Title: THE GOLDEN BELL OF GREENLEAF

Author: lwarren

Summary: This story takes place twelve years after the end of the War of the Ring (year 1432 by Shire Reckoning) and four years before the events in THROUGH ALL OF THESE YEARS. Legolas deals with a difficult time in his life, as he faces the first of many losses caused by the passing of time. In addition, he must learn to cope with the longing in his heart that strengthens daily and continually tests him.

Rating: G (I think…at least for now)

Disclaimer: The world of Middle-earth and all its characters belong to JRR Tolkien. I am simply borrowing them for a time. The only profit I take from this story is the joy I gained in writing it.

Reviews: Please do! Any feedback at all would be much appreciated, and constructive criticism would be more than welcome.

Acknowledgments: I would like to thank all the MCers who were so helpful in answering my infantile questions about horses. You guys are great! I would also like to thank Teanna Byerts for allowing me to reference her wonderful story THE ELVISH WAY WITH ALL GOOD BEASTS, and then for sending reams of suggestions and information, as well. (If you love horses and Legolas, her story is special!)

*All characters’ thoughts will appear in italics.

Chapter 1: Arod, Mellon Nin

The Lord of the elven colony in Ithilien gave Arod his head and crouched low on the flying horse’s back as they thundered across the plain towards the mountains. The wind whipped his hair and stung his eyes to tears as it whistled past, faster and faster now.

Fly! Fly, Arod!

There was nothing at present on Middle-earth that gave him more joy than these wild, pounding races on Arod, when they literally seemed to take flight. Nothing touched him then, not time’s passing (and with it the ones he loved), nor the fading of his people, nor the call of the sea which always seemed to be whispering in his mind, waiting for him to give it some attention. There was just Arod and his rider, and the feeling of steel muscles bunching under him with effort, and the wind and its song; a song he gladly answered with a singing cry of his own.

Noro lim, mellon nin! Noro lim!

The passing landscape blurred as they raced on, the silver-white horse extending his neck, stretching and reaching for more speed.

Arod and Legolas had left Ithilien the week before, at the request of King Eomer of Rohan, to attend his birth day celebration in Edoras.  Oh, and by the way, there were increasing tales of sporadic orc sightings near the White Mountains to the west of Edoras.  Would Legolas mind seeing to the truth of those rumors?

Legolas, finding himself caught in an inactive period at home, had jumped immediately at the combined chance of adventure and a visit with old friends.  So the elf and the steel white gelding had departed the forests of Ithilien, traveling quickly towards the distant mountains. 

They were now just hours away from the foothills of those mountains. There would be no more wild rides for a time, and Legolas had felt the need to indulge just once more. Hence, this ungoverned flight across the plains.

Finally, feeling Arod begin to strain a little, Legolas signaled him with hands, feet, and mind to slow. The horse tossed his head, but his speed began to diminish until he was cantering easily.

Legolas leaned forward, wrapping both arms around Arod’s neck, and said, "Hannon lle, my friend. I needed that!" Arod tossed his head in agreement. He, too, had relished the release of energy.

"Tomorrow, we go up, my Arod. We will move in and out of the foothills and see what mischief evil has been plotting," Legolas told the horse.

Arod lifted his head, too, looking at the mountains rising before them. Evil should learn and stay away.

The elf laughed. "Yes, but evil has never been wise, my friend. Cunning and sly, but never wise." Keen gray eyes flecked with blue surveyed the rising slopes ahead. "Evil still must be reminded from time to time that it no longer has a place here."

Twelve years had passed since the end of the war, but orcs and other evil servants of the defeated Sauron still lurked about. Those left favored the many convenient hiding places found naturally in the mountains, and Rohan’s western border had proven especially vulnerable.

"Let us hope there is no truth in the rumors," Legolas continued, "Otherwise, you and I will both be wishing for friend Gimli’s ax and his talent for cleaving orc necks!" Arod snorted softly in agreement.

Days passed uneventfully. The path taken by horse and elf paralleled the mountains, with brief forays into the rocky foothills to explore likely hideouts, but they found nothing but some scanty, months old sign.

At the end of the ninth day, they finished the last investigation of some shallow caves, needing only to return to the plains below, and travel the final twenty leagues to Edoras. Eomer’s celebration was scheduled for three days hence, and Legolas did not wish to be late for the festivities. Both he and Arod felt weary; nevertheless, the fact they had nothing to report allayed their fatigue and provided a measure of relieved pleasure.

Legolas sensed Arod’s discomfort long minutes before the first hitch ever appeared in the horse’s gait. Just a twinge, really, and gone before he could pinpoint the exact source. They had just started the final, relatively steep and rocky descent from the slopes above.

Arod? Is all well with you, my friend? Legolas listened closely, all the while monitoring the horse’s pace.

The path is somewhat steep, but all is well.

Legolas frowned a little, but reached down to stroke the dappled neck of the horse. Fifteen minutes later, when the pair had almost completed the descent, Legolas sensed another hesitation in the horse’s stride.

Arod, what are you…? 

Get off!

The warning came not a moment too soon. He felt Arod’s right leg buckle suddenly, and the horse stumbled, almost falling to his knees.  

Legolas, at the first warning, gathered himself and leaped to the side, clearing the horse with the grace of a large golden cat. He landed in a balanced crouch, rising and pivoting instantly to run back to his faltering mount.

Arod had come to a staggering halt, his proud head down, shivering with reaction, his right hoof lifted clear of the ground in an effort to remove his weight from the injured leg.

Legolas gasped as Arod’s agonizing pain flooded his mind. I cannot breathe…make it stop…

The elf caught the horse’s head, speaking softly, calmly, to the trembling animal, and trying to control his own trembling reaction as well.

"Sedho, Arod," he whispered, "Sedho, mellon nin." He ran gentle hands over the horse’s muscular neck, petting and soothing him, before moving on to the injured leg.

Arod quieted slowly, finally lifting his head and turning towards the elf to nudge him with his nose and snuffle at the gray cloak he wore. The familiar scent of his rider reassured him as Legolas knelt, moving his hand down the right foreleg until he reached the undeniable swelling. The horse flinched and shifted away.

"Ai, Arod," Legolas sucked in his breath in sympathy and dismay. "Not again…shhh, shhh…hold still, my friend."

His examination complete, and his heart heavy with dismay, he stood, sharp gray eyes scanning the surroundings for a suitable place to camp. The choices were almost non-existent. There was a great deal of tall, open grassland to his right, while on his left was the barren, unforgiving rock of the rising mountains. Not exactly a safe place to be stranded in.

At last, some leagues away, he spotted a stand of the small trees that grew scattered throughout the area. Placing a steadying hand on Arod’s neck, he began to lead the badly limping horse slowly and carefully towards them.

After several hours and many stops to rest, they reached the trees, and Legolas noticed with relief a small clear stream of mountain runoff winding its way energetically down the rocky hillside just a few hundred feet away. That, at least, answered the question of available water.

Leading Arod into the shady copse to a plot of level ground covered with the fallen leaves of past years, he bade the exhausted, hurting animal to stay put. He shrugged off the light backpack he carried, along with his weapons, and placed them against a tree.

Pulling one of his extra undershirts from the pack, he began tearing it into long strips. He kept a close eye on Arod, singing to him softly to distract him from the pain as he set the cloth strips aside and went to gather a supply of sticks and kindling. He quickly built a small smokeless fire and returned to the pack to take out the pouch of healing herbs Lord Elrond had taught him always to carry, along with a small metal container, which he filled with water and placed next to the fire to heat. All the while, a litany of regret and reproach kept running through his mind.

Careless…careless…you should have stopped him sooner…

The elf took the pouch of herbs and pulled out several proven especially effective against muscle injuries, and crumbled a portion into the water to steep.

You should not have pushed him so these last days or let him run so hard that last time…careless…stupid…

The rest of the leaves he crushed into a powder and mixed with a small amount of water to make a paste. Taking the paste, he walked over to Arod and knelt beside the horse, talking quietly.

"Now, my friend, I am going to play healer." He smiled as Arod snorted and shook his head. "My thoughts exactly."

He reached up to pat the big horse on the neck. After smearing the paste over the swollen knot on the leg, he fetched his cloth bandages and container of hot herbal water. Dipping a length of cloth in the fragrant, steaming liquid, he squeezed out the excess and wrapped the hot cloth snugly around Arod’s leg, knotting it securely in place. He repeated this several times, before finally layering dry cloths over the top, making sure they were tight enough to brace the leg. He would repeat this treatment, alternating hot and cold compresses three or four times every hour until morning, or until the swelling showed some sign of abating.

Arod relaxed slowly as the strong herbal remedy and warmth began to ease the injured leg. He lowered his head to examine the golden head of the elf kneeling on the ground, wrapping and tying bandages around his leg with deft, sure hands. Eyeing one of Legolas’ sidelock braids, he nuzzled the elf’s ear, grasping the braid in his teeth, and tugging on it.

Laughing, Legolas reached up, slapping lightly at the nose of his tormenter, who snorted and shook his mane.

"I am no flower to nibble on, you great silly beast," Legolas chided, relieved the horse at least felt like playing.

No, but you ARE pretty. The horse bumped the elf’s shoulder with his head until he fell flat. And you remind me of the pale gold flowers of my home!

"Well, eat them, not me!" Legolas laughed again.

Better…your thoughts have been dark since the pain came.

Arod lowered his head again to the prostrate elf, who immediately raised both arms to encircle the horse's neck.

"Ah Arod, I am so sorry.  Forgive me."  Arod nudged him with something approaching impatience. 

It happened. You could not stop it…but you are here…we are together.

Legolas closed his eyes. Yes, mellon nin, we are.

He stood, dusting himself off, and framed Arod’s elegantly sculpted head between his strong, slender hands, saying sternly, "Now, my friend, you have reinjured that same leg in the exact same place as last year. You must stay as still as possible for a time. I will begin alternating the warm cloths with cold ones to reduce the swelling. We will stay here and I will bring you fresh water and grass." Arod snorted.

"And no, you will NOT tell Gimli how I have waited on you, hand and hoof!" Legolas grinned at the unrepentant expression in the horse’s dark eyes.

"In a few days, we will try walking a short distance to see how you fare," he concluded. "I will wait until then to decide if and when to splint your leg."

Arod lowered his head and rested it on the elf’s shoulder. Legolas wrapped one arm around the horse’s neck. "I know…I know," he murmured. "It will be all right - only I fear we will be a mite late for Eomer’s birth day celebration."

He began humming a soft melody as he stroked Arod’s neck. After a while, Arod dozed, and Legolas continued stroking and singing, watching the sun set, and the first stars of the evening appear in the darkening sky.

Finally, satisfied that Arod would remain calm and still, Legolas set about quickly organizing the camp area. He banked the fire, placing the pan of heated water close to the coals where it would stay hot for use later on, and stacked more fallen branches for fuel.

The remaining strips of cloth and the healing pouch were stored in his pack, and set by the tree closest to Arod. Retrieving one last container from his pack, he filled it with icy cold water from the stream. Then, slipping off to the higher grass growing further from camp, he harvested an armload and brought it back for Arod to eat later. His chores done, he settled on the ground next to the dozing horse, leaning back against the trunk, and thinking about the injury to the horse’s leg.

There was little he could do out in this wilderness alone, except keep the big horse as quiet as possible. This was a recurring injury unfortunately, the leg obviously weaker than he had ever imagined. His lips tightened. It had taken Arod months to heal before, and now it would only be worse. His resolve strengthened. He had seen to Arod’s recovery once; he would do so again, no matter the cost. He cursed himself once more for his carelessness.

If only I had stopped at that first sign of pain!

Disjointed thoughts continued to tumble about in his mind. What else could he do? He had some knowledge of elven treatments for muscle injuries, but he also planned to ask for additional help from Eomer. He knew once he was sufficiently late, the King would send riders looking for him. After they reached Edoras, he would take the opportunity to seek out Eomer’s head stablemaster, Ranalf, and ask for his help. Legolas heaved a great sigh of disgust, and leaned forward to wrap his arms around his knees. His head dropped wearily to rest on them.

What was I thinking? Ai! An elfling would have shown more sense!

Legolas leaned his head back against the tree, listening to its soft sighing song, and gazing up at the star-studded sky. The immensity of the open sky over the plains of Rohan, and the clarity and number of the stars one could see never ceased to amaze him. As his mind eased, he decided to allow himself a short rest before changing the compress. As he slipped into elven dreams, he breathed, "Eru, please…"

~~~~~*~~~~~

The next five days passed in much the same manner as the first. Legolas patiently and carefully tended Arod’s leg, brought him grass and water, and kept him as still as was possible (for an otherwise healthy, active animal) so as not to aggravate the injury further. Thankfully, the swelling began to diminish on the third day, but the pain still prohibited much walking. Legolas spent his idle moments supplementing his dwindling rations of lembas with small game he hunted or trapped near the camp.

The sixth day after the injury, Legolas was gathering grass for Arod’s evening rations, when his sensitive ears heard the sound of approaching riders. Many riders. He dropped the grass and ran quickly to a rocky outcropping.

Swiftly scaling the rocks, he stood shading his eyes, looking at the dust cloud four leagues distant that heralded the riders’ presence. He exhaled in relieved recognition. A rather large group of Rohirrim, with Eomer in the lead, crossed the plain at a brisk gallop, several outriders casting out from the main body, obviously searching for something.

For me. Legolas grimaced with chagrin. Oh well, it cannot be helped. At any rate, Eomer is always complaining about having to stay in Edoras. Now, I have given him an excellent excuse for an outing!

He smiled ruefully at the thought of Eomer’s reaction to his excuse, and lifted his arm, waving to get their attention.

After some minutes, the nearest rider spotted him and raised the alarm. Legolas admired the precision of the group as they turned instantly and headed in his direction. He slipped down from his rocky perch and sprinted back to Arod, who was moving about with agitation as the scent of strange riders and horses reached him.

Legolas draped his arm over the horse’s neck and whispered in his ear, "Sedho, Arod nin. They are friends." Horse and elf stood quietly, waiting for the arrival of the King and his escort.

When Eomer and his men trotted up to the small camp, the King sighed in relief at the sight of his friend. He looked whole and healthy, at least. He quickly slid from his horse and strode over to Legolas.

Eomer clasped the elf’s shoulder in greeting, exclaiming, "Legolas! Where have you been? Lothiriel is beside herself, Elfwine has threatened to run away to look for you, and my own men had been packed for days before we left, they were that ready to find you! You have the entire realm in an uproar!"

Legolas returned the King’s greeting, gripping the man’s shoulder gladly. "Mae govannen, Eomer. I apologize for my delay and the trouble it has caused you and yours. I am afraid we ran into some trouble coming out of the hills."

Intensely dark, noticing eyes scanned the fair elven face, marking the shadowed weariness in the gray eyes. The King looked past the elf at the horse standing behind him, and saw the thick bandages enveloping the foreleg. The explanation for the delay suddenly became clear, and remembering a similar injury to the same leg a year ago, Eomer’s heart sank as he realized the implications of such an injury.

He smiled encouragingly at Legolas. "Well, we are here now, my friend. It may take another week or two, but we can splint that leg and walk Arod back to Edoras. Ranalf is an excellent healer of all manner of horse injuries. Arod will be fine, you will see."

Legolas smiled and nodded. "I will not accept anything less, Eomer. I am glad you are here."

Translations:

noro lim - run faster

mellon nin - my friend

hannon lle - thank you

sedho - be still

Arod nin - my Arod

mae govannen - well met