“Are you coming with us?”
Elladan grinned at Legolas, shaking his head.
“What, and spoil
the romantic setting? A picnic beside the pool? No, thank
you.”
“Besides,” Elrohir continued, “We have
already planned to
ride out with Alfiel to the Morn Nen. But we may come past later,
to
see if you are behaving!”
Arwen cuffed both of her brothers as she passed
them. “Well,
if you expect us to feed you, you are sadly mistaken! And
Elrohir,
please try not to fall in the river again – Elladan, look after him!”
The five set off, Alfiel and the twins heading west
towards
the Morn Nen, while Legolas and Arwen rode north. They reached
their
destination, a remote, quiet glade after an hour or two’s ride through
the golden woodland, the grass and fallen leaves spangled with
sun-specks like glittering water. Legolas had named the place
‘Beech
Valley’ as an elfling – it had always been one of his favourite spots
in the entire forest. A deep pool was backed by a high cliff, and
a
waterfall tumbled down over rocks to fill the pool before meandering
through the valley to join the Forest River. It was tranquil,
lovely,
and the perfect way to spend a lazy day in summer.
They left the horses free to graze, spread a soft
blanket over
the grass, and unpacked the baskets, setting one of the wine skins in
the pool to keep cool. Then, too impatient to wait any
longer,
Legolas stripped off his tunic and leggings and dived off the rocks at
the base of the waterfall into the pool. Surfacing, he blinked
water
out of his eyes and turned to laugh at Arwen. “Come,
slowpoke! I
thought you wanted to swim?”
She waded into the water, splashed him, then swam to
his
side. “Legolas? Are you still wearing your breeches?
There is no
need to spare my blushes – I have two brothers, or had you forgotten?”
“I have not forgotten,” he replied peaceably.
“It is habit, nothing more. A cautionary tale my father once told
me.”
He did not elaborate, but found there was no
need. Arwen
laughed suddenly, her eyes dancing. “Ah, the King’s
clothes. My
father told us the tale.” She looked a little hurt. “Do you
not trust
me?”
Legolas shook his head. “No. Not you,
nor your brothers.
The fact that they are not here is irrelevant.” They swam
for some
time, luxuriating in the cool silky water, before emerging to lay on
the blankets, allowing the sun to dry them. Finally turning to
the
picnic, Legolas put one of the skins of wine aside. “I suppose we
should save your brothers a little, should they deign to join us.
But
if they do not hurry, there will be no food left!”
“They will not starve. And it was their
decision to ride with Alfiel to the Morn Nen instead of coming with us.”
They ate hungrily, until there was little more than
a few crumbs
remaining. Relaxed by the swim, their picnic, the wine and the
peaceful beauty of the place, they lay in the sun, talking idly, until
Legolas broached a subject that had been preying on his mind.
“Has your father said anything else to you about our
betrothal?” he asked.
Arwen nodded ruefully. “Several times.
He and Mother seem very keen.”
“Well, you can understand it from their point of
view,” Legolas pointed out. “It makes perfect sense.”
“Oh, yes. After all, I already have Sindar,
Noldor, Númenorean
and Maiar blood. My brothers and I are mongrels, really. A
little
Silvan added to the mix can only add to the elvish influence.”
“It would, if I had any. My mother was one of
the Falathrim,
Círdan’s niece. Teleri, not Silvan.” Legolas lay
back on the soft
grass, closing his eyes against the bright sunlight. Idly, he
wondered
if the machinations of their parents would ever bear fruit. He
was
very fond of Arwen, it was true, but somehow doubted that their
companionable friendship would ever develop into a deeper love.
Not
the sort of love that his father had described; the sort that he could
still see between Elrond and Celebrían. And that
was what he wanted for himself. He would not find it with Arwen.
Lulled by daydreams, he nearly missed the first
prickle of
unease that tugged at his awareness. He sat up, gazing around the
clearing, tying to sense what it was that had alarmed him, and found
one hand edging automatically for his knife.
Beside him, Arwen sat up as well, following his
gaze. “Legolas? What is it?” she questioned.
He raised one finger to his lips. “I am not sure –
something
feels wrong,” he said softly. Cautiously he let go of his knife,
and
instead reached for the bow and quiver that lay at his side and stood,
holding bow and arrow loosely, listening intently. The trees –
the
trees were warning him. Turning away from the pool, he scanned
the
beeches warily. Then he tensed. “Arwen, get behind me!” he
commanded. As he spoke, he stepped forward and in front of her,
setting the arrow to the bow string.
“Stop being ridiculous!” she snapped, and moved to
his side,
facing slightly away from him so that they could cover a wider
area.
“What are we looking for? I cannot hear anything.”
He pointed to the tree canopy. “Spiders.
There, do you see?
They rarely come this close, this part of the forest is normally
clear.”
“Yes, I see! Blessed Elbereth, is that its leg?
Legolas, they are huge!”
He took his eyes off the advancing spiders for a
split second to
turn and smile at her. “Did you ever wonder why they are called giant
spiders? Your brothers were desperate to see one when we were
younger,
but I was quite sure they never really believed me!” Turning back
to
the trees, he loosed an arrow, bringing the nearest spider spinning off
its branch. “One!”
“I think they will be envious even now,” Arwen
responded.
“Two!” She placed her own arrow centrally between the eyes of
another
spider on her left.
Legolas pulled two arrows from his quiver, setting
both of
them to his bow at once, and bringing down a pair of spiders swinging
towards them. “Four! They will be sorry to have missed
this. I told
them they should join us!”
“Show-off!” she muttered. There were no
immediate signs of
more spiders, so they paused, watching the trees very carefully, then
slowly lowered their weapons. The thud of hooves sounded, and two
horses galloped into the clearing.
Elladan and Elrohir stopped, staring in
disbelief. “We heard fighting,” Elladan exclaimed.
“Are you both all right?” Elrohir asked at the
same time. He
looked in the direction the other two were still facing.
“Spiders?
You were fighting spiders?” As Arwen had predicted, he sounded a
little envious.
Legolas turned to the newcomers. “Just a few,
but you are too
late as usual! You missed all the fun - Arwen and I have dealt
with
all of them.” Then he flinched as an arrow zipped past his ear,
and he
heard the unmistakeable ‘splat’ of a falling spider.
“Five,” said Arwen with satisfaction.
“Nice shooting, Ar,” Elladan praised
her. “But are there none left for us?” he asked plaintively.
Turning away from the twins, Legolas surveyed the
forest again.
“I think not,” he admitted cautiously. “But we should make
certain.”
Together, they advanced towards the trees.
Legolas could hear
Elrohir at his side, muttering under his breath in a grumbling
monotone. “All those years hunting spiders. All those nights
searching
for them, and we found nothing. Nothing. And they
go for a picnic, and find five of the creatures. And Arwen kills
one before we do!” He sounded disgusted.
They searched the wood, alert for any further signs,
but could
find nothing, just a single web that Elladan cut down with one sweep of
his sword. There was nothing else. Finally they returned to
the
grassy bank, where Legolas examined the black corpses with
distaste.
“These are just young ones, seeking to establish their own
colony. I
doubt we will find more. But we must return, I should report
this.”
He looked at Arwen apologetically, then the twins. “I am sorry to
curtail our picnic. And I promise you, we will go
spider hunting one day!”
Elrohir laughed, his normal good humour reasserting
itself.
“Oh, we will! But this will be a tale to tell our children one
day –
the picnic that turned into a spider hunt!”