Chapter Eight- Literal Suspense and Dark Ones

The rush of blood to Olihre’s head was beginning to sound like an enormous wave breaking against a craggy cliff every time his heart uttered a beat.  He could both hear and feel the throbbing pulse crashing against the onslaught of blood with each oscillation.  His hands were beginning to tingle as they hung lifelessly below his head, which was unnervingly below his feet. 

Very unnatural, Olihre thought to himself. 

The only times Olihre ever remembered being upside down were when his father would take him by the ankles as a young child and swing him to and fro jovially, much to the alarm of his mother, and glee of his baby sister.  Other than those rampant and all too rare times of joy, Olihre had only ever been upside down when he had caught his foot in his horse’s saddle and been dragged all the way from the bean field back to his house.  As soon as his family had ascertained that he was well, they had delved in with teasing that had not ceased until his father’s death.  After that, jokes seemed burdensome.

Presently, he thought to himself that he had certainly had enough of being upside down to last him an elvish lifetime.  It seemed to him that hours had passed since he had been hanging there, suspended by his ankles from a supple but deceivingly strong tree branch; however, Olihre could tell from the sun that was glaring mercilessly in his eyes, that it had really been no more than a quarter of an hour.

“Blast!” he called out loud, swinging his arms fruitlessly from side to side.  His abdominal muscles had relented in an embarrassingly short amount of time, no longer allowing him to pull his head up to his knees and work on the knot that held him so firmly captive.

“Legolas!  Gimli!  If this is your idea of a joke, I am NOT amused!”  Olihre punched at the air below his head, groaning when his elbow overextended due to the lack of contact.  “Stupid elf…I hate Dwarfs!”

“You know a Dwarf?”

Olihre spun around sharply at the sound of an inquiring voice, seeming to forget that he was suspended from a tree.  Though his head turned sharply, his body could not maintain the position, and quickly returned to its originally futile state.  Using his arms as propellers, Olihre whirled them wildly about himself, tucking his chin up to his chest all the while, trying in vain to see who was standing behind him. 

After several bouts of this exhausting activity, he gave up, his head and arms hanging lifelessly below his prostrate torso.  The only indication of his viability was the heaving breaths exuding from his agape mouth, and the half-opened eyes that were obstinately rolled back in their sockets.

“That looks uncomfortable.”

There it was again!  Olihre frowned at the almost imperceptibly nasal voice that issued monotonously towards him, saturated with a very unwelcome sarcasm.  The strength it took to focus his eyes again and turn his head was almost unbearable for Olihre, who really didn’t feel like chatting with anyone at the moment.   

“No really,” he assured the phantom voice acerbically, “it’s quite luxurious.”  Olihre noted that his own voice had turned quite nasal, a result of both his capsized position, and the dryness in his mouth.

A muffled and nearly toneless laugh came from behind as he felt hands grasping his armpits and turning him quickly.  The hands remained on his arms, preventing him from spinning back to his resting position facing the tree.

Olihre narrowed his eyes, trying to bring into focus the upturned person before him.  Girl, was the first thought that popped into his head, though he had already assumed as much based on the feminine lilt in her voice. 

Next came short, though his blood-soaked brain somehow managed to remind him that of course she would seem short-- he was after all hanging several feet above the forest floor.  Her head, which came only barely up to his own, was tilted at an inquiring angle, causing one lock of short, straight hair to fall over her forehead, obscuring one of her eyes.  Which brought Olihre to his next adjective, dark.

That was indeed the only way to accurately describe this…well, woman…he supposed.  Her coal-black hair matched her eyes perfectly, which were set off appropriately by her dark skin.  It was neither brown nor black, but an opaque color of ebony that could not be readily defined.  It had not the hues of yellow and red that his own skin possessed, red in excess at this point, but was instead an ashy color, though not the pallid look of a sick person.  Rather it nearly glowed in its dark radiance, matched only by the reflection of the sun in her onyx eyes. 

Olihre continued analyzing the woman, trying to decide whether or not she was hostile or friendly.  The smile on her face indicated friendliness, but Olihre was hesitant to assume anything.  His gaze traveled from the smile on what he considered to be too large of lips, to the twinkle in hers eyes, which he quickly found to be too far apart.  He had just decided that her cheekbones were almost as pronounced as his horse’s when it occurred to him that her skin had begun to take on a sickly greenish hue.  He shook his head briskly, which only served to spread the greenish color from her skin to her hair and clothing, and then to the trees and sky…and then…blackness, though it seemed more a latent thought than anything, as Olihre had by that time lost consciousness.

*          *          *

“Do you suppose we should check on the lad?”  Gimli strode towards a tree and extracted his ax, which he had unsuccessfully thrown at a rather large burrow-dwelling mammal. 

Legolas cocked his head to the side and listened for a moment, before shaking it confidently.  “Nay Gimli; the trees say that Olihre has a visitor.  I think we should allow him some time with his new friend.”

Gimli raised a slightly incredulous eyebrow at the elf and shook his head.  “His ‘new friend,’ eh?  And how do we know if this ‘new friend’ is indeed…er, friendly?”

“The trees know her.  She is.”

“Her?” Gimli’s face went slightly red.  Legolas’s confidence was always irritating, but Gimli really hated it when the elf managed to knock him off his guard with a single word.

“Yes, ‘her’.  I know aught of Olihre’s visitor, but the trees speak of her as a familiar.”  Legolas took a shallow breath and smiled unassumingly.  “This should be fun…for Olihre, of course.”

“Of course,” Gimli muttered, shaking his head resignedly.  He would never understand precisely why his friend found humor in the things he did, but he had to admit, even he could see the possibilities for entertainment in this situation.

*          *          *

Olihre awoke to a new sensation of discomfort.  Twigs, roots and rocks accosted his back, while his head and neck ached with an alarming intensity.  He attempted to sit up, but shakily sank back to the unrelenting ground as light began flashing in his eyes, which, he noted with chagrin, were presently closed.  After a moment of rest, he tried again, this time rolling over onto his knees first, keeping his head tucked between them.  After a few more moments, he raised his head, steadying himself with his hands on the ground.

His surroundings still maintained a slightly greenish hue, though they were now infused with a small amount of orange as well.  Nothing was spinning however, and he felt himself strong enough to turn around and rest against the trunk of a tree.

A tree? 

Images began suffusing Olihre’s mind, flying in and out so quickly that he could scarcely identify them, and certainly could not file them away in a sequence of events.  He eventually accepted that he had been strung upside down from a tree, and even admitted that he had tried unsuccessfully to free himself, however, the bizarre images of a dark demon holding him captive completely baffled him.  Olihre shook his head, unwilling to allow his repressed memories to make themselves known.  No such luck; his memories seemed adamant about being discovered.    

It was not a demon, you fool.  You were rescued by a girl.    

At this rebellious thought, Olihre frowned. 

A girl?  Why would a girl be off by herself in the middle of these woods?  Surely not.

To Olihre’s proud and somewhat befuddled mind, it was much more acceptable for him to have been captured by a demon with unnatural powers, than a mere girl.  Again that annoying voice spoke up, and for some reason, it sounded like his sister’s.

She was not a demon, and she did not capture you…she saved you!

Yes, that was most certainly his sisters taunting giggle that he was hearing.

“Well, where is she now?” Olihre nearly shouted aloud.

The trees whispered to each other, infuriating Olihre with their private jokes.  He wrenched his back away from the one he was currently sheltering on and stumbled to his feet.  At this point, things did begin to tilt slightly, and Olihre had to put a hand to his forehead to steady the rocking scenery.

He looked back at the tree and saw that indeed, there was about a half-foot of rope extending from a branch several feet in the air.  It had been cut crudely, its fine, silken ends frayed dismally.  Olihre dropped his eyes to the forest floor where he saw the rest of its butchered length lying in a heap.  He stooped to pick it up, noting that it was kinked at the end, where it had been tied in a noose and tightened around his ankles.

Olihre groaned aloud.  She cut me down and then untied me while I was unconscious? 

At the thought of a girl dragging him to the shelter of the massive tree roots, Olihre reddened.  He then blanched at the thought of the same girl scurrying all the way up to the branch so high above ground and balancing precariously while cutting him down. 

With this thought, Olihre’s hands flew instinctively to his trouser leg, which had been pulled up hurriedly from inside of his boot.  Indeed, his knife was gone.  He looked about the ground before him, searching for its ivory hilt, but it was not apparent.

Olihre recalled thinking of his knife only after he had exhausted himself with efforts to untie the rope binding his ankles.  By the time he had remembered his knife, he was too exhausted to even reach it, let alone pull himself up far enough to reach the rope and hold himself there while cutting it.

Olihre scanned the forest floor once again, part of him hoping to find the knife that his father had given him on his thirteenth birthday, but another small part of him hoping that the girl had indeed stolen it.  He would not have her play the altruistic heroine if he could help it.

“She’s a thief,” he said to the aloof trees, convinced that she had indeed taken his knife.  The crunching of dried leaves caused Olihre to turn abruptly, his fists balled into tight weapons at his sides.

“Aye there, what’s this talk of thieves?”  Gimli was using his long-ax as a walking stick as he trudged through the underbrush.  Legolas was moving easily beside him, his bow strapped across his back.

Olihre’s blood began to boil as his fists balled even tighter.  “Just where in Mordor have you two been?  I’ve been stuck out here, HANGING from a tree for the past…who knows how long, and you two…you were supposed to be ‘right over!’”

Legolas suppressed his usual demure smile and arched eyebrows and instead frowned gravely, though his sincerity was soon called into question by both companions.  “Hanging from a tree?  I do apologize, Olihre, it is just that I had forgotten where I had initially sent you to scout, and it took Gimli and I quite some time to follow the tree’s promptings.”

“Really?” Olihre questioned with icy bitterness.  “Did those trees happen to mention that I was suspended from one of them?  Did they happen to mention that I was cut down while unconscious and dropped on my head?”

At this Gimli let out the sputter of laughter that he had been holding in all throughout Legolas’s oration.  “Ahhh…I’m sorry Lad…it’s just…”  The dwarf found himself unable to finish as he doubled over with laughter.

Legolas rolled his eyes, his mask of sincerity slipping slightly as he grinned back at Olihre.  “The trees did mention that you were incapacitated, but we were happily put to ease when they mentioned that a friend had come to your aid.”

“Some friend!” Olihre growled, pointing to his disturbed pant-leg.  “She stole my knife!”

“But she did cut you down, and from the looks of it,” Legolas inclined his head towards the very obvious drag marks leading to the base of the tree, “she even attended to you afterwards.  It is a shame you were not awake to thank her before she departed.”

“Departed with my knife!” Olihre bellowed.  “Don’t even TRY to tell me that stealing one’s possessions is customary upon issuing of aid!  It was probably her trap in the first place!”

“It likely was.” Legolas acquiesced.  “The homesteaders in this area can only trap on their own lands.  She was probably checking on her family’s snares when she found you.”

“Ha!” Gimli guffawed loudly, “You were probably not what they had in mind when they were planning their dinner!”

Olihre rolled his eyes and sighed.  “Don’t think that I don’t know that you knew about this!”

Gimli grunted as he tried to work out what had just been said, while Legolas laughed and slapped Olihre on the back.  “I had no knowledge of the trap prior to our arrival here.  It was only after the trees began whispering that I even knew of your plight.  Granted, Gimli and I may have taken slightly more time than necessary to find you…”

“Really?” Olihre said incredulously, though he could scarcely hide the amused grin that was fast replacing his scowl.  “And I suppose that once you heard a girl was approaching, you just couldn’t help yourselves, eh?”

“Could you have?”  Legolas raised his eyebrows cheekily at his human friend.

Olihre snorted.  “If you were strung up in a tree and a poor elven maiden were UNFORTUNATE enough to stumble upon you, I believe she would be the one needing a rescuer!”  

Gimli nodded his head in confirmation as he used the handle of his ax to usher the two forward.  “Since we’ve hardly managed to catch anything fresh for dinner, I propose we make our way to the nearest settlement and barter.  I’m not sure I can stomach another dinner of dried meat and fruit.”

“The nearest settlement-- are you insane?  I don’t want to see that demon-girl again!” Olihre had turned slightly pale, his eyes darting back and forth nervously.

“You do want your knife back?”  Legolas was giving Olihre the ‘speaking to a slow child’ look again.

“Fine,” Olihre grumbled after deliberating a moment, “but I’m waiting with the horses.  You two can go in and get the meat.”

“And the knife?” Legolas prompted again.

Olihre heaved an annoyed sigh.  “Just tell them that I lost it, and ask them if perhaps anyone has found it.  That way there are no accusations or hard feelings.”

“No hard feelings?” Gimli asked with a raised eyebrow.  “Then what do I tell them when they ask why you yourself could not be bothered to come and retrieve your own knife?”

“Just tell them it was YOUR knife!  Or Legolas’s; it really doesn’t matter.”  Olihre looked like he was going to lash out at any moment.

Legolas took a step towards the human and laid a hand on his shoulder.  “Except that it is quite likely that the girl has informed them of your meeting-- they may be expecting you.”

“Why would she steal my knife and then tell the other’s about it?”

Legolas uttered only one word, “Insurance.”

*          *          *

The trio traveled down a well-worn horse path for almost an hour before finally coming upon a break in the woods.  A wide clearing, disturbed only by a small stream and several smaller groves of trees, lay before them.  In the far distance lay several buildings, some made of stone, others of simple wood construction.  Smoke rose from the chimney’s of the larger stone buildings, smelling of roasted meat and aromatic wood.

Legolas dismounted first, waiting until Gimli had jumped down before leading his horse to a tree and securing it.  Olihre slipped hesitantly from the back of his mount, untying his pack quickly before allowing Legolas to secure the horse beside his own.

“…wouldn’t be surprised if the horses are gone when we get back…” Olihre grumbled, pulling his hazel-colored cloak tighter around his lithe body.

Legolas chuckled but shot a look of temperance at the young human.  “Think of this as an adventure, my friend.”

Olihre said nothing, but merely fell into line behind Gimli, who was already making his way across the clearing to what appeared to be the main dwelling.  When they were almost half-way across, a man exited the building and began walking towards him, his hand raised in greeting. 

“The man has dark skin!” Gimli muttered quietly, his gaze turned to Legolas in wonder.

“So did the girl who took my knife,” Olihre offered, wondering why it mattered.

Legolas nodded his head almost imperceptibly and said without moving his lips or turning his head, “Many of the people of Harad came to this area when Sauron began asserting his control again.”

By this time the man was almost within speaking range, but that didn’t deter Gimli from whispering, “Are they to be trusted?”

Legolas silenced Gimli with a raised finger as he continued looking forward, his smile carefully guarded as the man halted before them. 

“What brings such honored guests to my home?” The imposing man asked with a slight nod of deference.  

Legolas’s brow shot up at this recognition.  “You know who we are?”

The man’s mouth quirked in a slight smile as he nodded, “I was in Erech with my family when the King led the Host through; I believe you were among them.”

Legolas nodded slowly, his gaze flickering briefly to Gimli, who looked slightly troubled at the mentioning of their trip through the Paths of the Dead.  “We were there, yes.”

“Then it is an honor to have you with us, though I admit, I do not recall your names.”

“I am Legolas of the Woodland Realm, though many of my people are currently settling in Ithilien.”  He turned to his friends.  “This is Gimli, Son of Gloin, whose people reside in any beautiful place of stone.” Gimli looked pleased as Legolas turned to Olihre, “And this is Olihre, an apprentice to Rohan’s Master Horse Trainer, and a companion of ours as we are on an errand from King Elessar.”  Olihre’s eyebrows shot up at Legolas’s grand introduction.

“It is an honor to have the three of you at our home.  Please, won’t you join us for our supper?”  The man gestured towards the largest dwelling, where several others had gathered on the porch, peering at the visitors curiously.

Legolas looked at Olihre and Gimli, who said nothing but inclined their heads respectfully.  “We would be very grateful,” he said at last.

As they walked towards the house, Legolas turned to the amiable looking man and offered, “We have actually come here on two errands.”  He waited as the man indicated his interest with a nod, and then continued.  “We were first of all hoping to barter for some fresh meat and supplies.”

The man laughed as he looked towards his house.  “Well, your dinner tonight will most certainly be our delight to provide, as will your breakfast in the morning if you will allow us to shelter you this night.  After that, we are certainly willing to barter for your provisions.”

Legolas smiled, sure that this man was a credit to his race, who had only ever been looked upon with scorn.  “We would be very grateful to take you up on your offer, and would offer you any of our services whilst we are here.”  Casting a sidelong glance at Olihre, Legolas continued.  “Also, my human friend here was unfortunately caught in a snare earlier this day.  Neither Gimli nor I was present at the time, but he insists that a beautiful young lady cut him down while he was unconscious.”  Legolas grinned at Olihre who was trying to restrain the grimace that was threatening to eat up his face.  “Know you anything of this brave young girl?”   

The man stopped dead in his tracks, turning away from them in haste, his arms folded across his midsection.  The others looked on as his shoulders began to shake.  Presently he turned, his face red with restrained laughter.  “I apologize…but yes, I do know of whom you speak.  My rather impetuous daughter told me of her run-in with an unusual man this morning.”  He looked at Olihre who was looking back at him rather oddly.  “She said that you received a rather nasty jolt upon contact with the ground, and that she couldn’t wake you.  She arrived home with this,” the man took a knife out of his coat pocket and handed it to Olihre, who looked back at him with accusation written in his eyes.  The man smiled apologetically and sighed, “She was due home and could not stay, but was hoping that when you found your knife missing, you would come for it.”

Legolas snickered quietly while Gimli elbowed the young man.  Olihre scowled at the dwarf before turning to the man with apprehension.  “Why did she want me to come for it?”

The man grinned sheepishly, “For two reasons, the first being that she felt you were in need of some care after your fall, and also,” he paused awkwardly, “she heard you mention a dwarf and an elf, and was hoping that they would come with you.”

Even Olihre had to laugh at that.