Wild Monster

by Matthew Harrington

  Night was falling and Legolas could feel his mind opening, and another presence entering it. The trees - the trees were with him. Alone, frightened, hungry…

  Concentrating, he closed his burning eyes and tried to relax, in spite of the shivers that wracked his frame.

  Alone, hungry, so hungry…

  Legolas steered his horse until he rode abreast of Galadan, and then lent sideways, speaking as quietly as he could so as not to disturb the wounded.

  "Lieutenant…"

  "What is it?" came the equally soft answer.

  "Do not be alarmed Sir, but - but if you see my eyes a little strange - 'tis not magic. It is the trees - they speak to me…"

  Galadan turned to face the young warrior, startling abruptly as he realised the Silvan's eyes had started to glow. Galdithion too, was looking on in awe, yet it was not the first time he had seen this.

  "By the Valar - what…"

  "Please, Sir - it is a gift, it is what allows me to foresee danger."

  Galadan stared dumbly for a moment longer, before nodding silently.

  "Sir. We are being hunted. Not by orcs but stray wargs - riderless and hungry."

  Sitting straighter, Galadan's shock turned to leadership in the blink of an eye.

  "How long have we got? How many are there?"

  "We have some hours yet, there number is unclear, for it is dark…"

  Galadan turned, obviously weighing up their options, but before he could pronounce himself, Legolas spoke once more.

  "Sir, if I may - as we are, we cannot defend ourselves and our wounded. I believe our only option is for me to hang back. I can defend us from behind and give you and Galdithion time to move as far forward as you can…"

  "It is suicide…"

  "I have a chance, Sir - the trees are with me…"

  "They are not armed, Legolas…"

  "Sir, better then, that I should die than the ten of you."

  Galadan stared back at the Silvan, before letting out a long breath and glancing briefly at Galdithion.

  "I cannot gainsay your reasoning, Legolas. Go then, and defend us if you can, give us what time you can."

  Legolas nodded, moving to adjust his weapons and position his quiver, but just before he could wheel his horse away, Galadan stopped him with a hand on his forearm, his voice soft but knowing, respect and realisation colouring his words, words that Galdithion would never forget, and that would take Legolas completely by surprise.

  "Be safe - my prince."

  He was a Prince, the importance of which had been ingrained on him ever since he had consciousness of the world. Yet here he sat, frozen to the marrow, a painful gnawing ache in his empty stomach the only thing keeping him awake. His clothes were in tatters, stained and crumpled, his hair in utter disarray and his face and hands smudged with dirt.

  He and Lainion had been bidden to sit in what Handir assumed was the healing section of the house, for the smell of herbs and oils permeated the air, and elves in black gowns walked this way and that, trays and bottles in their hands. Yet there were no beds in this room, only an open, roaring fire and comfortable chairs where various elves sat back and dozed. A recuperation room, perhaps, mused Handir tiredly.

  "Are you injured, my prince?" came the deep voice of a Noldorin elf. He was tall and imposing, his face somewhat lined. He was old, realised Handir, and had his wits been more about him, he would have realised it was Elrond himself that tended him.

  "No. We fled the battle, I am simply tired. And hungry," he added hopefully, almost as a child would, unsure if it would be fed.

  "Of course. Sit back and rest, Prince Handir. Food will be brought to you in a moment."

  With that, the elf moved away from him with a last, lingering look, before approaching Lainion.

  "Lieutenant. Are you injured?" he inquired again.

  "No, my Lord Elrond," came Lainion's answer and Handir desperately tried to control his suddenly heated face. A fine start, he reprimanded himself as he watched the lord, who nodded and then, with a kind, knowing smile, turned to leave. Yet before Handir could check himself, words blurted from his uncooperative mouth, words that had come straight from the heart.

  "My Lord. Please, you must help our warriors…"

  "Of course," said Elrond with a slight frown. "We are out searching from them even now as we speak."

  "You do not understand, my Lord…"

  Lainion looked over at Handir, to his face that was so often straight and unexpressive and yet now, seemed so young and vulnerable, desperate, almost.

  "What is it that I do not comprehend, Prince Handir?" asked Elrond carefully, slowly walking back to where Handir sat.

  "They, they may have given their lives to protect me, my Lord, I must do all I can to find them soonest…"

  "This I know, Prince. Your guard has done well to extract you from the fray - it is standard protocol in our lands as it is in yours, I am sure. Do not feel ill that they made this sacrifice…"

  "You don't understand…" came the whispered words once more and Elrond crouched before Handir, placing one white hand upon his knee, his silver eyes sparkling with wisdom.

  "Who have you left behind, child?" asked Elrond just as quietly, albeit Lainion had heard it and he froze, his eyes widening in sudden realization.

  "My brother - I left my young brother behind…"

  Galdithion fumbled clumsily with the leather harnesses, checking they had been sufficiently tensed, it would do them no good to have one of their injured fall during their trek - they were hard pressed enough as it was. Indeed Galadan seemed to drag his feet as he shouldered their meagre belongings, his body hunching over not with the weight but with exhaustion.

  They had worked through the night, one caring for the wounded while the other searched for wood and water, and then stood watch. There had been no sign of danger, thanks, perhaps to Legolas scouting behind them - but who could say, thought Galdithion. The fool had taken it upon himself to guard them, to protect them as they fled to safety. It was a fool's errand, and yet he had heard his reasoning, and like Galadan, he had not been able to refute it. It was a necessary thing, and Legolas knew he was the best choice - he was a listener and that gave him an advantage - true he was also the best warrior among them, or so Galdithion reckoned, for as yet, they had not fought together.

  Ever since the day before, when he had returned from the last watch and Legolas had handed him a mug of steaming tea - something had changed with the world. What that was, Galdithion could not say, but something had shifted inside him, had rearranged itself. He needed time to think on it - that and a soft bed, hot food, a steaming bath and clean hair. He laughed at himself in spite of his discomfort, and soon, they were on the road again. The Valar permit they arrive soonest, for infection was starting to set in, and of the eight injured, four had worsened significantly, while the others endured the pain that came with the movement of their stretchers, slipping in and out of consciousness as they desperately tried to hold back the involuntary sounds of their distress.

  And through it all the cold persisted, until late afternoon brought with it the breaking of the storm, and the rain fell like sheets of silver paper. It took them three hours to find an overhang under which they could take shelter from the unrelenting torrent and start a small fire.

  Galdithion and Galadan sat huddled around it, their soaked cloaks wrapped tightly around them and their breath frosting before them. Fat drops of rain dripped from their hair, their noses, their chins and their eyes were lost, unfocussed, introspective, until a single howl sharpened them once more and they looked at each other as they listened.

  Not wolves but wargs, strays no doubt that called to one another to group up. They would hunt, no doubt. Galdithion allowed his eyes to wander, to the trees which, he realised, creaked and groaned louder than they normally did, perhaps due to the storm but perhaps not. The warm light from their fire reflected off Galadan's undoubtedly Sindarin features, setting his blue eyes to sparkling as the
orange flame danced inside them. It was a strange sight and he wondered if he looked like that.

  Something ancient brushed his subconscious, an intuition that perhaps only a wood elf could feel, and yet perhaps not, for Galadan seemed to shudder as he closed his eyes and then opened them once more, only to look squarely once more at Galdithion. What did he see? wondered the Silvan. Had he, too, felt it?

  Another howl split the air, nearer now, and as Galdithion and Galadan continued to look at each other, they seemed to be saying the same thing, albeit no words crossed their lips.

  Legolas, find them before they find us, for if they do, they will feast on our flesh this night…

  Elladan had led his small contingent of five warriors, tracking Lainion and Handir's movements backwards, until sure enough, the sounds of horses reached them and Elladan's heart lifted.

  After a few more minutes, what remained of the Greenwood royal caravan emerged from the tree line, grinding to a halt only to sit in silence, a silence that was broken as one elf slid from his saddle and hit the ground with a thud.

  The Noldor dismounted and Elladan ran to the unconscious warrior, before looking to the only elf that now stood upon his own two feet on the ground. A Silvan.

  "What has happened?" asked Elladan as he frantically searched the warrior for the origin of his injury.

  "We were ambushed. Four of our warriors are seriously injured, infection has set in. I am Galdithion and that," he gestured to the elf on the floor, "is lieutenant Galadan. You must forgive us," said Galdithion, his voice becoming weaker and weaker as he spoke, "we are both - we are both," he could not finish before his knees buckled and he hit the ground. He had nothing left, exhaustion had won its game and Galdithion could no longer function.

  Elladan looked to his second, Cormion, their expressions identical, for neither were untried as warriors, they knew the sacrifice these two warriors had to make to get their comrades to safety - two in charge of eight, in this weather; it was a mighty feat and respect overwhelmed him for a moment. It was then though, that Galdithion found his voice once more, even if it was for just a moment.

  "My Lord… there is one more… you must - you must find him - find The Silvan."

  "The Silvan?" questioned Elladan as he frowned in confusion - surely most of these warriors were Silvan.

  "He has been defending us from behind, buying us time until you could find us…"

  "Alone?" blurted Elladan, before regretting how harsh his words had sounded.

  "There was no other way…" whispered Galdithion in misery.

  Elladan held Galdithion's gaze for a moment before nodding and barking out his orders. They were a day's ride from Imladris and so he ordered Cormion to mobilise the group and make their way back. Elladan would scout around before joining them at the only camp they would need to set before their arrival. If this - Silvan - had made it, he surely would not be far away…

  Light, there was light and he was dry and warm - comfortable, and blessed be the Valar in bed! It was surely late but he begged that no one disturb this moment of bliss, for his body ached and his stomach felt empty.

  Turning his face to the brightest source of light, he slowly cracked his eyes open and smiled at the bright sunlight that fell upon him, warming him.

  An involuntary moan of pleasure escaped him and he closed his eyes for a moment, before opening them once more, only to find the face of Lainion leaning over him.

  Startling, he made to sit up, but the Avarin lieutenant held out his hand in an unequivocal signal to stay where he was.

  "Rest, my Prince. I will see to some breakfast for us."

  "Lainion," said Handir seriously. "What news? what news of our elves?"

  "None, they are out searching it seems, but so far, none have returned."

  "Thranduil has been remiss, it seems," a deep, rich voice - Glorfindel.

  "Not necessarily," answered Elrond lightly as he rose from his chair and made for the balcony, for the weather was dry and sunny, albeit the air was frigid.

  "He may be a bastard child, Glorfindel, one the king may or may not know of."

  "It would surprise me. Oropher was strict in his education. Why would Thranduil create a child outside the bounds of matrimony with his queen?"

  "Perhaps it was before he was bonded - you heard the rumours."

  "No, I do not believe that at all. You know Oropher was as a brother to me, Elrond. I knew his heart, had his ear in all things. I do not believe his son would have done such a thing."

  "Yet it is harder to believe it happened once he was married, rather than before, is it not?" asked Elrond as he turned to meet Glorfindel's gaze. "What could possibly motivate him to do such a thing?"

  "I know not," said Glorfindel, shaking his head, his brows deeply furrowed.

  "Whatever the case, my friend, we must proceed with caution. We do not know if this is common knowledge - there was something in the young prince's tone that tells me this is - delicate."

  "Aye, and if rumour has it right, the Greenwood suffers a rift between Sindar and Silvan elves - one Erestor tells us has worsened since the queen sailed."

  "We need to talk to Prince Handir. As soon as he is rested we must call him to us, see to it Erestor is informed of this and be discreet, Glorfiindel. Should this permeate our lands and fall into the wrong hands…" he finished with a meaningful stare.

  "I will see to it, Elrond."

  Just then, the sound of horses clattering into the courtyard below sent both lords to the balcony railing.

  "Holy Valar…"

  "Send for Nestaren," said Elrond hurriedly, before swirling on his heel and striding from the room, a slower, pensive Glorfiindel behind him and as they walked down the hall, the ancient warrior stopped for a moment before a mighty wall painting of the last alliance. A tall, strong Sinda warrior stood proud upon an outcrop, his long, blond-silver hair blowing in the breeze, face strong and determined, a face more beautiful than any he had ever seen this side of the sea.

  Oropher, Sindarin King of old - his brother in all but blood. They had both died but only Glorfiindel had returned - 'I will see you again, old friend. One day, upon the shores of Aman…'

  Lainion rubbed his face, partly in frustration and partly to keep himself from dozing in the warm afternoon sun, as Galdithion had already done. He had sought out Galdithion just this morning, no sooner the Silvan warrior had awoken from a long sleep, one that had left him somnolent and quiet. They had walked here to the gardens, and Galdithion had told Lainion of the battle, and then of how he had struggled together with Legolas and Lieutenant Galadan, through exhaustion and pain, frost and torrential rain, but his words had been sparing. There was a story of heroism there he was sure, but Galdithion had been distant and unfocussed, strangely out of sorts and unwilling to speak of it.

  All he had managed to convey was that at some point, Legolas had suggested he drop back and defend the group from the rear, and that Galadan had agreed to it, and in spite of Lainion's initial outrage, with quiet reasoning came understanding; it was as logical as it had been necessary, a sacrifice of one for the benefit of ten.

  He breathed deeply through the sudden weight in his chest, for there was every chance Legolas had perished in the wild, alone, and if that were so, what then had they gained? All their hopes would be dashed, Thranduil would be cast back into the grieving shell of the king he once was, The Greenwood would become a land of Sindarin rule and he, Lainion, would be left with the intangible memory of one that had marked his life so deeply.

  He remembered then, the last words that Galdithion had uttered before falling back into sleep…

  '… Galadan called Legolas 'my prince'…' he had whispered those words, and his tired face had reflected his perplexity, the unspoken question floating behind his bleary blue eyes.

  Lainion had stared back at the Silvan warrior, wondering what to say. He settled for simply asking Galdithion to not speak of it, with the promise of an explanation later on, once they were
all safe, and although the warrior had not been please with his answer, he seemed too tired to insist and so the boy had simply nodded, before closing his weary eyes and returning to sleep.

  Lainion was startled out of his thoughts by an elf who stood quietly before him, his head cocked slightly to one side.

  "Lieutenant Lainion?" he asked.

  "Aye," he replied, slowly standing.

  "My Lord Elrond requires your presence, if you will accompany me?"

  "Of course," he said, and with that, he nudged the dozing Galdithion, who woke with a groan that was almost a growl.

  A calm, steady presence at his side, a strong hand upon his shoulder - Glorfindel.

  "Commander General Celegon is with them…" said the deep, mellow voice of the Noldorin general.

  Elrond was not surprised, for a Prince of the realm warranted the best warriors to ensure his safety, especially because Handir, Thranduil's youngest son - or so they had thought - was a statesman rather than a warrior. Elrond simply nodded his understanding, and then walked thoughtfully to the tall windows of his private study, his hands clasped behind his back. He had called this, informal, council where others could not hear, for the information they had come by, warranted no less.

  A knock on the door revealed Prince Handir, and Elrond turned to greet him. He still looked tired, he thought as he walked forward and nodded in respect. "I trust you have rested well, my Prince?" he asked as his eyes continued to study the young elf.