Building Ithilien

Chapter Fourteen: The River Ran Red

Legolas flailed in the murky water. He had fallen into the river from great height, and his right shoulder had slammed into a boulder, knocking his knife from his hand. The swift current of the Anduin rushed over him as he frantically searched for his weapon. The clouds still blotted out the moon. With his bow still on the riverbank above and his knife somewhere in the river, the elf was unarmed and alone.

A breeze gathered, parting the clouds, and a thin strip of moonlight reflected off the river. His knife! Legolas grabbed for it, only an arm's length away. The handle felt warm and sticky. He held it up in the moonlight only to see that the blade dripped in gore.

When the clouds lifted completely from the moon, Legolas saw red everywhere. Blood streaked his chest, torso, and his hands. He felt the back of his throat burn and knew he was going to be sick. His chest still throbbed from the hit he had taken, and his shoulder felt on fire. He tumbled toward the edge of the river, fighting the push of the current.

Suddenly as before, a thick acrid odor assailed his nostrils. His enemy had returned. The prince pushed himself against a large outcropping of stones in the riverbed. He longed for his bow but praised the Valar that he had found his knife in time. The smell and the sound of the creature's breathing grew stronger.

From behind the rock, Legolas heard a guttural snarl, followed by ripping, flesh being torn from the bone. The water thrashed and swelled against his hiding place. Flecks of bone and meat floated past him. The splashing stopped. Legolas waited. He knew the fell beast still lingered. He could hear and smell its breath. He wondered if this was how it would all end for him. He rolled his shoulders back and gripped his knife. He mouthed a silent prayer to the Valar for courage and began to edge around the side of the rock. A pair of great, golden slits for eyes watched his every move.

Thinking he would slay this devil if only he could see it, Legolas could hardly discern its form for all the steam rising from the river. The beast's lidless, serpentine gaze gave forth a yellow beam of light, which pierced through the thick vaporous curls of smoke and steam to glower at him. He returned its stare, anticipating any move the monster might make. He had only one knife and only one chance.

Finally, the elf spoke, "We seek nothing but peace. Leave us, and no harm will come to you."

The creature snorted, and twin columns of steam shot toward the sky. His narrow orbs brightened, and then he spoke, "Well met, son of Mirkwood."

His eyes bored into the elf's, never ceasing. Legolas stood rooted, finding he could neither look away nor move.

He opened his mouth to speak, but his tongue felt dull and overstuffed. He could no longer feel the quiver on his back or his dagger in his hand. His shoulder ceased its throbbing as his entire body melted into numbness. The elf's mind wandered. He was neither awake nor asleep. The world vanished around him, save the golden eyes of the beast.

The creature taunted the prince, "Who would you sacrifice yourself for? Your ragged band of friends and woebegone maidens are no match for my strength. You are weak. I read it in your eyes. I know everything of your plans, prince of Mirkwood. I desire a much more formidable opponent. If you lead me to him, I will spare your life and most of your pitiful company." He licked his chops. "It has been so very long since I have savored the taste of elven kind, or should I say it had been so long, until tonight that is."

Legolas fell under his spell, and the beast's twisting words fettered his heart in self-loathing. The elf's eyes darkened beyond midnight, and his smooth features hardened with malice. All might have been lost had nature not intervened. It began to rain. Only slow, lazy drops met the river at first. Then lightning rent the heavens and a torrent of rain swept forth.

Legolas gasped at the fresh air ushered in by the night rain as it melted away the steam and mist on the river. He experienced a sensation, which could only compare to the way trees feel during springtime. His face tingled as the cool rain washed away the blood and grime. As the pain in his shoulder returned, Legolas could also feel the comforting weight of his knife in his hand. He remembered where he was and the peril he faced. His heart began to hammer in his chest. He gripped his knife tighter and waited for opportunity.

Lightning flashed again, and the creature blinked. Now was his chance. Legolas dove underwater and quickly swam toward his foe. He burst from the river, slashing wildly at dark, glistening scales. Faster than elven eyes could trace, the beast twisted out of the knife's path. Lightning blinded the sky once more, and Legolas saw his opponent clearly for the first time. His spirit quelled as sight confirmed his worst fears. Amidst the choppy water and pouring rain, he saw the grim silhouette of wicked wings and claws, a long snout and cruel fangs. Dragon. The word alone made the elf cringe.

The dragon snarled, "Fool! Your sad weapons cannot mar this armor!"

Legolas reached back and threw his knife with all his might toward the dragon's luminous eyes. In one swift movement, the dragon lifted his wings and shot up to meet the rain in the sky. Legolas' knife splashed back into the Anduin. He had missed. He reached into his quiver and pulled out an arrow. Of course, he did not have his bow, but even an arrow alone was better than facing a dragon with bare fists.

The dragon beat his wings furiously in the sky, shredding the clouds. Legolas peered up at him, marveling at the span of the beast's wings and waited for the worst. He did not have to wait very long, for the dragon pulled in his wings and swooped upon the Anduin. He roared and bright flames licked the river in a fiery blaze.

Legolas ducked underwater and clung to the rocks on the riverbed. Under the dragon's wrath, the water whistled shrilly in the elf's ears. Legolas wondered grimly if dragons preferred their elves boiled before they ate them. He peered upward and could see orange flame dancing above the river's surface. The dragon flapped his wings and rose to the height of the moon before plunging back toward the river, the fire of his breath torching the air before him. Squeezing his eyes shut, the elf arched his back in misery as the temperature rose to scalding. He pulled himself along the riverbed to deeper, cooler water. The surface appeared dark. Legolas waited. Elves can hold their breaths for a remarkable amount of time, but even this elf began to feel lightheaded. He stretched his arms and hands out in the murky water, groping for anything that he could grip to ease the pain. As his hands wandered, something sharp sliced his fingers, and Legolas could see a stream of red filter through the water. He carefully pulled it into sight and could scarcely believe his good fortune. Legolas had found his knife again. He pushed himself off the floor and swam for air. Chest heaving, the elf broke through the surface and brandished his knife.

The sky was dark and the air, clear. Legolas listened. All seemed still, and more importantly, the smell of dragon's breath had vanished. The dragon could have easily killed him. 'What made him leave now?' he wondered. His mind turned toward his camp, and the hackles on the back of his neck rose. The camp! His warrior's arrows and spears were no match for the dragon's resilient armor.

He trudged through the river toward the ravine wall. His worry for the camp gripped his soul, and he kept seeing the dead piles of orcs from the roadside in his mind. If such a thing happened to his people… He could not bear to think of the possibility. He wrung out his sopping hair and sheathed his knife while he studied the ravine wall before him. From his vast experience of climbing the tallest trees in Mirkwood during his youth, Legolas thought the climbing the ravine should prove quite simple. With a great sense of urgency, he picked a spot with ample hand and foot holds and began to hoist himself upward. He had reached the midway point when his left hand slipped from the softened earth and wet, slick rocks.

His right arm shot out and grabbed a bulky root protruding from the dirt. The elf stifled a groan. Pain raked his right side as if an invisible hand had reached in and twisted all the muscles in his hurt shoulder. He let go and slid back down to the base of the ravine. He muttered some dwarvish curses, courtesy of Gimli, and began to climb again, this time favoring his left shoulder entirely. Eventually his fingers met with soft grass on the top of the ledge, and he pulled himself out of the ravine. Not looking back, Legolas rushed toward the site of the fallen trees, hoping to find his bow untouched.

He dropped to his knees when he saw it. He feared that the dragon had trampled his prize weapon to pieces or ruined it with his breath. Legolas let out a sigh of relief and stood. His bow had escaped harm. Pulling it to his chest, he ran through the shadows and trees toward the elven camp.

Back at the camp, Miredhel saw the prince dashing through the trees at a frantic pace. His hair and clothes seemed to be wet, and blackish-red streaks covered his tunic and leggings. She feared he was injured, and forgetting all decorum, titles, and the fact that she despised him, she cried out in surprise, "Legolas!" She dropped the blanket she had been mending and ran to meet him. She ran toward him, stopping only when it seemed that they might collide.

"Legolas, what happened to you? Are you injured?" she asked. He appeared to be covered in blood, yet she could see no wounds. His ashen face and uneven, panting breaths frightened her. Legolas was not his usual, poised self. He reached out and gripped her by the arm and steadied himself.

"Lady, tell me, the camp…is it safe?" His eyes pleaded with her.

"Of course it is," she said and eyed him warily. "Except for the brief rain, it has been quiet all night, but you are not well. Come back to the camp with me and see a healer."

"There is no time, Miredhel. We must leave immediately and head for Mirkwood with great speed."

"In the middle of the night?"

"Yes, and as soon as possible. Return to the camp and help to ready the others."

"What happened?"

Legolas looked down and realized he still held onto her arm. He gently let go and looked up at her face. "I do not wish to alarm you, but we are in grave danger, and the sooner we can ride, the better."

She nodded and headed toward the camp where she and the other elves began to prepare for a quick departure. Legolas hurried toward the site where he had left his friends earlier. Farothin glanced at the prince's return and then snapped his head back. His eyes trailed down his disheveled figure, fully noting the dark stains and scorch marks on his wet clothing. "Sir, what…?

Legolas cut him off, "Farothin, I had a run-in with our mystery foe. He disappeared, but could return at any moment. I need you to round up all the horses. We must ride to night."

"They scattered everywhere, my lord. I doubt we will be able to find them all tonight."

"Then find as many as possible. Get the twins to help you."

"Eledhel and Belegil left the night watch to find you after the horses stampeded. You did not meet them on your way back?"

Legolas groaned. "Go ahead and start trying to recover our herd, Farothin. Get some of the other warriors to find them." He walked the perimeter of the night watch, asking if anyone had seen Eledhel or Belegil since they left. No one had. He looked back to the camp. Miredhel had succeeded in getting most of the shelters and supplies packed away. He saw Sulindal talking to his brother on the southern side. Good, Belegil had returned.

Legolas joined them. Before they could comment on his appearance, he said, "I know, I know. I look horrible, but that is the least of my concerns. Where is Eledhel?"

Belegil and Sulindal exchanged looks. "He did not find you, Legolas?" asked Belegil.
Legolas shook his head and cleared his throat. "Listen, I told Miredhel to start breaking camp."

"I noticed that," said Sulindal. "I can only guess that you mean to leave tonight."

"Right away," added Legolas. "I want you both to take a head count of the entire company. Make sure you account for everyone. Farothin gathers the horses even as we speak. As soon as he returns, we ride for the bridge." Despite his scraggly appearance, Legolas' voice rang with determination and the authority of kings, and his eyes took on a steely hue.

The brothers saluted and quickly went to work. It did not take very long for the brothers to complete their task, and Legolas noted their grim expressions as they returned to report.

"All are accounted for…save two—Eledhel and Valraen."

"Valraen, one of the younger warriors? Could he have left the night watch to help Farothin?"

"We do not believe so. I found strange tracks near the area where he was last seen."

"Strange tracks…" Legolas felt his eyes burn. He already guessed the truth.

"Yes, Valraen's tracks head toward the river, and then disappear," Sulindal said.

"And then I found his bow, cracked, and some arrows on the ground," Belegil added.

Legolas' head dropped. He had failed him, Valraen, so young. "If I could have given my life to save him, I would," he said weakly. Sulindal reached out to brace his shoulder.

"So would we all, Legolas, but there is little we can do for now," he said.

Farothin returned and brought his fist to his chest in salute. We have rounded up all of the horses save five."

"That is no matter. Some of us can ride double," Sulindal reasoned.

"I am sure Lady Limaer would give up her horse if it meant she could ride with the prince," Belegil joked, trying to cheer his friend.

Legolas grimaced. "Make sure everyone is ready to ride. We can brook no more delays." He collected his pack and was glad to see that Arod still enjoyed fine health. He wanted to stall a little longer, hoping that Eledhel would return. At least he could take the time to change tunics. Using Arod as a changing screen, he peeled off his bloodied shirt. The elf studied the back of his right shoulder, which already began to turn a nasty shade of mottled yellow and purple. He prodded it with his fingers. Yes, definitely sore. He thought it most unfortunate that he had no sweet maiden-love whom he could implore to rub some salve on it later. In spite of the dread settling in his soul, Legolas could not help but grin a little at the idea. He pulled his clean tunic over his head, settled his pack, and mounted his horse.

"A great evil has risen in the form of a dragon," he announced. Most of the company gasped, and their eyes widened in panic and disbelief. "You know the truth of this in your heart. You can sense the threat, as do I. I will not say 'do not fear,' for it is well that you should. Ride hard, stay together, and never look back." He looked at them encouragingly. "Take heart, for the Valar are with us this night."

The elves mounted their horses, and Miredhel rode to the prince's side. She looked at him pleadingly and said, "We can not leave. I implore you. My brother has not yet returned."

"I would not leave your brother behind for any amount of gold," he said softly to her.

"Then why do we still make ready to leave?" she asked, and her eyes brimmed with unshed tears.

Legolas cupped her cheek with his hand and wiped away tear as it fell. "You are leaving. I am staying," he said and turned his head toward Belegil. "Lead the company on toward the bridge and then take the road to the southern wood. Be on your guard and watch the skies. I will find Eledhel and meet you on the road."

"Legolas, no," protested Sulindal, "allow me to stay here as well."

"No, Sulindal. The company will need your watchful eyes. Go with them, and I will be right behind you."

With his permission, Belegil gave the signal, and the elves and horses charged forward disappearing into the long shadows of the night. Legolas watched them go and sighed. He was on his own again. He had kept Eledhel's horse with him, still ever hopeful that he would be able to return him to the rightful owner. Legolas paused for a moment, wondering if it would perhaps be better to wait at the empty campsite or to go and actually look for him. He decided to wait a bit, and as he sat alone in the dark, his memories overcame him.

Legolas thought back to the days before the Battle of the Five Armies when he had born witness to the desolation of Smaug. The dragon had completely razed Lake-town and had killed many men. He tried to recall exactly how the Bard had managed to bring Smaug down. That information might prove very handy. He then replayed every tale his father had ever told him of brave elves and wicked dragons like Glaurung, Ancalagon, Scatha, and Sulthaur. He was in the middle of desperately trying to remember the name of the elf who smote the dragon that sacked Talath Nimlost when a breeze stirred behind him. Legolas straightened his back and stealthily pulled his bow to his side. Something approached. In one fluid motion, Legolas flipped around Arod to the ground, fitted an arrow to his bow, and took aim at the shadows.

"Legolas!" It was Eledhel. His face, which had been looking tight and grim, became a myriad of emotions, first relief and joy at seeing his friend still alive, and then bewilderment at the everyone else's disappearance. "Where is everyone?" he asked.

"Where have you been?" hissed Legolas, trading his worry for anger.

"I might say the same to you!" Eledhel shot back. "I found one of our horses back there, well, parts of the legs and head." Arod snorted and stamped his hooves. "Sorry, friend-horse," Eledhel apologized and added, "I feared your master here might have met the same fate."

"I almost did," acknowledged Legolas. He slapped his friend on the back. "Come, we must hurry. The company rides ahead." He and Eledhel mounted their steeds and pursued their friends. They followed the gleam of the Anduin and hastened toward the bridge. Legolas kept his eyes fixed on the night sky as he told Eledhel of his encounter with the dragon.

"You know," the prince concluded, "I remember as an elfling foolishly promising my father that 'one day I would slay a dragon, just like Earandil!' Reality has proved to be quite different than my dreams."

"It always does, Legolas!" Eledhel chuckled and urged his horse to quicken its pace. "Let us see if we can catch them before sunrise!" The two friends raced toward the dawn, trusting that the rising of the sun would bring with it new hope.