Unspoken ( A Legolas Love Story )

6: Adversaries

Legolas joined a company of Rangers in the early morning for their daily route around the valley in which the village was set. A few weeks had passed since his altercation with Strider. The Ranger Captain had welcomed the elf's restrained apology with a nod and a smile, and since then, nothing more had been said in that regard. However, Legolas still continued to wrestle with the need to prove himself.

There was a frost over the forest, and their breath made clouds in the air as Legolas and the Dúnedain made the trek on well-worn paths up the valley ridge. At the top of the ridge they paused for a moment, and Beringil stood looking out over the grey landscape. With a hand tugging at his stubby brown beard, the older mortal furrowed his brow.

"Seems there's a bit of cloud settling down over the valley. I can't make out much..." Glancing over his shoulder at their party of eight, he picked out Legolas and jerked his head. "Come here elf, tell me if you see anything."

With a short nod, Legolas dropped his hood and stepped up to the edge of the ridge beside Beringil. Strider was out scouting with a few of his most trusted Rangers this morning, and so Legolas only recognized a handful of familiar faces, Daernon and Asvard were amongst the company. Beringil may have come dangerously close to insulting the woodland prince the first time they met, but since then, his even, sensible manner had made the mortal easy to get along with. Legolas had mentally prepared himself to take further orders from the Ranger Captain's second-in-command.

The valley ridge made an excellent vantage point, and afforded the elf a view for leagues around, Legolas's sharp blue eyes could make out the wisp of smoke curling over the pine-tops from the village hearths. A herd of deer were moving through the trees on the far side of the river. Sudden movement away to the north caught Legolas's eye. Thinking it might be Strider and his scouting party, he looked carefully. Sure enough, he could just barely make out the cloaked figures in the distant underbrush. But the movement that had drawn his attention was heading towards the small party of Rangers. Narrowing his eyes, Legolas was not sure what he was seeing...but it was not one of their own.

He called, "Are there any others who live in the area, besides your folk?"

The man shook his head. "Nay. We're the only ones on this side of the foothills. And the only ones this far north of the Shire."

"...Strider and his scouts have company."

No sooner were the words out of Legolas's mouth, than Beringil was barking orders at the other Rangers. In a matter of seconds they were on their feet. Legolas was already mentally plotting the fastest path along the ridge down to where Strider and his men were. The unknown party was approaching from the north, fast. Strider would have little to no warning, unless Legolas, Beringil, and the others got to him first.

Bounding like deer along the trail, Legolas and the Rangers descended down off the ridge as quickly as they could. Keeping their footing on the stony path was difficult in some places. A recent frost had slicked everything even as it made the forest sparkle along its branches like tiny diamonds. The fog was descending deep into the valley now, shrouding the path and making it impossible further than a dozen or so feet ahead.

Even with their familiarity of the terrain and their excellent physical form, the Rangers soon fell several paces behind Legolas. Legolas pushed on ahead. Abandoning the idea of trying to shoot anything with such poor visibility, he bypassed his bow and instead reached for one of his elven short swords. Bringing it out of its sheath, he gripped the ivory handle tightly in his palm. Strider and his scouts must be only just a matter of yards up ahead.

Just faintly through the fog, Legolas caught sight of something. Judging by the form of the man, it was Strider. He was flat on his back on the ground, with a figure straddled on top of him. With a bound and a leap, Legolas sprang forward into the small clearing and tackled the figure looming over Strider. He and the attacker went rolling away into the bracken in a tangle of knives and cloaks.