Nepenthe [Legolas]

24

PART THREE

The Fangorn forest allowed them passage without resistance.

Viridis listened for the telltale chatter of the trees whispering secrets to one another through the wind, the leaves, the earth. Instead, he found only a satiated acceptance, a reluctant peace of sorts. The trees were reminding each other both of the darkness that still lurked, but also of the hope and goodwill that still remained in the world.

The amber-haired Elf that sat steadily atop the back of a white mare, chose to believe that the calm of the forest meant that Merry and Pippin were well and alive despite the battle in Isengard that Gandalf had told them transpired during their time at Helm's Deep.

They followed the White Wizard atop Shadowfax through the forest, watched as the thick of the trees gave way to steady bits of sunlight. And then a path, an inviting one of clear direction and intent, they followed as they emerged from the other end of the forest.

It was to the sight of two mischievous Hobbits sitting atop a half-broken brick wall, smoking their pipes with a large and mostly empty tankard of beer between them and having the dandiest of days. They looked to be immensely enjoying themselves and looked as far away from the steps of death as ever possibly contrived.

Viridis, from his perch on the horse behind Legolas, let out an admittedly annoyed sigh of relief. He would have worried less before, lost less sleep over them too, if only to know they'd been having the grandest of times in their separation from the fellowship.

"Welcome, my lords..." Merry explained as he jumped to his feet, waving his hand in a flourish. "To Isengard!"

"You young rascals!" Gimli cursed, shaking a fist from his place with Aragorn on their respective horse. "A merry hunt you've led us on. Now we find you... feast and... smoking!" He spluttered.

Pippin just offered them the widest grin and held up his pipe as if offering a toast. "We are sitting on a field of victory. Enjoying a few well-warned comforts." He leaned forward then, bracing a hand on his knee as he sat, legs dangling off the wall. He offered a smirk, a true grin of triumph as he rubbed the efforts of their successes in the Dwarf's face. "The salted pork is particularly good."

Gimli lost his anger quickly, his frown replaced with rounded lips, nearly salivating at the prospect of good food. "Salted pork?" He repeated.

In front of them, Gandalf shook his head in disbelief, sharing in Viridis' feelings of being half relieved and half exasperated. "Hobbits." He cursed fondly under his breath.

"We're under orders from Treebeard who's taken over management of Isengard." Merry went on, hopping down from his perch and confidently striding over to the horse of one of King Theoden's men. Together, both Merry and Pippin mounted without question, alarming the soldier who had been riding on the horse. The Man looked alarmingly confused but did not move to comment on the sudden companionship he was endowed with.

Viridis suppressed a grin as he passed them, his horse moving forward toward the supposed Treebeard.

He'd only encountered an Ent twice in his travels of Middle Earth and had only held conversation with one once. Ents were tall humanoid trees with thick skin resembling the bark and an appearance resembling the very trees they shepherded. They were slow to convene and slower still to hold conversation.