Decisions Consequence
The reality of the situation had sunken in even before the man had finished speaking the words and Estel glanced to his left, out of the corner of his eye, to see how Legolas was taking the news.
His fair face was unreadable. The elf did not betray his thoughts or emotions even slightly. If Estel didn’t know any better he would have thought Legolas to be sleeping, so blank was his countenance. Turning his head just a fraction, Estel finally saw it. That minute glow in Legolas’ eyes that gave him away. Anger, frustration, anxiety and a small sprinkling of fear for good measure. The Prince of Mirkwood could not fool the young, would be Ranger.
Estel knew that the pinpoint of fear that he could see in his friend’s eyes was not for Legolas’ own well being, but for that of himself. Estel was certain that Legolas was weighing his options on how to get his troublesome, human friend to safety.
The elf’s left hand gripped his bow tightly, his knuckles whitening with the pressure of his firm hold. Legolas’ other arm dangled loosely at his side, the fingers twitching slightly in preparation for the quick arming of his weapon. He held his stance wide and Estel could see that his friend was constantly surveying the men who surrounded them.
Shuffling on his right, the sound of the rolling of small pebbles beneath booted feet, forced Estel’s attention back to the scruffy man who had stopped the traveling pair. His own grey eyes met those of his way-layer
"Was there something of what I said which you have had difficulty understanding?" The man growled as he stepped around to face Estel more directly.
Estel’s hand grasped the pommel of his sword tighter. "I have already told you that we have nothing of value for you."
A sinister smile spread over the robber
Thad, the man whom had been addressed, responded with a chuckle of his own before stepping forward to stand next to his companion. "Nay Rathir. I do not feel that he holds the integrity of an honest man."
The absurdity of that statement echoed through Estel’s head and he narrowed his eyes at the pair as they casually moved themselves between Legolas and himself. "I am in awe that the word integrity is even in your vocabulary."
Legolas shifted in an attempt to move around the pair and position himself closer to Estel but was stopped abruptly by a strong hand placed firmly upon his shoulder. Thad’s smile had fallen from his face and he eyed the elf greedily.
"My ‘vocabulary’ should be the least of your concerns right now." Rathir hissed as he swung his crossbow from his right hand to his left and in one swift movement swung the weapon around striking Estel squarely in the jaw with the stock
Estel hit the dirt hard on his hands and knees, the sting of the blow radiating across his jaw. He slowly lifted his mud covered hand to his face, soothing the area of assault. His mouth quickly filled with blood and Estel spit the contents onto the earth, just between Rathir’s booted feet, which were planted just before his head.
The thief reached down and quickly disarmed Estel of his sword and tossed the weapon to a near standing companion. "Now, tell your pet here to relinquish his weapons or you will be praying that an injured jaw is the worst thing to happen to you today."
Estel turned his dipped head to the side, looking to where he knew the elf stood. Legolas’ stance had changed dramatically. The Mirkwood Prince was now on his own knees, the hands of Thad still placed firmly upon his shoulders. The two friends exchanged heavy looks as Estel slowly pushed himself off of his hands and onto his heels.
As his head became erect, Estel was greeted once again with the hospitality that was Rathir. The large man grasped Estel by the hair, twisting his fingers in the young man’s dark locks. "I will not tell you again, command your servant to hand his weapons over to Thad or it will be the end of both of you!"
Legolas shifted then, raising his hand, bow still firmly in his possession and reached the weapon out toward Thad and in that moment time seemed to slow to a crawl. Just as Thad was about to take the bow from Legolas, the elf released his hold, allowing his prized possession to fall to the ground.
Before the bow even hit the dirt Legolas was in motion. He spun on his knees and pushed himself up, swinging around Thad and coming to a standing position behind him. With all the strength he could muster, he shoved the filthy man before him, knocking his assailant to the ground and into the knees of Rathir.
Rathir lurched forward, his fingers still twisted in Estel’s hair and his feet entangled with the body of his companion. His balance off and only one hand to catch himself, Rathir released his hold on Estel and fell roughly to his knees, landing almost on top of his one time captive.
As the remaining men surrounding the toppling trio stood, staring in awe at what was transpiring, Legolas leaped into the air above the grounded group and came down, straddling Rathir. He wrapped his long, slender fingers around the man’s neck and pulled him to his feet while concurrently pulling his knife from his belt and placing it just below Rathir’s chin, pressing it tightly against his neck.
"I am no one’s pet."
With Rathir’s back pressed to his chest, Legolas scanned the remaining men. Those left standing, encircling the scene made tentative steps forward in hopes of helping their ringleader. "Stay put or I will slit his throat." Legolas shouted. "Estel?"
Estel rose slowly, pushing Thad away from him as he did so. "I am well."
Legolas’ eyes didn’t stray from those who surrounded them. "Move out Estel, I will be right behind you."
Estel didn’t question the elf’s command, rather he took off through the trees, knowing that Legolas would be just behind him.
His faith in his friend was not misguided. As he wove between the trees, ducking low hanging branches and vaulting fallen ones, the unmistakable trotting of a fast approaching horse disturbed the rhythmic pumping of blood that echoed through his head. The sound of the oncoming horse grew louder and louder as Estel continued to make his way amongst the thick nature.
"Estel!" The sound of Legolas’ voice stopped Estel in his tracks and he turned just in time to see his friend swoop his hand down and take a fist full of tunic. Estel was swung through the air’s dirty face and his shoulders began to shake with laughter as he turned to one of his own men. "What say you Thad? Do you think our friend here is telling the truth?", knocking the young man to the ground., dangling by the collar of his tunic and landed, unceremoniously on the rear of the horse, just behind his good friend. He wrapped his arms tightly around Legolas’ slender waist and the pair continued their race through the forest atop their newly acquired steed.
"Watch the tree branches Estel." Legolas called over his shoulder as he bent forward, allowing Estel enough room to also duck beneath a low hanging branch. The weight of the water from the frequent rainstorms had caused the branches to bow lower than usual, creating very dangerous obstacles., one hitting his left shoulder, the other his right lower back. He tried to hold back a cry, but the shock of the blow was too much and Estel allowed a small shriek to escape him.
It was just then, right when Estel had begun to feel safe from their attackers, that he was hit with the most blinding, raging pain he had ever felt. Two thick, barbed arrows struck him simultaneously in the back
Legolas had obviously heard the cry and twisted his head around to look to his friend. "Estel?"
Estel gripped Legolas tighter and nodded his head in admittance of the strike. His vision was quickly fading and he wasn’t quite sure if he had seen or imagined what happened next. Legolas flipped his right leg over the head of the horse and, while maintaining his hold on the horses saddle dropped to the ground and jumped back up, coming to sit now behind Estel. The elf pushed at the wounds and the last thing Estel remembered, before slipping into unconsciousness, was the snapping of arrows.
***
"Legolas was the one who broke the arrows off then?" Elrond asked.
The room had fallen silent and Estel lifted his misted eyes to the occupants. Sometime during the retelling of the events, Glorfindel and Erestor had appeared. Estel raised a trembling hand to his face, brushing away a stray tear.
"Forgive me my distress." He whispered as he fought to compose himself. "I do not remember anything else. I do not know where he is or what became of him." He turned his focus once more to Angrod, the dark elf stood dumbstruck, staring out the window above Estel’s bed. "I have failed my dearest friend. I have betrayed my brother."
Angrod, dropped his chin to his chest and drew in a deep breath. He then raised his eyes to look at the injured man. A subtle shaking of his head could be barely perceived as he spun on his heel and flew from the room.
***
Smoke snaked through the air of the dark tavern. It was barely midday and the tavern was packed with loud, rowdy customers. The laughter of drunken men reverberated about the small, cramped room. Ale sloshed over mug tops, hitting table tops and floors as the boisterous occupants tossed back their heads in mirth.
At the head of the room, just inside the door, was a long bar and at one end sat a young man, well built, with a scar above his right eye, just delving into his next beer. He had obviously had too many to drink this night and had lost count as to the number of drinks he had consumed quite a while ago. But, Dorias was a regular in this tavern and his money was never denied.
He sat in silence, brooding over the many ill hands that life had dealt him. The loss of his mother, the weakening of his father and the sudden, disturbing presence of the elf.
That elf, the one who had, for all intents and purposes, taken his father from him. Adras had not been the same since that elf had been dragged into their lives and Dorias was more than anxious to see the blonde creature out of their home.
It wasn’t like he was home all that much anyway, but when Dorias wanted a place to lay his head to recover from a long night of over-imbibing, there was no place like home. Yet now, he couldn’t go home. He didn’t feel welcome in his own home. The elf was unnerving. His eyes would bore straight through an individual and, if he wasn’t mistaken, he had heard that elves had magical powers. Dorias just knew that this Locke had cast some type of spell over his father.
It was comments regarding an elf that stunned Dorias from his own thoughts, the coincidence of the spoken words causing his ears to perk.
"Not many men can say they have removed an elf’s weapons while the creature yet lived." A nearby man laughed, his words resounding over all other noise in the room.
Dorias slowly turned on his stool, his mug of ale clutched tightly in his hand and looked to the table of men directly behind him. Half a dozen males surrounded the table, which was cluttered with empty glasses and plates with half eaten meals. Dorias recognized a few of the men as regulars within the tavern, but some he had never before laid eyes on.
"Hah! Aye, it is unfortunate that he chose not to cooperate, otherwise he might still be alive." One man guffawed.
"Hush!" Rathir, a man Dorias had seen many times before ordered. "If it were not for that infuriating creature we might have made off with more than just a sword, a knife and a useless bow. Had he survived the fall I would have killed him with my own two hands."
Dorias leaned slightly forward on his seat, hoping to get a better idea of who the elf they spoke of might be. Could it be the very same one who now resided under the roof of his home? Could these men be the solution to his problem?
"Hey, you." Dorias’ head snapped up at the call and his eye’s met those of Rathir. "Is there something that we can help you with?"
Dorias tilted his head in confusion, not quite sure of what this man wanted.
"You seem quite intent on joining our conversation and yet, I do not recall inviting you." Rathir rose from his seat and stepped toward Dorias.
"Rathir, sit down, I do not want any of your trouble here." The bartender called from behind the bar.
Rathir didn’t slow his progress, rather he picked up the pace and came to stand next to Dorias. "Relax my man. We are just having a conversation. Is not that right friend?" Rathir clapped Dorias on the back and Dorias in turn took a large swallow of his ale in an attempt to calm his nerves.
"Aye, that is correct. No trouble here." Dorias turned back and placed his now empty mug on the bar. "I will take another Markin and one for my new friend here as well." He gestured to Rathir.
Rathir feigned a smile and leaned heavily on the bar. "Thank you. Now, tell me, what did you hear that you found so interesting."
Dorias remained still, his eyes trained straight ahead. "I heard talk of an elf that caused you some trouble and I must admit, you piqued my curiosity."
Rathir’s eyebrows raised, nearly becoming lost within the thick, dark hair that fell around his face. "Are you friend to elves?"
Dorias’ lip curled in disdain and he held back a growl that was rising in his throat. "Quite the opposite actually."
Rathir didn’t respond to the comment, rather he bobbed his head around in acknowledgment of the statement. He reached his arm to his mug of ale, hoisting the beverage eye level and peering into the amber liquid.
"You spoke as though you had an unfortunate run-in with one of those tree loving annoyances." Dorias continued.
Rathir continued to bob his head in acquiescence. He took a large swig of his beverage before speaking. "Aye, we met one on the road who gave us some difficulty, but he will cause no more trouble now. He is dead."
Dorias furrowed his brow in confusion at what was said. Perhaps Locke was not the same elf these men spoke of afterall.
"The elf stole my horse and we pursued. He did not use the renowned reflexes that elves are famous for. He struck a low hanging tree branch at high speed and was thrown from the animal. Upon landing, he struck his head upon a large boulder. There ain’t no one who can survive a fall like that." Rathir paused, a look of sadness crossed over his face. "It is unfortunate really, I still never recovered my horse. But, then again, I did gain a few nice weapons, not a bad trade really."
"What did this elf look like?" Dorias enquired.
"They all look the same to me." He responded, taking another large swallow of alcohol. "This particular one was blonde and extremely haughty."
Dorias allowed the information to role around in his head for a moment, his eyes pasted to the wooden planks that made up the tavern floor. If he were able to get rid of that elf then perhaps he could regain his father’s favor. He didn’t relinquish his stare with the next words. The statement just tumbled from his lips without much more thought. "What if I told you that your elf lived and that I knew where he was?"
He now raised his head to look Rathir in the face. The sinister grin that flooded the man’s face sent shivers down his spine and Dorias began to wonder if he had just made a huge mistake.
***
Leandir sat on the stoop of his office watching the goings on of the small village. It wasn’t cold out but he had his hood pulled up over his head, the purpose of which to mask his eyes. It was always better if the villagers didn’t know he was watching, observing their every move.
A small tendril of his early graying hair fell from beneath the hood and framed the side of his rugged face. He was quite young for someone in his position, but it was his standing that had lead to the discoloration of his once brown hair.
He hadn’t necessarily wanted to be the marshal of this village, but when he had arrived in the small community, some years ago, situations beyond his control had lead to his appointment. He couldn’t very well leave the people unprotected so he had conceded to stay and keep an eye on things. A decision he had regretted at times. But, more often then not, he was pleased with his decision to stay.
Today was about to become one of those days that would make him question his decision.
As he shifted in his seat to get a better view of the main road that ran through the village, passing the main structures of the inn, pub and his own office, the sound of many, fast moving, horses reached his ears. Leandir slowly rose from his seat and slid his hood from his head, his graying locks falling forward.
It was at this same moment that some half a dozen horses flew past his office, kicking up dust. Leandir recognized a few of the riders as men who recently passed through but it was the man leading the pack and the man bringing up the rear that caught his attention.
"Now what in all of Middle Earth are those two doing together?" He stepped down off of the stoop to watch the group as they headed out of the village. "Dorias and Rathir. Nothing good can come of this."
Leandir turned on his heel and walked briskly to the back of his office where he kept his horse. For obvious reasons the animal was kept in saddle and was ready to go when he arrived. With a quick pat to the horses neck Leandir swung himself up and turning the animal quickly went in pursuit of the fleeing bunch.