First Meetings

  “Speech”

  // Thought//

Chapter 3

Aragorn, son of Arathorn, shivered as he walked along the narrow path as the sun was just beginning to rise.  //Why does it have to be so cold up here?  I bet it’s going to snow any day now// he thought.  “Achoo!”

Aragorn sighed.  //Great. Ada’s going to kill me if I come home sick again.  Stupid horse, why did it have to get spooked by the Anduin?  It could have dropped me anywhere else and I would have been fine, but no, it had to drop me in the ice cold river water.//  “Achoo!”

It was nearly noon when he reached the High Pass and came across the carnage from the previous night.  “Looks like angered some people.”  He looked over the tracks and picked up one of the broken discarded arrows, “Or person…an Elf.  What was a lone Elf doing up here at night?  This is most unusual.”

Not wanting to stand near the rotting corpses any longer than he had to, Aragorn quickly resumed on his way.  He had only walked a short while when he came to the same part of the path that Legolas had fallen off of.  Having used this path many times, he immediately noticed where a large chunk had broken away, and by the look of it, it had happened recently.  Aragorn carefully moved towards the edge and glanced down.  There, lying on a short outcropping of rock, was a blonde Elf.  He quickly glanced around for possible ways to get to the fallen Firstborn, other than the route the being himself had taken, and was relived to see a tiny ledge leading out to the wounded being from a little further down the path.  //So here is the mysterious Elf. I hope he still lives. //

He carefully continued down the path until he came to the ledge where he plastered his body against the rock wall and carefully shuffled along to where the Elf lay.  He immediately knelt down and felt for a pulse, relieved when he found one; it was always tragic when one of the Firstborn died.  Aragorn reached over and gently shook the fair being.  “Master Elf, can you hear me?”

*~*~*~*~*

Legolas wasn’t really aware of anything.  He seemed to be floating in a blackness where everything was calm and peaceful.  Suddenly a voice began to disturb him.  The voice was unrecognizable and was calling for an Elf to wake up.  //Why is this person disturbing me?  Why does everyone insist on disturbing me when I’m here?//

But the voice wouldn’t give up; instead it kept insisting that he wake up.  Finally Legolas decided that he would wake just long enough to find out who was bothering him and tell them to leave him alone.

As he came closer to consciousness he became aware of one thing.  Pain.  He slowly opened his eyes. //Wait!  Why were my eyes closed?//

At first his vision was blurred but soon he was able to focus on the person who was bothering his sleep.  It looked to be a man in his early 20’s.  Legolas immediately forgot about going back to sleep and tried to sit up, but was only rewarded with a splitting headache.  He winced and tried to make the world stop spinning.

“Easy,” said the stranger.  “How do you feel?”  He helped the Elf sit up with his back against the cliff wall.

Legolas’ head continued to pound.  //Why does he insist on yelling?  Does he think me hard of hearing?  The people in Gondor should be able to hear him at the volume he insists on using.//

The Prince reached up with his left hand, since his right felt like it had been ripped off, and gingerly felt his head.  Bringing his hand back he noticed that it was now bloody.  “Like a horde of Oliphants decided to use me as a doormat,” he answered.  He paused for a minute taking in his other injuries.  Aside from his head, right arm and the stab wound he had received yesterday everything seemed to be fine.  “Who are you?”

“I am known as Strider, Ranger of the North, but who might you be master Elf?”

“I am,” Legolas paused, he didn’t want to give this stranger his real name so he gave the first name that came to his mind which happened to be one of his friends, “Taurdil of Mirkwood.

“Tell me Taurdil, what is an Elf doing up here by himself?”

“I could ask you the same thing.”

“Fair enough.  What happened?”

Legolas glanced up from where he fell and was amazed that he wasn’t injured worse.  “I slipped.”

//This is most unusual, elves do not normally slip.//  Aragorn decided to let the matter go though, and instead asked, “can I help you with those injuries?  I am a capable healer.”

“No thank you,” replied Legolas, “I can take care of myself.  I thank you for your assistance, but I will not hold you up any longer.”

Aragorn chuckled.  “It is not a burden to stay here and help.  Besides, you may have trouble addressing that head wound with an obviously dislocated shoulder.”

//This human does not take hints very well.//  “My shoulder is fine, just a little bruised.”

The ranger smirked.  “Can you move your right arm then?”

Legolas tried to move his arm but the traitorous limb wouldn’t move at all.  He glared at it as if it were the arm’s fault.

“That’s what I thought.  You’ll need to have it popped back into place.”

Legolas sighed, it seemed like he had been doing that a lot lately.  “Fine, just get it over with.”  He braced himself against the wall.

Strider moved beside the Elf and took the arm in his hands.  “On the count of three.  One…two…” he pulled the arm out and up, popping it back into place.

Legolas, caught unaware by the abrupt movement on the count of two, couldn’t help but cry out.  He glared at the human.  “You said three.”

“I lied. This way you were more relaxed, whereas if I had waited for three, you would have tensed up.  Now, do you need help with your head?”

Legolas just glared at him.  “No, I can do it myself.”

Aragorn wanted to slam his own head against the hard rock wall as he watched Taurdil try to bandage his head with one arm in a newly constructed sling.  //Why do elves have to be so stubborn? //

When Legolas was finally done he tried to stand up but immediately as he moved, pain flared in his side and threatened to make him sit back down.  He gritted his teeth and managed to gain his balance on his feet.  “I once again thank you for your help, Strider, but now I will let you continue on your way.”

Legolas slowly shuffled along the ledge and got back onto the path, then began to continue along his way, but was annoyed to find that Strider was apparently heading along the same route.

“It appears we may be traveling companions for another couple days.  Where are you headed?  Imladris perhaps?”

Legolas was startled by the human’s guess.  “Not many humans know the Elvish name for Rivendell.  In fact, I have never met one.”

The man chuckled.  “I grew up around there; it is actually where I am headed, but what about you?  Is that your destination?”

“Unfortunately, yes.”

“You sound as if you do not wish to visit the valley.”

“Let’s just say I did not have much of a choice,” replied Legolas.  //Why am I telling the human all of this?  And why is it so easy? //

Many questions were running through Strider’s mind as well. //Who is this Elf?  He carries himself like royalty, yet I have never heard of him; but then again, he probably hasn’t given me his real name...but for what purpose would he hide it? It seems strange that he is heading for Rivendell, yet does not wish to be there—most elves enjoy their time at the house of Elrond.  This is an odd Elf indeed. //

TBC...

Elvish Translations

Ada = Dad or Daddy