Chapter 5 - Dawning Fears
To say that Angrod was worried was an understatement. To say that he was scared was laughable. The dark elf had been delayed in his meeting with Faramir and hadn’t met Legolas like they had arranged, so he had assumed that he had gone on to the colony without him. He had begun to panic when he had arrived in Ithilien and discovered that his Prince and friend had yet to return from Minas Tirith.
He had tried to convince Legolas to take an escort, he had practically begged him and yet Legolas had still gone alone. He had always been so stubborn, even while growing up he had resisted the aid and protection given him due to his bloodline. It had been a source of frustration then and was downright agitating now.
Angrod and another elven guard had traveled to speak with Faramir on the disappearance of the three elves. Now as he raced toward the White City, his near black hair flying behind him, he had a terrible feeling that a fourth elf had vanished. The fear that this elf was a childhood friend and Lord of Ithilien made his breath catch in his throat.
Relax, Legolas has probably just decided to spend a little extra time in Minas Tirith with Aragorn.
This thought calmed the dark elf very little, he knew that if Legolas had decided to extend his visit that he would have sent word. It was Angrod’s responsibility to keep the Prince safe and if any harm had come to Legoals, Angrod would not be able to live with himself. But, then again, he probably wouldn’t have to worry about that, he and Legolas were so close that the death of the Prince would likely mean the death of Angrod.
He could hear the small escort behind him struggling to keep up. When he had raced out of Ithilien to find Legolas, he had done so without any guards of his own, those trailing behind him had quickly noticed this and had pursued him in order to ensure his safety.
He raced through the forest, dodging branches and ducking limbs. His horse could sense his urgency and fear and pressed on leaping over and swerving around obstacles that appeared in their path. He bent low over the animal, whispering words of encouragement and thanks as they flew along, the horse just as anxious to reach their destination as he was.
The forest seemed darker recently, as though the fate of the missing elves had already been learned by the trees and some of their light had been extinguished. But at times the trees in this area could still get very distressed due to their close proximity to Mordor and old memories could be confused with new feelings. Angrod hoped this was the case now.
His dark thoughts were promptly interrupted by shouting from behind him, “Sir!”
Angrod slowed his horse and turned to face the three approaching elven guards who had fallen a pace behind.
“Sir,” said Sildur, a guard with dark hair and silver eyes, “We do not want to overexert the horses.”
“My apologies, Sildur, I am in a hurry to reach Minas Tirith.”
“Sir, we are all in fear for the fate of Lord Legolas, however, it will take us longer to reach the city if we have to finish the journey on foot.”
Angrod let out a soft sigh, “Noted, I will allow our horses a short rest, but then we must continue in haste.” Angrod dismounted and stepped in front of his horse, rubbing his hand up and down the animal’s neck he looked into its brown eyes and whispered, “Take a rest my friend, we resume our journey shortly.”
The brown mare tossed her head back in acknowledgment and trotted away leaving Angrod alone with his thoughts. Now that he was standing in solitude, he could clearly hear the tree’s mournful song. They were warning the woodelf of something and mourning the loss of a great friend. Angrod’s eyes flew to the limbs above and he stepped to a nearby tree and pressed his hand to the rough bark. The tree spoke of two lost and the deep despair that was felt throughout the forest.
Wasting time, we should be moving, we should be searching.
Angrod thanked the tree for its help, removed his hand from the tree and began pacing briskly between the thick trunks. He was so nervous and frightened for his friend that he walked without his usual elven grace, turning so quickly that he kicked up a slight cloud of dust causing his three companions to stare in shock.
Calm down. Panicking will not help us to find Legolas.
Approaching the end of his repeated path, Angrod began to turn back toward the other three guards, noting the expressions on their faces and the settling dust he stopped to compose himself. He scanned the forest around them, searching out their steeds when something had caught his eye just off to his left through the trees.
What is that? Narrowing his eyes, he peered hard in the direction of the mysterious object, catching a brief glimpse of something partially obscured by the large branches and thick bushes scattered amongst the trees. He stepped hesitantly forward between the trunks when realization dawned on him as it became clear what had made him stop in this tracks. He gasped and moving faster than even he, himself, thought possible, he tore through the brush.
The smell hit him like a stone wall, almost causing Angrod to stumble backwards. His steps slowed, and he moved unassuredly closer to the clearing knowing even more now what was going to meet him. As he emerged into the glade, he came to an abrupt stop and his deepest fear was confirmed.
“NO!” He shouted, “Beleg.”
Angrod lurched forward and came down hard on his knees next to the animal’s head. Tears clouded his vision as he looked up to see the other three elves enter the clearing.
Angrod turned his eyes back to the horse. An arrow protruded from the side of its neck, an arrow that Angrod did not recognize the make of. He reached out and pulled the projectile from the horse’s neck. It was fletched with light brown feathers and the tip was thicker than that of elven, Gondorian or Rohirrim make.
Angrod then returned his attention to the horse. Legolas’ beloved animal had obviously been lying in the clearing for several days. Scavengers had begun to pick at the carcass, leaving little behind to identify the animal with. There was a distinct smell of death and corrosion in the air and Angrod fought to maintain his composure as he gagged slightly from the sight and smell.
The dark elf dropped his chin to his chest and closed his eyes, tears came unbidden and nausea began to overwhelm him. He sent up a quiet prayer to the Valar, both for Beleg and for Legolas. Unable to stomach the facts now placed before him, Angrod twisted on his knees away from the valiant being. He ran a shaking hand over his face and wiped the tears from his eyes.
It took all of his energy to rise to his feet and face the other elves, an expression of sadness and fear mirrored on their faces. Anger began to swell inside him. Someone had attacked his Prince. His friend. Clenching his fists tightly at his sides, he let out a shrill whistle and approached the other elves, all of whom had the same anger blazing in their eyes.
“Galendur, Harnen, stay here and take care of Beleg.” He ordered. “Once that is completed, I want you to carefully begin the search for signs of the Prince or the direction he was taken in.
“Sildur, come with me. We will continue to the White City. We need to speak to Aragorn immediately. The sun sets, we will not arrive this night, but we shall travel as far as possible with the light.”
Angrod’s horse stepped lightly into the clearing and he swiftly swung up onto its back, the arrow still gripped tightly in his fist. Please let this not be as it appears, please let Legolas be safe.
With this thought running repeatedly through his mind Angrod urged his horse into a run hoping against hope that his questions would be answered in Minas Tirith.
It took a brief moment for Legolas to realize that his eyes were even open. But as his vision finally came into focus he could see the subtle outlines of tree branches overhead, the moonlight peering through the tiny openings between limbs and leaves.
Raising up onto his elbows to inspect his surroundings, the elf was thrown into a whirlwind of spinning and pounding in his deeply aching head. He froze and taking a couple of deep breaths to ease the pain and nausea, pushed himself the rest of the way up so that he as in a sitting position. His vision swam in and out of focus and his head seemed heavy. Part of his right eye was obscured and Legolas reached his hand up to investigate. Clumsily his fingers groped the bandage that covered most of his head and he struggled to remember where he was and what had happened.
Looking sluggishly around him he noticed that he was on the outskirts of a small camp. A fire burned dimly in the center, some yards away from him, three men lay scattered about the camp, all deeply asleep. There didn’t appear to be any guards keeping watch on their dark surroundings and Legolas found this curious.
Slowly turning over onto his knees so that he could lift himself off of the forest floor, he was assaulted by another intense pain, this one radiating from his thigh. Crouched now on all fours, not daring to move any further due to the injuries that plagued him, Legolas began to remember.
Memories flashed through his head, a visit to Minas Tirith and a lone journey home to Ithilien. He was attacked and...
“Beleg.” The strained sob came out as barely a whisper. They had killed his beloved horse. The memory of his loyal steed’s empty eyes caused Legolas to gag and he forced the image from his mind. It was not how he wanted to remember his friend.
Then what, he was obviously injured during the attack, but who had mended his wounds. Perhaps those he had awoken amongst had meant to help him, after all he wasn’t bound and there wasn’t a guard watching over him. He slowly tilted his head back over his shoulder to view the camp once more. None of the sleeping men had stirred, the soft sound of snoring now rising above the camp.
More likely they were not expecting me to wake so soon
Ignoring the agonizing pain that now seemed to touch every part of his body Legolas pushed himself up to his feet. His hand flew out to the tree he had been lying beneath and he leaned heavily on it for support. The spinning and pounding in his head intensified but seemed mild compared to the heat searing through his leg.
He was tempted to stay where he was now, the tree was attempting to comfort him and it was working, but he knew that he needed to get away. Taking slow, deep breaths, Legolas pushed himself from the tree. He swayed on his feet for a moment, mentally commanding his leg to stay strong and hold his weight. Then, without looking back at the sleeping men once more, the elf stumbled of into the forest.