just riding through the forest,” Legolas said in exasperation.

“We are no longer within the boundaries of your adar’s stronghold, and a ride through this forest can be as dangerous a thing as you will ever do.”  His voice was as hard as his eyes.  “Or have the novice masters taught you so little that you would forget that?”

Legolas stiffened.  “Of course I know that,” he snapped, “but am I to have no privacy at all?”

Beliond shrugged.  “I will interfere in your life as little as I can, and I will hold my tongue about what I see if it has nothing to do with your safety, but I will be the judge of where your safety lies, young one, and you will have to learn to live with that.”  He rose, closed his water skin, and strode off to join Todith, leaving Legolas frustrated and fuming.

He stood and began wandering around the clearing, stretching muscles that had grown restless from a morning on horseback and walking off his annoyance.  He fervently hoped that matters would be different once they reached his patrol because thus far being a warrior felt a great deal like being an elfling.  Ah well, Eilian had come to terms with Maltanaur, so he supposed he could learn to do it with Beliond.  But Maltanaur was not Beliond, he thought unhappily.  He seemed to respect Eilian and treated him as friend, rather than as a useless fool.

He paused at the clearing’s edge, listening to the rustle of the trees in full summer leaf.  They were contented here, he thought, and felt another flare of resentment at Beliond.  Was he unable to tell that the trees sensed no danger?  If he could not hear the trees, he would be useless as a keeper, Legolas thought with scorn.

He glanced over to where Beliond and Todith were sitting together.  Having circled along the edge of the clearing, he was now behind them, causing both of them to throw occasional glances his way.  He supposed it would not do to worry them about his whereabouts, so he began to move back toward them.  They were evidently old acquaintances, and as Legolas approached, he could hear their easy conversation. Suddenly, he stopped for he realized that they were talking about him.

“I was surprised to hear that you had been assigned as the young one’s guard, Beliond,” Todith said. “I thought you were carrying out special missions for the king.”

“I was,” said Beliond, “until this assignment, although I suppose this one counts too.”

Legolas frowned to himself at the impatience in Beliond’s tone.  He apparently had not been happy about becoming Legolas’s keeper.  That made two of them.

Todith chuckled.  “I suspect the king would see your assignment as special.  I am told that he is protective of this last chick.”

Beliond snorted.  “The youngling is arrogant.  That can be dangerous both for him and for those around him.”

Legolas could feel heat rising into his face at Beliond’s assessment of him.

Todith shrugged. “A common enough failing among young Elves.  He will learn his limitations.  We all went through it.”  Then he seemed to change the subject.  “Do you still take your leaves in the forest?”

Beliond nodded. “I seek for peace during my leaves, not the constant chatter of other people.”

Todith glanced away then, and Legolas could see from his profile that he was smiling slightly.  Legolas guessed that Todith found Beliond’s words as rude as he did, although Todith seemed unoffended.

Not wanting to be caught eavesdropping, Legolas backed away and his movement evidently caught Todith’s eye.  “Come and eat, Legolas,” he called. “We will be under way again soon.”  He reached for the pack they had brought from home and began removing food from it.  Legolas silently cursed the fair coloring that he knew made his continued flush of anger all too visible, and then approached them and dropped to the grass beside them.

Todith handed him bread and cheese, and they all ate in silence for a time.  Then Todith asked him, “How much do you know about the eastern Border Patrol?”

Legolas tried to marshal all the information he had gathered about the patrol once he had learned he was to be assigned to it.  “It guards the eastern edge of the forest, from a point about thirty miles north of the Forest River to a point about thirty miles south of it,” he began.  “It checks on anyone entering the forest and also on any dangers that seem to be breeding in that area.  Ithilden says there are twenty-five warriors assigned to it, and I think that includes Beliond and me.”  He glanced at Todith, who nodded in confirmation.  “The patrol has a semi-permanent campsite, I believe.”

“More or less,” Todith confirmed approvingly.  “We move periodically, but we are usually headquartered in one place.”  He eyed Legolas appraisingly.  “You have been learning what you can, I see.  That is good.  You will need to continue doing so once we reach camp.” His tone was serious now.  “Ordinarily, the warriors who are sent to me have at least a year or two of experience, so you may have a bit of a struggle at first.  And usually, I assign a more experienced patrol member to guide a new one for a time, but you will have Beliond, so that is probably not necessary for you.”

Legolas could not help but feel that he had gotten the bad end of a trade.  He looked at Beliond to see that the Elf was watching him with an unreadable look.  Annoyed, he turned back to Todith.  “I know I have much to learn, but you will find that I am a willing pupil,” he said firmly. “And I can wield weapons with some skill.”

Todith nodded. “So the novice masters tell me,” he said, “but you may find that using them in real battle differs markedly from using them in training.”  Legolas shifted a little.  He already knew there would be a difference, of course.  Todith’s keen eyes met his.  “There is no disgrace in ignorance of what you have not experienced, so long as you are open to learning from experience when it occurs.”  Legolas nodded once.  In all truth, he was eager to gain the kind of experience Todith was speaking about, and he thought he was ready for it.

Todith looked up at the sun and then rose.  “We should be on our way.  I want to be in camp by evening.”  They called to their horses, mounted, and were soon under way again.

The sun was low in the sky by the time they rode out of the trees and into a large clearing with a campfire in the center around which were gathered a dozen or so Elven warriors.  Legolas had heard the sentries signaling their approach, but he had not been able to spot them through the trees.  The welcome smell of roasted venison drifted through the air.  “Welcome back, captain,” called one of warriors, rising to come and greet them.

“Mae govannen, Galorion,” Todith replied with a smile as he slid from his horse.  “Has anything disastrous happened in my absence?”

Galorion grinned.  “Fóril unexpectedly discovered a bees’ nest, which I suppose might count as a disaster for him, although it amused the rest of us.”

Todith laughed and then said, “These are Beliond and Legolas, our new warriors.”  He turned toward Beliond and Legolas. “This is Galorion, my lieutenant.  He will show you where to leave your horses and stow your gear.”

Galorion beckoned them after him with a friendly smile.  “Horses get tended to and left just beyond the eastern side of the clearing.” He called to one of the Elves beside the fire, and when he approached, Legolas could see faint red marks on his face and arms.  The luckless Fóril, he assumed.  Galorion introduced them.  “Fóril will see to your animals today,” Galorion told them and then went on toward the southern edge of the clearing.  “During the summer, we use flets,” he told them. “The one in this tree is empty.  You two can use it.”

Legolas looked up at the tall oak tree and felt a rush of pleasure at the idea of living on a flet.

“Evening meal will be ready soon,” Galorion told them and then departed.

He had hardly gone before Legolas was scrambling up the tree, with his packs and bedroll flung over his shoulders. Emerging onto the flet, he stood for a moment with leafy boughs all around him and the sky overhead.   A pallet lay on either side of the flet, with a small waterproof chest near each, and a tarp was neatly folded at one end, presumably to be raised in the event of rain.  When Beliond climbed onto the platform behind him, Legolas glanced back at him and then moved off toward the farther pallet, intending to drop his gear near it.  He paused, years of teaching about respecting his elders suddenly making themselves felt. “Is it acceptable if I take this pallet?” he asked stiffly. “Or do you want it?”

Beliond shrugged.  “It makes no difference to me.”  He dropped his packs on the other pallet and then climbed down and disappeared over the edge of the flet again.  Legolas stood for a moment, his pleasure in the flet dimmed a little by the realization of how awkward sharing it with Beliond was likely to be.  Then he too started the climb down.

“Legolas!” called someone as he reached the bottom of the tree, and he turned to find a young warrior approaching with his arm extended.

“Tynd!” he cried, surprised by the rush of gladness he felt on seeing a familiar face.  Tynd had been in his last year as a novice when Legolas had first begun his training, and Legolas had admired him greatly.

They clasped arms, and Tynd thumped him on the shoulder.  “It is good to see you,” he exclaimed.  “I had heard you would be joining us.”  He gestured toward the fire. “Come and eat,” he invited, and Legolas followed him toward where logs and sawed off tree trunks had been arranged, with Tynd introducing him to numerous warriors as they made their way along. They each got a plate of venison and sat down to eat.

“I saw you ride in,” Tynd told him. “I have been standing sentry duty here for the last two days, but tomorrow, I will be scouting along the forest edge with the small patrol to which I have been assigned. Perhaps you will come too.  Todith likes to send new arrivals out quickly, so they can get a sense of the territory.”

Legolas felt a thrill of anticipation at this piece of information.  Suddenly, his attention was caught by one of the other warriors around the fire.  “I do not see how that can be true,” he was saying. “I have seen the men of Esgaroth hunting, and the best of them is a worse archer than is the weakest Elf.”

“You need to look again, Tinár,” said Todith coolly from a seat nearby.  “You are underestimating them.”

Tinár opened his mouth as if to argue with his captain and then evidently thought better of it.

Seeing the direction of Legolas’s gaze, Tynd cautiously asked, “Do you know Tinár?” 

Legolas slowly nodded.  “His brother, Galelas, was two years ahead of me in the novice training. Do you remember him?”  Tynd nodded in his turn.  A small smile crept over Legolas’s face as he remembered Tinár fawning over a maiden at a winter festival.  Legolas had thought he might have to come to the maiden’s aid, but she had disposed of the boastful warrior on her own.  He wondered if Tinár remembered the incident. If he did, Legolas doubted that he ever spoke of it.

“He is in my patrol too,” said Tynd, his tone speaking volumes.

Legolas glanced at him and raised an eyebrow.  “My condolences,” he said dryly.  Tynd smiled wryly in response.

“Newcomers get assigned to cleanup,” announced Galorion from the middle of the clearing.  He pointed to two Elves sitting together. “You two are off the hook.”  The two of them cheered and grinned at Legolas, who glanced quickly over at Beliond.  The older Elf had been sitting by himself, quietly watching the group.  It somehow seemed wrong to Legolas that a warrior of Beliond’s age and experience should be washing dishes.  On the training missions he had been on, the novices always did all such chores while the masters gave orders.  Beliond took the situation in stride, however, and calmly rose to start collecting dishes.

“These three are on cleanup detail, too,” Galorion told Beliond, as three other Elves rose to help.  “They will show you where everything is.”  Legolas jumped to his feet and took Tynd’s dishes and those of the warrior next to him. Then he turned to follow the three Elves from the patrol toward what he assumed would be the stream he could hear to the west of the campsite.  As he started after them, he saw Beliond eyeing him with a look of mild surprise on his face.

It suddenly dawned on him that Beliond had thought he might be too arrogant to do routine chores with a willing hand.  He felt a flash of fury.  How many times could this Elf annoy him in one day? he wondered in exasperation and then set about his work, determined to prove himself a useful member of the eastern Border Patrol, even if his current use was washing dishes.

***

Eilian and Maltanaur rode out of the forest and into the clearing where the northern Border Patrol was currently headquartered.  Eilian had never served in a border patrol, but he had been in their camps on occasions when one or more of them had combined with the Southern Patrol to share missions.  So he had known what to expect and was not surprised by what he saw.

“Welcome, captain,” called a warrior whom Eilian recognized as Lómór, who served as this patrol’s lieutenant.  Eilian knew him, as indeed he knew many of the warriors in this patrol, for he was ordinarily gregarious and had friends scattered throughout the Woodland Realm’s forces.  He expected to see some new faces here, however, because this relatively safe border patrol was a common assignment for young warriors who had a year or two of experience under their belts with the Home Guard.

Eilian did not mind working with young warriors, but he did mind being assigned to a patrol that was considered safe enough to use them.  He needed to be busy, he thought, too busy to think.  And he needed the rush of battle to distract him from the unhappiness that he did not seem to be able to shake.

He and Maltanaur both dismounted and, at Lómór’s signal, a young warrior ran forward from the group around the fire to take their horses.  Eilian recognized his face and searched his memory for the name. “Thank you, Galelas,” he said and the serious-faced youngling led the horses away, looking gratified that Eilian remembered him.

“You are in just in time to eat,” Lómór told them.  They approached the group at the fire, and the warriors obligingly moved to give a bit of privacy to their lieutenant and new captain.  Maltanaur wandered to the other side of the fire and sat down next to an older Elf whom he apparently knew.

Eilian accepted a plate of food and spent a few minutes eating before he asked Lómór for the information he knew he needed to have in order to take command.  “I have seen the dispatches you have sent Ithilden,” he said. “What has been happening in the last few days?”

Lómór grinned at him.  “I have been hoping we would have something exciting for you, Eilian, but I am afraid we are still doing only routine patrols.” Eilian was not surprised. This patrol guarded the northwestern approach to Thranduil’s stronghold, moving along an imaginary line that began at the Forest River in the west and extended northeast all the way to the edge of the woods, where its territory met that of the eastern Border Patrol.

“We see an occasional dwarf or two,” Lómór went on, “traveling between the Gray Mountains and Erebor.  From time to time, we get Men from Dale or even Esgaroth hunting in the eastern part of our territory.  Once in a great while, a spider or an Orc wanders our way, and we sometimes get a few hungry wolves in the winter. But this will be nothing like what you are used to.”

Eilian grimaced.  The healers had declared that he needed time away from the Shadow, and he apparently was going to get it.  He sighed. “You had better explain the organization of the daily patrols,” he said, “so I look reasonably competent tomorrow.”  Lómór obliged, and as they talked, the warriors around them finished eating and the camp gradually settled for the night, with sounds of soft voices raised in song and gradually fading to silence.

Eilian stood and stretched.  “Thank you. That is very helpful.  If you would point out which flet is mine, that should probably be all I need.”  Lómór pointed toward a nearby oak and then said good night, leaving Eilian to scale the tree and emerge on the flet where his gear was already stowed.  Because he was the patrol’s captain, he had the flet to himself, and it contained not only the usual pallet and chest, but also a small table and two chairs.

He stood for a moment looking at the distant stars in the inky dark sky.  It was the first time he had been alone all day, and with appalling familiarity, he felt the blanket of sadness settle around him.  He groaned and sat down on the platform, leaning against the oak.  How could this be happening to him?  He had always prided himself on his ability to tolerate the Shadow and make fierce war on its servants no matter what forces it ranged against him.  He was not only pained by his collapse into shadow sickness; he was also humiliated.

This is Celuwen’s fault, he thought angrily.  If she had been willing to act on the love she said she felt, then he never would have lost his ability to function in the south.

“Eilian?” called a familiar voice from a few feet below the level of the flet, and without looking, he knew that Maltanaur had come searching for him.  He was probably worried I would fling myself off the flet, Eilian thought with some resentment.

“Come,” he called, and Maltanaur climbed into sight and dropped onto the platform.

“I do not want to bother you, Eilian, but there is something I want to give you before you start wandering the woods here, because I do not care what Lómór says, trouble follows you wherever you go.”

Eilian smiled at him faintly.  “Are you trying to cheer me up?”

Maltanaur snorted and then held something out to him.  Eilian looked at his hand and saw that he was holding a thin chain from which a rune of protection was suspended.  “I have no idea what you did with yours,” Maltanaur said, “but I noticed it was gone, and I did not want the job of preserving your skin made any harder than it already is.”

Touched beyond all expectation by the concern that was so obvious in Maltanaur’s action and in his voice, Eilian reached out and took the charm.  He looked up and met the older warrior’s anxious eyes and then laughed softly.  “You and Adar have always thought alike,” he said and tugged the neck of his tunic open so that Maltanaur could see the rune he wore.  “He gave it to me just before we left.”

“Ah,” Maltanaur relaxed and smiled back at him.  “I have always admired the king’s sense of timing.”  Eilian offered the necklace back to him, but he pushed Eilian’s hand away again.  “Keep it,” he said. “You need all the protection you can get.” He nodded once and then disappeared over the edge of the flet.  Eilian clutched the chain and rune in his hand, and if only for the moment, his heart lightened.

***

Legolas lay on his back and gazed up at the night sky, awe stricken by the thickly spread stars.  He had always loved being out at night, but his father had seldom indulged him in his desire to sleep under the stars.  One summer when they were small, he and Annael and another friend had built a flet in a tree in the woods behind Annael’s cottage. After much pleading, he had finally managed to convince Thranduil to allow him to spend an occasional night there with his friends.  He wondered now if his father might have made some sort of secret arrangement for them to be guarded.  That would be only too like him, Legolas thought, with a mixture of affection and exasperation.

From the other side of the flet, he could hear Beliond’s even breathing and felt himself relaxing with the knowledge that his keeper was finally asleep.  This was the first time he had been more or less alone all day.  Even as an elfling, he had had more privacy.  He had somehow not realized that the constant company of others could be so wearing. It had not bothered him during novice exercises, even when they lasted for a week or more. But then, he had always been with Annael, and he had known he would go home to his own room when the mission was over.

He wondered what Annael had done today.  Annael was supposed to start his service in the Home Guard and had probably been sent on some sort of patrol already.  Legolas wished he could hear Annael tell him about it.  And how was Eilian faring in his new posting? He was worried about his brother and hoped that captaining the new patrol would lift him out of his obvious misery. He fingered the rune on the chain around his neck, feeling again for the flat spot at the back, and suddenly he was stabbed by a deep pang of loneliness.

This is silly, he thought in dismay. I was just fretting because I have been in the company of others all day.  I cannot be annoyed by that and be lonely too!  He looked at the stars again, searching for the comfort that came from their beauty, but it was long before he managed to slip away to walk the paths of Elven dreams.