Between A Rock And A Hard Place
He was starting to sway. At first Leandir didn’t think that he saw what he saw but it was obvious now, the elf was starting to sway. From his seat, perched atop the horse, just in front of him, the elf’s head began to bob as though it were too heavy to be supported by such a thin neck.
It wasn’t too difficult for the marshal to get a good look at his prisoner. Locke’s head was bound in a blue bandage, covering most of his blonde hair. Stained with dirt that had been kicked up during the scuffle the bandage twisted tightly, covering the tips of the elf’s pointed ears. Leandir was pleased to also note that there was no blood seeping through the threads so whatever injury lay hidden beneath had not been reopened or agitated.
“Master Elf, are you well?”
Seemingly startled by the sudden presence of voice, Locke’s head snapped up and he looked about him. “Aye.” Came the strangled response.
Leandir knew this was a lie. His prisoner was obviously not faring well but for some reason the elf seemed compelled to hide his pain and weakness. Was it just that he was being stubborn or was Locke afraid to show any weakness?
“Yet your head lulls. It is not a sign of one who is in good health. Is there aught that I can do to ease your discomfort?”
No answer was forthcoming and Leandir sighed in frustration. Knowing that the elf had been through a lot this day, and possibly in days past, the marshal decided not to push the elf. Rather, he rode on in silence, allowing Locke to rest the weight of his body up against his own.
In moments the animal emerged onto the main street of the small town and Leandir noted people who would normally be going about their daily chores, minding their own business, had stopped to watch the marshal bring in his unusual detainee. Mixed expressions of awe, wonder, fear and disgust painted the faces of men, women and children who appeared frozen where they stood.
Steering the horse to the back of his office where the animal was normally corralled, Leandir found himself almost intimidated by the reaction of the townspeople. He knew there was nothing to fear from the elf. Having always been the type to pursue knowledge rather than fear it, Leandir had done some research into the fair, mysterious creatures of Middle Earth and what he had learned told him that the fear and disgust he witnessed was misplaced.
Yet, the marshal was between a rock and a hard place, for he had to put this particular elf to trial and it would be these same frightened people who would decide his fate. Leandir, enforced the law by apprehending criminals within his jurisdiction but the people of the small dwelling were the ones who finally decided guilt or innocence and inevitably punishment. The rulers of the land didn’t interfere with the procedures because they worked and the dwellers and marshal liked it that way.
Slipping from the saddle, his strong hands holding the elf in his seat, Leandir landed hard, the weight of what the coming days held pressing down upon him.
“Come Master Locke. Let me show you to your new home.” As he spoke, Leandir gently pulled the elf from the horse ensuring that the fair being stayed erect once his feet hit solid ground. He kept his hand firmly clasped upon Locke’s elbow and guided his prisoner up the stairs and into his office.
Always comfortable in his own office, Leandir strode right in, dropping the elf’s elbow and moving about as though he had never left. Some parcels had been slipped beneath the crack under the front door, a half eaten lunch lay atop his desk. Leandir slid the meal into a nearby trash bin then reached into the drawer of his desk and removed a large key ring with several ornate keys attached.
“This way.” He called over his shoulder to Locke who stood quietly by the rear door. Stepping to a third door just beside his desk, Leandir pulled a key out and unlocked the thick, wooden, entryway. “They aren’t the most spectacular accommodations but I think they will serve. At least you will be safe.” For how long is a whole different matter though.
Shuffling feet followed behind as Leandir lead the elf into the room that housed the jail cells and unlocked the first cell door he came to. The cell was quite large, approximately five yards by five yards with a small cot on either side. The door creaked loudly as it swung open and Locke entered without being instructed. He just stood there, staring into the cell, his head and eyes straight ahead and the silence grated on Leandir’s nerves.
“Make yourself comfortable. I will send for food and fresh bandages.”
Locke took a tentative step forward and his chin dropped to his chest. “I did not kill him.”
Leandir reached in and closed the cell door, a series of vertical bars now separating him from the elf. “Pardon me?”
“Adras. I did not kill him.”
Leandir couldn’t help the scoff that slipped from his mouth. “I know that. I may look daft but I most certainly am not.”
“Then why are you keeping me here?” Locke turned to face Leandir as he questioned him and the look upon his face nearly made the marshal’s heart clench.
“I know that you did nothing to harm Adras. That is plain to me. But an accusation of horse theft and attempted murder was placed at my feet and I simply could not ignore it. Will you tell me that you had no part in that as well?”
All manner of grace and elegance seemed to flee the elf and he stuttered and looked about the room as though searching for some kind of sign or answer. Leandir watched as Locke raised an trembling hand this his head and pressed his palm to his temple.
“Master Elf?’
Locke’s head steadied and his hand fell to his side, his piercing blue eyes locked on Leandir’s own brown ones and the marshal saw fear and confusion there. “I do not remember.”
“What do you mean that you do not remember?”
“I do not remember anything before the day that I awoke in Adras’ home. He told me that he found me in the woods, but I do not recall how I came to be there or how I became injured.”
This was a first for the marshal. He had heard every excuse and lie in the book, but never had he had someone claim that they did not remember. But, he could see no lie in Locke’s eyes. Then again, he had several men who claimed that the elf had attacked them, stolen a horse and almost killed one of them in the process. Well, it wasn’t for Leandir to decide. That difficult task would fall on the people of the town and right now the marshal needed to inform the town council and start collecting stories.
“Trial is at noon tomorrow. Get some rest. Food and bandages will be forthcoming.” Leandir quickly spun on his heel and left the elf to himself. He couldn’t look at the fair being any longer. He knew that the next days events would not sit well with him, but he had done his job, the rest was up to the council.
“Elrohir! Hold!” Elladan’s voice wasn’t raised yet it was loud enough for his twin brother, some yards ahead to hear him. “I think it is time for us to rest for the night.”
Elladan leapt from his horse and patted the animal on the rump sending it off into the trees to enjoy a moment of freedom. He swung the pack from his back and went about removing the belongings that would be needed for the night.
“Why are we stopping? There is still some light in the sky.” Angrod’s agitated voice rang through the small clearing in which the group had stopped. “Legolas needs our help, we shall not stop until he is safe in our company.”
Neither Elladan nor Elrohir paused in the nighttime preparations. It was Glorfindel who stepped gracefully toward the younger, dark elf in an attempt to ease his anxiety. “Angrod, the sun has fallen and the light is nearly gone. It would be foolish to continue on this night. Come, take some rest, your worry is wearing on you.”
He didn’t wait for a response, Glorfindel knew that the Angrod would see the logic behind stopping if he would just stop and catch his breath. He had been worrying ceaselessly since word was received in Mirkwood and his three companions had wondered if he had taken any sleep since departing the forest that was his home.
“He will not take watch tonight.” Glorfindel whispered to the twin elves as he passed by on his way to unwrap his bed role.
Readying the camp was done in relative silence. Each elf engrossed in his own tasks and thoughts. A short time later the small group came together around a small campfire the silence still unbroken as each partook of a dinner of lembas, berries and dried venison.
“Tarts.” The word was barely above a whisper and three pairs of elven eyes turned to the young Mirkwood elf who spoke it.
“Did you say something young one?” Glorfindel shifted on the fallen log which he sat atop, turning to get a better view of Angrod.
“Tarts.” He said louder this time so that the others didn’t have to strain to hear the word.
“We have no tarts Angrod.” Elladan was obviously confused.
“I know this. I was remembering a time with Estel and Legolas and tarts.”
“ESTEL WAIT!” The normally melodic voice burst out of Legolas’ mouth.
Estel froze in the doorway. His head inside the kitchen, his bottom sticking out unceremoniously, just a foot off the floor. He shuffled forward on his knees some then shifted and turned to face the quickly approaching elves. But before the pair could reach him, he turned back and disappeared behind the door.
Legolas and Angrod skidded to a stop, nearly toppling over one another in their abrupt halt. They stood motionless, in shock, staring openly at one another, waiting for the other to spurt forth instructions.
“Well, he is gone. Let us go to the archery fields.” Legolas turned casually and made to move toward the exit. He knew that the young human was in no danger, just the risk of being scolded by the kitchen mistress loomed.
“You would leave him to Anala’s fury?” Angrod questioned, a small smirk forming on his face.
“It will not be that horrible. I think she will just have him washing dishes for the remainder of his stay here. If we are caught with him we will be washing dishes for much longer.” Legolas moved to depart the scene once more and once more he found Angrod’s arm grasping his arm firmly.
“Surely you can not think to abandon one so young.” He couldn’t control himself this time. A small chuckle slipped from beneath curved lips and Angrod quickly lifted his hand to hide his mirth.
“Very well. We shall rescue the little scamp.” Legolas turned again, this time coming to face the kitchen door. He reached out and pushed the swinging door open, revealing a rather large kitchen with several wood burning stoves and ovens. Long preparation counters ran along each of the walls. Items for making that nights meal were spread about. But there was no sign of the errant young friend.
Both elves walked further into the kitchen, each moving in opposite directions, scanning under counters and around corners, searching. They came together again to stand just before a large stray of tarts. It was upon closer inspection that both Legolas and Angrod noticed a rather large gap in the arrangement of dessert.
“He has already succeeded in his mission.” Angrod needlessly pointed out.
“Then I suggest we distance ourselves from the scene of the crime before the blame is wrongly placed.” Legolas said as he spun on his heel.
His motion was swiftly cut and thrown off course as he spun to find himself standing face to face with an extremely cross maiden. Anala’s hair was pulled up in a tight twist and deposited directly on top of her head. She was of shorter stature than most elves, but still held that long, elegant grace so common among her people. Her normally beautiful features were severely marred by an intense look of anger.
“Did you enjoy them My Lord?”
“But...It was not...on my honor...” Legolas had never stammered before but this particular elf seemed to elicit nothing better from the Prince of Mirkwood.
She held a hand up to hush him. “Those tarts were for everyone. Now there will not be enough. Especially with our guests.”
“But it was the guests...” Angrod attempted but was also shushed by a long, elegant hand.
“I think it would be best if the pair of you got to work making replacements so that all may enjoy.”
Legolas moved to protest once again but Anala was too fast and Legolas found himself becoming increasingly frustrated as he watched the kitchen mistress move about, pulling ingredients from the pantry.
“I will kill him. I will strangle him with my own two hands.” Legolas ground out as Anala tossed him a white apron.
Laughter burst forth from all four elves surrounding the campfire and it was several minutes before the four could contain themselves.
“Legolas meant to leave Estel to the wrath of Anala?” Elrohir questioned. “I think that I should have a long talk with our princely friend.”
Glorfindel smiled at the young words. “Now Elrohir, let us remember who suffered the consequences.” He rose from his spot and the fire’s side and glided across the clearing to where his belongings lay. “Besides, I have an inkling that Legolas will recall events differently and will be happy to recount the tale himself.”
That is if we find him.
Quickly hushing such thoughts Glorfindel eased himself to the forest floor and lay his head upon his arm. “Elladan, wake me when it is my watch. Tomorrow will be a big day.” He rolled over, turning his back to the others and listened to the quiet conversation of the young elves still sitting around the fire, the quiet murmur of their eased communication lulling him into a restful state. Tomorrow would be an eventful day, they had some distance to travel and a mystery to solve and Glorfindel was determined to get some answers soon.