CHAPTER 4: STIRRINGS

Night descended like a thin, dark blanket on the riverside town of Pelargir where King Elessar’s company was settled in the largest inn the town had to offer. Excited at the presence of their King and Queen, and fascinated by the presence of hobbits whom they had never met before, the innkeeper and many of the locals had bustled about since their arrival to make certain that all their needs were met.

The visitors could not be more pleased at the gracious welcome they had received, and were treated to hot baths and delicious local fare. But now the evening meal was over, and the children and womenfolk were all ready to turn in as they looked forward to an early departure for the Royal Bath.

Aragorn decided to retire rather early himself, claiming tiredness, for, immediately upon their arrival, the Mayor had taken him and Faramir to visit the new homesteads that had been erected with Treasury funds. Bidding his friends a good night, he began to walk towards the room set aside for the Royal couple, but was halted in his tracks by a light touch on his elbow, and he turned to see Legolas standing before him with a questioning look on his face. The elf immediately focused his blue eyes on the area underneath Aragorn’s own grey ones, and the man knew his friend had noted the slight shadows that had been less pronounced two days ago, but that had appeared once more.

“Are you not sleeping well again, Estel?” Legolas queried.

The King gave him a crooked smile. “Nothing a good night’s rest will not take care of,” he answered, patting the elf’s arm before he left for his room. He did not notice how the elf stared at his back, unconvinced, and determined to keep an eye on his friend.

The other men folk of the company were facing no such qualms at the moment. For the better part of the evening, the hobbits, Faramir and his men entertained themselves – as well as the barkeeper and his patrons – with various songs, boosted by numerous mugs of ale, which, though it did not quite meet the expectations of those who knew the Green Dragon, was good enough to put them in high spirits and the right mood for merrymaking. Music, raucous laughter and chatter, and the clink of clay mugs soon filled the room, as did the smoke of pipeweed, and once again Merry and Pippin found themselves the focus of delighted attention as they danced a jig on a large wooden table, fascinating their audience of local folk with the nimbleness of their large, furry feet. Even the twin sons of Elrond, engaged in pleasant conversation with Faramir, found themselves enjoying the cheer of the place.

But as the evening wore on, Elladan and Elrohir grew quieter, and each twin fidgeted on his wooden chair, whispering in Sindarin to the other. Discomfort brushed over their features from time to time, and it did not escape the keen eyes of the Steward of Gondor.

“Is something the matter?” Faramir asked quietly, looking into the two sets of identical eyes in their handsome faces.

The dark-haired elves glanced at each other, an unspoken understanding exchanged between them.

“Perhaps we need fresh air,” Elrohir answered, and his twin nodded, rising from his seat. “It must be all the… the…”

“Smoke from the pipeweed,” Elladan finished, waving his hand in the air. “Besides, Legolas must be outside somewhere – ”

“And we must consult him about tomorrow,” his twin chimed in, straightening his tunic.

Faramir was amused at how the brothers often finished each other’s sentences naturally and without conscious thought, but nodded politely.

“Yes, we will be retiring soon,” Elladan added, “so if you would be so kind as to bid the others a good night for us…” He inclined his head in the direction of the hobbits and Gimli seated at another table, who were – not surprisingly – engaged in a contest to see who could blow the most unusual smoke rings.

“If Gandalf were here, he’d have ships and eagles floating around before anyone else could even light his pipe!” Merry’s voice floated over to them, and all three laughed lightly.

“Well, have a pleasant rest,” Faramir said to the elves as they turned to walk towards the entrance of the inn. “I hope it will not take you long to find Legolas.”

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The elf prince would have been hard to locate if he had chosen not to be found, for he and Hamille were perched high on the branches of the tallest oak on the grounds. They had come here to look at the stars and to speak quietly about a matter that was troubling them somewhat.

From their vantage point, they saw Elladan and Elrohir looking for them long before the twins even guessed where they were. And after the invitation to join them had been issued, the elf prince noted how the Imladris elves seemed to be discussing some matter of import themselves.

Soon, the newcomers had climbed the oak and were also settled on nearby branches, so that anyone passing by below who cared to peer carefully into the foliage high above would see a faint glow surrounding four graceful figures, their slender limbs stretched out and at ease on the long arms of the oak. Indeed, the tree itself seemed most pleased to have four of the Firstborn in its embrace.

Elladan took a deep breath and released it. “Aaah, it is good to be outside,” he declared.

“Aye, we should have left sooner,” his twin remarked.

Legolas grinned. “The smoke?” he guessed.

Twin nods came immediately. “Being with Estel when he grew up to enjoy it may have increased our tolerance for it, but it will never be our choice of respite,” Elladan stated flatly, drawing a chuckle from the elf prince. “But we… er... we actually came to ask you a question, Legolas,” he added. Suddenly turning serious, he looked at his brother, who nodded but said nothing. 

Legolas looked from one twin to the other. “Yes?” he prompted when neither spoke. Hamille was also looking curiously at them.

“We wish to find out from you,” Elrohir began, “was it not here – at Pelargir – that you first felt the call of the Sea?”

Legolas drew in a breath, and exchanged a quick look with Hamille, whose smile had quickly left his face.  

“Aye, it was here,” the elf prince replied.

“And it happened when you encountered the gulls?”

“Yes,” said Legolas, wondering where the twins were heading with their questions. “The Lady had warned me –”

“Were we visited by any gulls today?”

This query was completely unexpected, and there was a startled silence from Legolas before he asked: “What?”

“Did we encounter any gulls today?” Elrohir persisted.

Legolas narrowed his brows. “Nay, we did not,” he answered. “And indeed, even when I first encountered them here, they were flying much farther inland than they usually do – it was strange. I have not heard of that happening again since.” He watched the twin elves exchange another look before he queried: “Why do you ask?”

Elladan looked directly at the elf prince when he answered: “Because a feeling of unease has been upon us since we arrived here…”

“But it has grown stronger this evening,” Elrohir chimed in. “And we wonder – ”

“Is this the Sea-longing we feel?” Elladan finished, holding his breath. 

Legolas studied their faces for a while before he spoke again. “I cannot be certain, my friends,” he said quietly. “But I highly doubt it.”

Both the twins exhaled. “Why? How can you tell?” they asked.

Legolas glanced at Hamille again before he responded. “Because, you see, I too have felt some disquiet this evening,” he said, and the twins saw a shadow flit across his clear blue eyes. “There is… a sense of… of great unhappiness, it is unsettling – but it is quite different from the call of the Sea. We were in fact talking about it when you arrived –” 

“I, however, have no such sensation,” Hamille chipped in. “Were it the Sea-longing, I too would – or should – feel a disturbance, a deep yearning for something, as my prince describes it. But I do not sense that; I feel no different at this moment – save a change of air.”

A hush came over the other elves at Hamille’s words, each reflecting upon what the ailment was like for him.

“It surges through my veins like waves of cold dread, though I am not truly fearful,” Elrohir said unhappily.

“And it wraps me with icy fingers… though there is nothing material to touch,” his twin added. “Is that what you feel as well, Legolas?”

The elf prince thought over their descriptions and studied their baffled expressions for a few moments before he replied. “I sense a little of all you said, but it is for me more unpleasant than anything else. No fear touches me, but it feels grievous, like a reminder of something that was once horrible… that is what troubles me.”  

Silence took rein again over the elves. The same question was going through each of their minds, but it was Elladan who gave voice to it: “But if it is not the call of the Elvenhome… what is this unease we are feeling?”

Before anyone could venture a guess, they heard the crusty voice of Gimli calling out. “Legolas!” he cried. “Legolas! Where are you, Elf? If you are in some tree, come down, don’t make me attempt to climb it, or you’ll be picking up my bones!”

The robust voice of the dwarf disrupted the somber mood in which they had been wrapped, and the four elves grinned despite their anxiety. Glancing at each other, they reached a silent accord in deciding to give Gimli a surprise, and waited till the dwarf was close enough to the tree before they moved.

“Legolas!” the dwarf cried again, but was struck dumb by the sudden and startling appearance of four glowing forms around him, with nothing but soft swishing sounds and light footfalls to announce their presence. A dwarvish axe was removed from a belt faster than the elves expected, and they lithely stepped back just as swiftly.

“You called, Master Gimli?” Legolas enquired cheekily, and received a fierce glare in return as Master Gimli planted his stout legs firmly apart.

“Drat you, ninnyheads!” the dwarf cursed, shaking his axe at the elves and muttering dwarvish phrases they did not wish to have translated. “I could have mistaken you for foul attackers and hacked you to pieces!”

The elf prince laughed and clasped his hands together in a pleading gesture. “Peace, my friend,” he said, smiling. “Forgive our jest. We are in need of it this night.”

Muttering more dubious expressions, the dwarf returned his axe to this belt and fixed his friend with another stare of disapproval. “You are in need of jest?” he grunted. “You can have all the fun you want after you explain something to me.”

“Oh?” Legolas asked, curious. “What can I help you with?”  

The dwarf opened his mouth to respond, but closed it again. “Hrrmmph, well…,” he mumbled, looking around a little sheepishly at the other three elves and coughing. “Er… perhaps…”

“I was about to leave,” Hamille offered politely, smiling at Gimli and turning to the Imladris elves. “Perhaps my lords would care to join me –?”

“No, no, please stay,” Gimli said suddenly, waving his hand for them to remain. “It is I who interrupted your company, and what I have to ask isn’t anything you don’t already know about.”

The elves looked at each other and waited for the dwarf to continue speaking.

“Well, Elf,” the dwarf began again, hitching up his belt and looking at Legolas. “You know how earlier today – on the ship – we were talking about… about the… er… the Sea-longing…”

Gimli did not notice how his companions tensed immediately at the mention of that subject, and continued, shifting from one foot to the other. “Errm… I just wondered… well, if perhaps all that talk got me thinking about it too much, and… errmm… what I really mean to ask is, um, if… that thing, the call of the Sea, does it… can it…affect dwarves?”

It was one of the few times Gimli witnessed the Firstborn at a loss for words, but that was exactly what was taking place here. It was a while before Legolas spoke again.  

“What do you mean, Gimli?” the elf asked, furrowing his brows. “What makes you ask –” 

“Well, there’s this strange feeling, if you know what I mean… or maybe you don’t, since you are strange all the time,” the dwarf replied, missing the look of disbelief on the faces of the Imladris twins and the sudden grin on Hamille’s, “but I… phhbt… well, I thought at first it was because of the movement of the ship – you know, the rocking and all that. But I felt nothing yesterday, not till we got here. And then… tonight… well, I thought… psshhh… perhaps the ale had gone bad, but it’s not, it’s… it’s… I can’t sit still, there’s this disturbing tumble in the pit of my stomach. It’s this feeling of nervousness, well, closer to… dread, really… not that there’s anything to fear, you understand! But something stirs in me like I’ve never felt before.”

“And you wonder if it may be the Sea-longing?” Legolas suggested patiently.

“Huummphh,” the dwarf grunted, nodding. “It… it makes me shudder… like nothing I’ve ever come across… or perhaps I have, but I can’t remember when...”

Legolas drew in a deep breath and exhaled. “Gimli, that is not what the Sea-longing is like for me,” he said, measuring his words, “and though I cannot say for certain, I think no one other than Elves has been susceptible to it, so – again – I highly doubt you hear or feel its call.”

As the elf’s words sank in, Gimli narrowed his bushy eyebrows and questioned: “Again? You doubt it – again? Someone else –”

“It appears that you are not alone in your experience this night,” Legolas said, looking at Elladan and Elrohir, whose eyes had gone wide. “Come, Gimli, let us all sit and discuss this.”

In the darkness of the inn grounds, with only the light of Ithil and the Lamps of Varya in the night sky for illumination, and with the black shapes of trees and buildings and undefined objects for company, the five companions sat and talked, and tried to fathom what was ailing four of them. They wondered who else in the King’s party might have been assailed by strange sensations that night, and as they talked and came to no conclusion, none was more disturbed than the elf prince Legolas, for though he felt not the dread of the others – he felt what they did not: a threat.

Something was going to happen, but he could not yet tell when, what it would be, and whom it would strike. Yet, for some strange reason, his thoughts veered towards the dark circles he had seen under the eyes of the friend – supposedly asleep – in the largest room in the inn, and he was suddenly afraid for him.

And as the night grew deeper, so did his sense of foreboding.

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Hours passed in Pelargir, and a thin mist rolled in from the north, from the western arm of the White Mountains, over the Fields of Lebennin and across the River Sirith, to alight quietly on the river and on the Star of Eärendil anchored at the landings. Somewhere in the distant woods, an owl hooted its presence to the moon. The lights of Pelargir twinkled out one by one, and like its residents, the town bid the day farewell.

In the most comfortable room the inn could offer, Aragorn lay in bed next to his sleeping Queen. But he was far from comfortable, nor was he asleep. The King tossed and turned as he had several nights before this, wavering between the delicious bliss of reverie and a dull wakefulness, till – afraid of waking the tired mother-to-be – he got up to stand at the window, looking out into the dark night in misery.

In his heart there awoke again the strange stirrings he had felt for more than a week now, but never more strongly than he had earlier this evening, leaving him ill at ease and on edge. He watched the shadows of thin twigs, like long, gnarled fingers, silently scratch the glass planes, and wondered for a fleeting moment what they were seeking… as he himself was seeking.

He dreaded something, but he knew not what. He seemed to hear whispers, but he knew not who spoke. He felt an urge, but he knew not what pulled at him.

So he stood in the clutches of gloom, not knowing why, and told himself that perhaps it was time to talk to someone. Perhaps tomorrow, perhaps in a day or two, if his strange malady remained. He would speak with Arwen and with his brothers, and with Legolas as he had promised.

But tonight, he would wait. Wait for the moment when he could finally return to the dreamscape again, perchance to find what seemed more and more elusive each night: peaceful rest.

Yet, even as he stood and waited, he knew it would be a vain hope.

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No one in Pelargir – not the locals who had lived there all their lives, nor the visiting King and his company residing for the night – noticed the red eyes that shone in the light of torches upon the outer walls of the town. 

They had come with the mists, and they, too, were seeking.