Chapter Seven

Hebrilith was a detail-oriented elf, in both his personal life and as a patrol captain. He did his best to leave nothing that was within his control to chance and though the unexpected could always be counted on to pop up, he was not a worrier by nature. However, right now hewas worried. Legolas should have been back by now. So should Arondo. Whether Arondo had been able to help the prince, Hebrilith did not know. But either way, they should have, at the very least, come back together.

Galáril, who had arrived at the western patrol’s camp that morning with Coron in tow, was himself becoming concerned. He had expected to find Legolas and Arondo with the patrol where they had gone to wait for the extra warriors that would be needed to handle the large band of orcs outside Mirkwood‘s border.

Galáril frowned when he looked around the camp and saw Hebrilith staring off into the forest in the direction he had been told Legolas and Arondo had gone. The captain had his left arm stretched out, as he leaned it against a beech tree.

Galáril approached and put his hand on Hebrilith’s shoulder. “They will return before we leave camp to find the orcs, mellon nin.”

Hebrilith, younger than Galáril by many centrues, wanted to nod. He wanted to reassure both the other elf and himself that all was well and the two missing warriors would be showing up at any moment. He wanted more than anything to be able to laugh at his own trepidation. But he couldn’t. A feeling of foreboding had settled in his stomach, and no amount of trying was able to force it out of the churning knot it was trying to form.

Galáril took a deep breath, as Hebrilith said, “Do you really believe that, or are you just trying to make me feel better?”

The elder elf couldn’t meet the probing eyes of the younger captain. The answer to that question, which he hated to admit to, was too easy to read there. His renown for honesty was taking a back seat in his effort to spare his friend more worry. He knew as well as Hebrilith that it wouldn’t work.

Hebrilith gave a short, mirthless laugh at the silence that followed. “That is what I thought.” Then he spoke the words that he knew was also on Galáril’s mind. “If anything has happened to Legolas, Thranduil will...”

“Nothing has happened to Legolas,” Galáril interrupted more firmly than his inner feelings warranted. “If he has met with any trouble he cannot handle, Arondo will look out for him.”

‘If he is able to,’ Hebrilith thought to himself. Out loud, he asked, “Where are they, Galáril, and why have they not returned?” The situation must be dire for two experienced and dependable warriors not to do what they had said they would do. As the son of the king, Legolas took his responsibilities as a warrior very seriously. Arondo was no less so.

“I wish I had the warriors available to send after them and determine what the problem is.” Just the same, Hebrilith was on the verge of doing just that. After all, Legolas was not just an overdue warrior; He was a prince of the realm.

Galáril seemed to read his mind. “Is it not our duty to protect our prince?” He looked at Hebrilith with an amused grin. “Would not our king demand it?”

Hebrilith smiled. “So you intend on going after Legolas, and Arondo, too, of course.”

“I consider it my duty,” Galáril replied. “Thranduil did not tell me to come here just to fight orcs. He sent me here to lend my help. Is finding his son, who may be in some kind of danger, not helping?”

The wily old warrior was good at taking words that sounded like they meant one thing and giving them his own unique interpretation. Thranduil often used Galáril’s talent, knowing he would get the result he wanted openly or, more often, covertly. The two, king and warrior knew each other very well, having worked together since Thranduil and his father, Oropher, had first come to Greenwood.

“Be sure you do not get yourself lost,” Hebrilith warned with a smile, as the elder elf turned to find his horse.

A wide grin aimed graced Galáril’s face, as he turned his head back toward the captain. Since his gear had not yet been unpacked, he was on his way in less than three minutes, determined to find the missing warriors.

Coron watched Galáril ride away, anxious to know why the old elf was going off on his own but aware that he was too new and inexperienced to go and question the patrol’s captain about it.

*~*~*~*

The words Begrin uttered sent a chill down Aragorn’s spine. His first thought was the same as this mysterious stranger’s: If Thranduil was in danger, they needed to hurry to the palace to warn him.

Then he realized that Begrin was implying that Legolas was headed there to kill the king. He shook his head. The idea that Legolas would kill his father was ludicrous, possessed or not. Yet despite that, Aragorn did not slow his horse nor did he try to argue with Begrin. Why? Why did he not defend Legolas as he had done earlier, as his heart begged him to do again?

Saeragar had taken over Legolas’s mind and body, and it was Saeragar that had killed Arondo. It hadn’t been Legolas committing that horrible act of violence. That’s what Begrin had told him. The obvious conclusion was the one that Aragorn had been trying so hard to push away in denial. Legolas could not stop the evil power within him from killing one of his best friends. He wouldn’t be able to stop Thranduil from meeting his demise at the hands, if not the will, of his own son.

Aragorn realized that both Legolas and Thranduil had to be saved---and quickly. Legolas would be devastated enough when he found out about Arondo. If he killed his father, he would be destroyed just as effectively as being shot through the heart with an arrow.

Aragorn increased his horse’s speed. He and Begrin were riding double, so the pace had to be carefully controlled, something the ranger was finding hard to do now that he understood the truth and the dreadful events that it implied.

*~*~*~*

Legolas easily recognized the forest area he was traveling through. He was headed for the palace---his home. He frowned, wondering why he was here. Had Hebrilith sent him back home, perhaps to deliver a message tot he king? He hadn’t seen the western patrol captain in... He couldn’t remember how long it had been. What message was he supposed to deliver? He had no idea.

Legolas pulled his horse to a stop. He had lost more time, much more by the look of it. Something was happening to him, correction, something had happened to him, and he had no idea what.

‘I need to talk to someone. I need to talk to my father.’ Legolas had always been able to discuss both his concerns and his joys with Thranduil. Father and son, even in the worst of times, loved and respected each other. No secret was held back by one from the other for any length of time. In short, Legolas needed his Ada.

Firmly making up his mind, Legolas urged his horse into a full run, hoping to reach home and see his father as quickly as possible. He didn’t know why, but he had the feeling that whatever was affecting him would cause irreparable damage, if he didn’t hurry.

*~*~*~*

Galáril found the body of Arondo’s horse, lying under the trees just ahead of him. He jumped down and made a quick examination. Scouting around with fear in his heart, he soon found Arondo’s body, sitting propped up against the tree where Begrin and Aragorn had left it.

The elder elf was shocked and greatly saddened at the sight. He took only a moment to pay his respects to the young elf he cared a great deal for before turning his attention to a more detailed investigation of the area.

It didn’t take him long to find the spot where Arondo had died. The ground was saturated with dried blood. There were no drag marks visible. He thought that whoever had done the killing would have simply dragged the body out of sight, not carried it and carefully set it under the tree. So Arondo had been moved by someone who cared for the elven warrior. Had it been Legolas? Galáril could tell that the prince had definitely been here.

Galáril shook his head. Who had done this terrible murder? Surely it had not been another elf. Yet there were no orc tracks, or any other creature capable of doing this, anywhere in the area. What he did find were the tracks of two humans.

The elf was sure one set belonged to the ranger, Aragorn. Galáril knew him fairly well, since he was Legolas’s good friend, and thus was sure he knew the tracks the man made. The other set of tracks were strange to him.

Had this stranger killed Arondo, taken Legolas prisoner and was now being followed by Aragorn? That made sense, except for one thing: It looked as if both Aragorn and the stranger had mounted a horse and were now riding together. Was the ranger a prisoner also? It was time to find out.

Galáril bid a sad farewell to the murdered young warrior, vowing as Aragorn had, that he would notify someone to come and take Arongo home to his family. He mounted his own horse and rode off after Aragorn and the stranger, which he hoped would ultimately lead to Legolas.

*~*~*~*

Thranduil was not happy at having to remain in the stronghold. Every year, at this time, he took time out of his busy schedule to visit the elven settlements within several leagues of the palace. He couldn’t cover them all at one time, so he visited the settlements from due west to the south and the next year from due west to the north. Thranduil felt it was important that the king of the realm show himself where most of his people lived and worked. Thranduil could not abide holding up in a mountain while his people went on with their daily lives never once laying eyes on him. He wanted to be more of a hands-on ruler.

The king’s advisors were never happy to let him roam around the forest, even with guards accompanying him. Since the Shadow had spread from Dol Guldur, the forest had become just too dangerous. However, Thranduil was strong-willed and had continued the yearly journeys to see and talk to his people in their own element.

Now with the news that orcs were not only gathered outside the western border but had actually entered the forest and caused trouble, the advisors had their excuse to all but demand that Thranduil stay in the palace.

Thranduil almost pushed the advisors’ concerns aside, so he could do what he planned on doing. This time, however, he finally came to concede the prudence of not putting himself in unnecessary danger. If he was caught out in the open or even in one of the virtually undependable settlements by orcs, wargs and the like, there was always the possibility that he could be gravely wounded or even killed.

His warrior heart hated giving in, but he knew that doing otherwise was pure selfishness on his part. When his father had been killed, and he became king, Thranduil had assumed responsibilities far beyond himself and what he might wish to do.

The king may not be able to venture far, but he was not going to spend all of his time in the stronghold. He would go riding in the forest. The majority of his time was taken up with the business of the realm. Each day, weather permitting, he took the time to spend time among the trees. Their song soothed him, and he often found answers there he could find no place else.

Some of his warrior guards were sent to aid the western patrol in their dealings with the orcs. However, to quell any arguments from his advisors, he agreed to take four guards with him instead of the usual two he took on these daily rides.
So it was with a sigh, a fluid swing up on his stallion’s back and the four warriors in tow that Thranduil, King of Mirkwood, rode into the forest.

*~*~*~*

Half an hour later, Thranduil was about to turn back toward the palace, when he heard the sound of a single horse’s hooves hitting the ground at a high rate of speed. He was soon surrounded by the guards, who all had their bows drawn with arrows fitted to the strings, although none had raised them as yet.

It was hardly surprising that Thranduil was the first to recognize Legolas. He held his hand up to stay any hostile motion the guards might be intending to make. “It is Legolas,” was all he needed to say. He waited somewhat less than patiently for his son to reach him.

Legolas had spotted his father and the guards at almost the same instant that Thranduil had spotted him. He didn’t want his father to think there was a physical threat, so he slowed down to a gallop. As he neared, he could tell by the look on Thranduil’s face that his father was more than a little alarmed. Legolas came to a stop, facing Thranduil.

“Legolas, what has happened?” the king asked anxiously. He glanced behind his son to see if there was anyone in pursuit. “Have the orcs entered the forest? Have you come to request more warriors?”

“No, father. I am sorry. I did not mean to alarm you.”

Thranduil did not look fully relaxed.

“I need to speak to you. It is...of a personal nature.”

The distress on Legolas’s face was evident, so whatever he had to say must be important. Without saying another word he motioned for Legolas to dismount. He did the same. Putting his arm around his son’s shoulders, he turned his head to the warrior in charge of the guards. “Mariath, remain here.” ”

“Yes, my lord. We prefer you both to stay within our sight.”

Thranduil nodded. “We will not go far.” He took Legolas about twenty yards off near a cluster of beech trees. Removing his arm from Legolas’s shoulders, he faced him. “Tell me, ion nin. What has you so upset?”

TBC