Chapter 1. The Challenge.

Thranduil was not disposed to allow strangers into his Hall, and had no great love for Men, yet he had come to respect the young Chieftain of the Dúnedain. They had previously met on several occasions for the Rangers of the North and the Elves of Mirkwood often formed a tenuous alliance when ridding the pass through the Misty Mountains of the occasional band of orcs. It was for this reason, and with a little prompting from Mithrandir, that he decided to make an exception to his normally strict rule regarding strangers in his forest and grant Elrond’s foster son permission for an extended stay in Mirkwood.  Legolas was delighted; he had never before met a member of the race of Men and he had heard many rumours about the young Ranger from his father’s border patrols. Thranduil, in what appeared to Legolas’ mind to be an act of over protectiveness, had never allowed his son on one of those forays.

The Elves of Mirkwood in turn, who were not only skilled warriors, but were also filled with a love of nature and the joy of living, fascinated Aragorn. Elrond had piqued his curiosity with his warning that he might find their more rustic way of life a little different from that of the Rivendell Elves, yet the initial wariness between them soon disappeared for a common thread linked Man and Elf; both were heirs to the kingdoms of their respective peoples, and as such were committed to the destruction of the Dark Lord. As soon as they were introduced, Aragorn and Legolas took an instant liking to one another and on some deeper instinctive level they both felt that this was to be the beginning of a life-long friendship.

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The merry sound of elvish laughter in the garden outside the window of his private study caught Thranduil’s attention. Setting aside the ledgers he had been working on, he rose from his desk and walked out onto the balcony and looked down into the courtyard just in time to see Legolas and Aragorn walking purposefully towards the gate that lead to the forest.

 “You do not have to accept the challenge.” Legolas’s voice was offering a graceful way out to Aragorn, but there was mischief in his grey eyes as he turned to face the mortal. “You are not afraid of heights are you?”

“No, of course not, but in case you had not noticed, I am a Man, not a Wood Elf… ” was all Thranduil heard of the reply as they disappeared from his sight. A smile lit his face as he realised that his son was about to give Aragorn the lesson in the art of tree climbing as Legolas had been threatening to do so ever since he had discovered that the young Ranger had never seen the views of Mirkwood afforded by the unique vantage point provided by the treetops.

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Legolas led his friend to a stand of birch trees on top of a hill not far from the palace grounds. This had become his favourite place in this area of the woods and the ageless oak tree that grew in the middle was the first tree he had ever ‘spoken’ with.  He could easily remember the wonder he had experienced that day when he heard the rumbling of the deep, rough voice in his mind and felt the joy of meeting a kindred spirit. 

“This is the tree we will climb, if he permits us to, of course,” Legolas said placing a hand on the thick trunk of the old oak tree, sending a silent request and nodding at the affirmation received.

Aragorn did not notice the exchange; his mind was preoccupied with looking dubiously up into the heights of the tree. It seemed a long way up to the crown and some of the branches at the higher levels did not seem to be all that sturdy.  Wood Elves spent much of their time in trees, moving about with such ease and grace as they travelled from limb to limb it was as if they were merely taking a stroll in the forest below. Aragorn found no comfort in the fact that Elves also had the advantage of weighing no more than a light breeze if the need arose, not so mortal Men.

“Has an Elf ever fallen from a tree?” he asked, not really intending insult, but Legolas was nevertheless affronted by the very thought of such an outrageous event happening.

“Impossible!” he exclaimed, his eyes flashing in anger. “Wood Elves are as surefooted in the trees as on the ground. Besides, no tree would allow such a thing to happen.” 

“Well, it is not normal for Men to be found in trees,” retorted Aragorn, “I think the likelihood of a mortal falling is very high indeed.” 

“I have to agree, but you could reduce the risk if you were not wearing your sword, it will only hinder your movement up here. There is good reason for the bow as the weapon of choice for Wood Elves.”  Even in his home forest, where the danger of attack by some fell creature was always a threat, Legolas always carried his bow and his two knives. The young Ranger self-consciously put his hand on the hilt of his sword; he never went unarmed, except in Rivendell where there was little danger.

“That thought had not occurred to me before,” Aragorn said, seeing the sense in the Elf’s words. “Nevertheless I would rather fight with a sword than a bow.”

“We are not battling anyone at present, so there is little chance you will have need of your sword. Fear not, for I can protect us both if it becomes necessary. Of course, if you manage to climb up here you will be even more assured of your safety.”   Legolas was being perfectly reasonable, but his tone of voice sounded quite condescending and was beginning to annoy Aragorn. Heeding the Elf’s advice, he placed his sword beneath the tree.

“Watch me as I climb to the top, and then you can follow the path that I take,” said Legolas as he jumped lightly onto the first branch.  Aragorn watched in fascination as his friend nimbly climbed to the top of the tree and made himself comfortable, sitting cross-legged in the fork of the highest limb. The Elf looked down through the leafy branches and laughed merrily at the amazed look on his companion’s face.  “Come on, Aragorn, you can do it. Did you not see how easily I reached the top?” teased the Elf.

“I am glad you find this so amusing,” Aragorn said, standing with his hands on his hips as he glared up into the branches. He cursed all things elvish under his breath, which only succeeded in causing another burst of mirth from Legolas. He sighed and shook his head in exasperation for he had forgotten that elvish ears do not miss much.

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As a small boy, Aragorn had often climbed the trees in the forests of Rivendell, and though it was many years ago since he last had occasion to do so, he thought he could still remember the technique.  Legolas watched in amusement but offered no advice as his friend made several futile attempts to climb any further than the lowest branch. The mortal had managed to climb that one easily as it was not too far off the ground, but the next branch was well out of his reach. He followed the Elf’s lead and moved to the end of the branch where it was more flexible, and from there he was attempting to leap up and catch the one above it as he had seen Legolas do a moment ago. It was not as simple as it looked he discovered, becoming very frustrated. The Elf, who was about Aragorn’s height, had barely needed to reach up to get a hold of the branch, whilst the Ranger could not seem to come close to touching it, no matter how far he stretched out his hands.  Every time he thought he had managed to get a hold, the branch seemed to move a little further out of reach causing his grasp to slip.

“Perhaps if you ask nicely, my friend will lower his branch so that you can reach it,” suggested Legolas. Aragorn glared up at him again, thinking ‘so that’s how he does it!’  Elrond had told him that Wood Elves had a certain rapport with the trees of their forests, but he did not really believe that trees could speak. Apparently he had been mistaken and he would not have been in the least surprised if Legolas had told the tree to behave in this decidedly unfriendly manner.

“Why don’t you just ask for me?” he asked with a hint of sarcasm. In truth he was feeling just a trifle foolish about talking to a tree and he certainly did not have the faintest idea of exactly how it was done.

“It would be my pleasure,” came the almost sincere response from above. Aragorn was now certain that he was on the receiving end of an elvish prank, he recognised that tone of voice.

Suddenly he felt a slight tingling sensation in the air, causing the hairs on the back of his neck to rise. It lasted only for a brief moment as Legolas closed his eyes and touched the trunk of the oak near where he was sitting.  The sensation disappeared as soon as he opened his eyes again. 

“This distinguished oak has agreed to allow you to climb his branches, even though you are not an elf,” Legolas said as he looked down to his friend. “Try and reach the branch now.”

Still feeling sceptical of talking trees and more than slightly annoyed that Legolas was still teasing him, Aragorn made another attempt to reach the branch. This time, to his astonishment, he discovered that it was now easily within his grasp, and he swiftly completed the climb. Sensing that Aragorn was still a little unsure of his safety, as well as his irate mood, Legolas moved further along the branch out of harm’s way. The branch was easily strong enough to hold them both, but the move allowed Aragorn room to stand with the trunk at his back for support. The leaves had parted slightly, forming a window of sorts that provided them with a clear view of the lands below.

 “The view from up here is incredible!” Aragorn exclaimed, squinting his eyes in an attempt to see further into the distance. “The forest seems to stretch forever, at least as far as I can se,” he said. “How far can your keen Elven eyes see, Legolas?”

“I can see the sunlight reflecting off the peak of the Lonely Mountain to the north, and the path the river traces through the trees. To the south,” he said turning to face that direction,  “I can see the cloudlike blanket of darkness that shrouds the trees on the border of Father’s realm.” Aragorn’s anger at the Elf dissolved when he saw a shadow of sadness pass across his friend’s fair face.

“You know, a treetop is much like a watch tower on a fortress. You can see whether friend or foe approaches, and the cover must be very useful for your archers when battling orcs and the other foul creatures of these woods,” Aragorn mused as his ranger’s mind assessed the military advantages of his present location.

“Yes, it is,” agreed Legolas. “Although do not forget the beauty as well.” He reminded his friend as he took delight in the dappled sunlight that filtered through the leaves, the blue of the sky and the freshness of the air. The spell was broken as a sudden gust of wind almost caused Aragorn to lose his balance. Fortunately Legolas reacted quickly and reached out to steady him.

“I think that climbing is best left to the experts,” Aragorn conceded with a slightly nervous smile. “Should I have need of such services for my scouting parties, I shall prevail upon you.”

“I would be honoured.” Legolas replied with a small bow. “For now I think that we had best be making our way back to my father’s Hall. This breeze tells me that a fierce storm is moving quickly from the mountains in the north and even I will admit that it is not wise to remain in the treetops in such weather.”

Legolas began the descent with as much agility as he had shown in reaching the top, but he stopped halfway down as he caught a glimpse of someone in the distant trees up ahead. Sensing no danger, he continued to the forest floor, ready to catch Aragorn if he lost his footing. In fact, Aragorn was finding it much easier to climb back down, but he had also seen the movement.

“What was that?” he asked his companion as he retrieved his sword from beneath the tree where he had placed it earlier.

“Not what, but who?” Legolas replied, appearing slightly concerned. “It is my father and judging by the bow he is carrying that he is heading out on a hunting trip. It is not a wise thing to do in this weather.”

 “How can you tell which Elf it was? From this distance all I could see was a glimpse of golden hair. Surely he moved too fast for even you to identify him?” asked a rather bewildered Aragorn

Legolas favoured his friend with the stare that Aragorn had come to regard as a look of ‘elven superiority’. 

 “The bond between elven parents and their children is very strong. I know he is Thranduil because I can sense his link to me.”

“Oh, I see. Is that something like the bond between Elladan and Elrohir? They always seem to know what each other is thinking or going to do next.” Legolas considered this for a moment.

“Yes, I think it would be a similar bond,” he answered still somewhat distracted by his father’s unexpected appearance.

“So, does your father know we are here?” Aragorn asked.

“Yes, he is aware I am in the vicinity, but I am more interested to know why he is out hunting without his guards, and why he is heading towards the southern borders. That is dangerous territory into which we do not venture. Such behaviour is most unlike him, and I admit to being somewhat concerned.”

“Then I suggest that to put your mind at ease, we should catch up with him and enquire as to whether he is in need of an escort.”

“Knowing my father’s quick temper, it may not be the wisest course of action,” he counselled Aragorn, not so sure that invading Thranduil’s privacy was a good idea. But he was curious, and the worse thing that could happen would be that they would be subject to one of his father’s angry tirades. It was a risk he was willing to take.

 “Shall we proceed regardless?” he dared Aragorn, with a mischievous gleam in his eye. Aragorn smiled and nodded his agreement as they turned their steps towards the trees amongst which they had just seen Thranduil disappear.