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Downstairs, a group of scouts led by Aragorn was just returning. They
had searched all day to the south of Imladris, but had found nothing.
There was no trace of the trolls’ lair, no traces of where they went
after the latest attack on the travellers from Bree. They returned
dispiritedly to report to Elrond. Legolas greeted Aragorn warmly,
surprised at how glad he was to see the ranger again after such a short
acquaintance, although the other seemed to regard him a little coolly.
The lack of success was disheartening, and it was clear new tactics
were needed. Searches by day were pointless, there was nothing to be
seen, and night patrols never seemed to be in the right place at the
right time.
“We need more search parties, more widely spread. The trolls only move
at night, so we need to be in position well before. We have been
there at night, but have seen nothing of them, although they could be anywhere on those hills. It seems
clear we have no hope of finding them by chance, so I want several
groups to lie in wait all around that area to see if they appear. We
should return night after night, if necessary, trying different areas,
until we find them.”
Elladan’s plans were clear. If the trolls’ lair was so well hidden, the
only chance they had was at night when the trolls would be out and
about – and at their most dangerous.
During supper Legolas described his journey, and what had happened at
the ford. “You will have to warn your messengers, Elrond. When I
return, I will send a patrol from Lasgalen to repair the damage, but
possibly some of the woodsmen have already seen to it - they use the
ford a great deal.”
Elrohir shook his head. “You seem to have the luck of the Valar,
Legolas. You could have been killed!”
“It certainly explains why you looked so bedraggled when I met you,”
said Elladan. “I should have guessed you had gone for a swim!”
When the meal was over, Aragorn drew Legolas to one side. “You haven’t
told me how your patrol to Dol Guldur went. Did you find anything down
there?”
Legolas was silent for a moment, remembering – not that he would ever
forget. “Yes. We did. But it all went badly wrong.
Eléntia, Elthan and Math’rin were killed. We found at least two
of the Nazgûl there, and the rest of us only just made it back.”
Aragorn gazed at him in horror. “Legolas, I’m sorry. I had no idea.
What happened?” His voice was filled with compassion. “I’m so sorry,”
he repeated, sounding a little more friendly than he had at first.
Legolas shook his head. “Not now. Perhaps another
time.” There was a shadow of sadness in his eyes, and
Aragorn let the matter drop. But there was one matter he could
not forget.
“Legolas,” he began, sounding rather reluctant. “What you told me
about – about you and Arwen. That you were to marry. You
said there was nothing in it, but tonight I saw you, coming down the
stairs together. You looked – you both looked so happy.
Arwen looked so happy. I just wondered …” his voice trailed
away.
“Aragorn, stop worrying!” Legolas told him firmly. “I told you
the truth. Yes, Arwen loves me – as she loves Elladan and
Elrohir. Are you jealous of them? I love her in the same
way, like a sister. My own sister died when she was born. I never
had the chance to know her, but I like to think that she would have
been like Arwen. I was glad to see her, we had much to talk
about, but that is all. You have no reason to worry.”
Aragorn stared at him, as if reading the truth in his eyes. Then
he looked away. “I’m sorry. I should never have
doubted you, either of you. I know that. I think I…”
“I saw her just now, going outside. That way.” Legolas
pointed towards one of the outer doors, smiling as Aragorn lost no time
in following. This visit, he reflected, could be
interesting, in more ways than one.
There were no further patrols that night, but the next evening they
left Imladris. They crossed the ford of Bruinen and rode up into the
hills that surrounded the Trollshaws. There were many outcrops of rock,
cracked and fissured, where there could be caves where the trolls might
be concealed. Legolas began to appreciate how difficult the terrain was
to search, and how easily the trolls could hide. He had only been into
the Trollshaws once before, long ago, and that had been at night.
Goaded by Elladan and some of the other elflings, he and Elrohir had
crept out of Rivendell, crossed the ford – strictly against Elrond’s
orders – and up to the wood. The fright he got then, when they had come
face to face with two curious trolls, had been nothing compared with
the fright he got when they had returned to Imladris to find both
Elrond and Thranduil waiting up for them. They had talked their way out
of it, but were still in a lot of trouble.
The hunting party split up into groups of two or three, close enough to
call to, just in sight, but far enough away to cover as much ground as
possible. They settled into position as dusk fell.
Legolas was with Elrohir, concealed in a low tree. In the distance he
could see Elladan and Arwen. Somewhere on his other side, hidden by
bushes, were Aragorn and Raffael, one of Elrond’s warriors. The night
grew darker, but then the moon rose, hanging low in the sky, a few days
off full. The two elves sat back to back on adjacent branches, enabling
them to watch as much of the terrain as possible.
All was silent. The quiet of the night was broken only by the hoot of
an owl, the cries of other night birds, and the high-pitched calls of
bats. It had surprised Legolas when Aragorn had said he was unable to
hear the bats. He had not realised until then just how restricted a
mortal’s hearing was. What else did they miss out on? High
on their branch, he and Elrohir spoke in soft voices, reminiscing.
Legolas had not been to Imladris for many years and had only seen
Elrohir briefly since his arrival, so they had much news to catch up
on. “Elladan and Aragorn both said something about
Mithrandir dealing with the last trolls. What happened?”
Elrohir gave a sudden smile at the memory. “It was about ten years
ago. He was coming here with a party of dwarves and a friend of
theirs, an odd little fellow called Bilbo. They managed to get
themselves caught by the trolls. They were about to be eaten, when
Mithrandir – who of course had managed to escape capture – got the
trolls arguing about how to cook them, which to kill first. Every time
they thought they had reached an agreement, he started them off
again! He kept them at it so long, the sun came up and turned all
the trolls into stone.”
Legolas gave a shout of laughter, but then quickly stifled it. “That
must have been the same group of dwarves who came through Lasgalen
later that year. I met some of them after the battle. I remember
Bilbo, he seemed a strange little creature - a hobbit, or some such
name. I had never seen one before, but he was brave and loyal. He
tried hard to break the siege. Both my father and Thorin were being
amazingly stubborn. I wonder what happened to him when he left? I
suppose I shall never see another hobbit, but Bilbo seemed very odd.”
“He came back through Imladris on his way home. Mithrandir said the
dwarves had upset your father somehow, so he threw them all in the
dungeons!”
Legolas laughed at the memory. “Yes, that was true, he did. He realised
almost immediately that he had made a mistake, but you know how
stubborn he can be - he was unable to back down without seeming to give
in to Thorin’s demands. If I had been there, I would have talked him
round or released them myself, but as it was, this Bilbo freed them
somehow. I still wonder how he managed it!”
There was silence for a while, punctuated by the quiet night sounds.
Elrohir moved slightly, feeling stiff. Legolas’s voice came from behind
him. “The stone trolls, are they near here?”
“A couple of day’s journey away. If we have time, we can ride up there
so I can show you.”
“If there is time. We have to catch these first.”
The night passed with not even a hint of troll activity. Gradually the
sky lightened as dawn approached. As the sun rose, they dropped to the
ground, stretching against the stiffness of remaining in the same
position all night long. No one had seen any sign of the trolls, but as
they rode wearily down to the Road and back towards Imladris they came
across a scene of devastation.
A small group of dwarves, travelling from the Ered Luin to Erebor, had
been attacked. Wary of the trolls, they had moved off the Road and
camped by an outcrop of rocks to the south. They had set guards to
watch all night and had not lit any fire that might attract attention.
In short, they had done everything right, everything they could. Their
camp had still been attacked and three dwarves had been carried off.
The survivors were shaken, but their shock was giving way to anger.
They vented it on the first plausible target – the elves whose realm
bordered this area, and who should have done something. As Elladan and
Elrohir tried to placate them and reassure them that Elrond was indeed
doing something about the trolls, Legolas kept in the background. His
only dealings with dwarves had been ten years previously at the Battle
of Five Armies, and he was curious to see the outcome. In the end the
dwarves were offered an escort to Imladris, and shelter for the night.
As they returned to Imladris, Legolas rode with Elladan, Elrohir and
Aragorn. “What I cannot understand is why we always seem to be behind
them. They either strike in a place we thought was safe, or return to
an area we have already searched, and where we found no trace of them,”
Elladan complained. “It seems they know where we are, better than we
know where they are.”
“We must have searched every cave in these hills over the last few
weeks,” said Elrohir, “and we still cannot find their last den.”
“Perhaps they do not have just one,” suggested Legolas. “Maybe they
move around from one cave to another. That would explain why they keep
striking in a different place. Have you got a map that shows where they
have been?”
“Yes, of course,” replied Elladan. “But there seems to be no pattern in
it, it appears random.”
Legolas considered this. “Have you tried plotting it with the
dates of attack? See if that shows up anything.”
Elladan and Elrohir looked at each other. “We should have thought of
that,” Elladan told his twin.
“Maybe, but we do not live in a forest under constant attack from
spiders and goblins,” said Elrohir.
“Or orcs,” added Elladan
“Don’t forget the wolves,” supplied Aragorn. “Mirkwood – sorry,
Lasgalen – is a rather dangerous place. I found that out last
month.”
The four fell to inventing other dangers that lurked in Lasgalen for
the unwary. The list included mist wraiths, tree spirits, banshees,
giant frogs, carnivorous plants that could swallow a horse, and flowers
that showered unsuspecting travellers with hallucinogenic pollen. After
a while Legolas fell silent. He had discovered enough real terrors in
the forest without the need to make up more. Aragorn noticed his change
in mood and moved Duathnir next to Pavisel.
“Homesick?” he asked, deliberately pretending to misunderstand. “You
must miss such a wonderful place. I’m surprised you can bear to leave
it!” The tactic worked. Legolas laughed with him and by the time they
reached Imladris his despondency was forgotten.
They rode up into the hills above the Trollshaws again the next
evening. This time Legolas was partnered with Aragorn. As they made
their way to a remote outcrop of rocks that would make a good vantage
point, Aragorn noticed what seemed to be a deeper patch of shadow at
the base of the stones. He stopped and called Legolas back.
“Legolas! Look, there. Is that a cave? Let’s go and look.”
They approached the area cautiously. As they drew nearer, the shadow
widened and they could see a deep cleft running back into the rock.
Legolas was cautious. “I think so. Yes, it is a cave. Have they
searched this one? It was only by the way the moonlight fell that you
saw it.”
“I don’t know if they looked here yet. I don’t think so - but we should
go inside to check. Can you hear anything?”
Legolas paused at the entrance, listening intently. He sniffed the air
inside the cave. “There is nothing in there now. But I think they have
been, though not recently.”
Aragorn seemed excited. “If they aren’t there, it should be safe to go
inside. Come on!”
Legolas hesitated, searching for an excuse. “You go. One of us
should stay here, keep watch in case they come back.”
Aragorn kindled a torch and stepped warily into the cave. The
flickering light from his torch picked up glints of quartz and mica in
the walls. He turned, and could see Legolas silhouetted against the
lighter darkness at the entrance. Soon the passage turned and then
opened up into a high cave. By the uncertain torchlight he could see
bones strewn on the floor, some small enough to be sheep or goats, some
large enough to be from a horse or pony. Some of the bones looked
horribly human. He moved further into the cave and looked around, then
jumped and swore. He caught his breath on a note of horror. On a ledge
of the cave, roughly at eye level, sat a human skull. Was it an
ornament? It seemed to be looking at him from the empty eye
sockets.
Aragorn took a final swift look around the cave, wanting to be out in
the clean night air. It was clear the trolls had been here, but
not for some time, it appeared. As he turned to leave, he could hear
his name being called and, grateful for an excuse to hurry, went
quickly back to the entrance.
Outside, Legolas watched as the glimmer of torchlight faded into the
cave. It was ridiculous that he still felt this deep reluctance to
venture into a cave. He had never been able to completely conquer the
fear of darkness, pain and helplessness. He could force himself to
enter a cave if there was no alternative, but would not go in if it
could possibly be avoided. The halls of Lasgalen were different.
They were known, familiar, well lit and lavishly furnished. Frequent
windows were cut, allowing light, air and the sounds of the forest in.
He called softly. “Aragorn! Can you see anything?” He listened, and
could hear the faint sounds of Aragorn’s footsteps returning.
Back in the open, Aragorn told him everything he had seen. “They’ve
obviously been there a lot, but not for a long time. At least we know
one of their dens now!”
Legolas nodded. “I think we should plan to keep watch here, for
as long as necessary. They may return eventually. It seems to be the
best sign we have had of them yet. We can tell Elladan and Elrohir in
the morning.”
They continued to the top of the rocks to start the night’s vigil. It
was a clear, cloudless night and the hillside was brightly lit from the
moon. For a few hours nothing happened and they talked in quiet voices
of their journeys from Lasgalen. As Legolas related the tale of his
ill-fated attempt to cross the ford, he noticed shadows moving across
the hillside below. Simultaneous with his realisation that there were
no clouds in the night sky to create a shadow, he saw smaller shadows,
elves, following stealthily.
They had finally found the trolls.
As Aragorn and Legolas moved silently down to the others, more groups
converged on the hillside. Although the elves moved silently, the
trolls somehow suddenly became aware that they had company. With roars
and bellows they rounded on those closest with terrifying speed. The
elves darted out of range, but then a pitched battle began. The elves
had speed and numbers to their advantage, but the trolls were also
fast, and had brute strength, and hides impervious to arrows.
After the initial confusion, Legolas realised that there were only
three trolls, and no sign of the other two. They were armed with heavy
clubs that they wielded with deadly force, and had fists like
sledgehammers. Even the casual swing of a fist, which barely made
contact, sent Elladan sprawling breathlessly to the ground. He sat up,
dazed, as Elrohir dragged him to safety.
Aragorn and several other elves who fought with swords attacked
together. His blade rang dully and bounced off the troll’s skin. None
of their weapons seemed to have any effect, but the trolls could
inflict serious injury if they ever managed to hit anyone. Fortunately
the elves were too fast, and only a few minor swipes had made contact.
Suddenly there was a cry. A heavy swing from one of the clubs had
struck one of the elves with vicious force, knocking him to the ground.
He lay motionless. Standing over his victim, the troll roared in
triumph. Despite his concern, it gave Legolas a sudden idea. Ignoring
the twins’ shouts to move, he stood directly in front of the troll, and
fired an arrow straight at its face. The arrow bounced off uselessly,
as he had known it would, and the troll bellowed at him
mockingly. Seizing his opportunity, Legolas stood his
ground and rapidly fired two arrows into the troll’s open mouth. Both
arrows lodged deep in its throat.
For a long moment, nothing seemed to happen, and Legolas felt a bitter
disappointment. He had been so sure that his plan would
work! Then the troll stopped. It coughed, looking almost
puzzled, swayed, and with a thunderous crash fell forwards. It did not
move again.
Legolas dodged out of the way just in time, and looked down at the
fallen troll with satisfaction. He did not realise that his movement
had brought him into the range of one of the other trolls. It had taken
a wild swing at Elladan with its club and missed, but the backswing
caught Legolas a heavy blow on the side of his head. The impact knocked
him off his feet, into the undergrowth at the edge of the clearing.
There was a moment of agony as pain crashed through him, and then
nothing.
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