Unspoken ( A Legolas Love Story )

17: Luck, Fate and a Little Bird

Legolas fought to catch glimpses of Strider's dark hair and green cloak, as Strider would briefly break the water's surface and then be sucked under again. All the while, Strider was moving at speed, dragged by the river towards Legolas downstream, accompanied by a rushing wall of water. Legolas paused and drew an arrow. He sighted his target, a willow tree overhanging the river, its lowest branches only moments away from being submerged by the rapidly approaching floodwaters. He breathed in, luck and fate would have a significant part to play in the slim possibility he had of saving Strider's life. He saw a flash of green and released his arrow.

The elf prince knew he had no time to waste. He bounded up the bank away from the rising water and then redirected his path upstream to the trunk of the willow tree that was now six feet underwater. He waded into the water and then pulled himself along the length of the recently submerged branch, feeling for his arrow shaft under the water. He found it deeply embedded in the branch, and with it a mass of heavily woven fabric. As he took a breath, he hoped against hope that its wearer would still be attached. Legolas plunged his head underwater, and reached out all around him, desperate to catch hold of something alive.

Fate was exceptionally kind, as his fingertips soon grasped a full head of hair. With the other arm, he grabbed a shoulder and dragged the Ranger Captain out of the water and up on to the bank. It had only been a matter of seconds, but Strider had swallowed a vast quantity of the floodwater. He struggled for air and began to vomit up a generous portion of the Baraduin, as he heaved and wretched on all fours. He then lay on back exhausted, panting for air, on the rocky bank, side by side with the elf breathing heavily next to him.

As Strider regained his breath, he said, "I thought you weren't supposed to tire easily elf prince."

Legolas could only summon up the faintest of laughs, drained briefly from the mental and physical exertion of the ordeal. They lay on the bank together for some time, when Strider had recovered his strength he rose and Legolas did likewise.

"It seems that gwador nín* is now a more appropriate term for you than mellon*. I am forever in your debt."

"No Estel," he replied, "I am in yours, you have welcomed me to Fornost when I needed it most. You treated me like a friend, well before the evidence and the passage of time called for it. For that, I will always be grateful."

With one arm, they locked their fists to their hearts and reached out to their sworn brother.

"Ai, gwador nín, you are injured," said Legolas, seeing the blood running in rivulets down Strider's face. He helped Strider take off his leather jerkin and smock. Then Legolas hung them on a tree branch, with his own to dry in the afternoon sun. Strider had been severely battered by the rocks and the river debris, but no single wound was significant.

"A nice selection of bruises, cuts and grazes for Nerwen to rub some salve into," said Legolas having examined Strider's head and back. "You are fortunate Strider, there are multiple ways that could have gone wrong."

"Do you think I don't know that!" he replied with a dry smile, "Are you sure you didn't nick my head with the arrow you fired at my cloak?"

"Very possibly. But better that, than trying to find your washed-up body down near the Brandywine bridge..." Legolas chuckled.

Strider shook his head in amazement, "Truly a miraculous shot, Wren will not believe it!"

Legolas thoughts were drawn to Wren. As they sat in the sun recovering, he asked Strider a question had been playing on his mind for some time.

"How did she come to carry the name Wren?"

Strider looked at him curiously, as if trying to evaluate the elf's motive for asking. "She mentioned to me that you knew her story," said Strider. "There are fascinating ramifications for her long-term future, are there not?"