Seventeen

The men were stirring the following morning when Legolas roused Caeri.

"How do you feel?" he asked her, concerned as they would be required to walk for most of the day.

She stretched, winced, but managed to push herself into a sitting position. "It is bearable," she whispered, glancing at the men as they rolled out of their blankets. "It still hurts, but not as badly as yesterday."

Relief filled him at that news. He had hoped a night of rest would help her mend so she could endure the day of walking. "Do not let it show," he told her. "Let them think your pain is the same. Then they may be taken off guard if chance at escape should present itself."

She nodded, but he could see the pain still in her eyes. She was far from healed, and he would have to do his best to help her where he could.

"Get 'em up," Brigus voice came from across the clearing.

Legolas's ankles were untied, and he was hauled to his feet. He nearly collapsed from having been unable to move them much all night, but he managed to catch himself and shift his weight from leg to leg to get some feeling in them.

They were given some more water and only a slice of bread between them. Legolas had to argue for Caeri to have some sort of privacy to tend to personal needs before they began, and thankfully, the young man named Prem agreed and retrieved a blanket which he held for her. They tied a rope to one of her ankles and untied her wrists and gave her five minutes. Legolas caught her grateful glance and returned it with a half smile.

They spent the day walking, with Legolas in the lead. He tried to set a slow pace, for Caeri's sake, but he could not dawdle or the men would get agitated. He threw glances her way, to where she was walked between Prem and Torel, and tried to judge what pace she was capable of maintaining. She limped a great deal, but how much of it was show and how much was real, he could not ascertain.

Throughout the morning, he led the men through the wood, but never directly towards the Halls. He took them in large circles, waiting for a chance to escape his bonds, free Caeri and flee.

Fleeing was not his usual course of action, but in this instance, he thought the sooner they escaped and put some distance between them and the men, the better. These were no orcs, and he would prefer not to resort to killing them if possible.

The men called a halt for a short rest at mid day, passing some dried meat between them. Legolas and Caeri were again only offered water.

"Heard you elves can go days without eatin' anything," Sirk said in a snide tone. "Not wasting our food on you."

His words angered Legolas, for Caeri could use the nourishment to help her heal, but there was some truth to what Sirk said, so he let the comment pass unchallenged. He managed to snag a few edible berries along the trek and noticed Caeri doing the same. The fruit was tart but would sustain them. The men did not prevent them from eating off the trail, but turned their noses up to the tart fruit after Nirk grabbed a handful and popped them in his mouth, only to spew them out after chewing a couple of times.

"Can't imagine why they'd eat that!" he grumbled.

"Perhaps because nothing else has been offered," Caeri mumbled just loud enough for Legolas to hear.

A smile twitched his lips. It amused him that despite their situation and the amount of pain she must endure that she could make such a flippant remark. Was it possible that beneath her pain and grief lay a feisty woman with a sense of humor? He had already had a glimpse of her stubbornness the previous evening when she had at first refused to tell him her story. When she had relented, she had not gone into detail about her family, only briefly mentioned her father's death, her mother's fading and her brother's falling in that last battle against Dol Guldur after the fires had burned the wood. He had heard her heart as she spoke ashamedly of her lie to her mother's friend and her reasons for staying in the wood.

And he has seen the deep pain in her eyes that went beyond her physical injuries. He knew something of such loss himself. Had he not lost his own mother when he was yet a child? Without his grown siblings and friends to succor him, he might also have succumbed to such melancholy, for his father had withdrawn from them all for a time, unable to bear his own grief, let alone provide comfort to his youngest son.

In a way, Legolas had also lost both his parents, at least for a time. It had taken the rather reckless theft of Manuilos* and being nearly attacked by a great spider to bring his father back to him.

The crack of a branch snapping behind them broke the stillness, followed by a slight rustling sound that had not been heard by the men as they tramped and stomped and huffed and puffed. The men paused, their eyes wide, heads swinging around to look here and there, searching the trees, as it became apparent something followed them through the forest.

But the sound stopped when they did, and Legolas just managed to suppress his grin. He had heard the sound long before the branch snapped and had seen the flash of white moving through the trees at one point.

"Who is there?" shouted Nirk. "Show yourself!"

Legolas snorted.

Brigus turned on him, eyes flashing with anger. "Who follows us? Who were you with in the woods?"

"As far as I know, Caeri and myself are the only elves north of the Mountains," Legolas replied. "As for what you hear, this is a forest. It is full of life. Or have you not seen the many birds and animals about us that make it their home?"

"That was no squirrel or bird," Sirk snapped.

"Could be a deer," Jasper rasped. "Or a moose."

"And moose are curious creatures," Legolas added. "I would not be surprised if one followed us on our trek. It has happened to me before." He did not mention that he was well aware that what followed them was no moose. He had felt those eyes upon them since the previous evening, and had a pretty good idea of what it was.

They continued on, but the men now threw wary glances over their shoulders as the occasional snap of a twig or rustle of leaves could be heard. Legolas ignored the sounds. What followed was no threat to him or Caeri.

Sometime in the late afternoon, Caeri stumbled and fell to her knees, crying out in pain. Legolas shoved his way past the startled men and knelt beside her. Her eyes were closed and her breathing was rapid. The walking was taking its toll on her injury. She needed to rest, and the herbs of a healer would not be amiss. There was nothing he could do with his own hands bound, however.

"Get up! Both of ye!" Brigus shouted, rushing over and yanking Legolas to his feet.

"She is hurt!" Legolas protested. "If you would but untie me, I could carry her…"

"And we could watch ye both slip off into the trees," Jasper said, his voice low and menacing. "No, I'll carry her."

The older man reached out and with a hand to her arm, lifted her to her feet, then swept her into his arms. Caeri cringed and began to struggle, but the man only smiled, revealing several gaps from missing teeth.

"Go on," he told her. "I like it when a woman fights back."

Legolas bristled and surged to his feet, but his own long knife was suddenly between him and Jasper. He turned to Sirk, who wielded it.

"He ain't harming her, elf. You wanted her carried? Well, there you go. Now, continue on, or we'll find ways to amuse ourselves while you watch."

A fury unlike any he had known before rose within him, but there was nothing he could do, bound as he was and weaponless, without risking harm to Caeri. So he led them on, striding more purposeful through the trees. He would rather not defile his home with the presence of these men, but it would seem his best hope for escape would be there.

He began to head in a more direct line through the trees, southeast to the Halls of the Elvenking.

— o —

When the sun sank into the West and the sky darkened, Brigus called a halt, and the men set up another camp. That night passed much like the one previous. Legolas had asked for his supplies from his pack, so that Caeri might have a decent meal, but the older men only laughed and divided the food between themselves.

Prem spoke up against it, but Torel pulled him aside.

"You heard what Sirk said. The elves can go a long time without food. But we can't! And we're almost out!" He threw a troubled look at the elves, then turned back to his friend. "Besides, they're just elves, not Men."

"You're starting to sound like Brigus," Prem told him before stomping off.

Brigus took Legolas's wineskin, saying he would save that for celebrating their finding the treasure, much to Legolas's chagrin. He had hoped the men would indeed pass the strong wine around. It would not take much to put them to sleep and give he and Caeri a chance to slip away unhindered.

They were again placed on his blanket just within the light of the fire. Prem volunteered to take the first watch, and the rest of the men sat close to the warmth and heated their dried meat with some of Legolas's dried vegetables in a pot of water, making a sort of stew. They used his waybread to sop up the liquid.

Legolas and Caeri were offered nothing until Prem marched over and grabbed two pieces of the bread from Nirk and, despite the other man's protests, brought them back to the elves.

"Consider that my share," Prem threw over his shoulder before sitting back against a large rock where he could keep watch over the elves.

Legolas slipped Caeri half his bread. "Put it in your pocket for the morrow," he told her.

"But you need to eat as well," she protested.

"It is as the men say," Legolas said with a smile. "I can go days without eating and still maintain my strength. But you are injured and need the nourishment."

Reluctantly, she did as he asked.

A silence settled between them then, and Legolas found he longed to break it. Too long had he been alone in the wood. In recent years., he had grown far more used to the close community of Asgarnen than the solitude of the wilds.

Caeri sat staring up at the stars, her eyes sad and full of pain.

"Tell me about your family." He had not meant to speak but the jesting of the men around the fire grated on his nerves.

She turned her face from the stars to look at him, surprise in her eyes. "But I already told you," she said.

He thought he could see a slight blush on her cheeks in the dim light.

"You told me why you stayed in the wood, and of your loss of them, but not about them. Tell me what you remember of them. Tell me of your brother."

At first she just stared at him, the horror of that loss in her gaze, and he thought she would not speak.

But then she surprised him by saying, "I loved him very much. When our parents died, he was all I had. He taught me to shoot a bow and to hunt. He even managed to teach me to throw a dagger with some accuracy. He was much like our father."

"You can handle a bow?" Legolas was not shocked, for after the Last Alliance, when two-thirds of their army had been lost before the Black Gate, it had been necessary to add many women to their numbers to defend the borders. Thranduil was not lax in those days of peace. Even prior to that war, women had been known to fight, though it had been rare.

Legolas had never known a time when women did not join the ranks of the warriors. Need was not as great as it once had been, but there had still be many among the patrols during his years leading one. His own sister could wield every weapon he himself could, though she excelled at dagger throwing and the spear. And he had heard in Lothlórien that Galadriel herself had at one time wielded sword and armor.

But among the Silvan people, custom had long been that the men were the hunters and providers for their families. They gathered the nuts, harvested the edible plants and did the cooking. The women wove the cloth, built and maintained the talain. They made the berry wine and tanned the skins to make into leather. And while most women were trained to defend themselves with dagger or spear, few he had met took any interest in wielding a bow outside those women who joined the ranks of the army.

"You sound surprised," she said with a small smile. "But then you said you were Sindar. I have heard they are not so willing to allow their women to learn such things."

"Not so!" cried Legolas with a laugh. "My sister can wield a bow with skill enough, though it does not approach my own skill. Her weapon of choice is the dagger, and she fares very well with the spear."

"No doubt she annoyed you to no end learning such things!" Caeri returned.

"Alas, she is my elder," Legolas told her. "I am the youngest of five, and my siblings had all learned the ways of the warrior long before I was allowed to hold a weapon."

"Five!" Caeri blinked at him. "There are few who have so many children, save the Elvenking himself, and he only four!"

"Nay," Legolas corrected, although he was leery of giving away his identity. Rarely had he had such open discussion with one of his people who knew him for who he was. He found he enjoyed speaking to her and wished to keep his secret a while longer, without any of the awkwardness that often came when one of the Silvan folk discovered his heritage and rank.

He also worried that if she knew, she might inadvertently alert the men to who he was and thus cause further complications. He had no desire to be held for ransom! Though Gimli would find such amusing.

"My lord king lost a son at the Black Gates," he continued with caution, speaking in a more formal manner of his family, as was custom in the court of Thranduil. "It is only four who remain to him, but you are right. Few of our kindred who dwell in Ennor have so many children.

"I have heard it said my lord king encouraged the people to replenish our numbers during the days of peace and set the example by having two sons in the years following the turn of a new age." Legolas paused, trying to be truthful without giving himself away. "His daughter and youngest son were born later.

"My mother was not satisfied with just sons," he added. "She longed for a daughter and her wish was granted not long before the darkness fell upon the Mountains. I was conceived here, in the northern realm, as part of the celebration of having come to a new home and a new peace."

Caeri listened as one fascinated. "I have not heard much of the Elvenking and his family, although I did meet Princess Anoriel once." Her countenance faded. "We had taken shelter in the Halls when the scouts brought news of the orcs amassing to the south. Then the fires began."

Now it was Legolas's turn to listen. He had heard Blákári's tale of that great battle, but he had given little thought to the people who would have taken shelter in the caverns. With his brothers and fathers in the fray, Anoriel would have been left to tend the women and what few children had sought shelter there.

"We heard the battle was fierce, but in the end, they drove off the enemy. I was overjoyed, for word came that Anthir lived!" She hesitated. "But the king chose to go south, to join with Lord Celeborn and attack Dol Guldur itself!"

Her eyes flashed before she dropped them to stare at her fists clenched in her lap. "Anthir did not survive that battle."

Legolas reached out to her, his bound hands resting on hers. "I am sorry. Many did not survive the purging of evil from our home. What the king did was necessary. When I—"

He almost forgot himself and said too much, but quickly covered his lapse. "I was away from my patrol when one of the youngest was cut down by an orc blade. In all, we lost seven out of twelve. Those warriors were some of my closest friends."

She looked up at him and he could see the anger had dissipated. "I am not angry with the King. I am simply angry that my brother was taken from me." Her voice broke and she finished in a hoarse whisper. "He was all I had."

Legolas lifted her chin with his fingers, forcing her to look at him. "Not so," he said with a smile. "You had your mother's friend, Besoneth and her family."

She gave him a watery smile. "I did, and I love them dearly, but it is not the same as family."

Legolas understood. "I know. But if you open your heart, you will find that others become as family. I have discovered that is so in Ithilien." And with that he grinned. "Why there we have friends in Men and Dwarves! Even Hobbits!"

"You have met Hobbits?" she exclaimed, the sorrow passing from her eyes and instead a light of curiosity filling them.

Ah, now there is her true nature coming out, thought Legolas.

"Indeed I have! Fascinating creatures. And their children are some of the most inquisitive I have ever encountered. Why, when Samwise visited a few years ago and brought his little Ruby, she stole the hearts of all!" He chuckled as he remembered the green ribbons. "Even the Prince."

She seemed to almost laugh at that, and he found he liked the look of laughter in her eyes.

He began to regale her with stories from Gondor, and with the change to a lighter topic, Legolas began to draw her out, getting her to share her own tales of a more lighthearted manner. And over the course of their talk, he discovered that beneath the fear, pain and grief, lay a curious, compassionate and even mischievous elven maid.

"And that is how Anthir convinced my mother that the squirrel would stay," she concluded another tale, and he laughed softly, loathe to draw the attention of the Men from their rest.

"And that, my lady, is what my mother would call a belly laughing tale!"

He had earlier in the discussion let the title slip out, to which she had shook her head and told him she was nobody of consequence. He had known she held no rank, of course. Nor did the lack of such rank lower her in his eyes. But he could not recall ever having such an enjoyable and honest conversation with a female who did not hold rank or title. The lower born women either flirted with him shamelessly (indeed even the titled ladies did that!) or blushed and clammed up, refusing to speak candidly with one of his rank.

At some point over the course of the evening, Legolas had begun to see Caeri as a friend. And after that first slip, he had let it slip again and again, unintentionally at first, then simply to watch her react. She had gone from reminding him she held no such title to almost getting angry with him to rolling her eyes.

Now she was starting to look amused.

She snorted. "I have told you, I am no lady! Have you spent so much time in the Court of the Elvenking that you address all females by such lofty titles? You surely must be of high birth to address a woman as such!"

That comment sobered him, and he realized he was on the brink of revealing who he truly was. "I have told you I am half Sindar, through my father" he said, "so yes, I have spent many days in the Halls and even the Court of the King. But I prefer the forests and the wind on my face to the stuffy chambers of elders who have nothing better to do than debate the cost of barrels of wine!"

He paused, seeking for some way to redirect the conversation. A crack of a twig snapping in the trees, caused them both to jerk their heads towards the sound. And that was when Legolas once again felt the eyes upon him, staring out from the dark trees.

Caeri glanced to him, uncertain. "Do you truly think that is a curious moose?" she asked.

Legolas grinned. "You have obviously never had a curious moose follow you home!"

And thus he avoided both the question and further talk of his heritage and rank.

Many leagues southeast of the men's camp

Aragorn watched the flames flicker from their small fire. Nearby, Gimli snored, wrapped in his cloak. The horses grazed in the small meadow, while they rested beneath the stars.

They had traveled most of the previous night before Aragorn had insisted on making a small camp and getting some rest. The reuired a few hours of sleep, as Gimli had looked ready to fall from his pony's back!

Aragorn had felt nearly the same after their long journey north. Anxious as he was to find Legolas, he knew they needed rest if they were to be of use to their friend.

He glanced to the right, where the impatient Rani stood staring into the trees to the northwest. Could she truly be who he suspected her to be? And if so, why was she here helping Legolas?

But she only spoke in riddles and refused to answer direct questions. So he curled up in his own cloak and lay down to catch a few hours of sleep before dawn, his hand on the hilt of Andúril.

To be continued…

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