CHAPTER FOUR
"Come, little leaf, we shall leave this morning, as swiftly as we may. I wish to be well down the road before nightfall."
I turned back toward the small overgrown path he'd led me down, urging him back toward the hall with equal speed. "Your friend assures us the horses will be ready, so we need only collect our things and a few provisions for the journey."
I glanced down toward my charge, suddenly aware that my concern and urgency might be communicating itself to him. As over-watchful and ever fearful as he was already, it would not do for his benefactor to frighten him as well. But Legolas wasn't there. There was no child at my side. There was no child behind me. My heart began to speed as I turned to head back. Had I lost him already? Had someone seen us and taken him from me?
No, I had thoughtlessly outdistanced him in his haste, had given no thought to his short legs. My little elf had slipped around a tree, moving as quickly as he could while still maintaining his accustomed stealth. The eyes beneath his bangs were wide and frightened. [Poor child must think I’ve left him already.]
"Here, Legolas. I'm here," I called as soothingly as I could in my agitation. Kneeling, I opened my arms to greet him. My heart ached anew when he skirted both hands and invitation, eyeing me reproachfully. "We need to hurry, Legolas. I want to be free of your father's hall by tonight, so we must leave as swiftly as we might. Will you let me carry you back to the hall? We'll make better time that way."
He backed away a step and narrowed his eyes as if sensing a trap.
"You can hide under my cloak," I baited. "No one will see you. No one will know you're there until we're back in my rooms."
That idea seemed to have definite appeal. Half a second's consideration brought an emphatic nod, and Legolas stepped forward to stand before me. I scooped up the small armful of elf and held him close against my chest with his legs settled naturally about my waist. With my other hand, I draped my rough cloak over him, concealing all but a small bulge against my side.
"There we are. No one will ever notice you. Now, off we go."
I strode for the hall, making good use of my long legs to cover ground in a fashion this child never could. Within moments we were sliding within the dark stone gate, leaving the new morning sun behind. My room was reached easily with no more interaction required than a casual nod to an elf here, an elf there. None of them looked closely; they seemed too intent on their own business at the start of the new day.
Pushing the heavy door closed, I set my new ward on the floor and turned to gather my things into my pack. Pipe, pouch, spare shirt, all utilitarian things were stuffed into the leather pouch with a minimum of effort. I then hesitated, looking back at the child hovering by the door.
[He’s about to leave his entire world behind and has needs of his own,] I realized. [ Clothes, personal belongings and such.] The need to leave immediately warred with my fears of further delays possible interception as we sought out the child’s rooms, wherever they might be. [Must I go there? Must I take him back there, where someone might be looking for him even now? If I do not, there might be something he wants, some token that is precious to him. It’s only fair to ask him what he would wish to take with him now, as retrieval will be next to impossible by the time the sun is high.]
"What of your packing, little one? Is there anything you want to take with you?"
Legolas shook his head and waited quietly for my next move.
"Nothing? Not a toy or a blanket or extra clothing, perhaps?"
Again the immediate, negative response. I was stunned.
"Nothing at all? Be certain, Legolas, for it will be a long time before we return to your father's hall. If we leave it behind now, it will be gone until you're grown."
This time the shake of the head was slower, more emphatic.
[The child has nothing he cares about here,] I realized. [No toys, no happy things to bring with him.]
My heart ached anew, and I diverted the pain by shouldering my pack and retrieving my staff. Extra clothing for the child would have been useful, but I dared not waste a second in getting him free of this hall. I was not foolish enough to believe that Thranduil would honor the agreement of last night. We needed miles between us and the king before he awoke from his drunken dreams and reclaimed his son. We needed to move quickly if we were to reach the safety of Rivendell before pursuit caught us.
Thranduil. An unpleasant thought came to me as that name came to my mind. I could not sneak from his hall like a thief in the night. I had to leave with the same dignity with which I had arrived. I had to make my formal farewells to someone. At least I would be spared another audience with Thranduil himself, as there was no possibility of his sodded form stirring so early after retiring. But still, it must be done.
With a sigh, I set the packs back on the floor.
"Legolas, I must go and give my farewells to someone. Probably Galion in your father's absence. Thranduil will be sleeping late, yes?"
A quick nod confirmed my suspicions.
"Good. I am going to go find Galion and tell him I must hasten away to investigate the forest. You are to stay here, out of sight. Do not open the door, do not leave the room. Do not make a sound. And if anyone comes, hide."
He nodded, but my sense of urgency still needed to be satisfied. I went to one knee before him, to meet his eyes directly.
"Do you understand, little leaf? You must not be seen."
His eyes went round, then went cold. Hiding he clearly understood, and he moved to the great wardrobe against the far wall.
"Good choice," I murmured. "I'll be back in just a few moments, and then we will leave."
It was a wrench to leave the child alone and vulnerable in that cold chamber. I prayed that he would be there when I returned and hesitated outside of the door for a moment, debating the possible outcomes before muttering a warding that would keep the door closed to any servants that might enter. It was as much as I could do, save to hasten in this formal leave-taking.
It did not take long at all. I believe that Galion was as glad to be rid of me as I was to leave. He knew, though, why I wanted away. And he, the insufferable prig, approved of it.
"You will be taking all of your belongings, will you not, Master Wizard?" The smirk underscored his contempt and hardened my dislike of the man into something bordering on new-hatched hatred.
"I will be taking all that belongs to me, yes," I replied firmly. "Please offer my regards to the king and my apologies for the abruptness of my departure, but my business cannot wait."
"I quite understand." The smirk deteriorated into cold contempt. "I wouldn't want to delay you, Master Wizard. I will not keep you or your baggage any longer."
I managed a cursory bow that probably came off as a stilted nod, and swept back up the corridors to the spark of light that I had left guarding my pack, away from the self-centered malice that truly ruled Mirkwood.
"I am back, little leaf," I whispered to the door. "I have come and now we go." The door opened at my touch to reveal a room empty of all but my things piled by the bed. There was no child. A second thrill of fear touched me this morning. "Legolas? It's time to go."
The wardrobe door opened just a crack, then a little more, and one wary eye watched me from within. I had to smile, for he had taken my instructions very seriously.
"You hide well, little leaf. Now, one more bit of hiding and we're free of this place. Are you ready?"
"Yeth."
I stopped in midstride and turned back to him. I had heard him speak only once before, and not to me. But the stony resolve in that voice left little doubt that he was quite ready to leave, to cast his lot in with this strange wizard and be off.
[Bless his heart, Elbereth,’ I sighed in silent prayer. [He has such courage.]
Hat securely on head. Pack over shoulder. Staff in left hand. I knelt and opened my arm to my charge, and he stepped into my embrace without hesitation this time. His arms went easily around my neck and helped me lift him easily onto my hip. This time, he gathered the cloak over his head, then burrowed close against me.
"Off we go. Kitchen first. Let's see if we can coax a meal or two from those within. Which way is fastest?"
The small body in my arms leaned across my chest to point left and down the servants corridor.
"Thank you. Now stay hidden."
Within two turns, the smell of baking bread rendered my guide unnecessary. The kitchen staff was hard at work preparing meals for those rising. The head of the staff was not there, only those underlings working hard. At my sudden appearance all work stopped, and all turned to stare at me.
"Master Wizard?"
I turned to see an elf coated in flour up to the elbows. She stepped toward me, meeting my gaze squarely.
"I have heard that you are taking the young prince with you."
This I had not anticipated. Not at all.
"And where might you have heard that?" I asked with casual curiosity. The small one in my arms clung to me, barely breathing.
"Theriel in the stable is my husband. He hastened to tell us of the Prince's change in fortune."
Others in the kitchen had moved toward her, standing in a united front before me. There were anxious expressions, worried expressions, but no hostility, no anger.
"Change in fortune?"
"You take him to Rivendell, you said." My wariness of her knowledge must have communicated itself to her in some way, as she suddenly favored me with a tight smile. "Oh, do not worry that we will breathe a word of it. You have our gratitude for helping him. Any aid we might offer is yours, Master Wizard. We have set up some provisions as might last you a few days…."
A half-grown elf struggled out with two packs bulging at the stitching. "Food and blankets, Master Wizard. What else might you need?"
I couldn't help it: I laughed. This child was clearly in the favor of Elbereth, now that her eye was drawn his way.
"My dear elves, this is a blessing I had not hoped to find. Our thanks for your gifts, your thoughtfulness, and your silence." I lifted the edge of the cloak, showing the small passenger tucked against my shoulder.
"Oh…" was all the baking elf could say. She edged forward to caress Legolas’s cheek with flour-coated fingers and bestowed a quick kiss on his forehead. "Fare well, young Prince. Perhaps we will see you again one day."
He wiped the flour away, then raised his hand in a shy wave.
"Tarnil, take that down to the stable for the Wizard and the Prince," she snapped at the young elf hovering by the door, sending him striding through the archway. To me, she said, "Go swiftly. Tarnil knows the path that will let you meet the fewest people, so you must follow him."
I nodded and covered my elf once more before heading after the boy with the packs.
The horsemaster was true to his word. My gelding and the old mare stood in the shadows behind the stable, ready but out of sight. My saddle, I noted regretfully, was on the gelding and not the mare. The packs were secured to the saddle, and the child boosted onto the smooth bare back of the mare. With a sigh that did not begin to reflect my misgivings, I managed to haul myself onto the mare, behind the child.
"May the stars light your path, Master Wizard," Theriel said as he stepped back, his face reflecting both hope and sadness. "Fare well, my little shadow. Remember all I've taught you, and mind the wizard."
He reached out to stroke the child's hair, and I realized how much he cared for this child. Many here did. How sad that they were prevented from sharing it with him.
Legolas lunged forward to wrap his arms around the horsemaster's neck in a tight hug. It lasted only a moment before the elf pushed him back. "Go. Be good. Learn everything you can. And come back here to see me some day. Now, off with you. Ride safely."
I nodded to them and urged the mare into motion. She set off sedately down the path into the forest. My gelding followed reluctantly behind only after several urging swats and growled commands from the elf.
We were away. Legolas was nearly free.
CHAPTER FIVE
It was a lovely morning for travel. The sun was dappling the forest floor through the leafy canopy overhead, and the morning mist still lingered in low hollows. Birds sang, the air was clean and the day new. Even the mare’s walk was smooth and long-strided. My travel companion, perched in front of me on the mare’s withers, was silent and easy company for travel. It would have been a perfect journey save for the warning screaming at the back of my mind that we needed to get as far out of Mirkwood as possible, and with all haste.
"She’s a nice horse," I remarked to the top of the small, dark head. He nodded, his preferred means of commentary. "I’d like to travel a little faster, though. Can she go faster?"
Again the nod.
"Then let’s move along, shall we?" I nudged the horse with my heels, and the only response I received was an irritated swish of the tail. I tried again, a bit more forcefully. Then I gave her a not so subtle thump with a boot heel. Her head snapped up, ears pinned in annoyance. If anything, she slowed.
"Legolas? Could you ask her to go faster?" He half turned to look up at me, brow furrowed quizzically. "Tell her to go faster, please. I want to make haste in leaving Mirkwood."
He looked apprehensive, as though my request made him uneasy. I was quickly becoming annoyed with this conspiracy between horse and elf, pretending they didn’t know what I was asking of them.
"Tell her to go fast, Legolas," I ordered him.
He shrugged, and as he turned back I caught just a glimpse of that wicked grin I’d seen the night before. Leaning forward, Legolas laced his fingers in that golden mane and whispered to the horse’s back-turned ear.
My next awareness was that our pace was now similar to riding a missile from a catapult, for that sweet, lazy, elderly mare took off like her tail was on fire. Clutching for anything I could reach -- Legolas, mane, the saddle that wasn’t there – I struggled frantically to stay aboard the mare’s slippery back as the trees tore past and the wind roared in my ears.
"Whoa! Halt! Stop! Daro! Lasto! Pada! Cease, you insane equine!"
My hat flew off. I have no knowledge of when the staff left me. The packs vanished, and I clung gracelessly to this horse with one hand buried in her mane and the other wrapped tightly about the little body before me. I have no idea how long she ran or what, exactly, prompted her to stop. Perhaps I finally found the correct command, or perhaps my small elf took pity on me. Perhaps it was merely that the out-of-shape grand dame finally grew weary. In any case, her headlong flight finally slowed and returned to the sedate walk she’d offered before.
It seemed more than swift enough at this point. My heart was pounding so loudly that I couldn’t hear, and my legs quivered like saplings in a high wind. My small passenger didn’t seem to be at all upset, which I found even more irritating somehow. I gave a yank on the mare’s mane, which she wisely interpreted as a request for a halt.
"Are you all right?" I asked of my elf.
He turned again and nodded, his eyes dancing with amusement.
"Oh, so you think that was funny?"
It wasn’t exactly a shrug, but it certainly wasn’t denial. My annoyance rose another notch. He’d known the wretched beast would bolt that way and hadn’t warned me.
"I didn’t find it that amusing, myself," I growled.
I turned to stare back down the path. I had no idea how far we’d come, but I saw nothing of my belongings, save the gelding ambling up behind us.
"Well that’s done it," I snapped, hearing the irritation I had not planned to release in my voice. "Now we have to go back."
I kneed the mare into a turn and pointed her back down the path we’d just trampled. She obligingly shouldered my horse aside, and ambled back toward Thranduil’s keep.
The small figure sitting before me stiffened abruptly, then crumpled forward to rest his forehead atop hands still wound in her mane. They were now clenched tightly, white knuckled. Concerned, I reached to rest a hand on his shoulder, but Legolas flinched at the touch and twisted away to slide down the horse’s shoulder to the ground. I gasped in surprise and concern, as it was a long drop for one so small, nearly six feet, but he landed easily. He then squared his narrow shoulders and began marching down the path.
"Where are you going?"
He pointed back down the path, and then began to run. Alarm edged out my irritation, and I dismounted the mare as well to follow my child, also at a run. He was small and agile and surprisingly fast, but he wasn’t running with the grace I’d seen before. He stumbled now and again, and didn’t seem to be watching where he set his feet. And though he had speed, I had the longer legs and was gaining on him.
He stumbled again and fell to his knees just before I reached him. He made no effort to rise, but curled forward with his head bowed and his arms folded across his chest as though he was in pain. I fell to my knees beside him, my hands reaching to engulf his small shoulders before I could correct the gesture. The shoulders trembled violently under my grip. He was shaking.
No, I realized a moment later, he was crying. Legolas shook with silent sobs, unable even to catch a breath through their violence. It chilled me to the heart so see him so distraught. Worse, I had no idea why he was so upset. I’d witnessed his handling of far worse without so much as a squeak, but from a mare’s bolt he was devastated.
"What, little leaf? What is wrong? Where are you going?"
One small hand crept up inside the dark tangled hair hiding his face from me, no doubt to swipe at tears.
"What?" I urged again, squeezing his shoulders and giving a small shake. "What is it?"
The hand emerged, and waved vaguely toward the trail.
"You’re you’re upset that we’re going back? Little leaf, we have to go back—"
He wilted under my hands and curled up in a small ball of misery, sobbing silently in overwhelming grief. I stared at him for a moment, then heard my words replayed in my head. ‘That’s done it. Now we have to go back. We have to go back—‘
Grabbing the child up off the ground, I pulled him into my arms almost roughly and crushed him against my chest. "For my hat, Legolas! We have to go back for my hat!"
I wasn’t sure if he heard me through his tears. The reassurances continued from me without any conscious thought on my part, desperate as I was to ease his despair.
"No, no little one. We’re not going back to your father. We are never going back to your father. We only have to go back for my hat and staff, that’s all. Just the hat, and we’ll go not one step closer once we’ve found it. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you like that. Forgive me, please."
Rocking came naturally to me as I cradled him against me protectively. The tears did not abate, nor did he respond to me at all.
"You are my little elf
now, Legolas. I am not giving you back to your father. I will never let him
hurt you again. We will not return to Mirkwood, and I will keep you safe with
me for as long as you wish to stay with me, which I hope is a very long time
indeed. You belong with me, now, and I will let no one take you from me. Not
ever. "
Small hands wound their way into my hair. The the crying changed character
somehow, though I had not the experience with young ones to interpret what
it might mean. All I knew was that my heart was melting and new feelings were
emerging: feelings of fierce protectiveness mixed in with a strong dash of
possessiveness. [Is this what it is to feel as does a parent?] I wondered.
[Is this what it is to love a child?]
Yes, this must be what it is to love a child. I do believe it, for I found in that moment that I did love this child. Never mind the hot, wet face pressed against my neck or the small, damp hands painfully entangled in my hair or even the runny nose buried in my beard. This small soul suddenly meant more to me than all of Middle-Earth, and probably the Undying Lands as well.
"You’re my elf, I am your wizard, and I love you very much, little leaf. And no one will ever take you away from me," I whispered fiercely into that pointed ear. I repeated it several times, along with other soothing, mindless things that seemed appropriate to say. The morning’s urgency had faded as I sat in the damp forest litter, letting this small soul weep out the years of pain he’d stored within.
The tears finally slowed into hiccuping sobs, though the grip in my beard lessened not at all. I would have to move the morning on myself. Lifting him slightly away from my soggy shoulder, I sat him back on my lap and lifted his chin so that I might see his face. He was a mess with red eyes, a running nose, and tear tracks leaving streaks of clean skin through the overall grime of his face. I smiled at him and, with the means instinctive to all parents, used the hem of my robe to wipe away some of the damage.
"Did you understand what I told you? That you belong to me now?"
A hesitant nod.
"That you can stay with me for as long as you wish? Forever if you want to?"
Again the hesitant nod.
"Do you want to stay with me? Be my elf and let me be your wizard?"
Hope filled those eyes, hope and longing and a wistful sadness that I thought might break my heart. As though he felt this might be everything he could want and … as though it would likely be taken away again.
"Do you? Do you want to stay with me?"
He nodded then.
"Tell me. I need to hear the words," I urged.
"Yeth. Want to sthay."
I hugged him again. I couldn’t help it.
"Then it’s done, little leaf. We travel together." I set him on his feet and then stood, brushing aimlessly at the leaves clinging to my backside. "However, we still need to go back. For my hat. And my staff. And our lunch, which vanished somewhere in that wild ride. And I do hope that your horse will not be offended, but I really would like to have my saddle on her. I’m not too experienced in clinging to a naked horse."
He offered me a shy smile, then caught at my forefinger before heading back down the path. Our manic flight through the trees really hadn’t taken us very far, it seemed, for it wasn’t long before he released my finger to dart off the path and into the undergrowth. I heard some rustling about in the greenery, and within moments the hat was located and presented to me, adorned with a bit of bramble and a small tear where he’d yanked it out of a bush, evidently. He left me again, muttering over my poor wounded hat, only to reappear a few minutes later wrestling my staff which was at least twice his length. He made me laugh with his earnestness and difficulties, as he couldn’t go three steps without entangling it in a branch overhead which threatening to pull him over backwards before he noticed it, or dragging it into some bush that caught and held it fast. I let him finish the journey on his own, and thanked him for his efforts in returning the staff to me.
"Now, would you please explain to that comet of yours that I need her to wear the saddle?" I requested gently. "And that I’d like to proceed at a pace somewhere between grazing at pasture and taking off as if wolves were snapping at her heels?"
He grinned at me, all smudged face and toothless smile, the very image of innocence and mischief. He obligingly held a whispered conversation with the old lady, and the saddle was transferred to her back, though she bore it will ill grace. We climbed up onto her tall back, and after a fit of abrupt stops and discomfiting vertical lurches --during which she kicked irritably at the girth around her ribs -- we were underway once more. We traveled at a sedate trot this time, with me all the more pleased for stirrups and a pommel to grab should another fit of racing the lightning seize her. My little elf leaned back into my chest and relaxed as we continued on, at peace for the first time since I’d met him. I didn’t want to think how long it had been for him beyond that.
