Ten

Eryn Lasgalen

18 Lothron, Year 29 Fourth Age

Legolas had been led on a strange trek, following the haunting sound of Rani's song. Sometimes he would come across her, and they would carry on another confusing conversation. More often, he would just hear childish laughter or soft singing, and he followed the sound without ever seeing her. On occasion, he found another woven grass or flower chain in a clearing.

The previous day there had been no sign of her, so Legolas had settled on a wide branch and spent the night singing to the stars above, trying to drown out the ever present sea-song in his heart.

A piercing sound roused him from what rest he could find, its sharp, clear note well known. He sat up, heart racing. The sound was not native to the woods of his birth, nor had he actually heard it with his ears. It was the sound that echoed through his memory, never releasing its hold on his heart: the cry of a gull.

Legolas took several deep breaths, trying to calm himself. It had been a while since he had experienced such a vivid memory of that day in Pelargir when he had first heard the cry of the gulls. The sea longing was bittersweet in nature, calling, luring, beckoning him to follow. Relentless!

Legolas shook it off every time. He would not, could not sail West yet, and so he lived as one torn, always longing for something he could not yet attain, yearning to step foot on distant green shores. But at the same time he disdained it, for to heed it would cost him the friendships he cherished most.

Neither the trees nor the stars could comfort him. It was as Galadriel had foreseen. Once he had heard the gulls, his heart was ensnared by something against which he could not fight, and yet he wrestled with it daily.

This time was no different. He knew why the sea's call grew stronger. With his family gone, he had few ties left holding him here. But he fought it nonetheless, refusing to give in to the sweet song of waves crashing and gulls crying.

The sun was just rising when he heard Rani's soft song join the chorus of dawn birdsong. The melody haunted him, unlike anything he had ever heard before. The words he could not understand. When he had asked her what language it was, she refused to tell him, saying it was her song and hers alone. Such a strange child…

If she was just a child; Legolas was not certain. He was certain, however, that he was being driven to some task, some purpose he had yet discovered. Regardless, he could not just head home not knowing why Rani taunted and teased him, leading him onwards. He had not failed to noticed she led him on a direct route through the trees. She moved with purpose.

Standing, Legolas followed the sad song through the branches, pausing at the edge of a small opening in the trees. Seated in the grass of a small meadow was Rani, long grasses trailing from her fingers as she wove them into a pattern. A finished chain complete with flowers encircled her golden head, which was bowed over her work.

Legolas smiled at the innocent picture the child made, and lowered himself to lean against a tree, watching her work. After a time, she lifted her head and smiled at him. He returned the smile, which earned him a small giggle.

Rani dropped the chain she had been weaving and skipped over to him. She stood studying him carefully for several moments, her deep blue eyes twinkling. Her head tilted to the side, and the tip of her tongue stuck in the corner of her mouth as if she were in deep thought.

The manner of the innocent child changed. She reached out a hand and brushed her fingers across Legolas' cheek, much in the manner his mother once had done. "You are very handsome," she said, stroking Legolas's cheek.

Her fingers dropped to smooth his golden hair, a mothering gesture Legolas had experienced many times at the hands of Arwen's little girl, Glassiel. With a smile, Legolas joined the game, reaching up a hand to her cheek.

"And you are very beautiful, my lady. What a pretty dress you have! And your crown shines almost as brightly as your eyes." His playful flattery brought forth bubbles of giggles, and she plopped down into his lap, her back against his chest. As she snuggled in, Legolas reached up and tucked several strands of light golden silk behind her pointed ears.

He had a sudden longing for Ascarnen and Gondor, for at times Rani reminded Legolas of Glassiel, Aragorn's youngest daughter. Glassiel was fond of inviting the Lord of Ascarnen to her tea parties, and Legolas could never refuse her little girl games. Often, he felt wistful whenever he indulged her latest fancy.

Legolas had never had a younger sister, and as he had never bound himself to another, he had no children of his own. No amount of ribbing from his dwarven friend would keep him from playing with the little Glassiel, and he had even managed to include Gimli from time to time.

He decided that when he returned to Gondor he would spend afternoon with Aragorn's daughters.

But first, he needed to discover why he was still here. He felt certain it had to do with this mysterious child alone in the wood, for how could he leave her here alone. Until he solved his mystery, he could not leave.

"Did your family decide not to sail, little one? Is that why you are here?" His words were soft, compassionate. She turned and looked up at him with sad eyes, and for a moment he expected her to tell him her parents were dead. He did not know why he felt that, but he waited, expecting her to speak.

Instead, Rani blinked and scrambled up from his lap, her brow creasing into a small frown. She faced northwest, and she cocked her head as if listening for something. She looked back at Legolas before she spoke.

"I have to go. Time grows short." She edged away from him, looking back to the north.

"Time for what, child?" He stood, peering into the trees. He could sense nothing amiss in the near vicinity. The trees issued no alarms.

"Remain here. I will return soon." She took a step away, then turned back, uncertainty on her face.

"Rani?"

"Stay," she whispered, her eyes pleading.

He nodded, and glanced back to the north, unsurprised that when he looked back, she was gone.

— ~ —

Mid day…

Lancaeriel hummed as she groomed one of her geldings. The two horses had been a gift from Besoneth, one she had felt guilty for taking, since she had no intention of going to Imladris. But she was glad of the company.

The bay gelding she had named Dinnif flexed his head back to where she was brushing his withers and nosed at her, looking for possible treats. She stopped to scratch his cheek. "No treats today." She laughed at his sad expression. "I ate the last of the parsnips this morning. Perhaps we shall find some more today." He sighed and turned back to napping as she continued brushing.

She worked quickly, using a carved wooden comb to detangle the long black mane and tail, then finished by picking out the horse's hooves. They were getting long in the toe, beginning to split and crack. Their state concerned her. She only knew the very basics of horse care, having never owned one before being gifted with Naurun and Dinnif. According to Besoneth, she did not need to know more than that, as there would be smiths who knew how to do such things at both the Halls and in Imladris. At the time, she had not given it too much thought, assuming the hooves wore down naturally. But now…

A quick check revealed Naurun's hooves were in the same sad state.

Nothing about living alone was turning out as she had hoped. It was peaceful, for certain, but quiet. While she had spent much time alone over the past years, she had always has Besoneth to talk to when she felt the urge. Now she only had the horses' ears, and while they listened patiently, she feared even they considered her a fool. And they could not speak back, not in the manner she longed to hear.

Food was no problem. The forest was bountiful in its stores, and she had learned from an early age how to glean its offerings. Her people were mostly gatherers, forest folk who lived on the bounty of the forest and making due with what it presented. Even during the dark days, they had made use of the spiders that had infested the wood, using their silk to weave into cloth, and feasting on the spiders themselves.*

What she had failed to take into account was her lack of knowledge in several key areas, the horses only being one. She had not had much success with tanning hides. While her clothing would last for a time, she knew she would have to replace it eventually as it wore out, but knowing how to sew did not help her if she did not know how to tan the hides into usable leather! And trading was not an option with her people gone.

"I could trade for cloth," she mused aloud. A journey to Laketown would not be impossible. But a lone elven woman travelling might look suspicious to the Men of the Lake. Word would have spread that the elves had left these lands, with the Elvenking no longer trading with the Master.

"But I could go anyway," she told Naurun. He eyed her doubtfully, and she ruffled his flaxen forelock, before pulling out the boar bristle brush and running it over his burnished red coat. When in motion, he looked like a creature on fire, thus his name.

"Go where?" a small voice asked.

Lancaeriel gasped, dropping her brush as she spun to find Rani standing a few feet away.

"Rani! Where did you come from?"

"There," the child pointed southeast.

"Is your friend still with you?" she asked, stooping to pick up her brush and continued brushing her horse. She was not truly interested in the friend Rani had mentioned. He must be from Ithilien, based on what Rani had said, but why he was in Eryn Lasgalen confused her. Of course, he could have come to say goodbye to those in the Halls, but they had left over a moon ago! And she had no interest in Ithilien, so far from her home.

"Yes, he is here. And you must come with us, please?"

Lancaeriel glanced at the child, annoyed at the tone of command in that voice, despite the plea. Her resolve filled her once again. She could find a way to stay here! Laketown would have men who knew how to trim her horses' hooves. She could trade with them for the service, just as she could trade for other items she might need. She might even meet some of the women with whom she could converse. She could make this work!

"Please, Caeri! You should not be alone. Danger is coming. Please?"

But Lancaeriel shook her head, stubborn. If she ever left it would be herdecision, and hers alone. She could not bring herself to fear the visions of a young child. "I am fine, Rani. I can protect myself well enough. Besides, the danger is gone. There is just you, me and your friend in this part of the forest."

"No, there are others…" Rani's voice broke off.

Lancaeriel turned to look at her, and found the girl staring in horror to the north. "Rani?"

Rani turned back to her, desperation in her small face. "Get on your horse, and ride! Ride fast!"

Confused, Lancaeriel looked again to where the child had focused. She could see nothing, sense nothing. Turning back, she found the child had once again disappeared.

"I tire of your games, Rani!" she called out. "They are not funny…." Her voice faded as the trees began to rustle in warning.

Danger. Danger approaches.

Shocked, Lancaeriel stood in place as carved stone, her hand gripping her brush. Naurun snorted, pawing a foot as he tossed his head and rolled his eyes.

Fear filled her now, with Rani's warnings ringing in her mind. She did not know what the danger was, but she had long learned to listen to the trees. She ran to Dinnif and untied him before stepping up to a fallen log to leap onto Naurun's back. She did not know where she was going, and was leaving all her belongings behind her in the small talan above. But she needed to move.

Urged on by the trees' warnings, she pushed Naurun into a canter, calling for Dinnif to follow. But her riding experience was limited, and in the dense wood she found it difficult to keep her seat.

Naurun dodged a low hanging branch, but the end of it caught Lancaeriel just enough to unseat her. She fell to the forest floor, landing hard enough to knock the breath out of her. Her horses, full of fear of the unknown, ran on, leaving her to whatever doom came for her.

And in that moment, Lancaeriel wished she had gone to Ithilien.

To Be Continued…

Author's notes:

* A note about the woodelves eating the spiders: This plot point is taken from my story "What's For Dinner?" in which I introduced Gimli to the woodelves feasting habits. He was a bit shocked himself, but eventually caved in and learned to love the spiderlings. Ingesting insects is not uncommon in many parts of the world, and in South America they roast tarantulas and eat them like crabs. I imagine they taste similar.

My horse characters tend to take on a life of their own. I suspect these two shall as well. As such, here is a bit of information about them.

Naurun – means Fire Creature. Naurun is a chestnut gelding with a flaxen (light colored or blond) mane and tail.

Dinnif – means Gloomy Face. Dinnif is a bay gelding. A bay horse is brown to reddish brown in color on the body with black "points" (tips of ears, muzzle, lower legs, mane and tail)