2.  A Light In Dark Places

 

 

 

Several days later, Legolas was outside at the target range reacquiring his skill at shooting in the dappled light of the forest.  He had just placed an arrow almost at the center of the small brown target when he heard a deliberate step behind him.  He turned to see Inglor standing behind him.

 

"That was nicely placed," Inglor said.

 

"Thank you.  I fear that I have grown accustomed to shooting on the southern plains, where the light is strong and steady," Legolas said.  "The light is not so forgiving here."

 

"Still, that was a good shot," Inglor said.  "Is that the bow you were given in Lothlórien?"

 

"It is."

 

Inglor raised his eyebrows.  "May I examine it?"

 

"Of course."  Legolas laid the great bow in Inglor's hands.  Inglor examined the grain of the wood, the cord wrapped around the grip, and the fine string of braided elf-hair.  Legolas gave him an arrow, and Inglor fitted it to the string and tested the draw.

 

"It is a heavy draw," he said.  "This bow was not intended for hunting."  He drew, sighted down the range, and then released the arrow.  It struck the target just below Legolas's.  Inglor nodded appreciatively and handed the bow back to Legolas.  "This is a fine weapon.  Care for it well, for it will last you many years."

 

"It has already served me well," Legolas said.

 

"I am certain of that."  Inglor glanced once more down the range, and nodded, as if he had seen something that confirmed a decision in his mind.  "I am assigning the border patrol schedule for the winter," he said.  "Are you sufficiently recovered from your journey home that I can include you in the roster?"

 

"I believe so.  Are there many Orcs left in the woods now?"

 

"Some."  Inglor shrugged.  "And there are still spiders.  Dol Guldur may be vanquished, but it will take some time before we have completely cleared the forest of its evil influence.  But the woods are not nearly so dangerous as they were.  I believe that we will see it return to its former wholesome nature in time."

 

Legolas brightened at that thought.  "I would like that," he said.  "I would like to see this forest free of blight and shadow.  It must be a sight to see."

 

Inglor nodded.  "You are far too young to remember it as it was," he said.  "Even I cannot remember a time when it was completely free of shadow, though it was not as evil when I was a child.  It will indeed be a sight to see."

 

"If I can help to banish the last of the shadow by going on patrol, then I am more than ready to do so."

 

Inglor smiled.  "Good," he said.  "Your first rotation will be three days from today.  Bring the bow of Galadriel.  Perhaps you will have need of it."

 

 

 

Three days later, a small patrol slipped quietly through the trees.  Beleghir, Doronrîn's son, led the patrol, for he was a forester who knew this part of the woods intimately.  Thônion, Saelind's husband, walked at his side, along with Legolas.  Three other warriors, Halog, Dufinnion, and Minardil, brought up the rear.  The six Elves moved silently, following Beleghir's hand signals as he directed them deep into the forest.

 

They had come to a place where the trees were ancient and tough, and had grown twisted together, so that it was difficult for light to penetrate even in the winter.  This was a prime breeding ground for spiders, and Beleghir's orders for the day were to locate and destroy any egg clutches he could find.

 

At the rear of the patrol, Dufinnion suddenly stopped and stiffened, his breath catching just enough to alert the others that he had stopped.  "Have you found something?" Beleghir asked in a low voice.

 

Dufinnion nodded.  "There," he murmured.  "Through those trees.  There is a nest."

 

Beleghir nodded, then signaled to the others.  "Thônion, Halog, Legolas, into the trees.  Shoot from above.  Dufinnion, you and I will use knives.  Minardil, you will keep watch for the arrival of adult spiders.  Go." 

 

The Elves dispersed according to Beleghir's orders.  Legolas climbed a tree and settled himself comfortably on a branch.  Quickly, he located Thônion and Halog in nearby trees and nodded to them.  Dufinnion and Beleghir took up places in the brush well clear of the shooting area, and Minardil positioned himself high in a tree.  At Beleghir's signal, the patrol began its work.

 

It was not difficult to shoot the egg clutches down, but it was satisfying.  After each volley of arrows from the trees, Dufinnion and Beleghir moved forward and shredded the fallen egg cases, then stepped back out of the way of the next volley of arrows.  The Elves worked methodically for a while.  They had nearly finished with the nest when Minardil called to them.

 

"'Ware spiders!"

 

With that, the forest seemed to come alive with glinting eyes and the clatter of shells.  Spiders dropped from the trees, hissing and muttering angrily.  The Elves put their backs to the tree trunks and shot with grim accuracy.  Legolas shot one spider in the eye, and another just behind the head.  The force of that shot was so strong that the arrow sliced the spider's head from its body.  Halog gave a low whistle.

 

"Mighty are the bows of the Galadhrim!"

 

Legolas nodded and was about to reply when he saw an enormous spider creeping along the branch just above Halog.  "Halog, above you!" he cried.

 

Halog turned and slashed at the spider with his knife just as it was about to strike.  Enraged, the spider reared up, and one of its legs knocked Halog from his perch.  He fell perhaps a body's length before he managed to seize a branch and break his fall.  Deprived of its immediate prey, the spider bore down on Legolas.

 

Legolas set an arrow to the string and drew.  Without warning, a wave of dark terror flooded through his mind.  He saw a stone bridge beneath his feet, and a giant beast of flame and shadow moving toward him.  His hand on the bowstring opened, and the great bow sang.  The monster howled in pain.  Legolas dropped his bow and screamed, and found, to his horror, that he could not stop screaming.

 

Strong hands maneuvered him down to the ground and pressed him against the tree.  Thônion's voice was low and steady in his ear.  "Legolas!  Legolas, calm yourself.  It is all right. You killed it."

 

Thônion knelt in front of Legolas and grasped his head with both hands, forcing Legolas to look at him.  Legolas forced himself not to scream, but the effort took all the breath from his body.  His lungs burned for an instant, and something knotted painfully in his chest.  He gasped for air, breathing in great gulps that tore at his throat and did not ease the burning in his lungs.  Black spots danced before his eyes, and his limbs went numb.  Beleghir rushed to his side.

 

Thônion held Legolas still against the tree.  Beleghir took off his belt pouch.  He dumped its contents out onto the ground and handed it to Thônion.  "Use this," he said.  Thônion held the pouch over Legolas's nose and mouth and looked him in the eye. 

 

"Breathe with me, Legolas," he commanded.  "Slowly, now."  He inhaled and exhaled slowly and steadily, and Legolas struggled to match the pattern.  Gradually, the knot in his chest loosened, and he could breathe without gasping.  Thônion took the pouch away from his face.  Legolas wrapped his arms around his body and shivered, suddenly chilled.

 

The patrol was silent for a few moments.  Beleghir sat back on his heels and surveyed the situation.  Vaguely, Legolas realized that they had killed all the spiders that had attacked them.  That was good.  At least he had not been completely useless.  Beleghir reached out and briefly clasped his shoulder, a reassuring, compassionate touch, then turned to Thônion.  "Take him home," he said quietly.  "We will dispose of things here."

 

Thônion helped Legolas to his feet.  Halog retrieved Legolas's bow and collected the long arrows that went with it.  He wiped the arrows clean, tucked them in Legolas's quiver and handed the bow back to him.  "Thank you for your warning," he said.  "You saved me from great harm."

 

Legolas could do no more than nod in acknowledgement.  Thônion put an arm around his shoulders and led him back to the path where they had left their horses.

 

 

 

Luindil was at the stables when a guard came to report that Thônion and Legolas had returned home from the patrol early and alone.  Alarmed, Luindil ran to the bridge.  Inglor arrived from the target range a moment later.   The two horses crossed the bridge at a walk.  Both Thônion and Legolas were filthy with black spider blood, and Legolas's head was bowed so that Luindil could not see his face.  Dismounting, Thônion looked around for Inglor.

 

"What happened?" Inglor asked.  "Where is the rest of the patrol?  Are either of you wounded?"

 

Thônion gave a crisp bow.  "No, my Lord.  At least. . . I do not think so.  We destroyed a spider nest and killed the spiders guarding it.  None of us were injured, precisely, but something happened to Legolas."

 

Luindil glanced sharply at Legolas, who had dismounted and stood by his horse, still staring at his feet.  “What happened to him?”

 

Thônion blew out a long breath before replying.  “I am not certain.  He was shooting spiders, and then he began to cry out.  Then he started overbreathing.  Beleghir and I helped him to regain control of his body, but it was clear that he could not remain in the woods any longer.  I do not think he is injured, but he has not spoken since the spiders attacked us.”

 

“You did well to bring him home,” Inglor said.  “Take him to the infirmary.  Luindil, will you fetch the King?”

 

Luindil nodded and hurried into the delvings.

 

 

 

Thranduil arrived at the infirmary to see Inglor and Thônion waiting outside.  They sprang to their feet when they saw him.

 

“I beg pardon, my Lord,” Inglor said.  “I believed that Legolas was fit for patrol duty.  I would not knowingly expose him to such danger if he were impaired in any way.”

 

“I believe you,” Thranduil said.  “Legolas believed himself to be fit for duty as well.  Last night, he said that he was looking forward to going out and helping to rid the forest of lingering shadow.”  He glanced at the door and frowned.  “Have you heard anything?”

 

Inglor shook his head.  “Not yet.”

 

Thranduil breathed in and out, willing himself to remain calm.  Just then, the door opened, and Gilveril, the settlement’s young chief healer, emerged.  Legolas followed her, a stricken expression on his face.

 

“There is no injury that caused this,” Gilveril said.  “I can only guess that the source of the problem lies in his heart rather than his body.  I have done what I can, but I cannot heal a wounded heart.”

 

Thranduil nodded.  “Thank you, Gilveril,” he said.  He reached out to Legolas, but Legolas shied away from his touch.

 

“No!” he cried.  “Please, I – I am filthy.  Let me return to my chambers and wash the spiders’ blood from my body.”

 

Reluctantly, Thranduil let his son go.  Legolas walked away and did not look back.  Thônion sighed.

 

“At least he has spoken and can walk on his own,” he offered.  “That is an improvement.”

 

“I will speak to him later when he is calmer,” Thranduil said.  “In the meantime, Inglor, please remove him from the duty rosters.  After we have determined what caused this attack, we can decide whether or not he is ready to return to patrol duty.”

 

 

 

After he had washed and changed his clothes, Legolas sat in his chamber and tried to make sense of what had happened to him.  He had been fighting spiders ever since he was old enough to do so, and it had never caused him such panic before.  But, of course, that had been before he had walked through the Mines of Moria.  He balled his hands into fists to keep them from shaking and tried not to think about that terrible day when he had seen Durin’s Bane and Mithrandir had fallen.

 

Suddenly, the walls of his chamber were too close and confining.  Legolas jumped up and ran down the corridors, not entirely certain of where he wanted to go.  Soon, however, he found himself outside the kitchens, and he smiled.  The kitchens were always comforting, and he enjoyed being there even if he was no longer little enough to be given interesting scraps to eat.  He wandered inside and was pleased to smell something stewing on the hearth.

 

Galion smiled at him.  “Welcome, Legolas,” he said.  “What brings you here?  I thought you were on patrol today.”

 

“I was.  We found a spider nest and destroyed it.  I – I had to return home early.”

 

Galion accepted this without prying.  "I see.  Well, since you are here, will you help with one task?"  He set a large bunch of parsley on the work table in front of Legolas and handed him a knife.  "Please chop this as finely as you can.  It will season the stew tonight."

 

Grateful for a task to keep his hands occupied, Legolas sat down and began to chop the parsley.  He gave his full attention to the small, precise motions of the knife and the sharp, clean scent of the leaves.  "This smells good," he said.

 

"I agree," Galion replied.  "I love fresh parsley sprinkled over stew, but I have never enjoyed chopping it.  It is far more pleasant to make the King's son do that chore for me."

 

Legolas smiled.  "The King's son does not mind.  The King's son is glad that he can be useful somewhere."

 

Galion raised an eyebrow at that.  "From what I have heard, you have already been more than useful.  I seem to recall that you helped to save the world.  That is no small accomplishment."

 

"I did not save the world.  Frodo and Sam did that."

 

"It was with your assistance that they traveled to where they could do their deeds," Galion countered.  "From what I understand of Hobbits, they are not accustomed to undertaking such journeys on their own.  You have nothing to be ashamed of, Legolas.  You were given a charge, and you fulfilled it well.  You have more than proved your worth beyond simply chopping herbs.  In time, you will realize this."

 

"I suppose."  Legolas considered the small heap of chopped parsley in front of him.  A powerful need suddenly washed through him.  "Galion," he asked, "may I have an apple?"

 

Galion sighed.  "Oh, Legolas," he said.  "I would like nothing more in the world than to give you an apple.  But there are none left.  The harvests in Lake Town were poor, and the Men sent us far fewer than usual.  I am afraid that we ate most of the apples over the winter while you were gone.  And what we did not eat, the Orcs burned."

 

"Is there not even a core left?"

 

Galion thought for a moment, then shrugged a little.  "There may be one or two apples in a barrel somewhere.  I cannot imagine that they would still be good to eat."  He vanished into a pantry, and Legolas could hear him rummaging through the supplies.  At last, Galion returned, bearing a single, withered fruit.

 

"This is all I could find," he said.  "It is no longer edible.  Are you sure you want it?"

 

Legolas nodded, and took the apple.  "Yes, I do.  Thank you, Galion."

 

Galion snorted.  "Do not come crying to me when that apple disagrees with you," he said, smiling to take some of the sting from his words.

 

"Do not worry," Legolas said.  "I do not want to eat this apple.  I have other plans for it."  He tucked it carefully in his belt pouch and left the kitchen.

 

 

 

Some time later, Thranduil decided that Legolas had had enough time to recover from his experiences on the spider patrol.  He set his work aside and went to Legolas's chamber.  Briefly, he wondered if Legolas had fallen asleep, then he knocked quietly at the door.

 

"Come in."

 

Thranduil entered and found Legolas, clean and looking more alert, sitting curled in a chair, contemplating a pot filled with soil sitting on his desk.  Legolas rose to his feet when his father entered, but Thranduil gestured for him to return to his chair.

 

"You may stay where you are.  I have merely come to check on you and ensure that you are well."

 

Legolas bowed his head.  "I am well now, Ada.  I was not injured.  I am sorry that I disrupted the patrol.  It will not happen again."

 

"I do not care about that," Thranduil said.  "From what Thônion told me, you did not hinder the mission.  I am more concerned about how you are feeling now."

 

"I am healthy."  Legolas glanced away.  "I suppose that the worst thing to come of this is that I feel like a fool."

 

Thranduil bit back the easy comfort of reassuring Legolas that no one else considered him to be a fool, and took a deep breath.  "Will you tell me about what happened?" he asked.  "What were you thinking about?"

 

Legolas squeezed his eyes shut and squirmed in his chair.  Thranduil took his hand but said nothing, waiting for Legolas to speak when he was ready. 

 

"I saw the bridge of Khazad-Dûm," Legolas said softly.  "And the. . . the Balrog.  And I panicked, just as if I were a little child.  Just as I did then."

 

"A Balrog is a force far greater than any Orc or spider, Legolas," Thranduil said.  "They are of the same kindred as Sauron himself.  It is only natural that such a thing terrified you.  I do not know that I would react any differently if I were to confront such a monster."

 

"Mithrandir confronted it."

 

"Mithrandir is a wizard, and he is of the same kin.  It is a far different thing for a wizard to confront a Balrog than for an Elf, especially an Elf who has lived in this forest all of his life."

 

"I panicked," Legolas repeated.  "And Mithrandir fell."

 

"But he returned," Thranduil reminded him.  "And today, the spider did not injure Halog.  You were able to aid him before your memories overcame you."

 

Legolas took a deep, shuddering breath.  "What if I should panic again?" he asked.  "Perhaps I will not be so lucky next time, and someone will be hurt.  I cannot go on patrol duty like this."

 

"No," Thranduil agreed.  "You cannot.  But patrol duty is not such an urgent thing any more.  You can take your time to recover fully.  One cannot shake off the effects of so great a war in one or two short seasons.  We will find something else for you to do in the meantime, for there are so many things that we must mend and make right."

 

Legolas relaxed a little.  "I think I have found something that will help me, Ada."

 

"Oh?  What is that?"

 

Legolas pointed to the pot on his desk.  "Galion found one apple left, too withered to eat.  I planted its seeds today.  I want to see if I can make something grow again.  So many beautiful trees have been destroyed.  I want to take care of this one, and perhaps plant more."

 

Thranduil smiled at him.  "That is an excellent idea.  I am sure that this seed will flourish under your care.  You will help bring life back to the forest.  I am proud of you."  He squeezed Legolas's hand and received a little smile as a reward.  Perhaps, he decided, there was hope that his little mouse would be able to heal himself, in time.