River Journeys: Part 2

Aradunnon scribbled awkwardly on the paper cupped in his hand. When he reached his desk, he thrust his quill into the ink jar on its edge, and then spun around to face the map of the forest that he had stuck up on the opposite wall. He paced towards it, glaring harshly. Unfortunately, no matter how threatening he appeared, the little black marks that represented the locations of enemy encampments did not disappear from the map. Only his warriors could make that happen. And so these orders to his captains needed to be finished, and finished soon.

The problem was, he simply could not seem to focus this morning. Something was nagging at the edge of his senses. If he had been in the southern forest, he would have been rallying whatever warriors were with him for certain battle. As it was, he was in the stronghold, and he had not yet determined what was wrong, but he was certain something was. And after these orders were written, he would go find out what.

"Ostarndor can manage the orcs here," he said to himself, pointing with his quill to one black mark. "That leaves Morillion to take care of these," he continued shifting his quill to another mark. "But I admit, I cannot imagine who I will send here," he concluded, jabbing a little spider web symbol with his finger. Then he stabbed at two more unaddressed black marks with a bitter scowl on his face.

His thoughts were interrupted by a loud bang echoing in the corridor outside his office. It sounded almost like the wooden door at the end of the corridor flying open and striking the stone wall.

"Wait just a minute," the guard at the door called.

Aradunnon's eyebrows rose and he turned towards the noise. "What could that possibly be about?" he asked his guard, who was idling near the office door.

Colloth was already making long strides into the corridor, his sword partially drawn by the time he exited the office.

"I said stop," the guard in the hall called, this time more forcefully. Aradunnon heard the sound of boots coming towards his office,  a short scuffle of feet and rustling clothes, and then a sharp thump.

"Ow!" the guard exclaimed, more surprised than pained. "You get back here, you little orc!" he demanded. His order was punctuated by hopping sounds.

Throughout this interchange, Colloth stood, unmoving, framed by the office door. His sword had fallen back into its scabbard. In response to the thump, his eyes widened in astonishment and he put his hand over his mouth to stifle a laugh. Despite he guard's apparent amusement and definite lack of alarm, Aradunnon stepped into the corridor with his hand on the hilt of his own sword, unable to imagine what had caused all the ruckus. His first glance into the corridor only added to his confusion.
The guard in the hall was hopping towards him on one foot and holding his shin with one hand. With the other hand, he was grabbing for the skirt of a young elleth in an attempt to arrest her dash down the hallway. She easily evaded his efforts.

Realization dawned and Aradunnon felt his own laughter rising. He firmly repressed it. "Maidhien!" he cried, recognizing his youngest son's newest friend. "Did you kick that guard? For shame!" he scolded, hands on his hips and at least making an effort, unlike Colloth, to address Maidhien's naughtiness appropriately and defend his guards. His stern demeanor did not quite reach his eyes.

Then he saw the tears on Maidhien's cheeks and he cut off his lecture.

"What is wrong?" he asked, lowering himself to one knee and holding out his arms, as if to hold her.

Maidhien studied him for the briefest moment. Then the determined set of her jaw melted into a sob and she rushed into his arms. "Oh, you have to come help!" she pleaded, her face buried against his chest. "Nana says I am tattling, so she will not listen. But I am not tattling. I am trying to get someone to come help. They need help or they will drown for certain!"

Aradunnon grasped her by the upper arms and pulled her away from him so he could look at her. "Who will drown?" he asked as gently as he could while wiping tears from her face with his fingers. "What are you talking about?"

"Everyone!" she cried. "Anastor and Noruil and Galithil and Legolas and Berior. They are all in the river on their stupid rafts and they will never get out of it since the rope broke!" Deprived of his tunic front, Maidhien buried her face in her hands.

Aradunnon stared at her a long moment. Then he pulled her against him again and picked her up into his arms. "Tell me what happened while we go get more help," he said, keeping his voice calm. "The more we know, the better we can help them," he prompted, when she seemed to collapse into tears. He listened to her story as he and Colloth rushed towards the Great Hall to find Thranduil and Celonhael. His heart raced as he realized the reason why he had felt so distracted all morning was that Galithil was in serious trouble.

*~*~*

Legolas shoved with his pole against one of the rocks that formed the shallow pool sheltering the raft and he kept his eyes fixed on his cousin. They had to get to him and fast! Galithil's arms were flailed out to the side and his face was pointed straight up as he bobbed in and out of the water and gasped for air. He seemed oddly silent to Legolas, neither shouting for help nor yelling in fear. That silence had to be a bad sign. If Galithil could not even call for help...

Legolas never finished that thought. The moment the river current caught the raft, it spun around, whipping Galithil from his sight and forcing both he and Berior to crouch down in order to avoid losing their balance and being thrown into the water. Legolas thrust his pole down into the water, intending to control the raft as he always did by poling against the rocks on the river bed. The pole easily caught on a rock and Legolas braced himself to steer against it. Instead, the bottom of the pole stayed in place against the rock, but the raft never slowed or turned even the slightest bit--it kept right on going down the river. The pole wrenched forward, levered against the rock, and Legolas was thrown forward with it as if he were one of Eirienil's dolls. He pulled the pole up before it was torn completely from his hands and tried again to steer the raft as he normally could. Same result, only this time he was nearly thrown from the raft altogether.

He pulled the pole up sharply and panic seized him. How could he steer the raft if he could not use the pole? His heart raced. And where was Galithil? Had he already lost track of the whole reason he was in this situation? Legolas looked about in an effort to keep Galithil in sight, but as soon as he did, rather than seeing his cousin, his vision was filled by an enormous rock protruding from the water. They were headed straight towards it at an alarming rate. It would smash the raft for certain if they hit it. Instinctively, Legolas stabbed his pole at it like a spear. It took all his strength, but he managed to fend it off, forcing the raft to arch around it.

The raft spun, completely out of control.

Legolas looked about again, trying to spot Galithil, but instead he saw Berior taking his turn, holding the raft off a boulder and grunting with the effort. And before Legolas had a chance to even think, he was again forced to turn his attention to another boulder in their path.

"Try to push us further towards the center of the river," Berior called as Legolas's pole connected with the rock.

Despite the panic in his voice, Berior's suggestion made sense. There were fewer rocks and branches in the middle of the river. Legolas shoved with all his might against the slippery rock and managed to alter their course only slightly.

As the raft spun again, he caught a glimpse of Anastor and Noruil. They were headed straight towards a large boulder themselves.

"Elbereth, save them!" Legolas cried involuntarily. Without poles, Anastor and Noruil could not prevent their raft from smashing hard against the rock and then spinning around it. Somehow it held together. Anastor and Noruil were thrust onto their backsides, but managed to stay on the raft.

Legolas lost sight of them when a dip in the water level caused his raft to drop and tilt as it rushed down a short waterfall. Berior loosed a surprised cry as they were both thrown against the planks of the raft when it finally leveled out. Legolas wedged the fingers of one hand between two planks to keep from sliding off the raft ,while he clung to his pole with the other hand . His shoulder, which had been slammed against the planks, screamed in pain, but he did not have time to think on that before another boulder loomed before them. He barely had time to scramble to his knees and plant his pole against the rock. Berior, blood gushing from his nose, managed to stand in time to pole away from the next rock.

"We are not going to be able to help Galithil or Anastor and Noruil," Berior called, wiping his nose with his sleeve. "We will be lucky to get ourselves back to the shore."

Legolas did not respond to that. He agreed, but saying it would only be a waste of breath. Since his arms already felt shaky, wasting his breath did not seem wise. He pushed against the next rock with a mighty shove and his efforts were again rewarded with very little result.  Tears of frustration, and admittedly, fear, filled Legolas's eyes and he did not even care if Berior saw it.  For moment, he could not breath or think. He had wanted to help Galithil and all he managed to do was get himself and Berior killed! His mind filled with images of his parents and aunts and uncle's grief. Images of them being forced to search for and recover, or worse still, never find, their children's bodies.

It is not going to happen, he determined, and gripped his pole harder, as if doing so would drive those thoughts from his mind. But how could he stop it from happening? A plan. He needed a plan. He took a deep breath and turned to face the next rock as his mind raced. What to do? What to do?  But there was no rock. Instead, he found there were at least a few seconds of clear water ahead of them. He took the opportunity to search around himself for Galithil, for Anastor and Noruil, and hopefully for something that would give him some idea how they could manage to escape the river. He could not see Galithil, but he did spot Anastor and Noruil's raft. One of its planks was missing and another was shattered, split in two at the middle. Anastor was still on the raft, on his hands and knees. It took Legolas a moment to find Noruil--he was in the water, clinging to one of the main beams of the raft. Anastor was trying to hold on to his tunic.

"Hold on," Legolas yelled at them in vain. He knew they would never hear him. And even if they did hear him, they hardly needed to be told to hold on. But, if Anastor and Noruil lost their raft, they lost any hope of surviving along with it. 'What can we do? What can we do?' The question raced unanswered in his mind.

Another rock rose out of the river in their path. As he reached for it with his pole, Legolas saw Berior's pole right next to his. They shoved and grunted together. Their combined efforts were much more satisfactory! The raft still spun around the rock, but it moved significantly further towards the center of the river. Legolas's hopes soared.

"Try it together again," he called. "Until we are lined up with their raft."

They poled against the next several rocks together. It worked! Soon they were nearly directly behind Anastor and Noruil and only a short distance away from them.

That seemed good, Legolas thought. But why? He still could not find Galithil in the water. And though they were right in front of him, Anastor and Noruil might as well have been in Mordor for all the good he was going to be able to do them. 'What to do? What to do?' still rang out in his head.

The exhilaration of gaining some control over the raft was swiftly being replaced by renewed panic when Legolas saw it: a tall tree had fallen across the river. Its trunk was partially submerged and a fair few of its branches were spread out in the water, some of them sticking out enough to be grabbed. And it was right in front of them. They could not help but run straight into it.

"Grab onto it!" Legolas shouted as loud as he could, gesturing wildly towards the tree to attract Anastor's attention.

Anastor saw him. Still clinging to Noruil, he glanced over his shoulder in the direction Legolas was pointing. When he looked back, Legolas could see relief in his eyes as he tried to help Noruil shift position enough to be faced properly to grab a branch of the tree.

Now, what about Galithil? Legolas searched the water between Anastor's raft and his own.

"There!" Berior shouted. His voice was tinged with fear.

Legolas looked to where Berior was pointing and he finally saw a flash of silver-gold. Galithil was spinning uncontrollably in the current, his arms slack to his sides. His hair flowed wildly about him, covering his face, and Legolas could not see if he was managing to hold his mouth and nose out of the water.

"Let him be snagged on one of the branches," Berior prayed.

Legolas nodded, his heart pounding too hard to allow him to speak.

Crack! First Anastor and Noruil's raft hit the tree, mercifully lodging between two branches that rose, close together, from the water. Anastor immediately wrapped his arms around one of the branches and held on for dear life. What was left of his raft was trapped against the trunk. It bobbed violently up and down as water rushed over and under it. Noruil slammed against the tree along with the raft and struggled to pull himself onto the slippery trunk. He scrambled desperately for any hand-hold, pulling himself out of the water only to slip back into it.

Legolas turned attention to Galithil. He slammed uncontrollably into the tree just an arms-length away from Anastor and Noruil. Legolas found his own hands moving as if to grasp for a branch, so hard was he willing his cousin to climb out of the water. But Galithil remained where he was, snagged amongst the branches. He made no effort to to haul himself out or even raise his head. Legolas felt his heart sink, as if it had plunged into the icy water. Next to him, Berior covered his mouth with his hands and a sob escaped him.

They could not spend much time worrying over their cousin, since they were rushing up on the tree themselves at an alarming speed. Legolas stuck his pole out in front of him to help cushion the impact of their crash. Berior did the same and in a moment, they were both seated on their backsides, forced backward when the poles struck the immovable and unavoidable trunk. Their raft hit a portion of the tree that was partially submerged. It ran up over the trunk and stopped suddenly when one of its main beams caught on a broken branch sticking up in the water. Legolas and Berior kept going, sliding forward to the edge of the raft. They both rolled over onto their stomachs, turned, and grabbed a branch.

Legolas pulled hard, drawing himself along the raft until the branch he clutched was pulled up against his chest securely. He looked around. Berior was also safe, stuck to a branch like a bear cub stuck in a tree. Legolas released a long, shuddering breath. His arms felt almost too weak to hold on to the branch and he realized he was shaking all over. He wanted nothing more than to sink down onto the trunk and just collapse, but the sound rushing water reminded him that this was far from over.

What now? Legolas looked around himself. Galithil was too far away for him to reach. Worse, water rushed over the trunk between them, so he could not try to climb over to him for fear of being washed off the tree. He looked in the other direction towards the shore, hoping maybe to go find help. Water rushed over the trunk for a good distance between him and the riverbank as well. Getting to the shore was not going to be easy either. What to do? began to sound again in Legolas's mind. 

Well, before he could do anything else, he had to get Galithil out of the water. He turned back towards him to try to formulate some sort of plan. To his surprise, Anastor was already reaching for Galithil, shoving his hair aside, seeking a good grip on Galithil's tunic, but he remained just out of reach.

"Just pull him towards you by his hair," Berior yelled. At the same moment, Legolas felt a shove on his shoulder. "Move along," Berior added more quietly. He had climbed along the trunk to edge closer to Galithil.

Legolas nodded, released his grasp on his branch and slipped around it, reaching for another branch and sliding himself along the trunk towards it.

All the while, he watched Anastor. He had not given up on reaching Galithil. Instead he straddled the trunk a scooted forward a few inches, using only his legs to hold onto it. Both his hands reached for Galithil. And caught him. He tried to haul him onto the trunk, but instead started to slide off it himself. Noruil's hand shot out and grabbed Anastor by the back of his tunic, steadying him. Anastor gave a mighty tug and Galithil's limp form sagged, face down but out of the water, across the trunk. He did not move.

"Hurry," Berior prodded from behind him.

Legolas had reached the submerged part of the trunk. He inched into the water that rushed over it the slightest bit, leaning forward for a branch sticking up in the middle of it. But the current immediately sucked him off the trunk and tried to reclaim him. Berior caught him by the back of his leggings and pulled him back, using his pole, planted against the riverbed, as leverage to keep from being pulled in as well.

Returned to safety, Legolas held securely on to the trunk and eyed Berior's pole. His own must have washed away when the raft crashed against the trunk.

"Give me that pole," Legolas said, reaching for it. He pulled it out of the water and leveled it along the submerged length of the trunk. It reached Anastor and Noruil. Both of them grabbed the end nearest them without prompting and held onto it. Then Anastor reached to heave Galithil as if he were carrying a large sack of flour.

Legolas shook his head and made a decision. "We cannot get to shore in the other direction. Too much of the tree is submerged. We will be washed away trying to cross it. We should try to get to the opposite bank," he called, pointing over Anastor and Noruil's shoulders.

"The tree does not go all the way across," Anastor called back. "We cannot reach that side for certain."

"It comes close to the opposite bank. And maybe the water will be shallow enough to walk in over there, by the time we run out of tree. But we definitely cannot make it across the submerged parts of the tree in that direction," he pointed back over his own shoulder, "if I cannot make it over even this short submerged part without the pole. We have to try to get to the other bank," he insisted.

Anastor made a sour face, but nodded and steadied his end of the pole.

Legolas turned to Berior, who was holding their end of the pole. "Put it here, against the branches," he said, positioning the pole amongst several branches sticking out of the water. "That should hold it in place so no one will have to hold it on this side and we can both get across." He looked across the length of rushing water. "I will go first." And with a firm grip on the pole, he slipped once more into the rushing water.

The current immediately pulled his legs out from under him, but he held onto to the pole and, hand over hand. edged himself towards Anastor, Noruil and Galithil. When he was within reach of them, two sets of hands seized his tunic and hauled him back onto the trunk. Trying not to shake so hard that Anastor and Noruil might notice, he turned towards Berior.

"It is not too hard. Hold on tight to the pole," he called as Berior was trying to position himself to start across. "With both hands," he added when Berior began to edge into the rushing water with only one hand grasping the pole.

Water pulled Berior's legs down river and he began to lose his grip. As his one hand pulled free, he threw his other arm over the pole and bent it at the elbow, hooking the pole. Then he grasped hands to lock his grip. He stayed like that a long moment and then carefully repositioned himself so that he could pass along the pole as Legolas had, hand over hand. Soon he was pulled back onto the trunk and they were all together.

Legolas again experienced a brief surge of hope. All together seemed to be another large step in the right direction. Especially since Anastor and Noruil had, so uncharacteristically, worked with them rather than making things more difficult.

"Is he alive?" Berior asked, leaning closer to Galithil.

The question brought Legolas harshly back to reality.

Anastor nodded. "I think so, he coughed hard a few times while you and Berior were fussing over where to put the pole," he said, gesturing to the clump of branches where the other end of the pole remained wedged.

Legolas straddled the trunk and pulled Galithil up, leaning him so that he was mostly in a sitting position, propped with his back against Legolas's chest. To everyone's relief, Galithil moaned in response to the shift in position. But Legolas's relief at hearing his cousin make any sound at all was short lived. Galithil was badly bruised over every inch of exposed skin that Legolas could see. Both his eyes were turning black, there was a huge lump on his temple and his left arm hung to the side at a sickeningly unnatural angle.

"We have to get him help," Legolas said, nodding towards the riverbank. "Berior, get the pole. It might help us breach the gap between the end of the tree and the bank." As he spoke, he positioned Galithil so as to pull him along, hands under his shoulders. To Legolas's surprise, Anastor lifted Galithil's legs. Standing between Galithil's knees and holding the lower half of Galithil's body up, he turned towards the bank and balanced on the trunk.

"Ready?" he asked Legolas, looking over his shoulder at him.

Legolas nodded.

"Then let's give this foolishness a try," he said. And he carefully put one foot directly in front of the other and took a slow and steady step forward on the slippery trunk. Legolas moved in unison with him, the better to keep their balance with Galithil between them. Berior and Noruil brought up the rear.

*~*~*

AN: Sorry, decided to split it because otherwise it would be too long. The last part will come around next weekend. :-)