Ringspell

Chapter 2.
The old forest...

They rose at dawn the next morning, bleary-eyed and still tired from an uncomfortably cold night. Legolas, as usual, had kept watch over the company as they slept and now stood staring out across the river as the others gathered their blankets, still rubbing the sleep from their eyes. Only Aragorn was fully awake, walking over to check that the boats were worthy of the crossing. Of course, he resolutely told himself that his actions had nothing to do with the proximity of the quiet Elf.

With no fire to douse and little rubbish to clear, it was just a few minutes later when the Fellowship climbed into their elegant little boats and crossed the Anduín without incident. Once on the other side they headed East, towards the southern-most edge of the great forest of Mirkwood. The threat of encounter with orcs on the eastern shore was very real and the company hurried across the barren plain between the river and the wood, breathing an audible sigh of relief when they reached the perceived safety of the trees.

However, when they stopped to catch their breath, fear crept once again into their hearts. Huge trees, gnarled and heavy with age loomed far overhead, their branches creaking ominously under the weight of their own foliage. The rising sun barely penetrated the thick canopy, sending only a few slanted rays of filtered light to the mossy forest floor. The air was dank and still, as though the door to some long forgotten tomb had been opened and the smell of damp earth and vegetation was thick in the atmosphere. Though not a breath of air moved near the ground, high above, the early-winter wind blew long, low whistles in the canopy. There was no other sound.

Unconsciously, the Fellowship drew closer to each other, feeling suddenly small and vulnerable in the ancient forest.

"Did He really live here?" Frodo asked of no-one in particular, failing to keep the uncertainty from his voice.

"Who?" Pippin whispered.

"Bilbo said, Sauron lived here a long time ago." The ring-bearers' reply was barely audible. The hobbits drew a collective breath, as though they might actually scream, before Gandalf interjected.

"Indeed." He proclaimed loudly, lifting the blanket of silence that covered them.

"His home, the infamous fortress of Dol Guldur is quite close to here, in fact. We go this way." He pointed.

The wizard continued to speak, as he led them off in a vaguely easterly direction.

"The Elves of course, live as far away from here as they can, in the northern part of the forest. Their King, Thranduil, makes his home under a mountain beside the Forest River, in great halls carved out in the days when Elves and dwarves worked side by side."

The company moved on slowly, the task made difficult by the thick carpet of twisted tree roots laid on the forest floor. Only Legolas seemed comfortable with his surroundings, his step light and sure, though Aragorn noticed that the Elf was not entirely at ease, glancing nervously about him and pausing often to peer into the dim light, as though searching for a threat.

"Here we are." Gandalf stopped beside a tree, seemingly no different to any other around them.

Craning his neck to look up the trunk of the tree, to where its blanket of leaves was almost lost in the misty heights, the Wizard let forth a powerful whistle, as though calling a herding-dog from a distance. An identical whistle came in reply and after a few moments an impossibly long rope-ladder fell from the sky. The company waited several minutes for the appearance of a somewhat raggedly dressed wood-Elf who upon reaching the ground, immediately engaged Gandalf in whispered conversation in thickly-accented elvish. Feeling left out, the others waited quietly to the side while Gandalf and the stranger spoke at length. Impatience and curiosity overcoming him, Boromir spoke to Legolas.

"Should that Elf not have bowed to you?" He asked, in a manner that sounded offended.

"Why?" Legolas looked at him.

"You are the son of his King, are you not? Do your people not show you respect?" Legolas smiled, seeming amused.

"Friend Boromir," He said, "That Elf is a border scout. It is undoubtedly hundreds of years since he has been to the north. What makes you think he has any idea who I am?" Confusion creased Boromir's face. He obviously could not understand why Legolas did not walk over to the stranger and tell him who he was, to receive the respect due to him. Aragorn understood; Legolas did not care if a stranger bowed to him or not. Watching the interaction between Captain of Gondor and Prince of Mirkwood, Aragorn felt thankful, as he often did, for the Elven part of him.

Without warning Gandalf strode past the loitering group, heading off into the trees, changing course slightly to the north.

"Come along, now." He called over his shoulder. "We have a ways to go yet, before nightfall."

The Fellowship trotted after him, stumbling often on the rough ground. When Aragorn caught up with the Wizard and glanced behind him, the Elven scout was gone and there was no telling his tree from any other.

The hours dragged on slowly as they walked, the smaller members of the group tiring quickly with the effort of climbing over the many tangled tree roots. Legolas stepped up beside Aragorn.

"This would be much easier with horses." He said, in his soft voice. Aragorn nodded agreement. Though loathed to admit it, he too was feeling strained.

"We should stop soon." He suggested. "The hobbits need to rest."

He raised his voice to be heard by Gandalf who walked ahead of them.

"Perhaps we should consider stopping for a while." He called.

Gandalf ignored him.

It was some time later when the old Man finally stopped and waited for the others to catch up. Though it was impossible to tell the time of day under the forest ceiling, it seemed to be getting imperceptibly dimmer and Aragorn guessed it to be almost dusk when they gathered together to sit through the night.

There was nowhere really, to make any sort of camp among the pillars of trees, so the company settled down as best they could on the damp earth, most choosing to lean against a tree rather than attempt to lay on the very uncomfortable-looking roots. Legolas stood, as usual, aside from the others, gazing into the distance, presumably thinking elvish thoughts. With nothing much else to do, Aragorn wandered over.

"Are you happy to be going home?" He asked.

The Elf thought for a moment before answering.

"Yes. And no."

Aragorn looked closely at his companion, waiting for him to explain.

"My father will be angry..."

He seemed to want to continue, but the words trailed off and silence settled on them again. Aragorn stood quietly with Legolas for some time, hoping the Elf would finish the thought he had begun. When it became clear that he would say nothing more, the Ranger reluctantly moved away, settling down against a nearby tree. He had enjoyed being near the Elven Prince and though conversation was proving difficult, the silence between them had not been uncomfortable. As one who appreciated silence, he resolved to spend more time with Legolas and to know him better before their journey came to end.

To be continued...