Wild Monster

by Matthew Harrington

  Legolas took his spear in both hands and crouched low, sliding one hand along the smooth wood until it reached the end, and the low murmurs of the captains abruptly ceased.

  Legolas carried out a forward lunch that stopped just short of Marathon's belly and the Sinda froze for a moment, looking stupidly at the tip of the spear, before meeting Legolas' smirking face. But he had no time to think on it, for Legolas swivelled the spear above his head, danced on his heel and brought it back down until it rested over Barathon's left ear. Barathon froze again, his eyes wide, spear useless in his hand.

  Flipping backwards, Legolas squatted to the other side, the spear now resting down his left arm, his right held out behind him. Running, he flipped forwards without the use of his arms until he stood before Barathon, the spear sitting parallel to his face, over the bridge of his nose and Barathon dropped his useless spear to the ground with a resounding clatter. After what seemed like an endless moment of silence, Legolas spoke, the heat of the moment and his own anger fuelling his words.

  "You wished to humiliate me. This is my answer," he spat, before walking backwards and then returning the spear to an awe struck Silvan weapons master.

  "Why did you not tell me you had used this weapon before," shouted Barathon, somewhat shakily.

  Legolas turned back to the Sinda, his hair whipping around his face. "You never asked," he snarled. He was riled, and in his anger he was suddenly fierce and frightening, volatile and passionate.

  It was enough, Huron was done and Celegon nodded.

  "We will take an early evening meal and move on to the final part of this trial. Legolas, please join us in one hour in the dining area."

  Legolas nodded, glad of the time he had been given. Dorhinen's heavy hand was on his bare shoulder then, his grey eyes staring into Legolas' green irises, so intensely he stopped in concern for what Dorhinen would say.

  "Your grandfather was the last Spear Master, Legolas. Take the grade, take his place, earn his spear for it sits uselessly in the vaults of the fortress, forgotten by all except me and your father…"

  "But there are no spear masters to judge me… indeed there was only one in Imladris."

  "Then we send for him, or we send you there - do this thing, Legolas. It is right - such a magnificent weapon must not be left to rot, not if there is a rightful heir."

  Legolas looked deeply into Dorhinen's pleading eyes, eyes that shimmered with deep emotion and conviction and he smiled in awe.

  "There is fire in your eyes, Dorhinen. As if a cold, cold star had just exploded - Koron en' Naur."

  "What?" asked Dorhinen in a voice so soft Legolas almost missed it.

  "Koron en' Naur - Ball of Fire - thus I name you…"

  "You are asking me to join you? Join your company?"

  "Oh yes, respectfully, and with hope in my heart."

  "I am old, and bitter, Legolas. Your company is young and optimistic still of the world."

  "Just as you once were, just as you can be once more, if you have a mind…"

  The blank cold stare of the Sinda had been shattered and the muscles in his face moved, pulling his features this way and that.

  "To follow a grandson of Oropher King - to follow you - I would give my life - I do."

  Legolas was so very grateful then, humbled by this extraordinary Sindarin elf that had lived for so long, seen so many things and so he wrapped his strong arms around the one that had been his shadow for the last few days, and embraced him as a brother, as a warrior of The Company.

  The Sinda's own arms wrapped around the strong body, and then squeezed with all his might, because for the first time in many long years, Dorhinen allowed himself to feel - and it did not hurt.

  Koron en' Naur.

  And behind them, Dunorel smiled brilliantly, turning to Thoron and clapping him on the shoulder and whispering in his ear.

  "What an extraordinary child…"

  The afternoon light was rapidly failing, and candles and torches were lit in the strategy room where the Captains now stood talking quietly, expectantly.

  Dinner had been a quick, practical affair, for none of them could wait to get back to the final part of this, extraordinary trial, one none of them would forget, especially Legolas.

  Strategy, intuition, forward planning. However good a warrior was, if he did not excel in these skills, he would never earn a command, and that is what they would now put to the test.

  "Legolas, step forward," said Huron, making way for him at the massive table around which they all stood. Upon it, sat a map of the entire Greenwood and off to one side, six boxes, each containing differently coloured stones.

  "These," said Huron as he dipped his hands into the green stones, are our warriors and these," he pointed to the black ones, "are orcs. Yellow stones are for spiders, grey for shelters, blue for water sources and red for other patrols. Take a good look at the map, Legolas. There is more detail than you may spot at first sight, take your time."

  The captains watched him closely as his extraordinary green eyes keenly scanned the forest, the hills and the streams, the caves and the plains, the fortress of Dol Guldur…

  "You are here," said Huron, counting out twenty green stones and placing them upon the map. "They are here, and here, he pointed, reaching first for the black and then the yellow stones. "There is a patrol here," he pointed, adding a red stone off to the west. Deploy your warriors," said Huron and then fell silent.

  Legolas' eyes narrowed, noting where his own group was, the distance between them and the Western patrol, the enemy numbers, their proximity to civilian areas, water sources, caves in which they could find shelter, or perhaps use as vantage points.

  "How many of my elves are archers?"

  "Ten."

  Picking two green stones from his own group, he put them with the western patrol and then picked five more, replacing them upon the map. Five more were placed separately and then the remaining elves behind them.

  "Archers," he pointed, "foot warriors here. Runners to the western patrol, they are close enough to lend aid but that would depend on the time of day?" he asked.

  "Morning," said Huron.

  "These two groups are close enough that we may box them in here," he pointed. "With luck the western patrol will join this central group here before the enemy is engaged. If they do not arrive, a second decision would be made before engagement," he said confidently, placing one more green stone half-way towards the enemy. A scout here will better inform of their proximity and movement."

  Huron's eyes moved from the map to Legolas, and then to the rest of the Captains, but they were silent.

  Dunorel stepped forward, swiping the stones away and starting anew. "One patrol here, and another here. An ambush further ahead, here, has a broken patrol with four wounded. How do you get them to safety?" …..

  And thus, early evening turned to night and still they worked, and outside, two Silvan warriors stood watching, and waiting. It would be over soon, they knew, and finally they would be at liberty to discuss the extraordinary events they had lived over the past two days. They knew their people were approaching, knew what it was they came for.

  "Will the king allow it, brother?" asked one softly.

  "How could he not? Did you see him? Did you see him fight?"

  "I did," he smiled and then turned to look at his companion, for his young eyes sparkled in youthful excitement. "You admire him…"

  "Yes. It is all I ever wanted and did not think possible - I want to be a lieutenant - a Silvan lieutenant…" and then he smiled.

  Legolas had been confined to his small room at the barracks while the captains had closeted themselves within the strategy room, discussing his future. There was no telling how long it would take them, and so he sat in the company of Dorhinen, or Koron en' Naur as Legolas had named him just that afternoon.

  They had talked for many hours, of Dorhinen's life, of the things he had seen and done, of his service to Oropher king, and then his tragic downfall. The Sin
da had told Legolas many stories of his beloved king, all of them good, and yet Legolas had dragged with him a feeling that Oropher could surely not be the strong yet just king Dorhinen and everyone else made him out to be, and the reason seemed clear. How could Oropher have forbidden his son to court Lassiel?

  It was one thing to dissuade him, given that she had no claim to nobility, but surely, when their love became clear, he would have yielded? Koron en Naur must have noticed his doubts and cocked his head to one side.

  "What is it?" he asked.

  "Well, I am assuming you know that King Oropher forbade his son to court Lassiel, my mother and I was just wondering - why he would do that…"

  "That I cannot tell, Hwindo, and yet I do know he was a just elf, fair and good-hearted. Whatever reason drove him to do that, it must have been a powerful one - I promise you that."

  Legolas thought about that for a moment, yet already his head was moving from side to side.

  "You do not understand it, do you?" asked Koron en Naur.

  "No- no I do not, but I have yet to have this conversation with my father. I will be sure to ask him for I do not rightly know where I stand as far as my grandfather is concerned."

  "And that you must learn for yourself, of course. You know," he smiled as he shook his head, "you are so much like him - not only your face but your personality. The more I get to know you, Hwindo, the more of him I see in you."

  "Then I hope my questions are answered, Koron. He ruined my father's life, and affected mine in such a pivotal way. There were many consequences to that decision he made, so many ramifications."

  "I see that," said Dorhinen, now so far from the chunk of ice he had been just that morning. So much had changed that day, as if another elf sat beside him, reborn after a simple fight with spears, well if one could call it a fight, of course."

  They had expected him in the morning, but still, there was no sign of Legolas or Dorhinen and breakfast was quieter than it had been for many days, the air around them charged with trepidation, worry, anxiety, for Legolas was in the hands of the Inner Circle, and the Silvans marched upon the fortress.

  Elladan sipped his tea in silence as the Company talked quietly amongst themselves. They were restless, and the Noldo knew their patience was running thin. But then, so was his own.

  "Elladan!"

  Elrond's son visibly jumped at the frantic call from somewhere beyond the dining room door and he frowned, aware that the entire Company had fallen silent.

  "Elladan!"

  "What…" was as far as Idhrenohtar got, before a panicked Nestaron burst into the room. His hair had come undone, as if he had messed it himself, and his eyes were huge.

  "Elladan!" he shouted once more, before his eyes landed on Rafnohtar, sitting with the Company.

  "Nestaron?" asked Elladan in mounting panic as the Master Healer ran towards his table, stopping in a flurry of black robes.

  Yet his proximity to Elladan did not change the tone of his voice, nor, unfortunately, the volume, for he continued to shout, unable to control his panicked state.

  "Elladan, by the Valar, Elrondion - it is working!" he screamed.

  By now, the whole dining room had risen to their feet, trying and failing to understand what had happened to their usually calm and confident healer.

  "Elladan!" he screamed once more and Elrond's son stood, holding his palm out. "Nestaron, please. Just - tell me what has happened."

  "Your tonic, your tonic, damn it! It is working!!"

  Elladan's own eyes bulged as he stared back at the raving Sindarin healer in utter disbelief.

  "What?" he said softly, flatly.

  "It's working, it's bringing back my warrior, the infection is leaving him - he should have died!"

  "I don't understand," he said almost to himself, turning around and raking a now shaking hand through his black locks, his own blood rushing through his veins too quickly.

  "Did you not throw it away? How did you know what I put in it…"

  "Llyniel left it in the store room and I could not stop thinking about it. I used it as a last resort and….. I don't understand it myself, Elrondion, but it is working…"

  Elladan took silent leave of the Company and tried his best to compose himself but Nestaron would have none of it as he took Elladan roughly under the arm, all but dragging him away to the Healing Halls, under the shocked eyes of the Greenwood's lords and ladies.

  "What was that about?" asked Rinion with a snort.

  "Elladan's tonic, Rinion. He mixed a brew he thought may help Lainion but it did not work. Now, however, it seems to have steeped…"

  "Elrondion indeed…" muttered the king in respect.

  Morning turned to afternoon, and Commander General Celegon sat behind his imposing desk, General Huron standing on one side, and Captain Dunorel on the other.

  Brethil, Barathon, please sit, he instructed, not looking up from the papers before him.

  "I have the unpleasant duty of informing you, that your respective ranks of 'captain' have been revoked, as of now," he said, his blank eyes resting on both lords as they stared back at him in disbelief.

  "What?" came Barathon's weak voice, anxiety, vulnerability…

  "You are both, hereby, stripped of your ranks," repeated Celegon, his face completely unfeeling.

  "But this is outrageous, you cannot.." said Barathon softly.

  "Yes, Barathon. I can, we do," he said, his eyes finally showing the pity he truly felt. "Your commands were gained not on the strength of your skills in the field but on the strength of your family names. This much has been demonstrated during this trial. We are investigating how this came about," he added, "and will inevitably be making enquiries, just as we will also find out who conceded your Sword Master grade, Brethil.

  "You cannot be serious!" shouted Brethil, "you cannot demote a Captain like this,"

  "I can, because you should never have been one in the first place. You may tell your families that you are voluntarily leaving the army if that is what you wish, we have no interest in humiliating you," added the Commander General.

  The uncomfortable silence stretched out and Celegon was about to speak again, but Barathon beat him to it, rising slowly to this feet, his blazing blue eyes fixed on Commander Celegon.

  "This will not go unchallenged, Celegon," he said, "I will not be humiliated in this way, by you, or by that bastard. If you are serious about this, I will contest it with everything I have, my father has."

  "And there you have it, Barathon. We do not want you in this army, and neither do we want you, Brethil. Leave, and tell your families what you will, but I warn you. Any attempt at sedition or treason, will be answered with the full weight of our military laws. This army is an authority unto itself, loyal to the crown, yet capable of acting on its own initiative when the need arises."

  "How can you go against your own people like this?" he shouted.

  "I do not go against them, indeed it is in their favour that you do not serve as captain. You are a liability, one I knew existed but had not the moral grounds on which to act - until now. Your own arrogance has brought you here for had you not contested the Silvan's claim to a rank so fervently, so vehemently, this would not have happened. You shamed yourselves with your words and your deplorable deeds."

  "No - you embrace him," shouted Barathon, pointing his finger in Celeron's face, "that freak you call a warrior, the fruit of a royal tumble with a Silvan whore!"

  Dunorel stepped forward, one hand on his dagger but Celegon's hand on his forearm stopped him.

  "Yes - that is what we say," snarled Barathon. "His mother drove our queen away, she left our realm bereft of her light, her love. That bitch buried our king under a mountain of despair, drove our Princess away and our Crown Prince became a cold shell of what he once was. All that, is what she did, and now, you embrace her spawn? Knowing what you do?" he asked, his voice hoarse after his desperate outburst.

  Celegon stood for the first time, slowly, yet the fire in his
eyes could not be ignored and Barathon stepped back in alarm.

  "We all loved our queen, Barathon. We were all grieved at her leaving, albeit we did not understand her motives, until now. But then," he cocked his head to the side, "I have always wondered what else drove her across the sea, for we did not understand how she could have left her own children…" Do you know anything about that, Barathon?" asked Celegon, but his tone was not one of genuine puzzlement, it was almost - ironic, indeed there was a strange light in the Commander's eyes, one that appears when nascent understanding suddenly makes itself known.

  "Is it not enough, to lose the one you love? To know they have created a child?"

  "But she knew our king did not love her, Barathon. Do not think to fool me…. what is it that you know that I - do not?"

  Huron's frown depended and Dunorel watched the exchange in mounting panic, for there was more to this than met the eye, and their very intuitive Commander General had picked up on it.

  "Nothing I have not already said - she was love…"

  "Loved - by whom?" came the final whispered word that echoed around their room, in their heads and Barathon, Barathon stared back in shock and panic, for he was suddenly aware, that he had said too much…"

  It was late evening by the time Barathon and Brethil left the barracks, their faces pale, their mouths firmly shut and now, the remaining one hundred commanders of the Inner Circle sat tiredly, silently as wine was poured.

  "Whatever Barathon and Brethil did, and we all know what that is, it must have been hard to do what you just did, Commander General," said Forhen as he stared into his own goblet, swirling the wine inside it.

  "Yes," he replied quietly, sadly. "They are fools, arrogant and assuming, unworthy of their ranks and titles and of their pretty silver bands. They are vindictive and cruel and still, to strip a commander of his rank…"

  "They never really were captains, Celegon," said General Huron. "Look at it this way; they did not merit that rank, and it riles me that they ever got five captains to recommend them. I think perhaps that I do not wish to know," he said as his eyes moved from one commander to the next. "So long as it does not happen again, so long as we are capable of changing this injustice and moving on, becoming better…"