 |
| Part 2 In the days following their meeting in the ruins of Carn Dûm Strider and Legolas managed to cover a large distance, progressing speedily along the gentle slopes of the Angmar Mountains. Legolas had suggested they should first head in a South-Easterly direction and then cross the mountain range near Mount Gundabad. After that they would follow the river Langwell up to the place where the Great Anduin originated from a junction of various mountain brooks and rivers. From there it would be only a day’s walk to the home of the Silvan Elves on the other side of the river. “It’s more than two weeks now since I set out from Mirkwood,” Legolas said, letting his gaze wander over the autumnal lands before looking upon his fellow traveller again. When he continued, his voice was barely a whisper. “My father will reveal everything to you upon our return. Know though: there is evidence that the evil that once resided at Dol Guldur has returned. Many of the scouts we sent to investigate never returned from their missions. We did not even find their bodies. It’s as though the forest had swallowed them.” The Elf’s beautiful face was awash with sorrow when he continued: “King Brand and the people of Thal have always been valiant allies. Together we’ve fought off Orcs and other foes invading from the East. In face of this nameless enemy we must gather all our forces again. The Shadow must not rise again from the abyss where we once drove it. We have to prevent that it takes shape again!” Legolas lowered his voice again. “Wargs and trolls and other sinister creatures have crept back into Mirkwood. And with them a nameless fear has returned to the Southern part of the forest. It grieves me to say, but my home has become an evil place.” Strider did not reply to this. Legolas’ words only confirmed what he had known and feared already. A watchful observer could perceive portents of ominous developments far and wide. The time of peace was ending. Once more the Shadow of Evil began to stretch out its hand to threaten the free people of the West. To Strider it was as though he could almost feel the Shadow’s bony fingers close around his own heart. He inhaled sharply and held onto his left shoulder where the Orc-arrow had injured him. Fortunately, the injury was not infected and seemed to be healing fast. Thanks to Legolas’ skills the wound had closed quickly and after a few days no more than a thin red scar was visible. Yet Strider felt it all the time and a coldness was spreading from the wound, gradually paralysing his whole body. “What is it, Strider?” Legolas inquired, worried about his companion’s ashen face. “Do you still feel the injury?” “It’s nothing. Guess I only need some food and rest. It has been a long way since we’ve set off this morning and now the sun is almost sinking ...” Legolas frowned, but he didn’t reply. Actually, it was a mild sunny afternoon. From where they were standing they had a beautiful view of the mountain chain to their East and over the hilly regions of the Ettenmoors stretching out before them to the South. The sky was a pale blue with only a few thin clouds gathering near the horizon. The harsh winds from the East had almost subsided. But it seemed Strider wasn’t aware of all this. With crossed arms he stood, shivering imperceptibly in the warm afternoon air. It was a mistake, Legolas mused, intently studying the man at his side. I should not have mentioned the Shadow. Normally Strider walked quickly with his head up, watching and observant, but now his face looked haggard and his shoulders had sunken in. He seemed exhausted beyond words. “Yes, it’s late already,” Legolas agreed. “Let’s find a place for the night and rest.” Under a group of yoke elms they set up their camp, near a thicket of blackthorn bushes. They hardly spoke when sharing a plain meal consisting of bread and some pieces of dried meat, apples and wild raspberries from a bush nearby, accompanied by some sips from the drink Legolas had given Strider the day they met. As soon as they had finished their supper, Strider wrapped himself in his worn grey coat. Drawing the hood over his face, he lay down on the ground where he had made himself a simple bed of fern leaves. He stretched out his long legs and almost instantly fell asleep. Legolas remained at his side, watching the sun sink in the West. He sat there very still, softly humming an ancient Elven tune when, one by one, the stars came up on the deep blue firmament. His heart ached when Strider repeatedly stirred in his sleep, obviously troubled by dark dreams. During their journey Legolas had been watching him warily, secretly worried to find his worst fears confirmed. True, the wound had only been small. But what if a curse had been laid on the Orc-arrow? Once more, Legolas looked over to his companion. Strider looked no different from an ordinary traveller in his worn clothes of black and grey, yet there was something about him that defied the ordinary, be it his noble features or the proud posture he carried. Legolas remembered his father’s words when he and his comrades hat set off for their perilous journey: “Search for the Ranger’s leader; Strider is how he’s often called. But some among Elves and Men have another name for him: Estél, “hope” in the Common tongue. In these dark times it’s difficult to foretell what the future may bring, but the wisest amongst us believe a special destiny awaits this man”. Could the whispers be true, Legolas wondered, that this man was Isildur’s heir? Surely Legolas would find out more before they reached the end of their journey. His heart told him that Strider’s fate and his own were linked, though for the moment he couldn’t see how. *** The next morning Strider awoke refreshed. The Shadow seemed to have disappeared. A soft September sun had risen over the hills, scattering the gloomy dreams that had haunted him all night together with the morning haze. Instantly he noticed that Legolas was gone, but when he turned his head he spotted the Elf. His fellow traveller stood on top of the hill at whose foot they had spent the night, looking down on the countryside below. His golden hair was flowing about him in the wind and as Strider beheld him there, clad in green and brown, the memories of all things beautiful on earth suddenly came back to him: the taste of clear mountain water and the smell of freshly made bread, the warmth of a fire in the hearth and the merry laughter of friends. The man’s glance fell on the tiny dew drops glittering in the grass. Like shining strings of pearls they hung between twigs and branches, spreading veils of silver between the coloured leaves. And even if the morning was a still chilly, the sun would soon warm the travellers again. It looked like it was going to be a fine late-September day and Strider was determined to savour these few precious moments of peace in the still of the morning. Who knew what awaited them at the end of their journey? With a few quick footsteps Legolas sprang from the top of the hill and bade him good morning. “It’s good to see you, my friend,” Strider returned the greeting. “This is the first day that I actually feel better again. And I’m hungry. What d’you think, could we risk starting a fire?” “We still have to be careful, but it’s not very likely the Orcs are still near,” the Elf replied. He held up his bag, laughing. “This rabbit here will make a fine breakfast, so let’s get a fire going. I’m sure a more substantial meal will help to improve your health.” *** The sun was already high in the sky when they finally set off for the next part of their journey. From now on walking on the slopes was no longer possible, as the mountains rose too steeply, so they decided on taking the route through the moor lands, past broom bushes and over flowering heather. “We’ll have to mind our steps,” Legolas warned. “These moors can be treacherous. Perilous swamps may await us where we least expect them.” Maybe it was the warm sunshine around noon, with bees humming and midges whirring about their heads, which made them a little drowsy. Maybe they were too caught up in finding their path to notice anything else. It was almost too late when they noticed they were being watched. Sensing a change in the air Legolas looked up and instantly his eyes widened with horror. A huge flock of birds, black as ravens and much larger than crows, drew nearer at a gale’s speed. “Watch out!” he cried at Strider. “We must hide. Quick! These birds mustn’t see us!” With each second the black cloud grew and all of a sudden, no other sound could be heard than the strange, shrill cries of the birds coming ever closer. “Down,” Legolas hissed and before Strider could give it a second thought, Legolas gave him a push that sent them both to the ground. Hastily they sought shelter under some thick hawthorn bushes. Just in time before the first birds reached them, darkening the sky by their sheer multitude, Legolas drew his grey Elven coat over them. Motionless the two men lay hidden; above them the incessant flutter of the birds’ wings and the eerie creatures’ wild cries rang in their ears. For what seemed an eternity the birds drew their circles above them, sometimes high in the air, sometimes closer to the ground. The wanderers held their breath, fearing the birds might come down any minute. Both knew they would not be able to defend themselves against the vast number of assailants: neither Legolas’ bow nor Strider’s sword could protect them effectively against the birds’ pointed beaks and sharp claws. So they lay there, Legolas on top of Strider, shielding him from sight. Neither of them dared to move. His body as taut as a bow string, the Elf listened to each sound, each motion from above. At least, he tried to. Resting against his companion’s chest turned out to be an unexpected distraction. All of a sudden he found himself listening to the man’s heartbeat instead and he felt his own pulse quickening. The imminent danger seemed to have heightened Strider’s senses, too. He couldn’t help but notice the satin quality of the Elf’s hair; like a silken net those strands spread under his fingers. And when Legolas slightly shifted his weight Strider felt a peculiar sensation stir deep inside of him. He felt an overwhelming need to draw the Elf even closer. Be it to protect him and shield him or ... to explore whether Legolas’ pale skin was as soft to the touch as his golden hair. Strider could not know how Legolas secretly ached for that touch. Yet the proud archer hardly dared to touch him back. Not knowing where to put his hands he buried them in the ground rather than placing them on Strider’s body - as if he was afraid when doing so it would burn him. The dark birds still circled their hiding place, searching out their enemy, but Legolas no longer paid attention to the peril in the sky. It seemed as if another danger was much more imminent; the danger of melting against the body of the man who held him close. He felt Strider’s fingers jerk and the firm muscles of his arms flex when one of the birds almost came down on them, his giant wings brushing Legolas’ cloak. The Elf flinched unnoticeably. Was it to avoid the bird’s attack, or the touch of Strider’s hands that instinctively pulled him closer under the Elven cape? Firmly, but gently one of these hands lay on Legolas’ back while the other one rested around his waist. Warmth spread all through the Elf’s body, together with the desire to give himself over to the touch of these hands and to be crushed under the weight of that strong body. A soft moan escaped Legolas’ lips at the idea of Strider’s fingers touching his skin. This could not be! What was he thinking? The shock of the attack must have clouded his mind. How strange, when at other times he was utterly calm even in face of the greatest dangers. Had the Elf known the Ranger’s feelings his confusion would have even increased. Just as Legolas Strider no longer heeded the danger they were in; the birds seemed far away, somehow unreal, whereas the Elf was close and very real. A vague yearning filled the man, making it almost impossible to lie still any longer. When shifting a bit to find himself a more comfortable position on the ground, Strider involuntarily slid against the slender body on top of him. And in that instant he knew that all he wanted was to hold the Elf in his arms and never let him go. It was as though time stood still in those moments. They were so lost in their embrace that it took them some time to realize that their attackers were no longer there. Just as unexpectedly as they had emerged they had vanished again, their screams fading as they moved towards the horizon. At some point Legolas noticed their absence and dared to have a quick look from under their cover. The flock of birds had already become a tiny black spot on the Eastern sky. “They are gone,” he whispered and looked down on Strider. And in that instant their glances fell into each other as though into a deep, deep well. Their faces were close, so close, their lips almost touching. Almost. Before anything else could happen Legolas rose to his feet again. “That was a narrow escape,” he said, exhaling deeply when he pushed the dust from his clothes. |
 |