Many thanks to Nilmandra for beta reading this chapter for me.

*******

Chapter 2.  Memories

The instant Deler nodded his permission, Eilian bolted for door of the Home Guard headquarters and escaped into the darkness of the autumn evening.  The seemingly endless day had been every bit as tedious as he had anticipated.  He and his partner had walked east along the edge of the Forest River, watching for signs of intruders or dangerous animals that might have come to the river’s edge to drink.  By mid-day, they had seen nothing, so they had picnicked while sitting on a fallen log and then crossed the river on a rope bridge to walk back toward the stronghold, making an equally fruitless search of the other bank.

Eilian had enjoyed the time in the woods, but he could not help resenting the fact that he was sitting idle while warriors in the south were testing themselves against Orcs and spiders with heart-stopping regularity.  He would not exactly say he enjoyed those battles, but he had to admit he missed the rush of excitement that throbbed through his body when he had to draw on every ounce of his strength and wits to beat back an enemy as intent on killing him as he was on returning the favor.

He walked past the building housing Ithilden’s office, and for a moment, he considered going in and trying once again to talk his brother into making him one of Thranduil’s guards for this trip to talk to the village leaders.  That would at least make a change of scenery.  He hesitated and finally moved along without going in.  He and Ithilden would just quarrel again, he thought unhappily, only this time in the troop commander’s office instead of the royal family’s dining room, so Ithilden would be even more likely to take offense at what he would probably see as Eilian’s insubordination.  Best to leave matters alone.

He would go out again tonight, he comforted himself.  He needed to spend some time with friends, burning off excess energy or he would never be able to sleep.  He would be on his way as soon as Thranduil gave him permission to leave the table after evening meal.  But for now, he turned his steps toward another building.  Before he ate or went out, he had a stop to make.

He entered the infirmary to find a healer’s apprentice just coming out of the room on the left.  “Good evening, my lord,” she said without surprise.  “He is still the same, resting well, it would seem, but not yet ready to regain consciousness.”

Eilian nodded and went into the dimly lit room.  The window was cracked open, letting in the scent of far off snow, but the figure on the bed was warmly covered.  Eilian sat on the stool the healer’s apprentice had probably just vacated.  “Mae govannen, Maltanaur,” he murmured and rested his hand on his keeper’s covered one.  “How are you tonight?  I did not do a single thing you would have disapproved of today.  You would have been proud of me.”  Maltanaur did not move except for the steady rise and fall of his chest.

Eilian sighed.  At least Maltanaur was no longer growing weaker by the moment, as he had done in Eilian’s arms during the frantic ride home from the south.  “I did argue with Ithilden this morning, but I could not help that.  My adar is going to a meeting in Feldor’s village, and I wanted him to send me as one of the guard, but he would not do it.  Is that not foolish of him?  I know I have my faults, but you have to admit no one is better than I am at scenting out danger.  Scenting out trouble, I suppose you would say.”

He fell silent, stroking Maltanaur’s hand through the blanket.  “I am sorry,” he finally whispered.  “I know I say that every time I come, but I am.  I should not have been so impatient, and if you wake up, I promise I will never put you in such a position again.”  Maltanaur continued to lie silent and still, while Eilian thought about himself and Maltanaur, scouting together in the south only a little more than a week ago.

~*~*~

Ten days earlier

Eilian stooped to look at the churned up leaves beneath the broken tips of the ragged hawthorn bush.  He picked a pebble out the five-toed print that was so tantalizingly like an Orc’s, but so clearly not.  Bear, he thought, flinging the pebble away.  He stood up, dusting his hands.  “They are nearby,” he said softly over his shoulder.  “I can feel the disturbance in the woods.”

“You are usually right about such things,” Maltanaur murmured.  “We will tell Todith, and he will probably move the whole search in this direction.”

With his back to his keeper, Eilian grimaced.  He hated to report back to their captain that he had once again failed to find the Orcs the Southern Patrol had tracked for the last two days.  He was not accustomed to such failure.  “We should look a little further.”

“No,” Maltanaur said.  “It is time to start back.  If we fail to report in on time, Todith will think something has happened to us.  Surely you recall learning how captains react to warriors not returning when they are expected?”

Eilian gave a reluctant smile.  “At least Ithilden is not here to chew my head off afterwards.”  He looked south and sobered again.  “If we let them get much farther away, they will be out of our territory and into the Emyn-nu-Fuin.  Those mountains have far too many hiding places in them.  They will shelter there for the winter and then raid every village within reach as soon as they can move about again.”

“Todith will move the whole patrol in this direction and send us out again,” Maltanaur said.  His voice was somber, but it also held a note of warning.  He recognized the truth in Eilian’s assessment, but he was not about to allow Eilian to violate their captain’s orders.

Recognizing his defeat, Eilian shrugged.  Maltanaur was right.  Todith would send them out again, and the sooner they returned to the patrol, the sooner that would happen.  “Shall we?” he said, gesturing toward the trees.  With Maltanaur right behind him, he leapt to catch a handhold on the branch of a maple, swung himself up into the tree’s embrace, and start north toward camp, taking a route that circled slightly away from the one they had taken coming south.  He moved carefully.  Snow had not yet blanketed the bare branches, so he did not have to worry about betraying their presence by knocking it to the ground, but the more level branches were thinly glazed with ice tonight, and he had to watch his footing.

He judged they were more than halfway back to camp when the feel of woods shifted.  He grasped the trunk of the oak in which he stood and looked sharply to the west.  Maltanaur landed next him.  “What is it?”

Eilian pointed with his chin.  “The trees are disturbed over there.  Do you not feel it?”

Maltanaur held himself still for a moment and then shook his head.  “No, but you are more likely than I am to notice something.”

“We should take a look.”

Maltanaur hesitated.  “We should report in.”

“But we need to know what to tell Todith,” Eilian urged.  “We are almost back to camp.  The captain will wait a little while before he panics, and we will be able to tell him something useful when we do get there.”

Maltanaur was plainly struggling.  “Very well,” he said at last, “but I decide how far we go and when we start back, and you do as I say.  Agreed?”

Eilian grinned.  “Surely you know I always do as you say.”

Maltanaur grabbed his upper arm and shoved his scowling face close to Eilian’s.  “Agreed?”

“Agreed,” Eilian conceded, frowning and trying to pull his arm free.  Maltanaur was normally easy-going, but Eilian had learned that when he put his foot down, he meant it.  He was apparently not fooling around about their reporting in more or less on time.  Eilian would have to give way.

Maltanaur released him and jerked his head to the west.  “Lead the way then.”

Eilian wasted no time in getting going.  If their time was short, they needed to use it well.  He leapt from branch to branch, relying now on his feel for the forest, and pushing himself to move quickly.  Once when he slid on a branch and had to grab for a handhold, he heard Maltanaur give a soft exclamation, but other than that neither one of them said anything.  They had no need for words here.  Eilian knew what he felt, and his excitement gradually rose as he sensed the trees around him becoming more and more alarmed and knew he was drawing nearer to whatever the source of the disturbance was.

A faint odor came wafting toward him on the night air.  He slowed, sniffed, and halted to wait for Maltanaur.  He put his mouth against his keeper’s ear.  “Do you smell that?”

Maltanaur nodded.  “Someone is smoking meat.”  They looked at one another.

“They should be out hunting,” Eilian murmured.

“But perhaps they are making winter supplies from previous kills.”

“Then we are near some sort of base camp?”

Maltanaur nodded.  “That would be my guess.  We should take a quick look.”

Eilian blinked.  Time had grown short, and he had fully expected Maltanaur to say they should start back to camp to tell Todith what they found.  Maltanaur must judge it more dangerous to leave the Orcs than to scout for them.  Either that or, like Eilian, he could not stand the thought of Orcs playing house within the patrol’s territory.  Eilian turned and moved swiftly toward the source of the smell.  If Maltanaur was granting extra time, then he did not want to waste it.

Within a very short time, Eilian saw the star studded sky open up through a break in the trees.  A dark shape curved against the black of the sky, and he realized that a low ridge lifted out of the ground here, forming a rocky wall that extended for perhaps fifty feet before the ground rose to meet it again.  It took him only a moment to determine that the smell came from the mouth of a cave, barely visible in the starlight.

High in the trees, he and Maltanaur looked down at the opening in the face of the rock.  “Could it be woodmen?” Maltanaur whispered.

Eilian shook his head.  “The trees are too unhappy.”  He turned to Maltanaur.  “You go back and get the rest of the patrol.  I will keep watch here.”

Maltanaur snorted.  “Wonderful idea.  You are so good at waiting patiently. You go back and get the patrol, and I will stay here and keep watch.”  Eilian opened his mouth to argue but closed it again when he saw the look on his keeper’s face.

“Very well,” he said grudgingly.  He turned to start away, but for the second time that night, Maltanaur caught his arm.

“If you take a single unnecessary risk, I swear I will make you sorry, Eilian.”

Eilian shrugged loose.  “Stop worrying,” he said exasperatedly and leapt to the next tree to start his journey to camp.

~*~*~

A step in the doorway roused Eilian from his recollections and made him turn around as Maltanaur’s wife came into the room.  Eilian rose.  “Mae govannen, Nindwen.  How are you?”   She looked tired, but his mother had raised him to be too polite to say so.

“I am well,” she said automatically with her eyes on Maltanaur.  She walked toward the bed and stood looking down at him.

“Is there anything I can do for you?” Eilian asked helplessly.

She looked at him kindly.  “Thank you, but no.  You are so good to visit him every day, though.  I know he would appreciate that.”

He could not meet her eyes.  “I must be going,” he mumbled and bolted from the room.

***

Ithilden set his cup of wine down so hard that some of it slopped over the side and onto the small table.  “Why did you not tell me this before?”

Thranduil raised an eyebrow.  “My taking Legolas is a private matter, not something that needed to be discussed at the Council meeting, and I have not seen you since then.  Besides, this is my decision to make.  I do not need your permission.”  Thranduil knew this last sounded contentious, but Ithilden sometimes took too much on himself in his desire to set guards on them all.  Thranduil understood why his son felt that way, but he had no more intention of indulging Ithilden than he did of indulging Legolas.

Ithilden pressed his mouth in a thin line.  “I will add three more guards to the escort.”

Thranduil shrugged.  “If you think it is necessary, do so.”  The number of guards was rightfully Ithilden’s decision, and the extra ones would do no harm.

The door opened, and Legolas ran in, carrying a piece of paper that he thrust into Thranduil’s lap.  “Look, Ada.  I painted a picture of the pony you are going to get me.”  He climbed up into the chair and squeezed in next to Thranduil.  Ithilden snorted, and Thranduil narrowed his eyes at him.  Ithilden was the one who had told Legolas that Thranduil should get him a pony.  Thranduil thought Legolas might be a bit too young yet, and Ithilden was obviously enjoying the situation.  Ithilden picked up his wine and smiled innocently at him.

Thranduil looked at the brown creature on the page.  It was recognizably some sort of four-legged animal, but if Legolas had not told him, Thranduil would not have been sure if it was a horse, a dog, or a deer.  “Very nice.”

“Can I have the pony for your trip?” Legolas asked.

“For this trip, you will ride with me or Nimloth,” Thranduil told him.  “A pony would get too tired keeping up with the big horses.”  Legolas nodded sagely, accepting Thranduil’s explanation.

The door opened again, and Eilian entered.  “Eilian!” Legolas cried, wiggling out of the chair and running to where Eilian stood, pouring himself a cup of wine.  “Eilian, guess what?  I am going on Ada’s trip with him.  Nimloth is going to take care of me, and I do not have to stay home after all.”

Eilian jerked his head around to look at Ithilden, who looked impassively back at him.  “That is good news, brat,” he said, not taking his eyes from Ithilden.  “Perhaps Nimloth will agree to look after me, so I can go too.”  He took a drink of wine and refilled his cup from the flagon still in his hand.

“You would have to talk to Adar and Nimloth,” Ithilden said in a carefully neutral tone.  “They worked the arrangements out between them.”

Thranduil fought back a desire to slap both his older sons.  “Sit down, Eilian,” he said sharply.  The sight of his son clutching a wine flagon both annoyed and frightened him.  Eilian had lost control of himself for a while after his mother died, but Thranduil had thought he had put that time behind him.  Since he had come home with the wounded Maltanaur, however, Thranduil had seen behavior that made his breath catch.

Eilian flopped onto the bench near the fire.  “I will be going out tonight, Adar.”  His tone made the words sound like a challenge.  He probably sensed Thranduil’s concern and resented what he saw as interference in his right to run his own life.

Before Thranduil could speak, Legolas scrambled up on the bench next to Eilian.  “You should stay home with me,” he declared.

Eilian put a hand on his head and smiled at him.  “You have Ada and Ithilden,” he said.  “You will not miss me.”

“I will,” Legolas insisted.  He cocked his head and looked at Eilian from the corner of one eye.  “I need someone to read to me.”

Eilian laughed.  “Ada and Ithilden can read.”

“I want you,” Legolas insisted.  “I want the book we had before, and Ada and Ithilden do not know which one it is.”

Thranduil watched the two of them, wondering what Eilian would do.  Legolas had made a good start on learning to read before his mother died, but since then he had shown a profound lack of interest in the whole process.  His tutor was trying to coax him back into solving the mystery of letters and had urged them all to read to the child as much as possible.  Thranduil was not worried about the reading itself.  It mattered little whether Legolas learned to read this year or the next or the one after that.  He would learn when he was ready.   But Thranduil did worry about the trouble Legolas still seemed to have in going on with a normal life.

To Thranduil’s interest, Eilian was hesitating.  “If I stay home tonight,” he said slowly, “perhaps you could try to read some of the words yourself.”

Legolas nodded vigorously.  “I could.”

“Which book was it you were reading, Legolas?” Thranduil asked.  “Perhaps you and Eilian should go to the library and get it now, so you have it all ready.”

Eilian looked at him sharply as Legolas slid off the bench and stood bouncing on his toes, waiting for Eilian to move too.  He set his wine down and rose.  “We will come back,” he said mildly, “so you should talk fast.”

“Do not be impertinent,” Thranduil snapped.  Legolas ran to the door with Eilian following more slowly.  They disappeared into the hallway.  Thranduil turned to Ithilden.  “You plan to send three extra guards on this trip?”

Ithilden groaned.  “Why do you not just take the management of the whole thing out of my hands?”

“You know I rely on you and respect your judgment,” Thranduil said in annoyance.  “But I am not happy about leaving Eilian here on his own.  I have no idea what is bothering him, but something is and until he works it out, I want him where I can keep an eye on him.”

Ithilden straightened.  Thranduil seldom spoke to him sharply, and he obviously did not like it.  “Very well.  I will tell Deler that Eilian is to be one of the guards.”

“Good,” Thranduil said.  “Thank you.”  He leaned back in his chair.  “It will be good for Eilian to spend time with villagers,” he added hopefully.  He had always liked the maiden Eilian was courting, although he did not believe Eilian was in a position to bond with anyone as long as he spent most of his time as a warrior in the south.

Ithilden gave a short laugh.  “Eilian is not particularly good at diplomacy, Adar.  He is too impatient.”

Thranduil smiled.  “For that matter, so am I.”  This time Ithilden laughed outright.

***

Thranduil let the book fall into his lap.  The story of the fall of Numenor could not hold his attention tonight.  He stared into the fire, watching its unpredictable dance and worrying about Eilian.  Perhaps he should have insisted that Ithilden tell Eilian tonight that he would be one of the guards for the trip to the village.  Ithilden had wanted to follow the chain of command and tell Eilian’s captain and have the captain tell Eilian.  Thranduil had agreed, but then Eilian had gone out after Legolas went to bed, and now it was very late and he still was not home.

Thranduil sighed and rubbed his temples.  He had been so sure that Eilian was settling down, steadied by the knowledge that his captain and fellow warriors valued him as a talented scout and a ferocious fighter.  He had believed that Eilian was over the careless despair into which he had fallen when his mother died in the spring.  What could have happened to set him off like this again?  For a wistful moment, Thranduil considered trying to get Eilian to confide in him, but he knew the effort would be pointless.  He and Eilian had never understood one another.  They had always relied on Lorellin to help them grope their way toward truce, and now she was gone and they had lost their way.

He let his head fall back against the chair.  Without Lorellin, he did not believe he and Eilian would have made their way undamaged even through the time just after Eilian came of age.  Thranduil had been proud of his courageous, daring son, but he had also been terrified of Eilian’s complete lack of caution and frustrated by the difficulty he had in carrying out routine duties.  Thranduil had always taken pride in the disciplined, dignified Ithilden, seeing his own success as a parent in his oldest son’s behavior.  Eilian had come as a humbling shock.

Lorellin had always thought Ithilden too serious, he reminded himself.  She had rejoiced in Eilian’s relish for adventure and swallowed her fear at the danger in which he lived as a warrior.  He still remembered Eilian bounding into this room, with his color high and his eyes flashing on the day he had first been in battle.

~*~*~

Twenty years earlier

The door burst open, and Eilian was suddenly in the middle of the room, grinning at both Thranduil and Lorellin.  Thranduil relaxed again, put his arm around his wife, and said, “And how was your day, Eilian?”

Eilian laughed and made his way to the table in the corner to pour himself a cup of wine.  “You will never guess what happened,” he crowed, turning back to them.

“You are undoubtedly right,” Lorellin said, grinning back at him. “So why do you not rescue us from our ignorance and tell us.”

Eilian perched on the edge of the bench across from them.  “Maltanaur and I were patrolling to the west,” he began.  “And all at once it seemed to me that the forest was too quiet, not just the animals, but the trees too.  So I knew something was wrong.”

Thranduil felt Lorellin’s body stiffen slightly.  He glanced at her.  Her jaw was set in a smile that echoed Eilian’s, but he knew she had braced herself for what she was about to hear.  He opened his mouth to stop Eilian, but Lorellin squeezed his hand, and he stayed silent.

“I told Maltanaur we should look east, and he said all right, so we did.”  Eilian’s chest seemed to swell with the gleeful breath he drew.  “We found spiders, Adar, a whole colony of them, although Maltanaur said it was not a big one.”

“I trust you summoned help,” Thranduil said sharply. In truth, he did not trust that Eilian had done that at all.

“Of course.” Eilian was plainly trying to sound wounded but then, with typical honesty, said, “Maltanaur said we had to.”

For the thousandth time, Thranduil blessed whatever good fortune had led him to choose Maltanaur as Eilian’s guard.  As it happened, Maltanaur had watched over Eilian occasionally even as a child and a novice, so when Eilian became a warrior, he knew what he would have on his hands.  When Thranduil had asked him if he would be willing, he had smiled serenely and declared he looked forward to the challenge.

“We sounded the signal, and other warriors came within minutes,” Eilian said, “and the lieutenant was there. He arranged us just like the novice masters used to do in drills, and then we shot them.”  He grinned again.  “I shot four.”

“Good for you,” Lorellin said, a little woodenly.

“The lieutenant said I was a good scout,” Eilian said breathlessly.  “He said I had a gift for it.”

“I think you do,” Thranduil said slowly.  “You have a feel for the forest that is strong even for a wood-elf.”

Eilian took a long drink of wine.  “I hope he tells Ithilden that,” he said, almost to himself.  “I heard that Todith asked for more warriors for the Southern Patrol.  He must need scouts.”

Once again, Thranduil opened his mouth to speak, but this time, Lorellin spoke first.  “Todith would be lucky to have you, Eilian, but nagging Ithilden will only hurt your cause.  If you have many more days like today, he will see your worth soon enough.”

Eilian had looked at her and pursed his mouth.  “You are probably right,” he said.  And that had been the end of it.  Unless you counted the outrageous behavior with the webbing, of course.

~*~*~

The door opened, and for a moment Thranduil saw an echo of the past as Eilian came into the room.  Only tonight Thranduil sat by himself, without his wife to warm him or help him deal with this difficult son.

“Did you wait up for me?” Eilian sounded annoyed. “You did not have to do that, but as it happens, I have something to tell you.  I am so late because a wild boar attacked an elf who was night hunting.  People were calling for help to make sure it had left the area around the cottages, and I joined in the chase.  But what you need to know, Adar, is that the elf who was hurt is Nimloth’s husband.  She said to tell you that she is very sorry, but she does not see how she can go with you on this trip.  Her husband will be all right, but he is going to need care for a while.  She will not even be able to come here tomorrow.”

Thranduil looked at him in dismay.  He could not make Legolas stay behind now.  The child would be devastated.  “We can manage,” he vowed.

“I am sure you can,” Eilian said coolly.  “By your leave?”  He barely hesitated before disappearing through the doorway.