CHAPTER 5: THEY COME

“Firm downward strokes,” Legolas reminded the young prince, as the child used a small knife to whittle the point of a short arrow. “And remember to keep the point of the arrow on the floor.” That way, the boy would move the knife away from himself. Placing the arrow against the floor was not the way adults would make evenly balanced arrows, and the knife he had given the boy was not even very sharp, but the elf just wanted to keep the young prince occupied. It was late afternoon, but heavy rain had darkened the day early, and the candles around them cast shadows on the walls of the wooden tree-house where they sat. It was not where the queen and her son slept; it was a play-house with a rope ladder, nestled securely in the strong arms of a tall oak. Legolas had built it for the young prince a year ago, and it was one of Eldarion’s favourite places in Ithilien. “Handle the knife carefully, Eldarion.”

Head bent over the arrow in his hands, Eldarion’s attention was focused intently on the task at hand and forgot to grumble about the rain as he had done earlier. “When you finish this one, you can do another, and soon you will have half a quiver to show your father. Only young men with new teeth can accomplish such a feat!” Legolas quipped, and the boy beamed before returning his full attention to the task.

“Hannon le,” Arwen mouthed her thanks to the elf when he looked across at her. Legolas smiled and nodded. He vaguely recalled when he was an elfling himself and his caretaker had let him whittle. He knew Eldarion would enjoy making his own arrows as well, even if they were not anywhere as fine as the ones made by elves. 

“Bridhon nin!” a voice called urgently from below the talan. Legolas got up immediately from where he was seated in front of Eldarion and moved quickly to look over the low wall of the tree-house.

Even without his exceptional eyesight, he would have made out the elves standing below in the rain. One was breathing a little faster than normal, as if he had run a distance at great speed. “Galean?” Legolas addressed the young elf who was not breathing as fast. The worry was visible on Galean’s’ face even though a slender hand shaded his eyes from the rain, his whole body tensed for action.

“Bridhon nin, my prince!” Galean said again and immediately pointed towards the darkness on the eastern fringes of the wood.

Legolas’ own concern mounted as he enquired what it was they had seen. “Man cenich?”

“The shadows,” the other elf, Lishian, replied tersely. “They move to surround us. Fast.” 

Legolas could hear the noises now, and his heart sank. Oh Valar, of all times for them to be short of elves.

“I came from there, my Lord,” said the elf. “They surrounded us, asking for the son of the king! I escaped and came back to warn you.”

At his words, Legolas’ heart sank again, his thoughts going immediately to the young prince in the corner. His ears picked up a gasp from Arwen; she had heard. “Ground or trees?” he asked.

“They walk.”

Legolas lost no time. He did not know what the Shadows were, but had to think first of Arwen and Eldarion’s safety. He made a quick decision. In one swift movement, he had reached Eldarion, removed the arrow and knife from his hands and picked him up. The suddenness of the movement brought forth a look of alarm from Arwen and a stare from the boy. In two strides, Legolas had placed the boy on the floor in the darkest corner of the talan. He motioned for Arwen to come over and went on one knee before them. Looking steadily into the wide grey eyes of the boy, he said as calmly as he could, “Listen, Eldarion. I want you to stay with your naneth in this corner. Do not move from there until I or one of my elves come and get you. Do you understand?”

The boy did not blink but nodded. To Arwen, he said urgently, “Someone is coming here for – ” and caught himself before he could say the name. Not in front of the child, he decided. “There is no time to get to the horses.” There was a look of fear in Arwen’s eyes. She nodded as she quickly wrapped her arms around her son. He grasped her arm reassuringly. “I will be back.”  

Turning to Eldarion, Legolas grasped the boy’s chin and looked into his eyes again. “Stay quiet,” he stressed, and turned away. He blew out all the candles and was about to descend from the tree-house, when he suddenly stepped back to where the arrow and knife lay. In another swift movement, he picked up the knife and was back at Arwen’s side again. It was but a small one, but it would have to do as there was no other. In the dim light, his bright blue eyes looked directly into the mother’s, and he placed the knife quietly by her side, willing her to read the meaning of his action. Arwen swallowed her fear, staring back with wide eyes that started to glisten, and nodded wordlessly.

Then he was gone.