Thank you to daw the minstrel for beta reading this chapter. 

Chapter 4: Journeys

Anor had set and yet sounds still drifted from Legolas’s chamber.  Thranduil stood in the darkness of the doorway between their rooms, observing his youngest son. He watched as feet rose under the sheet, tenting it over the small body below.  Soon the sheets were kicked off and Legolas somersaulted to the end of the bed, then jumped to the floor where he rummaged through his small pack again.  Back on his bed a moment later, he sprawled out flat on his stomach, but soon was rolling back and forth, talking aloud about the day to follow.

“Cúron is coming too and Urevio will watch out for him, especially if Cúron walks underneath him again and . . .” The small voice drifted off, and Thranduil turned to leave, believing the child was finally drifting into elven dreams. 

“I will capture you and you will be my prisoner!” Thranduil spun around, thinking Legolas had seen him, but now Legolas was under the covers where he had apparently trapped his imaginary foe. “I am warrior Legolas and you will heed my sword!”

Just as Thranduil had decided to remind Legolas of his need for sleep, the outer door to the room opened and Lathron walked in.  His older son strode purposefully to the bed, pouncing on the sheet-covered figure, who was unaware of his presence.

“You are my prisoner,” growled Lathron playfully as Legolas squealed and pulled the sheet down from his face.  The tousled blond head appeared, a huge grin on his face. “Why are you not sleeping?  You will be so tired in the morning that you will fall asleep riding your pony!  You will fall off him and Cúron will step over you and keep going without you.”

Legolas giggled. “Cúron will stop for me!  He is a good pony.”

“Can you not sleep?”

“I am too excited, Lathron.”

“Morning will come faster if you sleep.”

“Can I sleep with you?”

“Yes, you may,” replied Lathron.  He tossed Legolas over his shoulder and walked back to the door, but then paused for a moment. “Say goodnight to Ada, Legolas.”

Legolas’s head popped up from where he was slung over Lathron’s shoulder, his eyes opening in alarm, for Thranduil had told him twice to be quiet and go to sleep.

“Good night, Ada,” said Legolas sheepishly as his eyes met his father’s.

“Good night, Legolas,” answered Thranduil. “Go to sleep!”

* * *

Lathron tightened his arms about the small figure spooned against him, stilling the squirming elfling. 

“Lathron, it is morning!” whispered Legolas loudly.

“Lathron, I have to go take care of Cúron!  I have to brush him and walk him to warm him up.” The whispering had risen in volume.

Lathron released the elfling, and Legolas sprang to his feet.  “Lathron, it is time to get up!” called Legolas loudly, pulling on Lathron’s arm.

A short while later, Legolas was dressed, had had his breakfast and had hugged Tathiel goodbye. He pressed his ear against her belly, listening intently while moving his hand over the surface, then said, “Goodbye baby elfling.  I will be back in a few days.  Be cooperative for Tathiel!”

Tathiel laughed as Legolas flashed her a smile, and then he was dragging Lathron from the room.  They left the palace, greeting the morning guards, and Lathron had to quicken his own pace to keep up with Legolas’s skipping. Legolas’s face was alight with joy as he saw his small pony standing patiently next to Urevio and Bregolas. His small pack was slung over Cúron’s back and everyone was waiting for him.  Running to Bregolas, he flung his arms about his brother’s legs and then turned to face his father, Lathron and Elumeril. The smile on his face suddenly dimmed and he chewed on his lower lip, as his eyes grew bright with tears.

Thranduil knelt down and held out his arms to his son, and Legolas raced to him, flinging himself into his father’s arms and holding on tightly.

“Be obedient, Legolas, and enjoy your trip. We will see you in a few days,” said Thranduil calmly.

His voice did much to soothe his small son, who had been trembling.  Legolas drew in a ragged breath and stepped back.  He nodded to his father, “I will, Ada.”

Legolas hugged Elumeril, and then turned to Lathron. “Will you come meet us, Lathron?” he asked.

Lathron hugged him tightly. “I will do my best to meet you for the ride home, Legolas.  Be good.”

Legolas straightened his small shoulders, then turned away from his family and walked back to Bregolas.  Bregolas lifted the elfling on to his pony, and then walked between Cúron and Urevio as they followed the lead guards away from the palace.  Legolas twisted to wave at them, then turned his gaze forward as they headed away from the palace.

* * *

“Look for the birds, Legolas.  Listen to their calls and songs, and I will teach you to mimic them,” encouraged Bregolas.

Legolas’s chattering ceased as he instead listened. At each sound around him, he would seek out the bird that made that sound and then try to softly repeat it.  Bregolas lifted him to sit on his shoulders, to give him the best view possible, and Legolas was soon relaxed against his brother, his arms folded across the top of Bregolas’s head.

Bregolas did not mind.  Legolas had enjoyed riding Cúron, but his pony was so small that he could see little but the horses around him.  When Bregolas had pulled him up on to Urevio, Legolas’s smile had returned and his eyes brightened. As his interest in the birds had grown, Bregolas had placed him atop his shoulders. 

“I like riding up here, Bregolas,” said Legolas.  “Tathiel rode with us before.”

Bregolas felt his heart drop to the pit of his stomach. Unsurprisingly, Rawien and Sadron suddenly appeared very attentive, Rawien drawing nearer to his side and Sadron moving slightly closer from his position behind Bregolas.

“Yes, she did,” he finally replied.  “I did not know you remembered that, Legolas.”

Legolas bent to the side and down so he could see Bregolas’s face.  “I remember!” he said stoutly.

“What else do you remember about riding with Tathiel?”

Legolas thought carefully. “Rawien was with Tathiel and me. I rode with them, and with you, Bregolas! Do you not remember?”

Bregolas laughed. “I do. Do you remember where we were going?”

Legolas giggled.  “We were going to see Ada. It was an adventure!”

Bregolas was unable to respond.  He had discussed this very thing with Lathron and their father before leaving. All of them had wondered if riding among the warriors would cause Legolas to remember the events of his earlier life, and if so, how he would react to them.  His memory did appear stimulated, but apparently what he remembered was very selective.

“Let us stop here to rest the horses and eat.” Rawien’s voice was a welcome interruption.  Bregolas lifted Legolas off his shoulders and tossed him to Rawien, who had come to stand next to them.

“Come, Legolas!” called Sadron.  “You are paired with me to help prepare lunch.”

Legolas scrambled down from Rawien’s arms and ran to Sadron, eager to help. Bregolas watched him go, conflicting emotions dueling within him.

“Children are resilient,” commented Rawien. “All the efforts everyone has put into his young life have been returned many times over.  We tried to make the trip home an adventure, and that is indeed what he remembers.”

“I have to remind myself that there is nothing else he needs to remember.  He knows he is loved, he knows he is important to us.  We cannot put behind us what happened to him, for those events took our naneth and brother.  But he did not know them, and recalling more of the trip will not enable him to remember them,” mused Bregolas thoughtfully.

“When he is older, he will begin to ask more about them. You will know when he is ready to hear about those times.”

“Bregolas!” called Legolas as he saw his brother and Rawien walking towards him.  He carefully lifted a filled plate and carried it to him.  Beaming, he set it down before Bregolas and then raced back to Sadron, who handed him a plate for Rawien.  Once Legolas was sure everyone was served, he plopped down next to Sadron and gladly ate what was on his own plate.

Legolas was practicing the bird calls he had learned on the morning’s ride when Rawien called for them to resume their journey.  Jumping to his feet, Legolas raced to Bregolas.

“Listen, Bregolas,” he said breathlessly. He carefully pursed his lips and blew a sound that was passable for a bird.

“Very good,” replied Bregolas.  “Watch what I do and then try it again.”

Legolas put his fingers up to his brother’s cheek, watching the movements of his mouth and lips. He mimicked the motions and repeated the call, grinning widely when it sounded more like Bregolas’s call.  Satisfied, he let Bregolas put him back on Urevio and mount behind him.  Bregolas felt a similar satisfaction as the small body in front of him relaxed. Seemingly contented, Legolas enjoyed the afternoon’s ride in companionable silence.

* * *

They reached the small clearing where they would camp by late afternoon.  Here Bregolas and Legolas would stay, with a small contingent of warriors, while Rawien rode with the scouts and one guard to meet the northern patrol. 

“Legolas!” called Bregolas.  “Come and walk with me.” Taking his small brother by the hand, Bregolas walked out a path in a triangle shape around the small campsite.  “From this tree to the campfire, and from the campfire to this area by the horses, and then back to the tree – these are your boundaries. You are not to go beyond them unless I am with you.”

Legolas dropped Bregolas’s hand and raced around the triangle, touching the tree to start, then running around the campfire, then to the horses where he petted Cúron and finally returning to Bregolas.  “I have memorized the boundaries,” he pronounced.

“Good,” replied Bregolas.  “Do not stray, Legolas.  The forest can be dangerous for lost elflings.”

Legolas nodded, and then trotted off to hang on Sadron’s leg as Rawien and Bregolas spread out maps on the ground.  Bregolas kept one eye on him as they spoke, and interrupted Rawien a short while later.

“Mischievous elfling,” he said, motioning across the camp to where Legolas stood behind the tree that marked part of his bounds.  Sadron was inspecting something at the base of another tree, seemingly intent on whatever he had found, while Legolas stalked him.  Legolas moved quickly and silently from tree to tree, crawling at times as he looked for bent blades of grass or footprints in the soft dirt, finally coming up behind Sadron.  He pounced, landing on Sadron’s back and wrestling him to the ground.

“I tracked you and found you!” said Legolas gleefully.  “Now you are my prisoner!”

Sadron lay flat on his back on the ground, Legolas astride his chest and gloating.  “How do you intend to keep me prisoner, elfling?” he asked curiously, arching his back and bouncing Legolas slightly.

Legolas pondered the question, then called to Laerion, who was watching them in amusement. “Laerion, I need rope.”

Laerion complied with pleasure, enjoying seeing his friend Sadron bested by an elfling.  Legolas bound the hands that Sadron willingly held in front of him, and then stood, pulling on the rope until Sadron stood. Leading Sadron back to his brother, Legolas stood proudly before Bregolas.

“I have a prisoner,” he announced.

Bregolas looked at Sadron in amusement, but the elf merely shrugged. “So you do.  He is now your responsibility, Legolas.  You have to feed him and take care of him, and never let him out of your sight.”

“One would think I was a pet,” grumbled Sadron as Legolas laughed and dragged him off.

When Legolas finally settled down for the night, he was snuggled against Bregolas, but a length of rope still connected him to Sadron, who slept a short distance away.  Sadron had the last laugh though.  “At least I cannot stand watch now,” he said, grinning.

* * *

Thranduil sat in the family sitting room, rubbing his thumb against a goblet of wine absently as he stared at the fire.  He knew he should sleep, but a feeling of discontent had grown in him as the evening had passed.

“Adar?”

He turned at the sound of Lathron’s voice, beckoning his son to join him.

“You cannot rest?” he asked as Lathron sat down in the chair across from him.

“No,” answered Lathron shortly. “I apparently am a mothering hen who cannot sleep if a chick is out of the nest.”

Thranduil laughed. “Apparently we are a pair, then. It is the first night he has not slept in the family quarters since the day he came home. My head tells me he is safe and having an adventure to remember, but my heart wants him home and in my care.”

Lathron remained silent, and the two sat in companionable silence far into the night.

* * *

Elladan awoke as the sun was setting. He sat up gingerly, stretching his arms over his head and then behind him, feeling the bandages pull and the wounds tingle and burn.  A short distance away, he could see Elrohir and Glorfindel bent over a map spread out across a large rock. He glanced quickly around the campsite, noting that Garthon was gone.

He rose to his feet, putting only tentative pressure on his injured leg and felt the same burn as he had felt in his shoulder. Clearly the orcs had dipped their arrows in poison.  Bouncing lightly on the balls of his feet, he tested his balance and was shocked when a slight wave of dizziness washed over him.  A hand reached out to steady him, and then he heard his brother’s voice in his ear.

“Let me help you back down, Elladan. It will be a little while yet before the effects of the poison wear off.”

Elladan let Elrohir guide him down to his bedroll, and then Elrohir began to examine his wounds, changing the bandages and checking his twin for other signs of the poison. “Your eyes are still dilated and your heart a little slow. The knife wound is almost better, but the arrow wounds have not yet healed over.  By tomorrow they will.”

“Has Garthon gone ahead without me?”

“Nathrion is with him.”

“Another hour and I should be ready to go.”

“You will not scout tonight,” replied Elrohir firmly.

A small noise of displeasure escaped him before he could stop it. “They are up to something. Some purpose drives them.”

“Our scouts will find their trail and we will resume pursuit tomorrow.  Drink this.” Elrohir pushed a small flask of miruvor into his twin’s hands.  Elladan complied, taking a long swallow of the sweet liquid.

“I had not realized how thirsty I was,” he admitted.

“It is an effect of the poison.  It must be clouding your mind or you would remember that,” teased Elrohir. He next handed Elladan lembas and a skin of water. “Eat, drink and go back to sleep.”

Elladan frowned. “You are decidedly obnoxious when power is in your grasp,” he growled.

Elrohir sighed in mock satisfaction.  “Where it involves you, brother, yes I am.”

Elladan fell asleep at dusk, the slight shadow of his brother visible as he watched over him.

* * *

Garthon and Nathrion returned early in the morning.

“They are continuing north, holing up along the riverbanks to rest.  They have injured. We stayed always several leagues away, but on this clear night with Ithil shining on the Anduin, they were easily seen.”

“They must plan to cross the river if they are that close,” said Glorfindel.  He looked at Garthon and Nathrion, and then at Elladan who was walking about the camp, stretching his healing limbs.

“How soon before everyone is ready to travel?”

A chorus of “Now’s” met his ears as Elladan, Garthon and Nathrion all indicated their readiness.

“We did not travel far,” explained Nathrion.

Camp was broken and the patrol resumed their pursuit.

* * *

Glorfindel led the party of elves north, angling away from the Misty Mountains and to the Anduin. They traveled cautiously, for Garthon suspected that orc scouts might be keeping watch even in daylight.   They stopped several time to rest, knowing that the night might be spent in chase or battle. 

“They took cover in those trees shading the riverbank,” said Garthon from his spot high in the tree.  Elladan, Elrohir and Glorfindel were above and below him, looking up the rippling waters of the river, the sunlight glinting off the water and obscuring the details of the land.

“They are likely holed up in the hollowed roots of the trees and the heavy undergrowth,” said Glorfindel thoughtfully.  “We will let them leave their warrens and engage them once they have resumed travel.” 

Elrohir nodded in agreement, knowing that the orcs would have the advantage in a battle begun while they had cover to hide under.  For that same reason, they would not risk their scouts. The attack on Elladan along with Garthon’s sense of orcs watching their rear flank were adequate proof of the danger.  Elrohir scanned the horizon, noting the flattened grass on the east side of the river.  He hoped that none who crossed or fished in the area were taken unaware by the enemy.

The elves waited patiently for the sun to set and the orcs to leave their lairs.  Elrohir sat high in a birch tree, his gaze roaming the shore where the orcs were holed up and then over the surrounding area as he contemplated what routes they might follow as they continued their journey. Dusk was upon them when movement caught his eye.  He nudged his twin and then directed Elladan’s gaze to the spot.

Bodies seemed to emerge from the ground and then blend in with the brushy overgrowth, moving under and through it.  Elladan signaled the elves to begin a quiet pursuit, and they began to move northward.  The noise and smell of the orcs both grew in intensity. Suddenly, before they had a clear view of any of the enemy, a splash caught their attention.

Elrohir ran swiftly and silently towards the river, dropping his pack and sword and then climbing down the steep bank and wading out into the water, which quickly deepened. He caught his breath in surprise at what he saw.  Small barge-like boats, each holding several orcs, were being paddled out into the current. His voice blended in with the noise of the creatures that lived along the riverbank but was discernable to his fellow warriors.

A moment later, just as Glorfindel and others passed north of where Elrohir was still in the river, another call sounded.  Elladan warned them of orcs on land, moving out of the overgrowth and continuing north on the west side of the river.  Elrohir hissed angrily, and began to swim farther out, seeking numbers – how many were crossing the river and how many were continuing on land? As he swam soundlessly into the current, he heard his twin call again – at least five were on land. Elrohir had already seen at least ten in the boats.  Already soaking wet and nearing the middle of the river, Elrohir notified the others he was continuing to follow the boats. 

* * *

Elladan felt Glorfindel brush against his shoulder, and the two ducked down into the scrubby undergrowth.

“Five remain on land and perhaps fifteen are moving by water,” reported Elladan. “I did not see the captain among the five.”

“Nor did I in the boat I saw,” answered Glorfindel.  “Either tactic has value – they might hope we will follow the larger group, thinking they are the ones who carry the message, while it continues in the forgotten smaller group.”

“Or they send it with the larger group, hoping that within the larger troop the captain retains a greater chance of survival,” said Elladan.  “What, then, is our plan?”

Glorfindel paused for only a moment.  “We split as well.  Both must be stopped.” He suddenly grinned at Elladan. “I will take Garthon and Nathrion north along the west side.  Take the rest and catch your brother.”

Elladan gave a slight bow to his captain in thanks, and slipping from their cover, motioned for all but his fellow scout and Narthion to follow him, as Glorfindel quickly conferred with his small contingent.

“There is evidence that this is a crossing,” whispered Elladan.  “Search for any remaining boats.”

When none were immediately found, Elladan tossed his pack to the elf who also carried Elrohir’s, and motioned for one other to stay with him.  “Keep searching for a vessel, while we begin our swim across.  If none can be found before we reach the shore, one of us will row back with an orc-barge.”  With that order, he slipped into the river, long arms cutting the cold, deep water as he began his swim across the Anduin.

* * *

Elrohir continued soundlessly swimming across the river, smooth strokes cutting the swift current that never ceased to pull him south of the point on shore that he had fixed his eyes on.   Just north of that point, the first of the orc boats had reached land. A sudden flare caught his attention then, as moonlight reflected off something worn by one of the orcs.  The captain! he thought.  A strange joy flooded him as he regained sight of his quarry.

A slight noise sounded to his left, and he reluctantly dragged his gaze away from the orc captain. Elves were entering the river, Elladan in the lead.  Several moments later, however, another boat pushed off from the shore. Two elves rowed silently towards those in the water, the other elves climbing aboard or finding a grip on the edge of the craft, away from the paddles.  Elrohir resumed his powerful strokes, intent on reaching the shore before or at the same time as his fellow warriors.

Elrohir had just reached a spot near shore where he could stand when he heard the cry from shore.   He ran through the water, pulling his bow from his back and an arrow from his quiver and then, shaking the water from them, he moved towards shore.  He was still south of where he wanted to be, but that now appeared to be of benefit.  He saw an orc raising its bow and aiming in the direction of the elves in the boat, and loosed his own arrow. A grin of satisfaction crossed his face as the creature fell into the river, Elrohir’s arrow protruding from its ear, deeply embedded in the orc’s brain.  He fired twice more in quick succession, killing two more orcs before they realized he was there.  The remaining orcs took flight, and Elrohir followed.

* * *

Elladan had seen the first orc fall and not realized his twin had killed it until the next two toppled near the shore.  Under the cover Elrohir provided, they reached the grassy spot where the orcs had dragged their ships ashore.  

“There are still ten alive,” said Elrohir softly as he nudged the corpse of an orc near his foot. “The captain is among them.”

Elladan could not help but grin at his twin.  “You killed four, brother, but you missed the important one. We can see if Glorfindel can provide you with extra strategy lessons when we return home.”

“At least I did not get impaled by a dagger and two poisoned arrows,” retorted Elrohir playfully.

“Take up your sword and pack and go,” laughed Elladan. “The captain is mine, though.”

“Only if I do not find him first.”

* * *

Glorfindel pushed the last corpse over with his foot and sighed in disgust as he searched the clothing of the orc.  “Nothing,” he muttered uncharitably, “and they stink.”

Garthon dragged another dead orc over to the pile, then finished piling dry wood over them. As Glorfindel stepped away, he lit the funeral pyre of the five orcs they had slaughtered, having surprised them unawares.  The captain was not among them.

“Come, let us catch the others.  Look for a boat along the banks, or we will be swimming with our packs and swords,” said Glorfindel.  The three set off south at a quick pace.

* * * * *

A/N:  Curon means 'crescent moon'; also, not sure how much effect water would have on an elvish bow.  Didn't seem to matter much at Helm's Deep - but then, all those elves died, so maybe it did *grin*.