Chapter Thirty Two

Tack continued to lead his group along the riverbank, convinced that the prize he sought was ahead of him but just out of his sight. As long as he believed that, he would not give up his pursuit.

The trolls that were spread out behind him were becoming more anxious as they moved downstream. They, like their leader, were consumed with finding the escaped captives. The idea of recapturing the two beings, taking them back to their camp, torturing them with their games and then making a savory meal of them was more than enough to get them excited.

Several of the creatures joked among themselves, hitting and punching each other, as they discussed the captives’ fates, which became more gruesome with each suggestion.

The capture itself may be the main goal, but the chase was almost as pleasurable. Believing as they did that their prey were all but caught, the trolls were able to actually enjoy running the beings they sought to ground. To them, high anticipation didn’t foster impatience but rather whetted their appetites for the hunt.

Trailing behind the group of huge trolls was Aragorn. He maintained his cover by remaining among the trees, so no one looking back would spot him. He was desperate to get ahead of the creatures, so he could find Legolas first but knew he couldn’t risk being seen. Even going deeper into the forest and riding as hard as he dared wasn’t worth the risk of possibly bypassing the elf. He continued to believe that his actions might well make the difference in Legolas’s survival. He would either be saved from the river or from the trolls.

There was one advantage to staying behind, though. By keeping the trolls in front of him, Aragorn could keep track of what they were up to. If Legolas was taken, he could launch a surprise rescue. That, however, was something he had to keep in the back of his mind. Right now, he needed to let things play out as they would and react accordingly. It was a strategy he and the elf had learned to employ.

In the early days of their friendship, they had found that settling on definite plans too early often interfered with what needed to be done. Forcing a plan to fit circumstances that may have changed in the meantime had more than once caused big problems.

The man had been forced to admit that Legolas had told him such was the case, but the stubborn ranger had to find out for himself.

It was a painful lesson but one well learned in the end.

Suddenly, Aragorn realized that he could no longer hear the river nor could he see it through the trees. While he had been moving straight ahead, working through his thoughts, the river had been subtly curving to the right.

Stopping abruptly, Aragorn cursed himself. He had been focusing so hard on keeping himself safe, he had let the trolls get too far away from him. Safety was essential if he was to help Legolas, but he had let that idea carry him away from the very thing he was trying to accomplish.

Refusing to let guilt get in the way, as well, Aragorn headed to the right and didn’t stop to get his bearings until he could again see the river through the gaps between the trees, as he had when he first began this trek.

He didn’t see the trolls, but he heard them. They were once again shouting. At first, Aragorn’s heart seized up, fearing the beasts were celebrating Legolas’s capture. But after paying closer attention to what he was hearing, it became clear that their shouts were made in anger and were aimed at the trolls on the other side of the river. It sounded like the two groups were directly across from each other.

Aragorn had, at first, been hoping Legolas was on this side of the river. After seeing the determination of Tack and his group, he was about to hope that his friend had ended up on the far side instead. As hard as that was for him to admit, he now knew that having trolls on both sides meant the elf’s chance for escape would be just as slim no matter where he ended up. Unfortunately, getting across the river wouldn’t be safe for him, either, and the ranger didn’t even know about the roving trolls - yet.

*~*~*~*

As Aragorn moved downriver, looking for him, Legolas was moving away from the river. He was finding it harder to concentrate on the task at hand, that of finding a safe place to hide.

It didn’t sound as if the trolls were actively looking for him. No shouts of discovery or sounds of pursuit came from their direction. Hoping that he was right in believing the creatures were simply moving toward the flowing body of water, Legolas spotted a large oak tree and made his way to it.

The elf pressed himself against the broad trunk, so that the tree was between him and the creatures that were coming much too close for comfort.

It was a tense few moments before the trolls passed by and continued on their way, totally oblivious to the fact a valued prize was only a few yards away.

As they had passed, Legolas had inched his way around the tree, careful to keep any part of him from ‘showing’. The tree was so much wider than he was, he thought that if he didn’t make any noise, he would be safe. That piece of logic proved to be a good one.

Because this group of roving trolls were constantly in someone else’s territory, they had to take extra precautions. One always went ahead to make sure the way ahead was clear, though if other trolls appeared, these creatures wouldn't have backed down from a good fight. And to make sure no enemy could catch them from behind, one always trailed the group.

So it was that when Legolas moved around to the back of the tree, he came face to face with a lone troll. For a few seconds neither being moved. The encounter was as much a shock to the troll as it was to Legolas.

The troll was huge, very strong, fit and eager for a conquest. The elf, though strong, was no match for his opponent muscle for muscle. He was injured and far from fit. However, he had two things the troll didn’t: incredible reflexes and a far superior brain.

Legolas’s foggy mind snapped to attention. Survival depended on reaction, and he didn’t have but a split second to decide what to do.

The branches of the oak he stood next to were too far from the ground for him to jump into while in less than perfect physical condition, even though adrenaline was giving his body a boost. Almost without thought, he also discarded the idea of running. Legolas knew if he did try to make a run for it, the cry of discovery would go out, and the other trolls would arrive in short order, and he had no doubt they would run him down before long.

The elf’s only other choice was to stand and fight, which offered less than favorable odds, but favorable odds seemed in short supply at the moment.

Legolas pulled out the long knife he still carried inside his tunic. He flipped it in the air to get it in position to throw. It was his only chance. Waiting to get close enough to use the knife in hand-to-hand combat would be all but suicidal.

Hoping the troll wasn’t fast enough to move out of the way, Legolas threw the knife as hard as he could straight at the base of the creature’s throat, the most vulnerable place facing him. Then he immediately dropped into a defensive crouch.

The elf was right in that the troll couldn’t get out of the way of the fast-flying long knife. Unfortunately, he was able to move just enough so that the blade embedded itself in his upper right shoulder.

Roaring in pain and rage, the troll reached up and yanked the knife out of his flesh, leaving behind a slit that began to bleed freely. The creature had no desire to turn the knife on this new enemy who had thrown it at him. He much preferred to tear the elf apart with his bare hands, so he threw the knife to the ground and started forward, totally disregarding his wound.

Legolas squared himself to meet the onslaught, though he remained low in his crouch, ready to move in any direction necessary.

When the troll was no more than three feet away, the elven prince took a gamble. He bent down even farther and dove between the creature’s legs.

Ignoring the huge beast once he was past him, Legolas rolled along the ground and headed straight for the fallen long knife. When he came to his feet, the knife was in his hand once more. He and raised it, ready to throw again, hoping this time to catch the troll before he turned around.

Again, fortune was not on the elf’s side. By the time Legolas had the blade in position to throw, the troll had turned and was coming back his way. ‘How can this creature be so fast?’ the elf wondered. ‘Maybe I am just too slow,’ he reasoned, as the ache in his own shoulder reminded him his body wasn’t quite up to normal standards.

Despite the fact trolls weren’t too bright, Legolas reconsidered the idea of throwing the knife. He realized that he couldn’t afford to be without the weapon. This time, if the blow wasn’t fatal, the troll would probably hang on to the knife to use against him, and the huge creature didn‘t need any more advantages.

Gathering himself, Legolas charged again. This time when it appeared he would dive between the troll’s legs, he turned to the side at the last second.

The troll saw the blond being coming at his legs again, and this time he bent down to snatch the elf by the neck but succeeded in grabbing only empty air.

Another roar of rage exploded out of the troll’s throat, followed quickly by a scream of pain.

Legolas wanted to aim high but had to roll low to avoid being hit by the troll’s swinging arm. The archer just reached out and cut into whatever part of the troll was the closest.

The creature’s hide was tough and covered with thick hair, but the finely honed blade, backed by the elf’s determined strength, sliced a large gash across the troll‘s thigh. It went in so deep, Legolas felt the metal scrape across bone.

The troll bent down and looked at the new wound and then screamed again, as blood gushed down his leg.

As he rolled up to his feet, Legolas heard loud shouting coming toward them. It didn’t take much thought to know the other trolls in the group had heard this one’s screams and were coming to see what was happening. So much for getting away unnoticed.

There were usually moments, very brief ones, when the outcome of a battle could be completely alerted. The future itself could be revised with the tiniest change in events.

Legolas believed that right now his future revolved around one of those moments. He had a slim chance to kill the beast and make his escape, and the elf knew he had to go for it - now!

Not willing to wait another second, Legolas clamped his teeth together and pushed himself off of the ground from the balls of his feet, launching himself toward the troll. With the long knife held tightly in both hands, the elf ignored his ailing shoulder and slammed into the troll, as he drove his blade into the creature’s back, severing his spine.

Jerking the knife free, as the beast crumpled, Legolas looked around to see if any of the other trolls were within sight. None were. It was time to leave.

Winded and aching all over, the elf began to run parallel to the river before turning back toward it a few moments later.

A sudden outburst of screams erupted from the forest behind him. Legolas knew the other trolls had found the one he had killed. Now they were in full rage and would be single-minded in their pursuit of whoever was responsible. They had no clue as to who had done the killing, but if they found him, they wouldn’t stop to ask questions.

Moving as quickly as he could, Legolas soon reached the edge of the forest. He looked out at the river and sighed. ‘Blessed Valar, there has to be a better choice than going in there a third time.’ The prospect was one the elf dreaded. He was too exhausted to fight the swift current, even without the rapids.

Then Legolas lifted his head and straightened his shoulders. ‘I am a wood-elf, not a fish,’ he declared to himself firmly.

Turning to his right, he saw that the nearest tree had branches low enough that they would offer him a chance to climb the tree with little difficulty, exhausted or not.

Legolas moved under the tree, jumped upward and grabbed the lowest branch with his good hand. His momentum carried him high enough for him to put his right foot on the top of the branch and pull himself up. He repeated this procedure, using his good hand more for balance than strength, and was soon a good twenty five feet above the ground.

His green and brown clothing allowed the elf to vanish from the sight of anyone who might look upward. Even his golden hair, though less than sparkling at the moment, resembled a small shaft of muted sunlight. The elf’s overall look and the tree’s varying shades of green leaves blended together for the perfect camouflage.

Feeling far safer than he had in a long time, Legolas finally gave himself permission to relax, extremely grateful that he had sustained no new injuries in the fight.

Well hidden he may be, but he still directed his keen hearing to keep track of the approaching trolls.

Unable to track, hear or see anyone in the forest that could have killed one of their own, the rovers used the only other sense they had - their noses.

There had been no breeze deep in the forest, but here near the river, it was a different story. Had there been a straight-line wind, the scent of the elf would have been carried high above even the tall trolls. However, this wind was swirling high and low in all directions. So it was that the elf’s scent reached the sensitive noses of the searching trolls, and they headed straight for the source.

TBC