Chapter 4
He was exhausted. In fact, he could not remember ever being in so tired a state. It had been over two days since he set out on this self-appointed quest of tracking down the troops to warn them of the pending attack on the palace. He had ridden without sleep or rest along the route that he had mentally mapped for himself. From his memory of the maps that he had studied over the years, the route that he had decided to follow would be the shortest and would bring him to the departing troops in the least possible time. But inevitably, the route was also through some of the most difficult terrain of the Mirkwood realm. His weary mind kept wandering to thoughts of his currently vacant bed and he wondered why he had ever loathed the idea of sleeping his life away when he was at home. If he could but sleep now, if even briefly, he would be forever thankful.
He was also extremely thirsty, and hungry. When he left home what seemed a life time ago, he had not planned on embarking on such a quest and naturally had brought no food with him. Fortunately, he had half a skin of water and though he drank sparingly, he had drained the last drop hours before. There was no readily available source of water along the route that he had chosen, nor could he spare the time to deviate from his chosen path to search for water or to forage for food. He swallowed painfully, his thoughts straying to memories of the countless feasts that he had attended only under the threats of his adar. He doubted he would ever again consider attending feasts an unsavoury part of his princely duties and responsibilities.
He forcefully pulled himself into alertness. His mind had been wandering and his senses dulled to possible threats. He was opening himself up to all manners of danger. A good warrior would not be brought low simply by a lack of food and rest. These were only minor discomforts that he must set aside. The most important task at hand was to return with the troops in time to save all those left behind at the palace, including Adar and Aldeon. What were hunger and weariness compared to lives of loved ones? He reached down and patted his equally weary horse.
"Hwesta, I am sorry my friend, but we cannot rest just yet. Many lives depend on us. We must catch up with Feren and Tavaro, and the troops. I promise you all the water and food once we join up with them. But now you and I must endure these minor discomforts. I think we are close to them. The tracks are very fresh. Perhaps before the night falls. Will you be all right until then?"
The horse snorted rather short temperedly, as if disgusted at the doubt voiced by his master of his ability. Legolas could not help but laughed. "I know, my friend. I was only teasing you. I know you can carry me for days yet, let alone a few short hours more. Come, let us carry on like the warriors that we are."
With a renewed surge of energy, Legolas quickened his mount’s pace, feeling thankful that the woods were now less dense and that the tracks of the moving troops were now quite obvious to his elven eyes. He had not doubted that the route that he mapped would eventually cross with the path of the troops, but still, he had been relieved when he at last sighted the tracks of the departing troops which confirmed the wisdom of his choice of route.
xxxx
Free at last from the endless consultations with his advisers and generals, and having rid of the clinging servants, Thranduil made his way along the halls to the royal family quarters . A part of him knew that he should not be sparing time for such selfish indulgence, that he should be spending his every waking minute preparing his realm against the onslaught of the enemies. He was the King of Mirkwood after all and he was responsible for the lives of all those within these great woods, and yet he could no longer deny the pain in his heart which wept silently for the unknown fate of his youngest child. He sought solitude in the only place he could think of - the room of his now missing son.
Silently, he shut the doors and swept his eyes around the room before him. The emptiness of the room screamed out at him and uncontrollably, he flinched as if he was dealt a physical blow.
"Legolas, where are you, my son?" he breathed quietly to himself as he sat down on the neatly made up bed. "Are you safe, my son?"
He buried his face into his hands in despair, at last relinquishing the fear and pain that he had so ruthlessly held in check the past hours while he plotted and planned with the others in preparation for the imminent battle. Only in the sanctuary of this empty room could he at last shed the burden of being a king and take on the role of an anguished father. It had pained him more than he could ever imagine to forbade a search for his youngest child. Every paternal instinct in him screamed out for riding after Legolas himself, to bring this wayward son back to the security of his arms. But the chains of command weighed heavily on him, holding him a virtual prisoner within their grasp. He cursed with vehemence the shadow that hovered over his realm so menacingly. Was it not enough that he has sent his other sons to battles and to face death on a daily basis? Must he also lose his youngest, the one child that so achingly reminded him of his beloved queen, in looks and in temperament? The last precious gift from his beloved before she was taken from him.
"Legolas, please come back to me safely."
*****
Legolas rolled to his feet in a flash, releasing the arrow even before he was fully upright. The shot found its mark and the spider tumbled from the tree and landed with a sickening thud on the ground before him. Hwesta neighed frantically again and Legolas swirled around just in time to jump aside as another spider lunged at him. There was a sharp flash of pain as one of the razor sharp legs caught him along the arm. With a metallic hiss, he drew his knives and in one smooth upward arc, decapitated the loathsome creature whose deadly stinger was within striking distance. Sensing danger behind him, he swept his other knife backward and up and barely managed to dispatch another spider before it made him its next meal.
He danced back lightly against Hwesta, his back protected for the time being by his faithful horse, and took a quick scan of his surroundings. More spiders were dropping from the trees all around him, cutting off any quick means of escape. He fought down the rising panic and drew his bow again. He managed shoot down four more before the spiders came too close for the use of arrows. The knives came out again swirling in deadly flashes that kept the spiders from getting close enough to inflict further harm, or for that matter, death. Without looking, he knew Hwesta also keeping the deadly beasts away with lethal kicks of his powerful legs. Grimly, he knew that they could not keep up this fight much longer. Already, his breathing was coming in ragged gasps, and his muscles strained mightily to maintain the deadly speed of his twirling knives.
Valar, he had never dreamed that his life would end in battling spiders! I will now never know the honour of being a warrior, he thought bitterly.
Another spider came too close and marked him with another painful slash. He thought fleetingly of his family, and how much he would miss them should he never see them again.
****
Aldeon looked beyond the walls toward the canopy of trees in the distance, straining his eyes foolishly in search of a sight that he knew he would not see. Where are you, Legolas? He could not recall how many times he had asked himself that question. He vacillated between fits of anger and despair. Anger at his young brother for recklessly launching himself on a pursuit that was fraught with danger even for a seasoned warrior, let alone a sheltered and protected elf who had yet to see his first battle. And despair at the thought that his beloved brother may have already succumbed to some dire fate even as he prayed for his safe return.
He looked over to where Salque stood staring at the same trees that he himself had been staring. No doubt the very same thoughts were going through the older warrior’s mind as well. With an inward sigh, he made his way to the side of his brother’s keeper.
"I do not see him," he said rather lamely to Salque.
The older warrior appeared startled at his words. Indeed, Aldeon thought, Salque had not heard his approach at all, indicating how deeply distraught the seasoned warrior must be over his missing charge.
"I, too, was hoping to see Legolas ride out of those trees," Aldeon added quietly.
Salque nodded. "Foolish hopes, and yet we cannot help ourselves." With another forlorn look toward the trees, the older warrior hung his head in total despondence. "Aldeon, I fear for him. You do not know how much I fear for him. I should have kept a closer watch on him. I had feared that he might be tempted to leave with the troops and when that did not happen, I allowed my guard down. I should have known that he was much too restless to stay behind these walls."
Aldeon laid a comforting hand on the other’s shoulder. "You cannot blame yourself, Salque. You have managed to keep him safe all these years, and that is no easy feat for we all know how Legolas craves for excitement. No other elf on Middle Earth can get himself into as much trouble as he does so effortlessly. Adar is always saying how Legolas ages him in ways that elves, in their blessed immortality, are not predisposed to suffer."
"And yet if he is any less endearing, we would not all worry so," Salque smiled wryly as he recall the endless mishaps that befell his young charge. Thranduil was not the only one that Legolas had managed to age. At times, when Legolas succeeded in trying beyond the near legendary patience of his watcher, Salque had wondered whether immortality was a blessing at all. Forever was a long, long time to be fretting over someone who thrived on misadventures. More than once he had thought of asking Thranduil to release him from his duty as keeper to Legolas. But these thoughts were almost always banished instantly as soon as the young prince appeared before him, radiating effortlessly the boundless enthusiasm and sweetness that few could match, and before Salque was aware, he was already embroiled witlessly in another of the young elf’s misadventures. Life as Legolas’ keeper was never dull.
He felt the younger elf’s hand on his shoulder again and returned the grasp, each taking comfort from the other while sharing the fear and despondency that preyed upon their waking thoughts so relentlessly.
TBC