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Greenleaf&Imladris 20-Calenlass: Heart of a Prince	By : MPB Category: -Multi-Age > General Views: 4275 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own the Lord of the Rings (and associated) book series, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

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Chapter III: Shield-Brothers

Ithilien, Cerveth FA 21

Nearly a year later, in early July, a great host of Men crossed into Southern Ithilien. A small company detached itself and passed the boundaries of Eryn Gael, the elven colony in the province. Legolas, forewarned by his sentries, went to meet them in the large clearing before his halls.

The haven was a reminder of Eryn Lasgalen from the architecture of the dwellings to the green and brown raiment of its Elves. Every structure had been made to blend in with its surroundings whether at ground level or in the branches of the ancient trees. A stranger wandering into its midst could be forgiven for thinking himself lost in another world.

But while their lodgings looked much the same, other matters had changed significantly amongst the Silvan Elves, both in the colony and back in Greenwood. The War had forced them to mingle more often with the Eldar and they had since embraced many of the ancient traditions of their kindred including the inherent duality of their passions.

Amongst the Elves of Eryn Gael, this was further hastened by the influx of Edhil formerly of Lothlórien. With the departures of their lord and lady the Golden Wood had passed into legend. Many of its people had either journeyed West with Galadriel or joined Celeborn in his new realm of East Lórien on the southern bounds of Eryn Lasgalen.

But still others had chosen to cleave to the Wood-elves of Eryn Gael, attracted by the challenges a new life in the south presented. It helped that in Legolas they found a lord much to their liking. Like Celeborn, he understood their martial inclinations yet possessed unerring mastery over them. And they also found pride and solace in the presence of their former rulers’ grandchildren, the younger twin, Elrohir, who oft made Gondor his home as much as Rivendell, and Queen Arwen herself.

Needless to say, the Lórien Elves’ influence upon their new community was exceedingly efficient. It did not take long for the fearsome Galadhrim to rekindle in the Greenwood Elves the long-suppressed, dormant natures of their forebears when they first awoke by the ancient shores of Cuivienen.

But such a subtle though profound change was evident only to those of Elfkind. Man still had little or no inkling of the innermost workings of the elvish mind or the extent of elven passions save for a knowledgeable few such as the still extant Dúnedain of whom the Steward of Gondor and the ruling family of Dol Amroth were numbered.

Legolas quietly awaited the approach of the company of riders and foot soldiers. He stood alone but he was not alone for warriors and archers watched from behind trees and up in the branches, lethal and unseen. Even in lovely Ithilien, the habits of a lifetime of caution died hard.

Legolas’ eyes narrowed as he recognized the banners of the King of Gondor and the Prince of Ithilien. Aragorn and Faramir. He wondered what troubles had brought both men to him.

The company came to a stop before him. He smiled as the lead rider dismounted and neared him.

“Aragorn,” he said simply for the King had insisted that he never address him in a more formal fashion. Aragorn clapped his hand on the Elf’s shoulder; the gesture was returned. After their softly uttered greetings, he turned to welcome Faramir as well.

As he spoke he turned his gaze upon the company and gave it a quick sweep. A pair of silvered eyes met his. He gazed at the rider questioningly. Aragorn noticed his expression and turned to see what he was looking at.

“Elrohir!” the king said. “I would have you join us, gwanur nîn.”—my kinsman.

The Elvenlord dismounted gracefully and joined the three. When he reached them he simply nodded in greeting to Legolas. Aragorn looked at him with mild surprise.

“You astonish me, Elrohir,” he remarked. “Ever have you been known to greet Legolas with much warmth and eagerness. Why are you so sedate now?”

Elrohir coolly replied: “It would not be seemly in front of our men.”

Legolas stared at him curiously. There was nothing in the warrior’s demeanor to indicate that he had practically upended Legolas’ life and long-held beliefs but a year ago. Was it possible that Elrohir’s sudden revelation then had been but a result of their long earlier separation? The Elf-knight had confessed to deep loneliness during that period. Mayhap he is now regretting his outburst and is uncomfortable with me, Legolas thought. It would certainly explain his uncharacteristic reserve with the Elf-prince.

After a year of worrying and wondering and waiting for the proverbial shoe to drop, Legolas felt a wave of relief sweep through his body. Feeling much lighter, he gave his full attention to the matter at hand.

Faramir explained why they had come to the Elves. Through spies in Harad, they had learned that a massive force of Southrons was moving against Gondor. An enemy fleet of Haradrim and Corsairs had left Umbar and was sailing to the Bay of Belfalas. Its objective was to pass down the Anduin and come to Pelargir from whence they would then ravage the surrounding countryside. Another force was coming by land. They had already broken the disputed borders of South Gondor and were moving north toward Ithilien. The Southrons were not bent on conquest; rather they were intent on extending their borders further into the north.

“They have grown bold anew,” Legolas commented.

“They know we have been expending much of our strength in repulsing the remnants of Mordor’s orcs and minions,” Aragorn said.

Faramir said grimly, “Not so much that we cannot fight off new foes. They will learn yet of their folly.”

“What of the Rohirrim?” Legolas inquired. “Can they help?”

“Nay, the Dunlendings have been raiding their borders again. Eomer cannot afford to split his forces. We are alone in this.”

“Not so alone. The Lord of Aglarond will be joining us with a contingent of Dwarves,” Aragorn said.

Legolas’ eyes lit up. “Gimli could never say ‘no’ to you, Aragorn.”

“We plan to meet the enemy fleet at Pelargir,“ Aragorn continued. “Our forces are already amassing there. Elladan is with them right now as is my son. But that will leave Ithilien vulnerable. We were hoping you would help us in repelling the second force.”

“Since when have I refused Gondor aid?” Legolas smiled humorlessly. “My warriors can march by dawn. Who will lead your army here in Ithilien?”

“Elrohir is their captain,” Aragorn said.

Legolas glanced at Elrohir. “So, we fight together once more, gwador” —sworn brother—he remarked. “It has been a long time.”

Elrohir said, “Aye, a long time indeed.”

Assured of Legolas’ help, Aragorn and Faramir rode away with only a few men. The rest of the company remained. Legolas saw to their quartering for the night before turning his attention back to Elrohir.

“Will you stay with your men or will I provide a room for you in my home?” he asked the Elvenlord.

Elrohir shook his head. “I will stay with them. After this conflict is over then mayhap I will accept the luxury of staying within your halls.”

Legolas nodded. A good captain would not hie off to comfortable lodgings while his men made do with starker accommodations. Not when a battle was in the offing. He left to muster his own warriors.

Daybreak found them on the move. They had met up with the main body of Gondor’s forces and the now formidable army marched to meet the invaders. Legolas’ scouts had already discovered the whereabouts of the Southrons. They were attacking and pillaging small settlements as they moved northwards toward Ithilien.

“Treacherous swine,” Elrohir snarled as his and Legolas’ combined forces moved swiftly to intercept the enemy. “You would think that after Estel made peace with them in their last defeat, they would honor their own promises.”

“Our recent skirmishes with other foes mark us as weakened in their eyes,” Legolas remarked. “They think it an opportune moment to regain lost territory.”

“They will rue this venture before long,” the twin stated. “We must head them off before they get any further, Legolas.”

“We will,” Legolas replied. “There are many places where we can set up an ambush for them.”

“You mean to take them by stealth.”

“Stealth will keep the blood of our people from being spilled over much.” He noticed the frown on Elrohir’s face and was amused. “What would you do? Give them the chance to prepare for our attack?”

Elrohir had to grin. “Nay, I know ‘tis the best way to deal with these scoundrels. But I will admit that I am more than eager to teach them some manners. Their concept of neighborly conduct leaves much to be desired.”

Legolas chuckled at the twin’s choice of words. “Patience, roch vreg.” —wild stallion. “You will have your chance.”

The prince suddenly urged his steed forward and Elrohir became aware that there were Elves among the trees. They came out fully as their lord approached and soon were making reports. Elrohir neared them and realized they were using the Silvan speech of the Wood-elves of which he knew very little.

He took the opportunity to observe his men’s reactions to their Elven allies. In particular, their reactions to the Elf-prince who led said allies.

Curiosity and wonder were rife. That was to be expected. Faramir’s people had oft fought side by side with the Ithilien Elves ever since the founding of the colony. But the men of Gondor had seldom come into contact with them and deemed them strange and not to be trifled with. Even their prince who had served their cause so valiantly more than twenty years ago was an object of speculation and wariness. Most had only seen Legolas from afar, some during the Great War, others when they chanced to glimpse him during his infrequent visits to Minas Tirith.

In battle gear, the Elf-prince was certainly an intriguing sight. The combination and contrasts of seeming fragility and tensile strength, of ethereal fairness against earthy leather and mail were fascinating at the very least. Elrohir knew all too well of Legolas’ skill with bow or knife or sword but it had been long since he had witnessed his friend in action. He thought about it with a volatile mixture of anticipation and worry.

Legolas returned to his side. As they moved onwards once more, the prince recounted his scouts’ reports to the Elvenlord. Accordingly they made their plans.

*******

The Haradrim marched toward the borders of Ithilien with much confidence and hardly any caution. They had met minimal resistance along the way, preying as they did on scattered communities with little or no fighting men among the inhabitants. They were loaded with much booty and looked to garnering more in the rich province.

Recklessly they pressed on. They were headed towards the Crossing of Poros, the one section of the river that their forces could safely traverse. Once they crossed the ford, they would be in Ithilien itself.

The ford was by no means totally benign. Though the main passageway was shallow and firm of bottom, there were many treacherous spots. Places where the ground gave no support and sucked down whoever or whatever was unfortunate enough to tread upon them. Areas where the water suddenly rose higher and moved faster than expected to drown the unsuspecting. If one kept to the main crossing one was safe enough. Wander further away and there was no security of life or limb.

They approached the ford two days later soon after sunrise. The region was silent and empty in the early morning twilight. Encouraged by the lack of any visible signs of resistance, the Southrons began to cross. Only a lone birdcall disturbed the quiet. The van of the invaders soon made it to the other side. The enemy had broken Ithilien’s borders.

The main body of the army proceeded to make its way across the ford. They were almost halfway through when another birdcall sounded.

As if from nowhere, a hail of arrows greeted the enemy forces. Chaos ensued. More arrows found their marks as the enemy floundered in the shallow waters. Horses whinnied in terror, bolted from the main path and plunged into soft, oozy muck to be sucked down dragging along supply carts or taking their riders with them. Foot soldiers, in an effort to evade the arrows, blundered into the deeper parts of the ford only to drown, weighed down by their armor and weapons. Screams of rage and fear filled the air as bodies began to pile up in the now tainted waters.

On the northern banks of the ford, the forces of Gondor and Ithilien sprang from their places of concealment. The harried van of the Southrons was forced to turn its attention to engaging the enemy. And still the deadly arrows rained down upon the hapless Men in the midst of the ford.

Legolas fell upon the enemy with all the grace and ferocity of his Elven forebears. Wielding bow or blade with equal facility, he was fearsome in battle. There was no sign of the gentle Elf in the warrior who hacked and stabbed and sliced away at any that dared to confront him. Yet even in the midst of the fighting, he found himself seeking the figure of another warrior. He soon located him.

It was not hard to recognize him. Feral and ruthless was Elrohir as he cut a wide swath through his foes. His dark eyes glinted with cold rage and merciless determination. His arm rose and fell tirelessly as he drove the enemy before him. Legolas realized that the twin was fighting his way to him.

Before long, they were side-by-side cutting down the enemy or driving them back to the ford. As if they had never parted as brothers-in-arms for so many years, they fought together with uncanny synchrony, knowing each other’s moves and defending each other’s backs. Legolas managed a fleeting glance at Elrohir and was met with the other’s gaze. He saw the light of battle in the other’s eyes and blood-thirst besides. But he also glimpsed fulfillment and he suddenly remembered how his friend had fiercely defended him throughout the War. He was doing so once more.

The ambush turned into a virtual slaughter. The Southrons on the northern bank were reduced to corpses. The ford was swollen with the bodies of Men and horses and littered with their carts and supplies. Only a small fraction of the army that had not completely made the crossing managed to break away and flee south. Legolas and Elrohir knew they would return to their realm to recoup and one day come back to plague them anew. But when some of Gondor’s warriors would have pursued them, Elrohir stopped them.

“Let them go,” he said. “We must get to Pelargir and add our strength to the King’s forces.”

They saw to the disposal of the dead and debris first. Their own people they buried beneath the eaves of the tall trees of Ithilien. The enemy they burned in great pyres. The spoils they salvaged to be returned or redistributed as needed.

As they prepared to march once more, Elrohir approached Legolas. They had not been able to speak with each other since before the battle began. Legolas was binding his left hand.

“You are hurt,” Elrohir said with concern.

Legolas said: “Just a small cut. ‘Tis no matter.” He looked at Elrohir. “And you?” Elrohir shook his head. Legolas smiled suddenly. “You fought well.”

The Elf-warrior gazed at him. “As did you,” he said. “I am glad we had this chance to fight together once more.”

“I share the sentiment, gwador,” the Elven prince replied. “I felt no fear in this battle. Indeed, I always feel safe when you are at my side.”

He turned to mount his steed but Elrohir stayed him. “Do you mean that?” he asked seriously. “About feeling safe because of me.”

Legolas looked at his friend. “Yes, I mean it,” he replied. “I have always felt it.”

It was true, Legolas thought. Elrohir’s devotion to him throughout any fighting always gave him a sense of security. It was a feeling that the twin would even consider leaving his forces to their own devices than allow any harm to come to his friend.

Elrohir was staring at him with a gleam in his twilight eyes. “I would sooner perish than let you take hurt in any way,” he said.

“Do not say that,” Legolas admonished him “I am not worthy of such a sacrifice.”

“So say you,” the twin said. “But I think otherwise.”

Using the warhorse as cover, he leaned forward with a suddenness that took Legolas unawares and brushed his lips against the prince’s. He drew back and briefly regarded the startled Elf. And then he strode off. Legolas stared at his retreating back in shock.

He has not given up the chase, he thought, his heart suddenly racing.

*******

They reached Pelargir in time to throw their support behind the massed forces of Gondor.

Forewarned, the citizens of the port city had fled to safety taking with them their valuables and many belongings. When the Southrons arrived they found naught but the swords and lances of their enemy to welcome them. But the Haradrim were not deterred. Though they had tasted bitter defeat in the Great War they were still a people to reckon with, cruel and proud. Not for them to retreat in ignominy before the might of Gondor.

The battle that ensued was fierce and bloody. Many were the dead and wounded on both sides. For a time both sides were evenly matched. But the arrival of Legolas and Elrohir’s forces tilted the balance in favor of Gondor and dealt the Haradrim a lethal blow.

Aragorn, taking advantage of a lull in the fighting about him, looked around at his men. With some surprise, he realized that while Elladan, Eldarion and Gimli and his Dwarves fought around him Legolas was nowhere near. It worried him for always had the Elf remained at his side in the many battles during the War of the Ring. Aragorn had to admit that he had gotten so used to it that he had come to take it for granted that Legolas would find a way to join him.

He finally saw him after a while, further afield, his bow singing, sword flashing. And at the Elf-prince’s side was another prince who fought with as much savage efficiency. It was Elrohir. Aragorn permitted himself a small smile as he turned his attention once more to the fighting.

********

Legolas moved among the tents of his warriors, checking for those who might bear severe injuries, taking note of any casualties. He counted himself fortunate. The dead among his people were much less than he had feared. The injured were greater in number but that was easily dealt with considering the strength and endurance of the Elven body.

Aragorn had set up camp outside Pelargir and thither had the forces of Gondor retired after the battle. The army from Ithilien had also settled here, the Elves choosing to stay a little apart from the rest. That was not too surprising. The Elves of Ithilien were largely of Silvan stock. They had always been less friendly with Men and were, therefore, more shy of them even after several years of living in the southern kingdom. Only the few Sindar like Legolas felt at ease among the Younger Children of Iluvatar.

The Elven prince had other things on his mind at present. With the triumph of Gondor over the Southrons, he could turn his thoughts to the trek home. A home that had been preserved by their victory, thank the Powers. He was relieved that the beauty of Ithilien would not be despoiled in this conflict.

He noticed Aragorn, his son and his foster brothers approaching along with Gimli, his Dwarf friend; he walked out to meet them. He saw that none of them were hurt or harmed in any way and for that he was thankful. He was only realizing now that he had fought the whole battle by Elrohir’s side. He had not even thought to fight his way to Aragorn as had been his wont. All his concern had been for the Elf who remained at his side. He was not certain if he had done right or wrong. When it came to Elrohir, he wasn’t sure of anything any longer.

He greeted Elladan and Eldarion before turning his attention to the Dwarf lord.

"'Tis good to see you again, Elf,” Gimli said gruffly though his eyes twinkled with gladness at seeing his old friend again. “You can still fight well enough, I see.”

“And ‘tis good to see that you have lost none of your edge in battle, Master Dwarf,” Legolas replied. “Though it seems the numbers you slew fell far short of what you used to be capable of,” he added teasingly.

The Dwarf sputtered in indignation. “I will have you know that ‘twas not my skill that has diminished but the confounded protectiveness of my people that has increased!” he growled. “Had I known that becoming a lord would mean enduring their misguided attempts to coddle me, I would have stayed put in Erebor and remained a simple Dwarf!”

Legolas laughed merrily, pleased that Gimli had lost none of his curmudgeonly demeanor. He turned his attention back to Aragorn and the others.

“Gondor owes you and your people much, mellon nîn”—my friend— Aragorn said warmly.

Legolas shook his head. “We are as much a part of Gondor as any of your people, Aragorn,” he pointed out. “You owe as nothing.”

“I am glad to hear that,” Aragorn grinned. He gave a slightly weary sigh. “And I am more than glad that this is over. We return to Minas Tirith tomorrow. I would relieve Arwen of any anxiety as soon as possible.” He looked at the Elven prince inquiringly. “Gimli has agreed to come for a visit. Will you join us?”

Legolas glanced back at the tents that sheltered his people. “Nay,” he replied. “We will march to Ithilien as soon as it is light. My people are anxious to return to their homes. Wood-elves have no liking for stone walls and dwellings.”

Aragorn said regretfully, “Then we must part again, my friend. ‘Tis a pity. Arwen would have been pleased to have you visit with us. She is with child again by the way.”

“That is wonderful news!” Legolas smiled. “Give her my love and regards. Mayhap I will find the time later this year.”

“I have the time to visit Ithilien,” Elrohir suddenly said. King, Dwarf and both princes looked at him in surprise. There was something unmistakably provocative about the way he spoke. Only Elladan was not taken aback and he regarded his brother with amusement mingled with compassion. Elrohir looked pointedly at Legolas. “Did you not say during your last sojourn in Minas Tirith that it would please you if I did?”

Legolas hesitated. “I said that, aye,” he answered guardedly. “But I did not think it would be so soon after this crisis.”

“I am not welcome?”

Aragorn looked sharply at his foster brother. He wondered if he had heard a challenge in the Elf’s voice. Surely not, he thought. Why would he take that tone with Legolas? But a glance at Gimli’s startled expression told him he had not misheard.

Legolas smiled at Elrohir but Aragorn was quick to observe that the smile did not quite reach his eyes. “You are always welcome, Elrohir,” the prince said with an edge to his voice.

“Then I take it that I may join you tomorrow?” Again the challenging, almost taunting tone.

“You may if you wish.”

Aragorn and Gimli looked from Elven prince to younger twin in perplexity. There was some byplay going on here but they had no idea what it was. Aragorn could feel the tension growing though and he moved quickly to dispel it. He did not want his mellow mood to be marred by something as vague as a feeling that something was not quite right between the two.

“I give you leave to go then,” he told his foster brother. “Will Elladan join you?”

“Nay,” the older twin said. “I wish to spend some time with Arwen before I return to Imladris. This is Elrohir’s desire, not mine.”

Aragorn did not miss the emphatic manner in which Elladan had uttered the word ‘desire’ nor was he oblivious of the three-way glance the Elves shared among themselves. But before he could ask what in the name of Arda was going on, his son interrupted.

Eldarion exclaimed, “Can I go with Uncle Elrohir, Ada?”—Papa? “You promised me that I could visit Ithilien when he went.”

Aragorn’s raised his eyebrows. “Your mother will not be pleased that you should take off so precipitately. Will you not see her first?” the King pointed out.

“If I go home to Minas Tirith first, she will never let me set out at all,” the youth complained. “Please, let me go with Uncle Elrohir. I swear I shall come home after a week even if he stays on with Legolas.”

Elrohir grinned at his nephew’s eagerness. “Let him come with us, Estel. I promise, I will take good care of him. And I will hold him to his word and send him home in a week’s time.”

Aragorn sighed. “Very well then, you may go, ion nîn.”—my son. “But you must take some men with you. I will not have you travelling alone on your way home. And if you are to go with them tomorrow morning I advise you to get some rest. Edhil can march all day on little or no sleep. All they need are their dreams.” He grinned at the Elves and was rewarded with smiles. “I will not have it said that the heir of Gondor held up a whole company of Elves because he needed to take a nap!”

Gimli snickered as Eldarion turned a nice shade of red. But Legolas could scarcely find the wherewithal to even smile. Not when a pair of twilight eyes regarded him with an intensity that sent tremors up his spine and threatened his equanimity. And promised him more than he was willing to imagine.

************************

Glossary:

Cerveth - Sindarin for July

Edhil - Elves

To be continued…
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Greenleaf&Imladris 20-Calenlass: Heart of a Prince