Part 7. A  Stranger Well Met.

To the casual observer, the Elvenking’s demeanour was coolly controlled as always, but to one as close to him as his son, the roiling current of dark emotions that eddied around a heart in turmoil was easy to sense. The knowledge that there were dangerous creatures of a kind he had never before seen moving freely about his forest did not sit well with Thranduil, who felt in some way responsible for any attack that occurred beneath his trees. He was no fool and he knew that the Dark Lord was indeed an enemy to be feared as well as hated, which he was not ashamed to admit he did, but he was also angered that one of his Elves had been injured, and saddened that one of the Men had lost his life.

“What did you do with the remains of the Man?” he asked Legolas as they walked towards the training grounds where Thranduil was expecting to find those of his captains who had not yet gone back out on patrol. Most had served under him in the army of the Last alliance, and all knew their King well enough to realise he would already be planning a defence against this new threat.

“Nothing. We were attacked so suddenly that we had no time to do anything other than protect ourselves, and we returned immediately our friend was injured,” explained Legolas casting his eyes downward as he was overcome with a feeling of remorse for the somewhat callous behaviour on the part of the Elves in regard to the slain Man. “Tathar and I should return and take care of the body, it is not right to simply leave the hunter where he fell,” said Legolas, voicing his thoughts.

“Ai, we can do no less for the unfortunate one,” agreed Thranduil. “However, we must be extremely cautious in doing so. I and some of my most experienced warriors will accompany you and Tathar back to where the attack occurred. I wish to see just what kind of threat lurks in the darkness of the south,” he added.

“Surely you do not plan to seek out the spider’s lair?” asked a startled Legolas, not bothering to hide his fear for Thranduil’s safety from his eyes. Thranduil smiled affectionately, offering reassurance to his son.

“That is exactly my intention, but you have no cause to be concerned. Remember that I have fought many battles alongside those I will ask to join me, and we each owe our lives to the skill and courage of one another many times over,” he said as they reached the training area where, as expected, his captains were already gathered together discussing the attack on Tathar’s patrol. Legolas was called upon to relate the incident once more and then spent several minutes answering detailed questions after which there was much discussion as to the best course of action to be taken.

All agreed without hesitation that a more detailed knowledge of the nature of the spiders and the location of their lair was vital information, and that Legolas and Tathar should guide them to the place of the attack before making the journey to the village. Despite Thranduil’s strong and loudly voiced objections they also decided there was no real need for the King to be away from the safety of his Hall. There was no mistaking Thranduil’s feelings on this matter. A thunderstorm raged across his face and lightning flashed in his eyes.

“It is my place to seek out and destroy any danger to my realm,” he said in a voice of cold steel. “Whilst well targeted arrows may be able to kill these creatures, perhaps it may take a stronger power to destroy the darkness from whence they arise,” stated Thranduil, confidant that he possessed the necessary power to do so. It was an argument none could deny.

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“Once Adar and his patrol have reached their destination, you and I will travel on to the village to warn the Men of the danger of hunting in the forest. We will also offer to assist them in the burial of their friend,” Legolas explained to Tathar as they leaned on the rail of the bridge and waited for the others to arrive.

“If you had not offered to return and take care of the spider’s victim, I would have. Mirieth was most upset that we left the body out in the open, she said there was no need to be so disrespectful to the Man,” Tathar told his friend.

“I hope you did not exchange harsh words over the incident,” said Legolas, studying his friend a little more closely. The look of embarrassment that flashed across Tathar’s face, causing him to blush slightly was something Legolas had rarely seen in the long years of their friendship.

“Well, we DID argue a little. Mirieth did not really understand how preoccupied we were. She said I was exaggerating the size of those ugly creatures, and I became quite angry at her for thinking I would make up such a story. Then she became angry at me for speaking to her in anger,” he explained.

“But you have settled your differences now, I trust?” asked Legolas with concern, not at all happy with the thought of his friends being at odds with each other.

“Ai, we spent several hours forgiving each other,” replied Tathar with a strange gentleness to his voice.

“Obviously the act of forgiveness is a very pleasant experience,” teased Legolas, smiling at the further reddening of  Tathar’s cheeks that travelled to the tips of his ears and confirmed his friend’s assumption as to the manner of  such an act.

Further teasing was forestalled as Thranduil, armed with his bow and the knife that had belonged to Oropher, and dressed in the green tunic and brown leggings favoured by the other warriors, arrived at the bridge where Legolas and Tathar waited. Shortly after, their number was complete, and Thranduil bid his Steward and the others who remained a fond farewell.

Although all the elder warriors wished to accompany their King, he had convinced the archery and sword masters to stay behind in the event that their experience was needed to help deal with any reports of trouble from the other patrols. Legolas had fairly glowed with pride when his Adar informed them that his son would be gone barely a day, and that he had proved himself more than capable to act in the King’s stead.

The two young one eagerly led their elders and the group travelled quickly to the glade where the attack had taken place. Whilst Thranduil and his patrol studied the remains of the spiders, Legolas and Tathar placed a cover of elvish cloth over the Man’s body before taking their leave and making for the village. As Thranduil had said, it was but a short distance away, on the very edge of the forest and although the Men often entered Greenwood in search of deer or rabbits for their table, they had rarely encountered any Elves, unless so desired by the Woodland folk.

Legolas introduced himself as the King’s son and Tathar as his guard and quickly explained the sad purpose of their visit. The village leader was surprised to hear them speak in the language of Men, and even more surprised to find out that the Elves of Thranduil’s realm had learned the language so that they could trade with the folk of Esgaroth. He had heard that Thranduil did not favour dealings with either Men or Dwarves, and that neither was welcome in his kingdom.

Once he had recovered from his astonishment, the leader thanked the Elves for their concern over the fate of the lost hunter, and immediately sent several of his friends to retrieve the body. He declined Legolas’s offer to show them the way, informing the Elf that those he had sent were well acquainted with that area of the forest. Instead he invited the visitors to join in the midday meal and was as delighted as the other villagers when Legolas and Tathar graciously accepted. Although the meal was simple fare compared to the excellent meals prepared by Tariel, Legolas and Tathar found the food to be most palatable, even if the ale the Men favoured was far too bitter for their taste.

At first the men and women were a little wary of the strange beings in their midst, but not so the children, who by some instinct knew they had nothing to fear from Legolas and Tathar, or indeed any Elf. Several of the more daring young ones took turns at boldly sitting on the Elves’ knees as they listened to Legolas sing. Others approached a little more shyly until the inherent curiosity of childhood won out, and they asked a myriad of questions about their newfound friends.

Legolas was enjoying himself immensely and was reluctant to heed Tathar’s call that it was time to leave.

Before they did, however, Legolas sought out the widow of the Man and offered her his condolences for her bereavement. The woman could not contain her tears, and he instinctively reached out and wiped a tear from her cheek. He was rewarded with a smile filled with such beauty and sadness that his heart ached for a grief that was not of the same soul searing pain that he knew an Elf could feel, but ran deep within nonetheless.

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Thranduil watched Legolas and Tathar leave and then turned his attention back to examining the foul creatures that had invaded his forest. The spiders were truly ugly, and far larger than he had imagined, and thus far more dangerous. On the advice of one his most skilled trackers, Thranduil agreed that the search for the trail leading to the lair must necessarily be among the treetops, for that was how the creatures moved so rapidly through the forest.

It had been a wise decision, for the sticky, grey filaments of web, that when tested proved to have the strength of mithril, hung from many leaves and branches like a decoration of darkness. When he accidentally put his hand on a large thread of the spider web, Thranduil shuddered as the evil that remained in the discarded substance chilled his blood. He noticed his companions all felt the same and the sense of impending doom thickened the air and, made them all long to be back in the light of their forest. Even the trees spoke of the dark creatures that had begun to make their homes in their branches, and Thranduil was saddened to hear the distinctly melancholy whispers of the leaves.

As day turned to night, the scouting party had had their fill of the coldness of the treetops, and descended to the forest floor. Soon a fire was burning brightly, its warm glow in bright contrast to the darkness beyond the reach of the firelight chasing the chill in their blood away. After a light meal of lembas and a hot herb tea, Thranduil lead the others in singing some of the songs favoured at their many feasts. As their sweet voices floated throughout the still night air, they were delighted to hear a distinctly more joyful rustling in the leaves as the trees added their music to the chorus.

The evening thus passed pleasantly, until one of the guards on watch noticed the many pairs of cold, red eyes peering at the Elves from high up in the trees. The spiders had found them, but apparently were reluctant to come too close to the fire.

“Even our eyesight is not sufficient to allow us to attack the creatures at night,” Thranduil mused as he briefly contemplated doing just that.

“That would not be wise,” said the voice of a stranger, an old man with a tall blue hat, robes of grey, and a mischievous twinkle in his bright eyes. None had heard him approach, nor indeed had seen the elderly man until he was well within the bounds of the firelight.

“Who are you!” demanded Thranduil angrily as he stood to confront the intruder. The old man moved closer to the fire and sat down in the spot just vacated by irate King, and helped himself to a mug of tea.

“Merely a wanderer, travelling to see the sights,” he answered as he took a sip of his tea. “Ah, you Elves certainly know how to brew a good cup,” he muttered more to himself than his astounded companions.

“What are you that you can approach us unawares, and why are you here in my forest?” asked Thranduil eyeing the stranger warily, remembering tales of Sauron once being able to take any guise he chose.

“I am not who or what you think,” replied the old man, apparently reading Thranduil’s thoughts. “As I already told you, I am merely wandering about and took an interest in this beautiful forest, which I am sorry to say seems to have been infected with shadow in the south,” he explained.

“What do you know of that?” asked Thranduil unable to curb his curiosity, relaxing a little as he sensed nothing evil about the stranger. He poured himself another mug of tea, and sat beside the old man, hoping to learn more of the blight on his forest.

“I know that Dol Guldur is no longer deserted, and the evil there is growing, breeding creatures of darkness such as these unpleasant spiders. I also know that you are Thranduil, the King of Greenwood,” he said laughing merrily at the look of astonishment on the faces all around him.

“Ai, I am Thranduil and you are in my realm. By what name can I call you?”

“Mithrandir,” replied the old man. Thranduil nodded agreement, the name was appropriate for the old man was indeed both grey in hair and robes, and some kind of pilgrim.

“When did you visit Dol Guldur?” he asked.

“My good Thranduil, I did not VISIT that dark place, I merely saw it from afar, and surely you have heard of the veil of shadow that hangs over the south of the forest?”

“Ai, my son has seen it and described it to me,” replied Thranduil.

“If I am not mistaken, you can also sense it, can you not?” asked Mithrandir in a manner that suggested he already knew the answer. Thranduil merely nodded, then sat perfectly still. Mithrandir locked eyes with him for a heartbeat or a millennium, he knew not which, such was the power in the depth of the old man’s gaze. “The evil there is slowly growing, and may be beyond your power to defeat, but I believe that I can rid you of it for a short while at least. I suggest you keep ever vigilant, and do not let your guard fall. For now, return to your Hall and leave the spiders leave the darkness to me… you know I can help.”

“Ai, I believe you can, and when you have completed your task, please feel free to visit my Hall Mithrandir,” whispered Thranduil, breaking the spell that might have been placed on him by the old one who was definitely not a Man.

Sometime during the early hours of the morning, Mithrandir disappeared as mysteriously as he had appeared. Several days later, as he stood on his balcony, staring to the south, Thranduil felt as if a weight had been lifted from his heart as the darkness faded back into the farthest corner of his mind.