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Growing Under Shadow  by daw the minstrel

Disclaimer:  I borrow characters and settings from Tolkien but they belong to him.  I gain no profit from their use other than the enriched imaginative life that I assume he intended me to gain.

Many thanks to Nilmandra for beta reading this chapter.

Thanks to JastaElf, Jaded Scorpio, and fadesintothewest for information on what a kid would do to care for his horse.  Any mistakes are, of course, mine.

*******

2.  Hunting

Eilian leaned back against the trunk of the tree in which he was sitting, only half listening to the sound of the spring awakening flowing through it.  The other half of his attention was focused on Tinár, the young warrior who was holding forth near the Southern Patrol’s campfire.

“I could have told you that you would never hit that Orc from the branch you were in,” Tinár was saying.  “Not with your shot.”  Gelmir, the warrior he was addressing, regarded him with an open mouth. Tinár had been with the Southern Patrol for two months now, and in that short time, he had managed to antagonize almost all of his fellow warriors with an arrogance that was outsized even for an Elf.

“And what is wrong with my shot?” Gelmir demanded, glancing back at Eilian and rolling his eyes.

“Nothing,” Tinár said soothingly. “But you do have a tendency to raise your arms instead of tilting back from the waist. I can help you with that, if you like.”

Eilian smothered a grin.  Gelmir was going to find that remark doubly unacceptable because it was true.  He did have a tendency to raise his arms instead of tilting his body, and it shortened his shot sometimes.

“No, thank you,” Gelmir said rather huffily.  “If I were you, I would concentrate on your own tendency to waste arrows by not taking time to aim properly.”

Tinár dismissed that suggestion with a wave of his hand.  “I am fast, and that is more important than making every arrow count.  I have unusually good aim after all, even when I hurry, and there are plenty among us who are slower and can catch the things I miss. They have their place too.” He spoke this last in a charitable tone that left Gelmir gasping.

Eilian decided that, amusing as it was, the conversation had gone on long enough.  He was the lieutenant in this group of warriors, he reminded himself, and it was part of his responsibility to make sure that they were able to fight together as a unit.  It would not do to let Gelmir be driven into a rage, although the very novelty of the sight would make it worth watching.

Reluctantly, he dropped to the ground and approached the pair at the campfire.  “I think you are needed to aid those fletching new arrows, Tinár,” he said, indicating a group of warriors constructing arrows in a sunny spot to one side.  “You lost a good many last night.”  Tinár grimaced but drank the last of his tea and then started toward the group, who did not seem any happier to see him than Gelmir had been.

“Eilian, you and Todith have to do something about him,” Gelmir murmured as soon as Tinár was out of earshot.

“He is really quite good with a bow,” Eilian pointed out to his friend. “He could be useful.”

“Not if one of us shoots him first,” Gelmir replied promptly.

Eilian laughed.  “I will see what I can do.”  He looked up to see Todith beckoning him from across the camp.  “I will speak to Todith about him,” he told Gelmir and then went to join the captain.

“Have you read the message from Ithilden that came today?” Todith asked without preamble.

“Yes,” Eilian responded. His older brother had apparently had several reports from the Border Patrol that giant spiders were spreading closer to their father’s stronghold.  He wanted the Southern Patrol to clear them out of the area they defended.

“I want to start the spider hunt today,” Todith told him.  “It will be safer to search for them during the day, rather than hunt at night as we do for Orcs, I think.  The spiders are more active at night, so if we hunt during the day, we are more likely to surprise them, and we are less likely to become ensnared in the webs or miss seeing one of the spiders in the dark.”

Eilian nodded. “I agree. What are you planning?  A slow sweep through the trees?” The two of them talked about tactics for a while.

“Very well,” the captain finally said. “Call them together.”

“There is one other thing first,” Eilian ventured.  “I think you need to speak to Tinár again.  He is wasting arrows with quick shots. We can deal with that I think, for he really is a skilled marksman, but he is still alienating the rest of the patrol by failing to recognize their strengths. And if he would let his skills speak for him, rather than bragging, he would be much better received.”

Todith grimaced. “I will talk to him after we have finished today, but I think he may be a hopeless case.  I am hoping that everyone else decides to tolerate him because he is so good.”

Eilian grinned. “One can always hope, but I think you may be too optimistic.”

“Perhaps,” Todith admitted.  “Now, let us get to our task.”

Eilian summoned the other members of the patrol.  As they assembled, Gelmir came to stand on one side of him, and Maltanaur stood on the other. Maltanaur was the seasoned warrior whom Thranduil had appointed to see to Eilian’s safety when he first pledged his faith as warrior.  Eilian had resented his presence at first, but to no one’s surprise, Thranduil had not bent to his arguments, and over the years, he had come to accept Maltanaur and even to value his advice. By now, he was as accustomed to having Maltanaur by his side as he was to having a shadow on a sunny day.

“For the next few days, we will be hunting spiders,” Todith was telling the patrol. “You have all done this before, but let me remind you of what it involves.  We will be searching for them during the day, killing the spiders and clearing the webs, and then burning the bodies, the nests, the webs, and the egg cocoons.  Spiders are, of course, far less dangerous fighters than Orcs are, but you need to be careful of the webs and spider poison.  If you have any sort of open wound at all, do not handle the bodies.”

Eilian looked around to see his companions listening attentively.  He had been serving in the Southern Patrol for years now, and he still felt a swell of pride at being included. These warriors were some of the best in his father’s realm.

“We will be going northeast,” Todith said.  “That is the area in which the Border Patrol has seen increasing numbers of them.  Once we are in the area, we will spread out so that each of us is within call of another and then sweep slowly through the woods looking for signs of them. If you spot a colony, use our bird signals to summon the rest of us. Is that clear?” Apparently it was, and the patrol was soon moving through the trees to the northeast.

When they reached their target area, Eilian took his place in the long line of warriors and began to move through the trees at a far more restrained pace than the group usually used.  He scanned the branches for any sign of spiders or their webs. They had been gliding through the forest for about half an hour when he heard a signal to his left that told him that one of his companions had found what they were seeking. Along with the other Elves around him, he moved in the direction from which the signal had come.

There, he found Todith, silently pointing out their find and waving warriors into position to surround it.  Eilian studied the spider colony.  As many as a dozen nests were scattered among the trees, several of them with cocoons full of eggs suspended beneath them.  Thick ropes of web were strung between the branches and trailed to the forest floor, ready to catch the unwary.  The webs were so plentiful that they dimmed the light filtering through to the ground.  So far as Eilian could tell, the spiders were presently asleep in their nests. He caught glimpses of motionless black forms huddled down in the piled leaves. He waited for Todith’s signal with an arrow knocked in his drawn bow. He did not find fighting spiders as exciting as battling Orcs, but it was a task that needed to be done.  He had no wish to see any of these creatures get any nearer to his home.

When the signal came, he released his arrow and sent it with a hail of others into the spider nests.  The beasts roused instantly, scattering from their nests and crossing lines of webbing toward the Elves and into the trees above them.  More of them fell with every passing second, but Eilian knew that now was the time that the Elves needed to be most careful, for they had been spending the last few weeks fighting Orcs, and now they had to adjust their habits to fight foes who could operate in the trees as they themselves did.

As if to confirm his thought, a hissing sound came from above him, giving him only a second’s warning before a spider dropped onto the branch near him and began to skitter toward him on hairy legs.  He leapt to another branch and hastily shouldered his bow and seized his sword, wondering as he did so if this was what Orcs felt like when Elves dropped from the trees. 

Making an ugly clacking noise, the spider cast a line of webbing across the gap between the branches and began to approach him.  From the corner of his eye, he saw further movement but realized almost instantly that it was Maltanaur and not another spider.  Maltanaur began creeping along a branch, obviously intending to get behind the spider.  Eilian gripped his sword as it approached.

Suddenly an arrow flew past from the left. It missed the spider but a second one followed rapidly, lodging deeply in one of the spider’s eyes and sending black blood spurting.  The creature stood balanced for an instant and then toppled to forest floor below.  Eilian spun and saw Tinár some distance away, looking less jubilant than Eilian might have expected over landing his shot.  And then he realized that Maltanaur was slowly sinking to sit on a branch while clutching at his left arm.  Eilian sheathed his sword and hastened to the older Elf’s side.

“Are you stung?” he asked in confusion. He had not thought that the spider had gotten close enough to Maltanaur to bite him.

Maltanaur snorted slightly. “No. That first arrow caught my arm.”  Eilian stared at him in disbelief.  “It is not serious,” Maltanaur said through clenched teeth.  “See to the spiders.  I can wait.”

Eilian pulled Maltanaur’s hand away long enough to see that he was telling the truth; the wound was undoubtedly painful but it was not serious.  He seized his bow and began shooting at the spiders again, but he did not move from Maltanaur’s side.  Soon after, the battle was over.

With Eilian watching anxiously, Maltanaur climbed slowly toward the ground.  Already Elves were clearing a space to build a fire and beginning to pull the webs away from the trees.  Eilian could see Gelmir carefully cutting down one of the cocoons full of eggs.  The spiders’ bodies would go on the fire too, for they were cannibals and leaving the bodies would attract more of them.  Maltanaur had just reached the ground when Tinár approached.

“I apologize, Maltanaur,” he said contritely, but not contritely enough for Eilian’s taste.

“Just what did you think you were doing?” Eilian hissed.  “Surely you could see that Maltanaur and I were both there.  You might have taken more care with your aim.”

“I needed to be fast,” Tinár defended himself.  “You were grateful enough when the spider fell, I will warrant.”

“You needed to take only a second more to be sure of hitting your target rather than a fellow warrior!” Eilian exclaimed.

Todith suddenly appeared at Eilian’s elbow.  “Eilian, bind Maltanaur’s arm and then get him back to camp,” he ordered. “Tinár, Eilian and I will want to talk to you later, but not now.”  He shot a warning glance at Eilian, who bit his tongue and turned to Maltanaur.  Todith steered Tinár off to help drag spider bodies to the fire.

“Remember that you are Todith’s lieutenant now,” Maltanaur said softly as Eilian cleaned and bandaged the wound. “Tinár needs to be reprimanded, but he must not think that you are doing it because he struck me in particular. If he thinks that, he will be more likely to disregard the warning.”

Eilian looked into the older warrior’s concerned face and grimaced. “I know,” he said. Then he smiled slightly.  “Do not worry. I have been reprimanded more times than I care to think about, usually by Thranduil Oropherion.  I promise you I can be fearsome and cool at the same time.”

Maltanaur smiled back. “I have no doubt,” he said dryly. 

***

Legolas frowned over the map of Beleriand that he was drawing.  Was Taur-en-Faroth east or west of the River Sirion?  He sighed, turned to the large book lying next to him on the library table, and began to leaf through its pages, looking for the answer.  From under his lashes, he stole a look at his tutor, Galeril, who was reading peacefully near the fire.  Surely it must be nearly time for his lessons to end.  Turgon and Annael would be waiting for him, for their own lessons were shorter than his. His father said that he needed to know history and languages because he was the king’s son.  Legolas did not see the connection, but he supposed his father was right.  Even his brother Eilian said that the lessons were important, and Eilian never said things just because grown-ups were supposed to say them, even though he was grown up.

Galeril looked up at him. “How are you coming with the map?”

“Where does Taur-en-Faroth go?” Legolas asked.  “Will you show me?”

Galeril rose and came to the table.  He pointed to a place west of the Sirion. “About there.”  Legolas sketched in a circle to show where the woods had been and then looked at Galeril hopefully.

“Is it time to stop?” he asked.

Galeril smiled.  “I think you have done enough for now, but you should finish the map before I come again tomorrow afternoon.”

Legolas nodded eagerly.  Galeril almost always gave him work to do on his own these days.  He said that Legolas was old enough to be responsible for completing his lessons himself. Galeril was nice but sometimes he sounded entirely too much like Legolas’s father. He jumped happily to his feet as Galeril began to gather up the papers spread out on the table.  “I will see you tomorrow,” he cried as he headed toward the door.

“Until tomorrow,” Galeril responded.  “I will see you with your finished map of the First Age.”

Legolas escaped from the library and hurried to his own chamber to attach his dagger to his belt, strap on his quiver, and pick up his bow.  He was not allowed to carry his sword unless he was going to the weapons training fields, but he could carry these other weapons and, indeed, had been told never to go into the woods unarmed.  He retrieved the slightly shriveled apple he had left on his bedside table after meal and then hastened down the hallway toward the door leading from the royal family’s quarters.  Once outside, he took the path that led to his father’s stables.

“Good afternoon, young one,” called the stable master as Legolas entered.  “Sadron was out in the paddock, but I think he has been brought inside to wait for you.”  Legolas came to care for his horse and usually to ride it every day after his lessons were done.  Stable hands mucked out the horse’s stall and fed him, but Legolas was responsible for grooming him.

“Good afternoon,” Legolas responded politely and trotted down the line of stalls to find his horse.  “Hello, boy,” he called, pulling himself up to stand on the cross piece of the stall door and extending his palm with the apple on it.  The horse nickered softly and took the fruit.  Legolas jumped down, opened the stall door, and stepped inside, laughing happily as Sadron nuzzled his chest.  “I only brought one apple. The ones from last fall are nearly gone, so you have to make do,” Legolas told him, stroking his neck.  “We are going out for a ride now, but I will brush you when we get back. Would you like that?”  The horse made a noise that Legolas interpreted as approval, and he led it out into the spring afternoon.

He sprang onto Sadron’s back and urged him down the path that led to Turgon’s cottage, where he was supposed to meet his two friends.  He found them lounging in the grass with their horses grazing at a short distance.  Turgon’s two-year-old brother, Amdir, was running around nearby, waving a paper pinwheel on a stick.

“You are so late!” Turgon exclaimed as he and Annael climbed to their feet.

“I came as soon as I could,” Legolas said, his eyes on Amdir, who, still clutching his pinwheel, was scrambling into a small tree near the cottage front door.  Annael moved quickly to detach him from a branch.  Turgon looked exasperatedly at the now howling elfling.

“He should go inside,” Turgon said, “because we will not be here to watch him.”  Legolas had been at Turgon’s cottage before when they were supposed to be “watching” his little brother.  He knew from experience exactly who was likely to be doing the watching, and it was not Turgon.  Annael carted the toddler toward the door where Turgon’s mother was just emerging, probably drawn by Amdir’s cries.  She took him from Annael’s arms.  “We are going now, Naneth,” Turgon told her.

“Have a nice time,” she said as she disappeared back inside with the still screeching Amdir.  Turgon’s mother puzzled Legolas. She was nice, but she seemed to trust that Turgon would take care of himself most of the time, an optimism that Thranduil had made it clear he did not share.  Legolas was allowed to spend the night at Annael’s cottage, but not at Turgon’s.

Turgon and Annael summoned their horses and mounted them, and Legolas rode on ahead, leading them toward the place where he and Thranduil had found the large hoof print.  The area was a half hour’s ride from the palace, so they needed to be on their way if they were to have any time at all to search before they had to turn around and come back in time for their evening meals.  When they reached the area, they dismounted and turned the horses loose, knowing they would come when summoned.  Then they stood looking uncertainly at one another for a moment.

“I can show you where the hoof print was,” Legolas offered. The other two nodded.

Legolas started to walk toward where the print had been but Turgon stopped him. “Can we go through the trees? It is faster.”

Legolas hesitated. “We can,” he said seriously, “but only for scouting. My adar says we are not ready to shoot down at a deer yet.”

Turgon looked impatient but nodded. “Very well.”  The three of them moved into the trees and started working their way in the direction Legolas indicated. When he thought they had reached the spot where he and Thranduil had seen the print, he dropped to the ground, where he was joined by his friends.  They began to search and Legolas soon found the print.  It had not been disturbed since the previous evening.  They stared at it in awed silence.

Annael spoke first. “When I went hunting with my adar, we searched for more signs of how the deer might be moving between their feeding places and the sheltered places where they slept.”

Legolas nodded.  He and Thranduil had done the same thing.  He glanced at Turgon.  It suddenly occurred to him that he had not heard Turgon speak about hunting with his father.  He had assumed that Turgon had done what the rest of them had, but his friend had not said so.  Turgon looked up and saw Legolas regarding him.  His gaze hardened.  “Let us go then,” he said brusquely and started toward the meadow.  Legolas stared after him in dismayed suspicion, but then followed along with Annael, searching the ground for more signs of the large buck but finding nothing.

They paused again.  “We could go back to the hoof print and start searching off to the side,” Legolas suggested.  He was a little uncertain if that was the right course. So far, he and Thranduil had hunted for deer in general, searching the open spaces in the forest for signs of where they congregated to eat. They had not yet hunted for one deer in particular.

Apparently having no better suggestion, Annael and Turgon started back toward where the print was.  They began searching for further sign of the large deer in a line running parallel to the meadow.  A faint sound overhead made Legolas freeze, suddenly remembering every frightening story about giant spiders that he and his friends had ever used to scare one another.  He jerked his eyes to the trees and scanned anxiously, aware that Turgon and Annael were doing the same thing.  He caught a slight movement in a tree to his left and was starting to raise his bow when he realized that what he had seen was an Elf.

Riolith dropped to the ground, followed almost instantly by Tynd.  “What are you three doing here?” Tynd asked, sounding dismayed.

“We are hunting deer,” said Legolas defensively.  He and his friends had as much right to be here as Tynd and Riolith did. “And you should not sneak up on us.  I could have shot you.”

“I doubt it,” said Riolith shortly. “And the three of you have probably disturbed every deer within a league.”  He looked at Legolas. “Surely you do not imagine that you are stalking that big buck?”

Legolas flushed.  “We are,” he said, with all the dignity he could muster.  Riolith and Tynd looked at one another and, to Legolas’s annoyance, Riolith rolled his eyes and Tynd smiled slightly.

“Do your parents know you are out here?” Tynd asked.

“My adar will not mind,” Legolas asserted, “so long as I am home on time.”  He was reasonably certain that this was true, although he had not asked Thranduil for permission to make this trip.  He was allowed in the woods during the day, so long as he carried his dagger, but he and his friends had ridden farther from home than he usually went.

“It is growing late,” Tynd observed, and Legolas suddenly realized that he was right.  He had lost track of the time in the excitement of the hunt.

“We must go now,” he admitted stiffly, “but we are hunting that buck.”  He marched off toward their horses with his friends following behind.  The sound of a soft laugh reached him, and his cheeks burned.

“Stupid yrch,” mumbled Turgon, which made Legolas laugh but not much.

They rode home in shared indignation, but Legolas had no time to stew with his friends because he had to groom Sadron before he went in to get ready for evening meal, and his father did not approve of tardiness.  He got Sadron into his stall and then picked up a twist of straw and began to brush the stallion’s flank.  “Do you like that?” Legolas laughed, as the horse all but purred.  He continued cleaning and shining the animal’s coat, murmuring to him all the while as Sadron swiveled his ears around to listen.  When he was finished with the brushing, he got a pick and cleaned out the horse’s hooves.  Finally, he went to the supply of oats at the end of the line of stalls and got a handful to feed to the horse in lieu of an apple.  “I will be back tomorrow,” he assured Sadron. It was late enough when he completed his chores that he had to hurry to be on time for evening meal, but he did not mind.  Both he and Sadron had been soothed by the grooming session, and he had put Tynd and Riolith from his mind.

He hurried through the door to his family’s apartments just in time to see his father emerging from his office.  Thranduil’s face was grim but it lightened upon seeing Legolas.  “Good evening, child,” he said, putting an arm around Legolas’s shoulders and dropping a kiss on the top of his head.  Legolas leaned happily against him for a moment before he remembered that he was too old for such cuddling and pulled away, although he held on to the contentment that his father’s embrace had brought.

*******

Thank you to all who reviewed, whether on ff.net or Storiesofarda.com or via email.  I am usually a little uncertain when I’m starting a new story, so I particularly appreciate hearing from you that it is starting off well.

Feanen:  I think the hunting will be interesting as they go along.  I expect the kids will get a little carried away by their enthusiasm.

Karen:  I get most of the archery lessons off the internet.  I found this one about shooting with your eyes closed there, for instance.  I am hoping that Riolith and Tynd come across as cocky but not mean.  To them, the little guys look about like Turgon’s little brother does to Legolas and company.

Erunyauve: I need trouble or I have no plot!  If you know anything about deer hunting and find I am making mistakes, please tell me.  I am a city girl and everything I know about deer, I learned on line.

Luin:  I love your reviews.  And I did want Thranduil to be seen as a good father before the young ones get themselves into trouble and he has to go all stern again.  I don’t think that Ithilden is old enough to remember the Last Alliance.  But he was a warrior before the start of the Watchful Peace in 2063 TA. That’s a little less than 500 years before this story starts.

JastaElf:  The stuff about dealing with the Dwarves will be back soon.  I am afraid that all will not run smoothly, despite Ithilden’s hopes!

Orangeblossom Took:  I think I’m going to keep the Dwarves at a distance, using the Men as intermediaries.  It’s hard for me to imagine the Elves and Dwarves visiting one another at this point.  It would be fun though!

Legolas4me:  Thranduil is a good king, I think.  Ithilden may need to nudge him to deal with the Dwarves, but then he does it.  I hope you continue to like the story.

P.Rico:  There is no such thing as a bad reader!  A reader is a good person by definition.  I am hoping to show that Legolas and Eilian have both grown up some since the story I just finished.  But Legolas in particular has a long way to go yet.

Alpha:  I take that as a compliment!  I hope you continue to like the story.

Brenda:  The three kids are headed for trouble, yes indeed.  It’s the kind of trouble you drift into, with each step looking not so bad until you come up against a bunch of angry adults.  We shall see.

Frodo3791:  Eilian is here and will be home in a while.  He has some stuff to do first.   Turgon is still Turgon, thank goodness.  He’s a godsend to an author because he can move a plot right along.

Nilmandra:  I really liked the idea that Legolas and Thranduil would grow closer as Thranduil tried to make up for the absence of Legolas’s mother.  Thranduil is a pretty strict father, but the affection between the two of them should come through.

LKK:  I can remember getting letters as a kid and how thrilled I was.  And I think the fact that this letter comes from Eilian also makes it valuable to Legolas.  He adores Eilian and thinks he can do no wrong.

LOTR Faith:  I’m happy to oblige you by being back with another story.  Unfortunately I have gone back to work so I have less time to read and write.  In your own story, would you consider making the really bad stuff a dream?  Maybe a prophetic one or a dream that he has while he’s in captivity?  I am just reeling under the idea of what the consequences of such abuse would be.

Sekhet:  You can say anything you like and I won’t mind. I love getting reviews, which I suppose is shameless of me, but I don’t care.

JustMe:  Excellent analysis of what is likely to be happening in Thranduil’s household!  Are you sure you don’t have a way into my PC?

Naneth:  I think we can count on Legolas and company getting into mischief, yes.  Turgon is always creative in that regard.

Karri:  It struck me that being out hunting with Thranduil would be very gratifying for Legolas.  They’re doing a grown up male Elf thing and he has his father all to himself.  People hunt around where I now live too, some of them even using bows and arrows.





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