Chapter Three

It was the sound of clashing blades and muffled yells rather than any special tracking skills, that revealed the location of the western patrol to the two elves that were seeking it.

By the time Legolas and Arondo reached their fellow warriors, the battle was over. In fact, the brief sounds they had heard had been just about the entire length of the fight. Battles didn’t tend to last too long when elven warriors outnumbered their enemy.

Legolas and Arondo entered a familiar and pleasing scene. A dozen orcs lay dead on the ground, elven arrows in the majority of them. After removing the arrows, and keeping those that could be reused, most of the warriors began to pile the bodies into a large heap, while others gathered dead wood for the pyre.

Hebrilith, captain of the western patrol, and his lieutenant, Urgal, stood off to the side. They appeared to be engaged in an intense conversation.

Legolas and Arondo, having been spotted some yards away, approached. They both waved to the warriors, who looked up from their work to see who the newcomers were. Each of them returned the greeting, some with waves and some with nods. All wore smiles.

Arondo had served with all of these elves in various patrols and knew them all well. Everyone was happy to see him.

Legolas was not only popular with all of the realm’s warriors, but he was respected by them as a leader, as well. He had captained most of them, and had proven himself quite capable: smart, courageous and always concerned for the well-being of those he served with. He was also regarded with great affection as their prince.

Hebrilith saw the two elves first and held his hand up in greeting. "Legolas. Arondo. What brings you two way out here?"

"We came to help, but you all seem to have taken all of the fun for yourselves," Legolas replied, a smile on his face.

Urgal, a capable warrior and second-in-command, but lacking anything resembling a sense of humor, frowned unhappily. He took things much too seriously for most warriors’ liking. Completely missing Legolas humor, Urgal said, "We do not consider killing orcs as fun, Legolas. It is a serious business to vanquish the enemy before he vanquishes you."

Legolas merely nodded, trying not to let Urgal‘s glumness dampen his own spirit. At times, Legolas wanted to grab the brown-haired elf by the shoulders, shake him and tell him to lighten up. It would not only improve his personality, but it would offer a chance to make lasting friendships, something he had rarely been able to do.

No matter the dire circumstance the elves of Mirkwood often found themselves in, they always made the time to enjoy life, if only for a moment. None of Legolas’s helpful advice---or anyone else’s---had done anything to change him. Urgal was simply a dour elf and apparently always would be.

Getting right to the reason for the visit, Legolas said, "We came to warn you of the strong possibility hat a large band of orcs wait just outside the western border of the realm, most likely planning to attack us."

Hebrilith nodded. "We also thought that was a possibility, since these," he swept his hand in the direction of the orc bodies, "were probably scouts."

"They are not the only ones," Arondo said, speaking up for the first time.

If possible, Urgal’s frown deepened, "What do you mean?"

Arondo looked to Legolas to answer.

"Arondo and I, along with Galáril and Coron, followed orc tracks a good ten leagues south of here and came across another scouting party." Legolas’s nose wrinkled at the smell of burning orcs, as the flames suddenly leapt into the air and smoke began billowing. "Galáril and Coron are on their way to tell the king. Fuinor will likely send you more warriors than just the two of us."

"I hope he sends many more," Urgal stated. "We will need many more warriors, if we are to defeat a whole horde of those creatures."

Legolas held his tongue at Urgal’s sour attitude. An argument now would benefit no one. Besides, Urgal was right. Still Legolas couldn’t just let it go completely. "Fuinor will send as many warriors as he can spare." Turning to Hebrilith, Legolas asked, "Is there anything Arondo and I can do in the meantime?"

Surveying the scene, which had now been cleaned up except for the pyre that dominated the clearing where they stood, Hebrilith shook his head. "I have already sent out our own scouts along the border north and south, to find anything out about our unwanted guests that they can, so until they return, let us move away from this pile of foul carcasses to a place where we can rest and wait."

Urgal snorted. He did not want to just sit and wait. He was not overly tired, and he didn’t think the other warriors were, either. However, he was a good enough leader to know there was nothing to be done until the elven scouts returned. Even more important was needing to wait for the additional warriors before going off to see if a battle with a much larger foe was in the offing.

*~*~*~*

The scouts sent out by the patrol returned just before dark. Those that had been sent out to the north of the patrol’s current position reported that another orc scouting party had been spotted. The scouts, who had gone south, had found no signs to indicate more orcs were in that area.

A fourth of the patrol had been sent north to kill and then dispose of all but one of the orcs. Hebrilith wanted one orc spared, if possible, and brought back to the patrol’s camp to be interrogated.

Hebrilith knew that orcs were unpredictable. He had seen some, who begged to be spared and thus told all they knew in hopes of being sent on their way unscathed. Others died with the secrets they carried dying with them. He hoped that this time, they would get lucky and capture one, who valued his life enough to tell the elves what they wanted to know.

When a lone orc had been brought back, Legolas came just short of insisting on questioning him. It was Hebrilith’s decision, of course. Though slightly surprised at Legolas’s vehemence on being the one to do the interrogating, Hebrilith saw no reason to deny the younger elf that privilege, so he consented.

Legolas grabbed the orc by the back of his collar and shoved him forward into the thick trees until they were lost to sight.

*~*~*~*

The instant that Saeragar had been freed from the rock and transferred into a living being, he had felt exhilaration. It had lasted only a brief time. While spending countless millennia inside the obsidian rock, his power had been primarily dormant. That had been by his choice, since railing against his imprisonment would have gained him nothing. He had, however, kept part of himself attuned to the outside world, waiting for his chance to escape the black crystal that encased him.

Whoever it was he had been released into was someone with incredible senses. Even for that instant of total awareness, he had truly felt alive. It could only be one of Ilúvatar’s children, someone he had sensed but did not know. It could only be an elf.

The elf, not having any idea what had happened to him, had not been prepared for the internal assault. Yet he had a strong will that overcame the invasion. That had actually impressed the powerful entity.

Saeragar had been too weak to assert himself---for the moment, at least. He had only possessed the ability to hide his presence from the elf, a hard task that took more strength than he would have believed but not unreasonable, considering the intuitive power of the elf.

Now Saeragar had to build his strength to overcome the elf’s strong will and replace it with his own. Then his only limitations would be the physical ones of the being he inhabited. As irritating as that might be for someone used to total freedom, it could have been far worse. At least he now had the body of the most superior of the races of Middle-earth.

Once he reached his full potential, Saeragar believed that with his own incredible powers and the innate heightened senses, physical strength and speed of the elf, he could do anything he wanted. There would be no stopping him. Middle-earth would be his, and all of its inhabitants would fall under his control---or die in their defiance.

Saeragar had been resting, but now he suddenly became aware of the hatred that was flowing through this elf for the creature that walked before him. Saeragar fed on hatred. He also fed on fear, and that emotion was fairly bursting from the ugly creature in front. It would be easy now to use this combination of hatred and fear to fuel his efforts to regain his strength much faster.

Searagar held himself ready to exploit whatever was about to happen next.

*~*~*~*

After little more than fifteen minutes, Legolas returned alone. He was wiping black blood from one of his knives as he approached. There was an almost feral look on the blond elf’s face before it quickly vanished and was replaced with a look of confusion.

Gathering himself and shaking off his bewilderment, Legolas reported that the orc had confirmed their idea that a large band of his fellow orcs were staying in the caves at the base of the Misty Mountains southwest of this camp. They were waiting for information about the strength of the elves in this part of the forest before launching their main attack. The orc swore there had been only three scouting parties sent out. If he told the truth, and Legolas believed he had, then all of the orc scouts had been destroyed.

The orc captive had also revealed that another large band was about to attack the southern end of Mirkwood to keep more warriors busy and keep reinforcements from being sent here.

Hebrilith had to send word to Thranduil and Fuinor about the orcs’ plans.

Hebrilith sent the least experienced of his warriors to deliver the message to the palace. When he turned back around, another warrior was approaching him.

"What is it, Amarthgûl?"

The young warrior hesitated slightly before saying, "Captain, I just found the body of the orc Legolas questioned."

"And?"

"He was dead. Left out of sight under a tree."

"I did not expect Legolas to bring him back here once all the information he had was obtained. He was an orc, who would have liked nothing better than to see every elf in Middle-earth destroyed. The fact he gave us information does not negate that fact." Hebrilith was confused as to why this warrior was concerned over a dead orc.

"It is not that he was killed. I would have done that myself. It was the manner of his death. Captain, his throat was cut."

Hebrilith stared at Amarthgûl. He was tempted to ask Amarthgûl if he was sure. But of course, it was hard to misinterpret a slit throat and the copious amount of blood that resulted.

An elf had no compunctions about killing orcs in a number of way with a number of different weapons. It was a necessity. But cutting the throat of anyone was highly unusual. That was simply not the method that elves used to dispatch their enemies. They felt it was a coward’s way of killing and would demean them as warriors.

"Thank you, Amarthgûl. Say nothing of this to anyone." He didn’t explain nor did he need to. He was the captain of the patrol, and as such, he sometimes kept the workings of his duties and the information he received to himself until or unless it became a matter of needing to share such knowledge with others.

Amarthgûl understood and simply nodded and left his captain to deal with the situation, if indeed that is what it was.

He had never known the warrior prince to act in such a manner, but perhaps things had changed while Legolas had served in the southern patrol. Things were much more desperate down there. It had been many years since Hebrilith himself had been anywhere near Dol Guldur, and the Shadow had grown much worse since then, so he did not feel that he should judge anyone who had lived and fought so near to that seat of evil.

For the moment, Hebrilith would let it go, preferring not to question Legolas about the way he had chosen to dispatch the orc.

Hebrilith turned and walked toward the center of the camp, where Urgal was currently inspecting his sword. It was time for the elves to make a few plans of their own.

*~*~*~*

Arondo’s concern for Legolas had been growing more intense since he and his friend had arrived among the warriors of the western patrol. It had been only a day and a half, but even so, Legolas’s moods were constantly changing. The normally cheerful prince, always ready for a joke and a friendly discussion, was at times, growing into someone Arondo hardly recognized.

Twice Legolas’s dark-haired friend had approached him only to be rebuffed and told in harsh tones that he wanted to be left alone.

At other times he was his old self, happy to be in the company of his friends. The other warriors had noticed the drastic changes, too. They never knew whether to approach him or not, because they were never sure which Legolas would show up. They asked Arondo what the matter was, but Arondo did not know.

Legolas did not know, either. He was acutely aware that he was not himself. Yet he couldn’t figure it out, despite the long hours of contemplation on the subject. More than a few times he had experienced the same shudders and darkening of his vision that he had when he and Arondo had started off to look for the western patrol‘s location. At times he had found himself becoming angry for no apparent reason.

What worried him more than anything was the lapses in memory he suffered. There were times when he had been in one location and suddenly found himself in another without any recollection of how he had gotten there.

Once he had noticed that the sun had advanced a full hour, when the activity he had been involved in had lasted only ten minutes.

The questioning of the orc was a prime example of these lapses. He had threatened the orc, obtained the information he needed and then... The next thing he was aware of he was walking back to camp, not having a clue about what had taken place after the questioning. He assumed he had killed the orc. ‘So why do I not remember doing it?’ he wondered silently.

Losing portions of one’s memory was decidedly unelvish, and it did more than just puzzled him.

For his part, Arondo had decided that he would talk to Legolas after the evening meal. He was too worried about his friend to simply let the matter drop and hope Legolas’s uncharacteristic mood swings would improve.

*~*~*~*

A little earlier, Hebrilith had received word that a dozen warriors were being sent by Fuinor to bolster the patrol’s ranks, and they would be arriving in three groups at three different times, depending on how far they had to come from their regular patrols.

That should have been good news to Legolas, yet his mood had once again become almost as sour as Urgal’s usually was.

Legolas, not wanting to be around anyone right then, another thing that puzzled him, told Hebrilith he was going to do some scouting on his own.

The captain believed it might do Legolas some good to get away from camp for a while. Scouting took a great deal of concentration, but it could also provide some time to think. Legolas seemed to need that right now.

Hebrilith also believed that there would be no immanent attack from the orcs outside of the forest. But before he agreed, he asked, "Legolas, is there anything I can help you with?"

Legolas shook his head.

"Very well. Just know that I am willing to listen should you change your mind." When no comment was forthcoming from the younger elf, Hebrilith said, "You may go but do not go too far and return by the time the last of the reinforcements are due to arrive."

With a nod, Legolas took one of the patrol’s horses and left, riding toward the southwest.

Hebrilith stared after him, wondering if maybe he should not have let Legolas go off alone. It was sometimes hard, as a captain, to treat his warriors be mature and capable and try to keep them safe at the same time.

When Arondo saw his friend leave, he quickly sought out Hebrilith and asked the captain if he could accompany Legolas.

Hebrilith wasn't sure if Legolas would welcome any company, but since he had already begun to have doubts, he readily granted Arondo's request, feeling somewhat relieved. If anyone other than his father and brother could help Legolas, Arondo could.

Arondo took another horse and headed after his friend.

As he rode, Arondo felt a sudden fear for Legolas that he couldn’t explain, but it made him send his horse into a full gallop. Something was dreadfully amiss. He felt that Legolas was in danger, and he needed to catch up to him...now!

TBC