Building Ithilien [Legolas] LOTR

Brown Lands

The sun dipped low in the west, spreading a brilliant crimson fan across the Brown Lands, and to the east, the land fell away to the rush of the Anduin, gleaming dark and cold, like an ancient blade of deadly length. The elven company had not lessened their pace since leaving the borders of Mirkwood behind them. Not once had Legolas looked back to catch a final glimpse of the dark eaves of his sires' land, for if he had then surely he would have seen a solitary figure on horseback slip from the shadows and take the road behind them.

Since taking leave of his king, Legolas turned his mind toward the road ahead, the route his company must take and above all the safety of his people. He did not have any real assurance that they would even reach the first towns in time enough to provide a defense against the encroaching enemy. As his bright elven eyes peered into the graying horizon of the Brown Lands, Legolas searched unabatingly for any trace of orc or beast, but to no avail. What time that had saved by leaving earlier than intended still might not be enough, and the uncertainty of the endeavor weighed heavily upon the young elven leader. He did not want to fail; he must not. He stretched out his fingers and then closed them again, rolling back his shoulders to prevent the stiffness that comes with hard riding.

They would keep on, he decided, even with the fall of the sun, they must not stop, save to water their mounts. Their success depended on their ability to outstrip the legions with the speed of their riding and eclipse them in stealth through a forgotten pass before and through Emyn Muil. So onward the elves pressed with grim eyes and hearts and the surety that comes with the realization of nothing being certain except the cold fall of night and the hard ride ahead.

Every elf felt it. Whether it was their heightened sense of awareness or plain warrior camaraderie, each member of the company shared the weight of the task before them, trusting in the hope of success and their new, idealist leader. One can only suppose that many of them had different reasons to follow young Legolas. Despite his great age among men, Legolas Greenleaf still ranked as barely more than a youth compared to his own, and some elves followed him for this very reason—for his youth, his exuberance, or perhaps that these inspired them to feel their own youth again also. Many more of the company, especially those of Eryn Lasgalen, followed the prince out of loyalty to the house of Oropher, to Legolas himself. Many more, from either wood, rode now for their love of this new hero among elves, the hope and promise and light unchecked within his steady blue eyes.

Regardless of their motivations, the riders with their sleek tunics, glinting flashes of silver, swept across the desolate lands, their fierce purpose betrayed by the well-loaded quivers or the elegant blades and bows—long, curved, deadly. All were splendid, ready to trust in the weight of a weapon in their grip, fell-handed warriors of old, lost from the eyes of men in the final years of the third age, and now they would charge into the world of men again in the name of honor, the loyalty of one binding them all to a fate unknown.

Keeping pace in this great host rode a less battle-proven elf, and though her courage flagged with the sinking sun, onward she rode. Not entirely sure of her place in such a company or even why she was there, she would have not turned back, and she supposed a great deal of that resolve was lent through the presence of the one ahead all the others on his white Rohan steed, his hair flipping back in the wind like a beacon, or a home-fire urging her forward. Miredhel sighed and swept a fly-away curl from her eyes. She had heard from his own lips that he loved another, yet still she followed him. She felt as thought she were bound to play the fool.

With a slight clip of her heels and a soft command, she urged her new horse forward through the racing throng, her goal being to meet and keep pace with her brother. Miredhel was upset on many levels—about the journey, the danger, seeing Legolas with another, and how angry her brother would probably be—and some might think her foolish for seeking out her brother at a time like this, especially when he was one of her chief causes of anxiety. All this considered, she also felt incredibly lonely, despite the fact that many of the other elves she knew as old acquaintances or even friends. Yet she sought the sense of protection and comfort that only his brotherly presence could provide, and Miredhel only hoped that he would not be too cross to be wholly unsympathetic.