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One Year in Mirkwood  by daw the minstrel

 

9.  Surprises

(January)

Thranduil rode the stallion into the stableyard and dismounted.  The stable master came forward, trailed by Tonduil, who called to the horse and spoke a few confidential words to him.  “What do you think?” the stable master asked. “Will he do?”

“I believe he will,” said Thranduil approvingly.  He glanced over at Tonduil. “What do you think, Tonduil?” he asked.  “Would Legolas like him for a begetting day present?”

Tonduil smiled broadly.  “He would be a fool if he did not,” he proclaimed.  “This beauty is the finest of the lot we got from the Rohirrim on this trip.”

Thranduil laughed.  “I will take your word for it,” he said, “for I am told that you have very good judgment when it comes to horses.” Tonduil blushed and ducked his head, obviously pleased by the king’s praise. “Do not tell Legolas, though,” Thranduil added. “It is a surprise.”

“Then it will remain a surprise,” Tonduil promised.  “I cannot wait to see his face, though.”

“Tonduil,” said the stable master, “you tend to the stallion while I speak to the king. I want to tell him about our plans for breeding our own horses so that we are less dependent on the Rohirrim for acquiring them.”

“It is a very good plan, my lord,” Tonduil said earnestly and then led the stallion away while the stable master led Thranduil into his office and began a lengthy explanation of his idea.

Thranduil listened patiently. The plan was a sound one and, in general, he approved of anything that made the Woodland Realm more independent.  “Go ahead,” he finally said.  “We lose nothing in trying.”  He shifted his cloak uncomfortably on his shoulders. During his ride, snow had built up around its bottom edge where it had dragged through drifts and fallen from branches onto his shoulders, and while he had been listening to the stable master, the snow had melted, leaving the cloak soaking wet.

“My lord,” exclaimed the stable master, “that must be very uncomfortable.  We always have an old cloak or two lying about. Why do you not borrow one and I will send yours back to the palace?”  He caught up an ancient gray cloak from a peg near the door and offered it to the king.

Thranduil accepted his offer and, in some amusement, traded his fur-lined cloak of fine wool for the rather tattered garment that the stable master offered.  In the doorway, he hesitated.  Then he set off on a path that he did not normally take, the one that passed by the warriors’ training areas on the way to the palace.

He strode along the path between the practice fields, watching the warriors at work with a knowledgeable eye.  Since Legolas had joined the ranks of the novices, he did not often come this way, for he knew from his experience with Ithilden and Eilian as novices that his son was likely to be made uncomfortable by his presence at the training fields.

He felt safe enough taking this path today though.  With the hood up on the borrowed cloak, he did not believe he was readily recognizable. So he lingered, assessing the skills of his warriors and searching for the group of novices to which Legolas belonged.  Ithilden had passed the novice masters' reports of Legolas's growing proficiency along to Thranduil, but he wished to take this unlooked for opportunity to see his youngest son's skill for himself.

Suddenly he spotted the blond head among a small group who were standing around a novice master in a field that was ahead on his left.  He approached the field quietly and stood leaning against the fence.  The master was giving some sort of explanation, using his own bow to show the novices what he meant.  They were listening attentively and Thranduil took a moment to study his tall, slim son.  He felt an unexpected twinge of longing for a small hand placed trustingly in his as an elfling skipped along beside him, or a chubby arm wrapped around his neck as he carried a fragrant, sleepy baby to bed. There was nothing small or chubby about his son now, he thought, with a wry half smile.

Two of the novices were running to the far end of the field and taking up a position behind a wooden wall.  Legolas moved to one side with the novice master, and Thranduil recognized Annael as the novice who remained in the center of the field. Annael readied his bow, and the novice master called to the two novices at the other end of the field.  At his call, they began to fire arrows marked with small metal disks, shooting three arrows each in quick succession.  Annael drew and fired rapidly and was able to bring down three of the arrows, which Thranduil thought was a respectable performance, given that the arrows had been fired in all directions.  The novice master evidently thought so too, for Thranduil could hear him call, "Good!"  Annael trotted off to join the novice master, and Legolas now took his place in the center of the field.

Thranduil felt himself tense, but Legolas looked cool enough, his face gathered in a look of utter concentration.  "Go!" the novice master called, and the archers again fired a swift series of three arrows each.  Legolas did not look as if he were hurrying at all, as he methodically drew and fired, the twang of release after release following in measured succession.   Thranduil held his breath as four – no, five! – of the arrows were brought down and then let it out again in delight as Legolas tracked the sixth arrow and knocked it from the sky at the last possible moment.

The other three novices all let out whoops of delight.  Even from where Thranduil stood, he could see his son's grin. "Very good!" called the master.

"Very good, indeed," said a gleeful voice at his elbow.  Thranduil turned to find that Eilian had come up next to him. "How does the saying go?" Eilian asked.  "He could hit a bird's eye in the dark."

Thranduil gave him a small smile. "He is very skilled," he said reservedly.

Eilian laughed.  "Adar, you know that you want to whoop like those novices over there," he said.  "Anyone can see that you are proud of Legolas, even when you try not to show it."

Thranduil felt his smile broaden.  "He is doing well," he admitted.

He paused and then decided to take advantage of Eilian's presence to find out what he could about his youngest son's other activities.  "I must admit, though, that I am occasionally concerned about his courtship of the little maiden."  He raised his eyebrow inquiringly at Eilian, suspecting that if Legolas had confided in anyone other than Annael, it would be Eilian.

Eilian hesitated.  "I do not think there is anything to worry about," he said slowly, "although I would not let them spend too much time alone together."  Thranduil grimaced.  He did not like the sound of that.  Even young elves were customarily able to bring their bodies under the control of their minds, but when one was as curious as Legolas was, that did not always stop a certain amount of experimentation. And physical and emotional closeness were united in Elves, which meant that any experimentation that was too bold would end in tears, given the expectations that warriors faced.

Eilian looked at his father. "Other than preventing them from having too much privacy, though, you should let him work it out on his own, Adar. He is gradually coming to understand what his future holds, but if you interfere, he will dig his heels in and learn nothing."

Thranduil sighed.  All of his experience as a father told him that Eilian was right, and it was best not to interfere. And if Eilian did not think there was anything to worry about, there probably was not.  He turned back to the practice field, where Annael and Legolas had changed places with the pair who had been behind the wall at the end of the field.  Another novice, whom Thranduil did not recognize, was now trying his hand at the drill.

"Are you in disguise?" Eilian asked conversationally.  He looked excessively innocent and Thranduil could not resist an answering sally.

"Is that an example of the diplomacy that I am told you practiced so skillfully with the Men of Esgaroth?" he responded.

Eilian laughed.  "Yes," he said, "which is why you should never make me a diplomat."

Thranduil laughed too and then changed the subject.  "Since you are not giving me a report about the Easterling intruder, I assume that the patrols you sent out this morning came back empty handed?"

"We have found no further sign of him," Eilian agreed.  "Perhaps he has gone back wherever he came from and will bother us no more."

Thranduil smiled wryly at Eilian's tone.  "You sound a little wistful," he teased.

Eilian laughed.  "His appearance was the most exciting event to happen since I began working with the Home Guard," he agreed and then added more soberly, "but I am glad that he is gone. I would not want anyone having contact with Dol Guldur to be so near to home."  He hesitated.  "I can always find my excitement elsewhere," he added.

Thranduil frowned.  "What do you mean by that?" he challenged.  Eilian, too, apparently intended to take advantage of their conversation to find out something that he wanted to know.

"I mean," said Eilian evenly, "that after the baby is born, I expect Ithilden to send me back to my patrol."

"Has Ithilden agreed to that?" Thranduil demanded, turning to face him squarely.

"No, but he implied it when he assigned me to the Home Guard," Eilian asserted, setting his jaw stubbornly.

Thranduil turned back to the practice field, although he could not have said what was happening there.  When he had ordered Ithilden to assign Eilian to the Home Guard, he had somehow thought that he would know when the danger to his son was past, and he was not yet convinced that it was so.  Yet, he also knew that he could not keep Eilian home indefinitely.  Or rather, he supposed that he could, but it would be at a terrible price in family turmoil.  He became aware that Eilian was waiting for him to say something. "You have been doing good work with the Home Guard," he said finally.  "I am proud of you as well as Legolas."

Eilian stared at him for a moment and then let out an exasperated sound.  "By your leave, Adar," he said angrily and, without waiting for permission, went on his way.

***

Miriwen swung the closed basket at her side as she walked along through the woods with Falad.  They had been out all afternoon but had thus far found only one patch of the haru plant poking up through the snow.  It was known to grow in the area which they were now nearing, and she hoped they would find more of it there.  The hardy plant was used to stimulate the healing of wounds and reduce bleeding, and the infirmary's supplies were lower than Belówen liked to see, so he had sent the two youngest apprentices out to see what they could find.

"Let us split up and search around the beech trees," Falad suggested. "Haru likes the beeches, so we are most likely to find it there." She nodded in agreement and started off to their left as Falad made his way through the woods to their right.

She hummed to herself as she searched. The trees were all but asleep, and she crooned a lullaby for them under her breath.  To her delight, she found a patch of the plant almost immediately. She cut as much as she could and then moved on to search further.  She had been searching for an hour or more and was beginning to wonder how Falad was doing, when suddenly she stopped and straightened up, for she had just realized that the trees here were more restive than they should have been. Something was the matter.  Her hand strayed to the knife that was thrust through her belt.  Healers did not normally carry weapons, but none of Thranduil's people would enter the woods unarmed.

"Falad!" she called, as she backed away from the area and looked around.  He did not answer, so she called more loudly. "Falad!"

Suddenly, a hissing noise sounded from above and something sticky brushed against her face.   She slapped it aside frantically and looked up to see a giant spider crouched in the tree directly over her head.  She screamed and at the same time drew the knife and turned to run, but the beast dropped down directly on her, striking her in the back and knocking her to the ground.  Before she could do anything, she felt the sharp sting of its bite in the center of her back right through her cloak.  She rolled over, knocking it off her, and slicing frantically at it with the knife.

Even as she stabbed at it, however, she could feel the tingling in her arms and legs that meant that the venom was already starting to take effect.  Her arms felt heavy and were refusing to obey her terrified desire to fight the spider off.  The knife dropped from her paralyzed fingers.  Her legs were no longer moving, and she suddenly realized that the spider was beginning to spin a web around them.

"Miriwen!" called a familiar voice.

At that moment, an arrow whizzed past her and struck the spider, passing through it and actually pinning it to the beech tree.  Black blood spurted out, fouling her legs.  She was sobbing now, distressed by the blood and by the tingling darkness that was beginning to move in and out of her vision.

Strong arms wrapped themselves around her.  "Miriwen, are you all right?" said the voice, and she looked up to see Eilian crouching over her.  "Did it bite you?" he asked urgently.

"Yes," she gasped.  "Is Falad hurt?"

"I have not seen him," said Eilian.  He turned, and she could see now that there were three other warriors with him.  It must be a Home Guard patrol, she thought rather muzzily.  Eilian was issuing orders.  "Find Falad. He is around here and may be hurt.  If he is all right, bring him here at once. He may be able to help her." He turned back to Miriwen. "Where did it bite you?" he asked.  She stared at him, unable even to understand the question clearly much less answer it.  "Miriwen!" he said more loudly. "Where did it bite you?"  But she could not answer.

He picked up her knife and cut away the strands of web.  Then he removed her cloak and rapidly began to examine her, quickly finding the wound in her back.  Using her knife, he cut the back of her gown away and exposed the wound.  He took one look at the bite and then turned to snap his fingers at the warrior who watched nearby.  "Get one of the emergency healing kits," he ordered.

"Miriwen!" cried Falad's voice, and then he was next to her.  "I was too far away," he was saying frantically.  "I did not even know that something was wrong."  He was hurriedly grabbing the healing supplies from Eilian's hands.  "Get me some clean snow," he ordered one of the warriors, who hastened to obey. 

Miriwen was aware that Eilian was catching her up and holding her to him as Falad wiped the snow across her bare back and then applied something that stung viciously.  She moaned. "It is all right," crooned Eilian's voice.  "I know it hurts, but it will be better soon."  She clung to him as best she could, wanting his comforting voice to go on talking to her.

"That is all I can do," she heard Falad say.  "Can you get her home quickly?"  She was just aware enough to feel a cloak being wrapped around her and then know that she was being lifted into the arms of someone on horseback.

"Do not worry, little one," Eilian was murmuring.  "You are safe.  I promise you that you will be well."  Then, for a moment, she could hear him talking to someone else.  "Scour the area and make sure there are no other nasty surprises about.  Then see to it that warnings are issued so that people take care until we are certain the area is safe."

"Yes, Captain," someone said.

Then he turned back to her.  "Hold tight, little one. I will have you home in no time."  And he drew her close to him and urged his horse into motion.

***

Legolas was frantic.  "Are you sure that she is all right?" he cried again.

"I am sure," said Eilian firmly.  "Belówen is with her, and she is home where her parents can take care of her."

Legolas turned to his father and once again begged, "Please let me go to see her, Adar."

"They will not let you in, Legolas," Thranduil told him yet again.  "You can see her tomorrow. I will even send word to the novice masters asking that you be excused from training for an hour or so once Belówen says that she can have visitors.  But for tonight, you need to leave her in the hands of the healers and her family." He put his arm around his son's shoulder.  "She will be well," he said.  "Belówen says that Falad gave her good emergency treatment, and Eilian got her to the healers quickly.  She will be fine."

And with that, Legolas had to be content until the next day.

***

Trailed by Eilian, Legolas stepped shyly into Miriwen’s sleeping chamber.  He had never been in here before, and, despite the fact that her mother had invited him in, he felt as if he were intruding.  There were small china ornaments on the bedside table and, although he hastily averted his gaze, what looked like feminine underclothing lay on the chair in the corner.  When Miriwen turned her head and smiled in welcome, however, he hurried forward to take her hand and sit on the edge of her bed.  “How are you?” he asked anxiously.

“I am fine,” she assured him.  “I am taking the antidote for the venom and my back does not even hurt anymore.” She smiled at Eilian over his shoulder.  “I cannot thank you enough for what you did.”

Eilian came forward. Thranduil had sent him to fetch Legolas from the novice training, and he had taken the opportunity to come and see for himself that Miriwen was well.  “You should not be thanking me,” he said ruefully. “If the Home Guard had been doing its job, that spider would never have gotten so close to the palace. I should be apologizing to you.” And indeed, Legolas knew that the rumor on the training fields was that Eilian had spent the morning making sure both that the spider who had bitten Miriwen was alone and that everyone who served under him would scramble to keep such an incident from ever happening again.  Eilian was normally easy going, but he had a tongue as sharp as Ithilden’s when he chose to use it.

“Nonetheless,” she said, “you probably save my life.”

Eilian shrugged.  “Falad did his part, too,” he said. Then he added, “I must be on my way now.  Legolas, do not forget that you are excused for only an hour.  Be sure that you get back on time.”

Keeping his gaze fixed on Miriwen, Legolas nodded, although he was not absolutely certain exactly what his brother had just said.  He could hear Eilian stifle a laugh and then his brother was gone.  Then, to Legolas’s delight, the baby cried and Miriwen’s mother went to find out what the matter was, leaving them alone.

“Was it very terrible?” Legolas asked.  “I am so sorry that I was not there.”

“It was frightening,” Miriwen admitted, “and of course you could not be there, although I have to admit that I was very glad that Eilian was.  Once he had hold of me, I started to believe that everything would be all right.”

Legolas laughed.  “Eilian can be very comforting sometimes,” he admitted. “Now tell me all about it.”  And he settled back to listen to her story and tell her how brave she had been. At the end of an hour, her mother returned to shoo him away, and he went with a much lighter heart.

***

Ithilden was dreaming again.   Thranduil stood to his left on the slope of a mountain.  A river ran around the base of the mountain, and on the other bank, he could see dwarves carrying axes and swarming as if for battle.  A trumpet sounded.  He turned to his right and saw a dark-haired young warrior who resembled Eilian but was not his brother.  "Be careful," Ithilden warned.

The young Elf grinned.  "You worry too much, Adar," he said and, bow in hand, he bounded away down the slope toward where battle was about to be engaged.

Ithilden woke suddenly and lay for a few moments, quietly fretting over the dream.  He remembered what Thranduil had said about prophetic dreams and hoped fervently that this dream did not fall into that category.  He often told Alfirin about his dreams, but he did not think he would tell her about this one.

***

Eilian stirred restlessly and rolled over in his bed.  A spider was wrapping sticky ropes around him, binding his legs together and pinning his arms to his side.  He was cutting at the ropes as fast as he could, trying to cut them away even as the spider wrapped them around him.  Suddenly he was free.  He was swinging through the tree tops looking for someone who was hurt.  I think that I will just fly, he told himself. That will be faster.  And he soared way into the clear blue sky.

***

Legolas dreamed that he was at the novice training fields, firing arrows as fast as he could with the fierce concentration that he knew at no other time. The archery master was throwing spiders into the air for him to shoot.  But then he looked up and saw a giant, winged creature blocking the stars.  It must be night, he thought in surprise.  He knew without being told that the flying beast was foul and would attack those he loved unless he did something.  He drew his bow and launched an arrow that pierced the creature's breast and sent it plummeting to earth.  His blood sang with the thrill of the kill.  This is what I was born for, he thought.

***

Thranduil dreamed that Lorellin was in danger in the forest.  He was racing to help her before one of the foul beasts harmed her.  She was calling for him, but when he finally arrived her side, she cried, "No, I am beyond help.  Help him!"

Thranduil looked around in confusion.  "I do not know where he is," he said. "How can I help him if I cannot find him?"

Suddenly, he was standing in a grove of trees with an elfling in his arms.  "Here you are," he said. "Safe at last."  But in the background, he could hear someone weeping.

 

*******

A/N:  Eilian's comment about hitting a bird's eye in the dark is taken directly from Chapter IX of "The Hobbit."

 





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