Far Horizons 8 - Finding the Way     

It had taken several weeks to work their way towards the river, carefully and tediously mapping every inch of the way to a distance of several miles on either side of their path.  You would have thought, Glorfindel marvelled, that so much minutiae, so much time spent over so little, would have brought some level of closeness and understanding to the elves under his command.  Unfortunately, he sighed, days of careful work had not achieved the result he would have expected from the unexpected arrival on one orc.

The sensation of being watched had proved less than helpful, he thought.  It put them all on edge, and it had driven Haldir the point of insanity.  He had been unable to believe that a warrior of his experience could not find the observer, but despite his careful searches, no trace had been found and several little incidents with missing items and leaking supplies had to be put down to ill-chance rather than ill-doing.

‘One question I ask myself, my lord,’ Rindor said quietly in his ear, ‘is why elves have apparently not found their way here along the river.  It seems such an obvious way into these lands.’

‘And have you provided yourself with an answer?’

‘Have you travelled down the Anduin from Lothlorien?’ Rindor answered with an enquiry.

‘A waterfall?’ Glorfindel considered.  ‘That is a possibility.  It would deter all but the most enthusiastic.’

‘I believe we have climbed considerably since we left the plain,’ Rindor observed. ‘And although we came down from the pass, I think that overall we are much higher.  It could be quite spectacular.’

‘So do you think we will need boats?’

‘Small and manoeuvrable,’ the dark-haired elf said consideringly. ‘Light. If we send some to follow the river, they might need to carry the craft at times.  And it might be possible to climb down the falls and use boats to return to the inhabited lands.’

Glorfindel lifted his head as he caught some noise ahead. ‘What now?’ he asked in irritation, urging his horse forward.

Two elves were squared up to each other, hostility clear in their bearing, as others attempted to pull them back from their confrontation.

‘Leave it, Falas,’ one said. ‘He is not worth the attention.’

The farmer paid no heed, continuing to stare at Neldin with obvious resentment. ‘You are asking for trouble, you self-satisfied moron,’ he said viciously.  ‘And if you. . .’

‘What is the problem?’ Glorfindel interrupted sharply.

There was a sudden silence and the participants drew back slightly, unwilling to air their grievances before the powerful lord. 

‘It is nothing,’ Neldin growled. ‘Just a little disagreement.’

Glorfindel stared at him, deliberately making his gaze as intimidating as he could. ‘We do not need disagreements, Neldin,’ he said gently, but with the sharpened steel clear under the velvet.  ‘You have been having too many disagreements with too many people.  It will stop, do you hear me?’

‘Yes, my lord.’

‘Look at me!’ Glorfindel’s voice lashed sharply and Neldin reluctantly lifted his eyes to meet the glare.  ‘Do not think that because we are a small group here far from home that we have to tolerate you.  We can and will make your life a misery if you do not go some way towards working pleasantly with us.  Do you understand?’

‘Yes, my lord.’ Neldin replied stolidly, whilst wondering how his life could become any more miserable than it was already.

‘Good.’ Glorfindel continued to push forward, calling as he went, ‘Falas!’

The farmer pulled free of his friend’s grip and followed along the path laid for them by the scouts. 

‘Your reports to Rindor suggest that you doubt the land here will be fertile enough to support much in the way of farming,’ Glorfindel remarked. ‘Are you suggesting that the forest will be unable to sustain the population we wish to bring here?’

‘No, my lord,’ Falas answered, switching to the business that had brought him here.  ‘We cannot fell trees to create fields – and it would not help if we did, for the fertility of the soil would be short-lived.  Close to the river, where the spring flooding brings down alluvial soils and the moisture level is higher, we should find that food crops can be grown successfully, and gardens will thrive in the areas where the sun breaks through the canopy.  We can fertilise the gardens with stable manure and dung from our food animals, which will enrich the soil.  Initially we might have good results, as the soil is not used to growing crops, then there will be a dip before our methods of farming improve results.  Considering we will be harvesting the produce the forest provides – both plant and animal, we will be able to feed a reasonable number over the first few years, provided no disasters occur.’

With a slow nod of approval, Glorfindel remarked, ‘Well, that, at least, sounds promising.  Have you consulted with Aelindor about the trees and what they will provide?’

‘He is quite excited, my lord,’ Falas told him.  ‘There are apparently many useful trees that can provide not only wood and shelter, but nuts and rope and sweetening – and a variety of other things.  Thornen, too, is quite pleased, as there are several trees and plants that he has spotted that will give us medicines.’

Glorfindel smiled.  ‘This project is so overwhelming that I sometimes forget how much we have achieved already.  I look forward to sending reports back to our lords.  I would not be surprised to find that they make excuses to come here as soon as we have set up our staging post.’  He straightened his face and glanced at his companion, who stiffened, recognising that he was about to be quizzed on the earlier events.

‘Tell me,’ Glorfindel said simply.  ‘What is it about Neldin that sets everyone at odds with each other?’

‘If it were that simple to identify, my lord, we would have resolved it by now,’ Falas said dryly.  ‘It is almost as if he wants to cause disruption, if only because then we are all looking at him.’

A germ of an idea began to emerge.  ‘Would you say that Neldin might be involved in the damage and losses we have experienced?’

‘I would like to, my lord,’ Falas said reluctantly.  ‘It seems to me to be just the sort of thing he would do, but unfortunately we have already thought of it and he has been watched.  Whoever is responsible for playing pranks, it is not Neldin.  On at least two occasions he has been under observation and at some distance from what happened.’

‘Who set up the watch?’ Glorfindel asked suspiciously.

‘Rindor, my lord. Did you not know?’

Glorfindel nodded uninformatively.  ‘Continue to keep your eye on him, Falas.  And refrain from challenging him if it is at all possible.’  He dismissed the other elf to return to work. 

They had expected opposition, Glorfindel thought, but they had not anticipated it following the small band of explorers.  Was it possible that the group had been infiltrated by some of those determined to sabotage this venture?  Would anyone choose a spy as inefficient as Neldin, though – an elf who was so irritating that he would be immediately suspected of being the cause of any trouble?  Or, more likely, was Neldin there to distract attention from a much more dangerous opponent? Glorfindel considered each of the elves in the party.  He could not exclude any, he decided reluctantly, except probably Haldir and Gwathor, both of whom he had known long enough for them to have earned his trust.  He would have to be on his guard.

***

Some distance ahead of the main party, Haldir and Gwathor looked down from the trees to the wide expanse of the river, its silver surface appearing stationary, except here and there where flotsam drifted past swiftly enough to show the power of the water. 

‘That is a fairly substantial river – I think we have reached our first boundary,’ Haldir observed.  ‘Shall we now seek upstream or down?’

‘I will climb up and see if there is any obvious advantage either way,’ Gwathor shrugged.  ‘My instincts say downstream, but I could not tell you why.’  He disappeared quickly into the foliage, scarcely visible amid the dense leaves. 

Haldir gazed at the open river before him.  It made a change to see so much sky, he thought, and its vivid blue contrasted well with the water and the million shades of green that made up the forest.  The trees were happy here, their roots deeply buried in rich moist earth and their branches stretching freely towards the sun that fed them.  It was a fairly simply vegetative pleasure, though: they lived and grew to produce seeds that they then shed in the hope of new life.  The song echoed through them, but they had little concept of anything beyond themselves.  They were interested in the strange creatures that passed beneath them, but they could not understand creatures so quick in their movements, there one minute, gone seconds later.  Haldir wished he could reach more deeply into the trees’ awareness.  He felt sure they could tell him something important, if only they could grasp what he wanted to know.

Gwathor landed beside him.  ‘There are hundreds of scarlet butterflies up there,’ he said in wonder, ‘and tiny birds with iridescent wings seeking out long racemes of little cream flowers. It is if another world begins where the trees stop.’

‘I have seen fish jumping,’ Haldir mentioned. ‘There seem to be some suited to the size of the river in which they swim.’

‘This is not a bad place,’ Gwathor judged.  ‘I think I could live here.’

‘If only we could choose who would live with us,’ Haldir sighed.  ‘Did you see anything useful while you were admiring the wildlife?’

‘Downstream,’ Gwathor confirmed.  ‘I believe the area of open clearing is that way.’

‘Let us go, then, and retrieve the rest of the party,’ the fair-haired elf said reluctantly. ‘Once we have them dealing with their busy-work, we can get on with the exploration and ignore them.’

‘You are not courting, are you, my friend?’ Gwathor commented with apparent irrelevance as he grinned widely. ‘I am surprised!  I would have thought an amiable elf like you would have been snapped up centuries ago.  There must be some elleth out there who is longing to be drilled like a new and particularly stupid recruit.’

‘Peace,’ Haldir insisted with a reluctant smile.  ‘It is not that I have not had opportunities, you understand.  I just find debate tiresome and I have not yet found an elleth for whom it is worth enduring.’

‘I look forward to the day, Haldir.’

‘Then you have a long wait ahead of you, my friend.’

***

The watcher in the trees reflected on what he had seen.  They were not bad, these outsiders, although they were not as good as they would like to think.  Some of them seemed more closely bound to the forest than others, but they were all careful and respectful of the life around them.  What worried him, however, was that their conversation revealed that this was merely the vanguard of an invasion – and he was not at all convinced that his Lady would appreciate the arrival of uncounted elves disrupting her forest. 

He would have to return soon and report what he had observed, but first he wanted to see the invaders settled, so that they would still be in place when the Lady came to see for herself.

He slid through the trees; no more than a shadow, a slight shift of colour against the dappled light; as silent as a leaf drifting towards the ground.  He noted the blond lord look round and was impressed again by his awareness of change in his environment even as the watcher knew that he was safe from notice. 

One of those most closely attuned to the trees tilted his head as if listening, but the noise of the others distracted him and he turned away.  He seemed almost familiar, the watcher thought, as if some tenuous connection existed between them, but the feeling was too vague to grasp.

As he had expected, the blond elves led the rest in a more southerly direction, angling towards the river, but heading for the area where the forest thinned out.  He waited to see them settle, then left, heading northwards as quickly as he could to carry the news to the Lady.

***

Who would have thought, mused Glorfindel, that an expedition into the deep forest would have them debating endlessly about the design of small water craft.  Or, indeed, that Neldin would actually seem to have found something about which he knew.  Now that Nintaur and Neldin were actually involved in a task that required their skill, their squabbles had become productive and they seemed to enjoy the loud discussions.  The delicate frameworks they had constructed unnerved him and gave him no inclination to try them out on a river that seemed, at the least, unforgiving of error, but Alagsir and Ruindel appeared to have some confidence in the design and had managed to provide and treat sufficient hides to complete them. 

The small teams were bringing back information in plenty, he sighed, looking at the camp table before him, and it would not be long before somebody had to devise a method of constructing filing cabinets to store the stack of paper.

Rindor grinned at him.  ‘Paperwork is not your activity of preference, my lord,’ he commented.

A sour look rewarded him.  ‘And to think that I was delighted to be sent out here because I would evade all the endless meetings which Elrond is capable of arranging,’ he grumbled. ‘All I seem to do is sit here while you pile reports in front of me.’

‘There is some interesting detail emerging, my lord,’ the younger elf observed.  ‘The project is appearing quite viable.’

Glorfindel leant back and watched Elrond’s appointment to the group.  ‘I have wondered about you, my friend,’ he remarked.  ‘You seem an unlikely combination – explorer and clerk, researcher and swordsman.  And then I thought – there it was all the time.  You are indeed more than you seem.  What made Elrond send his spymaster with us? Would you not have been of more use to him amongst the grumbling malcontents at home?’

Rindor lifted his eyebrows and pinned the elf lord with his steel grey eyes.  ‘I am surprised it has taken you so long to place me, my lord,’ he said. ‘It is not as if Lord Elrond was attempting to conceal anything from you.  He just refrained from telling you everything.’

‘That is no novelty,’ Glorfindel grumbled.  ‘I sometimes think Elrond keeps secrets just for the fun of it.’

‘I am hardly likely to condemn an ability to remain discreet, my lord,’ Rindor laughed. ‘It is my stock-in-trade, after all.’  His face straightened gradually.  ‘He did not send me as a spy this time.  I think my lord knew how bored I was and looked on this as an opportunity for me to get some fresh air in my lungs.  However –,’ he looked speculative and let his words die away.

‘However,’ agreed Glorfindel, as they turned to look at the small number working within sight of his tent.

‘Irritating as Neldin has proved to be,’ Rindor murmured, ‘he has also shown himself to be generally harmless.  My feeling is that he has been placed here to divert attention from others, my lord.  I would like to know who placed him in our party – and to whom that person is connected, by marriage, financial interest, kinship or enmity.’ 

‘Neldin’s origins place him in Lothlorien.’

‘Which almost by definition should suggest that any whose presence should worry us will have no clear connection with the Golden Wood.’

‘I have known many of these elves for centuries, Rindor.’

 Rindor shrugged.  ‘That makes it tempting to exclude them from suspicion, my lord, but not necessarily sensible.’  He hesitated.  ‘I have been operating various systems so that people are watching each other – there are discrepancies appearing.  I would like you, my lord, to tell me all that you know of anybody here – however insignificant it might seem.’

‘I might.’ Glorfindel gave him a hard stare.  ‘But first I want you to tell me everything you have worked out so far – without any evasions.  The time for concealment has passed, Rindor, and, like it or not, we are going to work together.’ 

Rindor inclined his head, accepting the inevitable, but before he spoke a loud pain-filled cry made them turn their heads swiftly.  Glorfindel leapt up, automatically reaching for his sword, but Rindor started to move even as the crashing thud of a body falling through trees to hit the ground reached their ears. He led the way confidently, heading swiftly in the direction of the accident.

‘What happened?’  Glorfindel demanded sharply, grabbing the arm of a shocked-looking Aelindor.

‘He fell,’ he answered numbly.

The lord looked at him impatiently, but Rindor’s hand on his arm deterred him from making the pithy response that was on the tip of his tongue.

‘Who?’ Elrond’s spymaster said gently.

‘Haldir,’ Glorfindel told him, frozen with horror.  ‘It’s Haldir.’

He moved with deliberation towards the crumpled figure, attended by several elves where he had fallen.  Glorfindel was glad to see that Thornen was among them. This was a time when he could appreciate the worth of a healer trained by Elrond.

‘How is he?’ he said, sickly afraid to hear the reply.

‘He lives,’ Thornen replied briefly, ‘and if we wish that situation to continue, please stop asking inane questions and just do as I say.’

Glorfindel drew the spectators back to form a small ring far enough from the activity to be out of the way, yet close enough to do anything requested of them.  Their silence revealed their anxiety, however, and as Thornen’s understanding of the situation improved, he began to describe aloud what he was finding.

‘He is unconscious, which is all to the good at this point,’ he said. ‘Notice that most of the injuries are on the right side.  He does not look as if he tried to save himself as he fell – there are no injuries to the palms of his hands – they are on the outer surfaces.  He fell hard, but well,’ he observed in puzzlement, ‘almost with the limpness of an elfling, who does not realise that the landing will hurt.’  The healer looked up, a sudden hardness in his face. ‘I believe he may have been rendered senseless before he fell, my lord.  There is an injury on his head that suggests the impact of a stone or dagger hilt.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘It is my job to know these things, my lord.’  He continued his examination.  ‘The head injury is not serious.  He has broken his collar bone and fractured several ribs, but the worst damage is his leg.  It is a nasty break.  He will need to be cared for carefully for several weeks.’

‘Do you have what you need to look after him properly?’ Glorfindel looked at the helpless march warden. 

‘I will hope so, my lord,’ the healer responded dryly.  ‘For I do not know from where we would obtain further supplies of anything.’

Gwathor, who had been watching in growing horror, broke in.  ‘I do not understand,’ he said.  ‘You said he was struck.  Who could have done it?  And why?  Are you not going to discover who among us would attempt to do Haldir harm?  I, for one, will not be happy until whoever did this is found.’

The grim expression on Glorfindel’s face suggested that the scout was not the only one determined to get to the bottom of the incident.  ‘This matter must be resolved,’ he said determinedly.  ‘We have enough to do without distrust among us.’

A deep moan diverted their attention to the elf still lying where he fell.  ‘My head,’ he said faintly.

‘Do not try to move,’ Thornen instructed him.  ‘You have injuries that require treatment.’

‘I fell?’  Even in his pain, Haldir sounded incredulous. ‘Impossible!’

‘Do you remember what happened beforehand?’ Rindor asked insistently.

Haldir closed his eyes, a deep crease between his brows. After a moment he gave a tiny shake of his head. ‘It is fuzzy,’ he breathed. ‘I am not sure -.  I saw something.’

‘Leave him,’ the healer commanded.  ‘He does not need to be interrogated at this moment.’

‘Stay with him, Rindor,’ Glorfindel said decisively.  ‘At all times, understand me?’ He met the grey eyes and waited for Rindor’s nod of acceptance.

By the time Haldir had been treated and carried back to the most comfortable shelter they could manage, Glorfindel had come to a decision.  Petty tricks were one thing; this was quite another.  The saboteur had to be uncovered.  Of one thing the elf lord was certain – Rindor had nothing to do with the attack.  If he could start from that point, perhaps they would be able to identify who was responsible.

He took two cups of the steaming tea and joined his aide where he sat beside his charge.  ‘Well,’ he said, handing over the drink, ‘let us resume our conversation where we left it.  Tell me, Rindor.  If you do not know who our troublemaker is, at least let me know who it is not.’