Thank you, Nilmandra. What an amazingly patient beta you are!

*******

4. Animals in the Forest

Eilian leaned back against the beech tree and wrapped his arms around his left knee to pull it toward him. His calf ached, but it was a good ache, testifying to the hard work he had just done, trying and failing to make his speed with a sword compensate for the greater defensive strength of Elladan and Elrohir. “We must do this again while you are here,” he suggested hopefully. He did not have many opportunities as good as this one to improve his blade work.

Elrohir nodded but said nothing, and Eilian glanced at him. He was staring vacantly across the training field, but Eilian could have sworn he saw nothing of what was in front of him. Beyond Elrohir, Elladan was poking at the dirt with a twig. Eilian knew that the twins had been fiercely concentrated on what they were doing while they were parrying and striking at him, but both of them seemed to have mentally absented themselves from the field the minute that the sparring session had ended. He shifted uncomfortably.

“How long do you expect to be in the Woodland Realm?” he asked.

Elladan shrugged. “Not long,” he said, looking up. “We came as an escort for Mithrandir, but we must be on our way soon.”

Eilian hesitated. The twins’ manner did not invite prying, but his curiosity was now aroused. “Are you on some sort of mission then?”

Elladan flung the twig away hard. “You might say that.” He drew a deep breath. “You evidently have not heard that our naneth was attacked by Orcs about a year ago. We have just come back from escorting her to the Havens.”

For a moment, Eilian stopped breathing as an overwhelming pain wrapped around his chest. “I am so sorry,” he managed to gasp and then shook off his lack of breath and turned to look at the two beside him.  A year ago. The twins’ mother had been attacked a year ago, Elladan had said. They must have watched her suffer for a year. How could they have borne to see that? And yet, how could they have thought about or looked at anything else while it was happening? How would he ever have stood it if his own mother’s torment had lasted for a year instead of what he could only hope were a mercifully few minutes?

“It is over now,” Elrohir declared, his voice hardening. “She will heal in Valinor, and we will do everything we can to wipe out the filthy creatures that hurt her.”

“Even in the forest here, there are a great many Orcs,” Eilian said slowly. “They are not easy to eliminate.” Something in Elrohir’s tone had sent a frightening spurt of joy through his heart. Wiping out Orcs struck him as a task worth doing.

“Tell us about them,” Elladan invited, facing him squarely with what once again seemed to be deep concentration. “We have fought the beasts in the mountains, but we want to know what you have seen and learned about them here.”

Eilian drew a deep breath. “You surely know a great deal already,” he began, “but you might not be aware of the way they guard and hunt from a central stronghold.”

***

“Those tolls are only fair,” Thranduil said coolly. “My people keep the river passable, and now you expect us to keep the entire length of it safe, despite the fact that it was one of your people who attacked mine when they were simply transporting goods that we had purchased from some of your merchants. If you expect to profit from our trade, you will have to make some accommodation.”

Across the table, Caridd pretended to consider Thranduil’s argument, although Thranduil was sure that the Man would eventually give in. The offer was fair, and in any case, Caridd had no more choice about the tolls that Thranduil and Ithilden had about the guards.

A discreet knock sounded, and an attendant appeared in the door of the conference chamber. “A messenger has come for Lord Ithilden.”

“Excuse me,” Ithilden said and left the room.

“The master would decide, of course,” Caridd sighed, “but I will recommend that he agree.”

“Good,” Thranduil said. The door opened, and Ithilden reappeared, accompanied by one of his warriors and an alarmed looking Tiran, who had been standing guard outside the conference chamber, although Thranduil could not imagine what danger he thought would threaten Caridd when was alone with Thranduil and Ithilden.

“My lord,” Ithilden said, “I have received a message from the Eastern Border Patrol that I think both you and Caridd will want to hear.” He gestured to the warrior, who bowed to Thranduil.

“My lord, three days ago, a band of Orcs attacked one of Esgaroth’s patrols that was camped on the edge of the woods just beyond the southern edge of our territory. They killed most of the Men, and the survivors are badly wounded.”

Caridd’s face paled, and Tiran too looked distressed. “We were chasing spiders,” Ithilden’s warrior continued, “and, as it happened, we had ventured farther than we usually do, farther than we are supposed to really.” He slid a sidelong glance at Ithilden whose face betrayed nothing of his reaction to this piece of news. “At any rate, the trees were troubled enough that we knew something was wrong, and we went to their aid. We summoned more of Esgaroth’s soldiers, and they have taken the wounded home, as well as the bodies. Those they could find, that is,” he added. “Two of the bodies are still missing. The Men are searching.”

Thranduil grimaced and saw Caridd and Tiran wince too. They knew as well as Thranduil did that the searchers were unlikely to find anything other than bones.

Caridd visibly braced himself. “Have you found the Orcs?”

The warrior glanced at Ithilden again. “We did not look. We were busy with the wounded, and the Orcs went southwest in any case, so they are out of our area.” Ithilden nodded once in grim approval.

“What do you mean, you did not look?” Tiran burst out. Caridd frowned at him, and he pressed his mouth shut. “I beg your pardon,” he said stiffly.

“I cannot send warriors to attack every Orc in the forest,” Ithilden said, his impassive face giving no indication of how much he regretted that fact, although Thranduil knew that he did. “My first responsibility is for the defense of the Woodland Realm, and sending warriors after passing Orcs will weaken that defense and leave my people open to attack.”

“Our people were already attacked,” Caridd said, his voice shaking almost imperceptibly. “And those Orcs came out of your forest.”

“There are twenty-five warriors in the Eastern Border Patrol,” Ithilden said sharply, “and their area runs from thirty miles north of the Forest River to thirty miles south of it. I cannot send any of them off to hunt a passing Orc band, particularly given that I am now going to have to send someone to guard the river.”

Caridd rose to his feet. “I will be going home, my lord,” he told Thranduil, his voice under control again. “The master will send word on the matter of the tolls.” Thranduil nodded, and Caridd swept from the room, taking Tiran with him.

“Wait in the antechamber,” Ithilden told his warrior. “I will have a dispatch to go back to Todith.” The warrior bowed and withdrew. Ithilden sank into a chair and sighed heavily.

“There is nothing you can do,” Thranduil told him bleakly. “We have problems of our own.” Ithilden nodded but looked unhappy nonetheless.

***

“What do you see?” Sondil asked. “Do you see the differences?”

Along with his companions, Legolas squatted near the edge of the small area Sondil had had them clear soon after arriving at their campsite. As they did every time they came camping, they had removed all rocks, transplanted the plants, dug down about two inches, and smoothed the soil. Then Sondil had taken a stick and made five marks in a row, starting by barely touching the soil and going progressively deeper until the last mark was half an inch deep. They had looked at the marks every few hours since then, noting the way they changed with age and the shifting wind and weather.

Next to Legolas, Annael hummed lightly to himself. He was exceedingly good at woodcraft and always had been. Moreover, he loved it. He nearly always had a similar patch with marks made in the area near his family’s cottage. Legolas had no doubt that Annael knew exactly how tracks aged in this kind of soil under the conditions that would exist on their two-day trip. He would be able to say with certainty when any animal had made a track he saw.

“We will go for our afternoon walk now,” the woodcraft master told them. “I think we will travel closer to the river this time.” He set out, assuming that Legolas and the others would follow. Legolas and Turgon hurried to catch up to Annael, who was right behind Sondil. Tonduil trailed behind them, and Galelas and Isendir brought up the rear.

“I wish we could hunt,” Galelas muttered just loudly enough for Legolas to hear. “We have seen so much game.”

Of course they had seen game, Legolas thought. Sondil seemed almost magical in his ability to find it. But hunting was not the point of this trip, despite the fact that they all had their bows with them. Indeed, none of them was allowed to enter the forest unarmed, but that did not really have anything to do with hunting game.

Ahead of them, Sondil came to a sudden halt and pointed at a beech tree. “What do you see?” he asked.

They all crowded around the tree. “Claw marks,” Annael answered. “Bears.”

“Right,” Sondil nodded approvingly. “How big are they, Isendir?”

Isendir stepped tentatively forward, pulling out the stick that he, like all of them, had marked as Sondil had told them to do. He rolled the stick carefully over the claw mark. “Almost five marks,” he said, his eyes growing large. “That is a big bear!”

Again Sondil nodded. “Look at all the marks left from previous years too. This bear and his family have been feeding on nuts from this tree for generations. We should be able to find other signs of bears too. Take a look around.”

Along with the others, Legolas began scanning the area for twenty yards or so around the tree. “Here,” Tonduil’s excited voice came from the other side of the tree. Legolas trotted over to him. “Look,” Tonduil said, pointing at an overturned stump striped with claw marks. “I think the bear was looking for insects underneath it.”

“I think you are right,” Sondil agreed. He looked around at them. “Notice that we are not tracking down the bear from one spot to another, but we are tracking the bear. If we learn to read the signs he leaves us, we will get a picture of the bear’s movements and behavior, of how he feeds, where he takes shelter, how he interacts with other bears. We are tracking the whole life of the bear, its whole life process. If you spend all your time searching for the next track, you will have learned much about finding tracks, but not much about the animal. But if you spend your time learning about the animal and its ways, you may be able to find the next track without looking for it.”

Legolas nodded, and he could see Annael looking enthralled by what Sondil was saying. Then Sondil turned his back, and Galelas sidled up behind Annael and muttered, “How does it feel to be the master’s pet dog?”

Annael flushed and turned sharply, and Legolas caught at his arm. “Shut up, Galelas,” said Turgon.

“Turgon, we are going this way now,” called Sondil, frowning at them, and Turgon reluctantly turned back to follow the woodcraft master, while Galelas laughed softly behind them.

The sound of horses’ hooves came from their left, and they all turned to face the path that ran near where they were walking. “How many horses?” Sondil asked quickly.

“Two,” said Legolas tentatively, and Sondil nodded. Legolas saw two horses come into sight, bearing the two Men who had come to see Ithilden the day before. They were evidently returning home to Esgaroth. Legolas thought they had come to talk to his brother about the attack on the raft, and the Men looked serious now and sped past the little group without greeting them.

“They did not even see us,” said Galelas scornfully.

“Of course they saw you,” Sondil admonished him. “You would be able to hide from them if you wished, but you are out in the open now, and they are not blind, even if their eyes are much less keen than those of Elves. The chances are their minds were on things other than a group of elflings.”

Legolas saw Turgon make a face at being called an elfling, but he himself was still preoccupied with the grim looks on the Men’s faces. He hoped that nothing else bad had happened.

Sondil turned his attention back to the ground in front of him. “Ah!” he said with satisfaction. “What is this?” He pointed to tracks in the soft earth, and they all edged forward to look at them.

“A fox,” said Isendir.

“Male or female?” Sondil asked.

Annael bent over the tracks. “Female,” he announced, “the back paws land outside the front ones.” Sondil nodded, obviously pleased, and set off again. Legolas fell into step behind him, forgetting the Men and Galelas and all other doubts and irritations in the pleasure of being out in the woods and knowing that that night he would sleep under the stars. Sometimes, life was almost overwhelmingly sweet.

***

Eilian entered the public dining chamber to find that Mithrandir and the sons of Elrond had preceded him.  Household servants and guards were also assembled at the tables running along either side of the room. Only Ithilden and his father were missing. They would not feast in the Great Hall tonight, but neither would Thranduil allow their guests to dine in the small family dining chamber. He guarded his family’s scarce privacy zealously.

Eilian took what he assumed was his place to Elrohir’s left. “Good evening,” he greeted their guests. The sons of Elrond both nodded, and Mithrandir smiled at him.

“I have scarcely seen you, Eilian,” he said. “I hear you are a captain now.”

“I am,” Eilian agreed. He liked Mithrandir and hoped to hear about his travels since the last time he had been in the Woodland Realm. Next to Eilian, Elrohir suddenly tensed, and when a surprised Eilian looked for the cause, he saw Ithilden just entering the dining chamber and coming toward the head table.

He had scarcely taken his seat when Elrohir leaned across Mithrandir to speak to him. “Is it true that Orcs attacked a Mannish patrol at the edge of the woods?”

Ithilden grimaced, although Eilian privately thought that his brother should have anticipated the twins’ interest. News of the attack had been all over the warriors areas that afternoon, and Eilian had to admit that he too wanted to know what had happened.

“Yes,” Ithilden said. “The Men were camped just outside of our border patrol’s territory, and an Orc band surprised them and killed most of them.”

“We would like to be part of the force that goes after the Orcs,” said Elladan.

Ithilden turned to him. “There will not be any such force. The Orcs have left the areas that we keep safe.”

Elladan frowned. “They are still Orcs,” he said. “You cannot mean to let them roam free. They will only come back.”

Ithilden let out an exasperated sigh. “That may be true, but we cannot go after every Orc we hear about.”

“You could go after these,” Elrohir insisted. “You know they are there, and their trail will still be fresh.”

Suddenly Eilian heard himself say, “That is true enough.”

Ithilden turned to look at him sharply. “Leave it alone, Eilian.”

Eilian pressed his lips together, looked down at his plate, and toyed with his spoon. When he led the Southern Patrol, he and his warriors sought out Orcs all the time, and he had frequently thought that the border patrols and Home Guard were too likely to wait to be attacked before they acted. He did not want to quarrel with Ithilden if he could help it however. His brother was, after all, his commanding officer. And Thranduil would be most displeased if they argued in public in any case.

As if conjured by Eilian’s thoughts, Thranduil strode through the door, drawing everyone to their feet. One eyebrow lifted as he ran his eyes over the faces ranged along the head table and then seated himself and waved everyone else to their chairs too. Eilian grimaced slightly as his father glanced over at him. Thranduil was entirely too perceptive sometimes.

“I am told that there was an Orc attack along the forest’s eastern reaches,” Elladan said to Thranduil, as servants began offering trays of food. Eilian saw Ithilden stiffen at the other end of the table.

“Yes, there was,” Thranduil said, accepting a serving of roasted root vegetables. To Eilian, it was plain that Thranduil did not want to talk about the attack.

“I am sorry to hear that,” Elladan went on. “Fortunately, I am told that the band was small, fifteen or so perhaps?”

Thranduil stopped in the act of lifting his wine to his mouth and turned to look at Elladan, who withstood his gaze for a moment and then looked down at his plate. “I was admiring that grey stallion of yours this afternoon,” Thranduil said. “Did you train him yourself?”

“Yes, I did. My lord,” Elladan went on smoothly, “you have been very hospitable, but I fear that my brother and I need to be going about our own affairs, so we will not be imposing on your hospitality beyond tomorrow.” Next to Eilian, Elrohir turned his head quickly to look at his brother.

Thranduil, too, eyed Elladan. “We enjoy having the sons of Elrond as our guests. I would have you stay a little longer if you can.”

Elladan’s mouth smiled, but his eyes looked strained. “You are most gracious, my lord, but we will be leaving tomorrow.” He toyed with his bread and then set it carefully down on his plate. “If you will excuse me, my lord, I find I am not very hungry, and I need to pack.” Thranduil nodded his permission, and Elladan rose and made his way out of the room, dodging servants as he went.

From the chair next to Eilian’s, Elrohir too got to his feet. “By your leave, my lord,” he murmured and went after his brother.

Thranduil looked meaningfully at Mithrandir, and the wizard sighed. “I know. I brought them here. I will see what I can do for them.” He too rose and left the room.

Thranduil beckoned to a servant. “See to it that food is sent to our guests,” he instructed, and the servant nodded, set his tray on a sideboard, and left by the doorway leading to the kitchens. Thranduil looked across Mithrandir’s and Elrohir’s empty places at Eilian. “Move closer, Eilian,” he instructed. With a sigh, Eilian slid into Mithrandir’s chair, and a servant hurried to move his food and wine.

Thranduil held his peace until everyone else had moved away from them. Then he said, “They are grieving, Eilian, and they are striking out at what hurt them. You remember feeling that way, I think. Do not forget what you learned when your own grief was fresh.”

Eilian bit his lip and said nothing, and after a moment, Thranduil picked up his wine. “I wonder how the camping trip is going,” he said in an obvious attempt to change the subject.

Eilian could not help smiling. “Sondil is a brave Elf.” Thranduil laughed and the meal took its normal course again.

***

“Come in,” called Elladan in response to Mithrandir’s knock. Mithrandir pushed the door open and, as he had known he would, found both brothers. Elrohir was seated near the fire, and Elladan had plainly just paused in pacing back and forth.

Elrohir got to his feet and offered his chair to Mithrandir, who did not scruple to take it. The autumn nights were growing colder, and he found the fire exceedingly pleasant.

“May I ask where you will be off to tomorrow?” he asked.

Elrohir leaned against the mantelpiece and smiled skeptically at him. “Do you really need to ask?”

Mithrandir grunted in reply. He had known these two a long time. “Your affairs are your own, of course, but I would ask you to recall that there are people who love you who long for your company.”

Elrohir’s face sobered, and he turned to look into the fire with his hand on the mantle. “We cannot sit idly at home, Mithrandir.” The sound of Elladan’s footsteps pacing behind him told Mithrandir exactly how hard the twins would find it to stay quietly in Imladris.

“I would be the last person to ask you to cease acting as warriors,” Mithrandir said, “but surely it would not be so bad to go home and spend your time hunting Orcs in the mountains and letting your adar and sister see you every now and again.”

There was a moment’s silence. “There are memories and vacant places at home that I fear will be very hard to face,” Elladan said from behind him. Elrohir turned with a slightly surprised look to gaze over Mithrandir’s head at his brother, although whether his surprise was at what Elladan said or at the fact that he said it, Mithrandir could not have said.

Mithrandir sighed. “Promise me that the two of you will not go off alone to seek the Orc band you were speaking of at dinner.”

Elladan came to stand in front of him. “We cannot promise you that,” he said flatly. “We appreciate your concern, Mithrandir, but we must make our own decision.”

“If Thranduil will send some of his people with you, that is one thing,” Mithrandir urged, “but to go by yourselves is foolish.”

The twins exchanged a look. “We will not go without knowing what we would be facing,” Elladan finally said. Mithrandir nodded reluctantly. He was unlikely to get any greater concession.

A knock sounded at the door. “Come in,” Elladan said, and the door opened to reveal a servant with a tray containing a covered dish from which the aroma of stew rose enticingly.

“Ah!” said Mithrandir in satisfaction. “We will eat after all. Come and join me.” The twins glanced at one another again and then, with faint smiles, drifted toward the table where the servant was laying out the plates.