208Thank you, awesome Readers who Reviewed the Last Chapter! Shout-outs to MistressofImladris, Ruiniel, Cami can, Answers, Questions (and Yes, Dragons CAN talk in Tolkien's Middle Earth), the Catbird Seat, Guest, Charming Ever After, The Enchanted Stream, Autumn Sparkle, mystarlight, and Mimi Lind.
Chapter Seventeen: I Make Someone Cry
I looked as the dragon circled above me like a craven vulture winging a black wreath in the sky. "Anything," I murmured to myself, "anything, something must be done." I could not give up hope. Why would the Valar spare our lives, only to let us meet death now? It did not make sense to me, and I bit my lip in frustration. Eledhel still pressed the sword firmly to my neck. I did not feel the cut or pain from the injuries of the previous night. My entire being focused on this desperate twist of events and how I might save myself, Eledhel, and Miredhel. "Miredhel," I whispered softly, and Eledhel gave me a sharp glance. I repeated myself, "Miredhel!" Her head jerked up, and I knew that she had heard me. "Ride, Miredhel!" I shouted. "Go!"
She kicked in her heels, and I sighed. At least she might be spared. Yet my relief was to be short-lived, for Miredhel upon Arod turned and rode toward the river. I cursed her foolishness when I saw Miredhel take up her bow and fit an arrow. What made her think she could succeed where I had failed? Still, she was my only hope at the present, and all of my prayers went with her arrows, borrowed from my quiver, no less. "May they fly straighter and swifter than any shot I have ever made," I prayed.
Miredhel grasped her small bow as she lifted an arrow from her bag. She fired the first at the dragon to no avail. It struck his hard scales and skittered off; however, she did find success in drawing Anglachur's attention to her. He turned in an arc of smoke and brimstone to claim her, satisfied that Eledhel and I were appropriately distracted.
"Not again," Miredhel cried as the beast raced toward her, but she pulled another arrow from her satchel. She squinted in the sun and searched out the dragon's form as he flew. Her fingers deftly pulled the string taut and popped it, sending another arrow flashing across the sky.
Catching the dragon flush in the side, the arrow punched through the ebony scales in a silver streak. "Wretched elves!" Anglachur howled with rage. Pitching and twisting, he plunged in a downward, lopsided spiral into the deep chasm and the river far below the banks. His frenzied tail lashed at the world and finally struck the crumbling stone supports for the elven bridge. The current rushed around him, and Anglachur the Black vanished in a hiss of steam and the dark, swirling waters of the Great River.
At the dragon's first howl, Eledhel's sword arm fell loosely to his side, and the weapon clattered to the ground. Head bowed, he sunk to his knees. When at last he looked up at me, his eyes were true and grey. I offered him a hand up when the stone beneath our feet began to shake. The bridge groaned, and the elven statues dizzily swayed as if intoxicated by a heady Dorwinian vintage.
Eledhel looked confused, but I hardly had time to explain. I pulled my friend to his feet, and we both sprinted for solid ground. The middle section of stonework gave way first in a heave of rock and white curls of dust. Together we dodged falling columns, only seconds later to find ourselves leaping across gaps where chunks of the bridge had fallen away. The bridge had borne the weight of many: elves in grim armor on their way to battle, consorts riding afar on fair steeds, dwarves and men, and peaceful folk; but the dragon's passage cost too great a fare. The ancient stone wrought of old would not have it.
As Eledhel and I reached Miredhel on the other side, we turned to watch the rest of the bridge collapse into the Anduin. The two carven elves, so faithful for untold millennia, wavered and were gone.
"Lorien is no more," she said in a small voice. "This bridge…gone. Who will hide in their hearts the deeds we have done? Who will remember us? You were right, Legolas. Our power fades. Who in a hundred years will remember those elven statues?"
"Do not worry, Miredhel, for even they will find their way to the sea." I comforted her, even though she spoke the concerns of my heart as well. I wiped the dust and grime from my face and prodded the shallow scrape on my throat. "How do you feel, Eledhel?"
He replied coolly, "Well enough to travel down the river and search out the dragon," and then added in a more concerned tone, "Please tell me, friend, of my actions on the bridge. I cannot remember what happened."
"You tried to kill me…" I began.
"I did what?" Eledhel interjected.
"But I disarmed you before any real harm was done. You suffered from dragon-sickness, I believe. Anglachur had the power to poison minds. He made you believe that I was the enemy," I finished, purposefully leaving out the part about Eledhel holding him at sword-point. No need to make Eledhel feel worse. Miredhel raised her eyebrows at this account. Although she had not been on the bridge with us, she had seen plenty. I minded her expression and decided to change the subject. "Eledhel, we do not need to search for the dragon. Your sister has slain the beast with a single arrow."
Eledhel was incredulous. "My sister? Miredhel?" he sputtered. "Killed the dragon? I cannot believe it."
"I did, brother," Miredhel protested weakly.
I gazed at her for a moment, probably for too long, but I could not help but admire the brightness in her eyes, the way the sunlight brought out the gold in her hair. "She really did and saved all our lives." I smiled in her direction and was pleased when she returned the gesture. "All shall hear of your valor, Lady. You will be counted among the most famous of elves."
"My little sister?" Eledhel's eyes were full of wonder as he beheld her. "The one I used to call Goldie?"
"Goldie?" I chuckled.
"That was a very long time ago," Miredhel countered and then slumped a little on Arod's back. She must have been exhausted and those injuries where the dragon's claws gouged her arms would need a healer's care.
"Although I must confess I cannot fathom how she did it," I said to Eledhel. Miredhel stopped smiling. "It defies logic."
"Does it?" asked Miredhel archly.
"Not even with my longbow, could I break through his scales. Your bow, Lady Miredhel, is smaller and less powerful," I argued.
"And no doubt, between the two of you, Legolas has the stronger arm," Eledhel agreed. "You must have struck a weakness in his armor."
"I suppose so, if indeed, that is the only way a maiden such as myself could possibly fell a dragon." With that said, she looked forlornly toward the fallen bridge.
"I do not mean to lessen your deed, Lady Miredhel. All of Mirkwood shall hear this tale," I promised. I peered at her once again, hoping to see her smile return, but instead her shoulders sagged and her fine eyes seemed dull and hazy. "We will not make my realm's borders tonight, but we should ride as far as possible anyhow."
"What of the dragon?" Eledhel questioned.
"I do not wish for us to split up, and your sister is not well. We cannot go looking for it, whether the beast has died or is merely wounded," I decided. I glanced at Miredhel again.
Eledhel, much alarmed, inquired after his sister's injuries. He checked the cuts on her arms and side and her sore ankle, all the while apologizing profusely for not noticing sooner.
Miredhel protested that she could ride, but neither of us listened to her feeble arguments. We decided Miredhel should stay on Arod and ride with me, for the horse was much more used to double riders than Eledhel's warhorse. Miredhel agreed with little to no enthusiasm. I knew I probably made her feel uncomfortable, and that was mostly my fault.
! swung up behind her, explaining how I did not want her to fall off during the ride. "You're welcome to rest, if you wish," I suggested. "I won't let you fall."
She didn't say anything but sat there stiffly. I mean, I hardly expected her to sink into my arms with her brother right there, but still...
As we rode east away from the river, the horizon darkened in a green line of forest as far as even elven eyes could see. Miredhel wrapped her arms around her waist. She yawned but then instantly straightened her posture. I resisted commenting on her fortitude. It was like she was afraid to show any kind of weakness, although her body must have ached from the fall she took earlier. I would have let her lean back onto my chest, would have let my strong arms hold her. I am just altruistic like that, but no—Lady Miredhel clearly did not want my help.
She yawned again, and I smiled. Poor thing. She had been through much at the onset of our journey. Of course, so had I, but I was used to hardship and tension. For centuries had I railed against the growing darkness of Middle Earth, and I would continue to fight if necessary. The scenery around us—verdant green, soft hills, and in the distance, a much beloved forest—was worth fighting for. My eyes flicked from the dark green smudge of the forest on the horizon to the soft curves of the maiden in front of me. She was worth fighting for too. Valar, help me—I was getting embarrassingly sentimental. Father would not approve.
"My lord?" Miredhel asked curiously.
"What?" I asked in return.
"Oh, nothing. I heard you sigh. You are not tired, are you?" Her voice was hopeful.
"No. Are you?" I asked and then added, "If you are, it is to be expected."
"I feel fine," Miredhel insisted, but a jaw-splitting yawn followed her remark.
I laughed, but I stopped short when she turned her head to look at me. She seemed pitiful and small, except her eyes, which looked overly large and soulful. "You have borne witness to much bloodshed and battle, my lord. I have not. Please do not make me feel the less for it."
I never really considered myself battle-hardened by any stretch. Although I enjoyed archery and fencing for sport, I loathed war and would far rather stroll through the woods than lead a siege. The Lady Miredhel, on the other hand, was a novice and had handled all events remarkably well so far. I told her these things, hoping my words would grant her comfort. She gave me a rather pathetic attempt at a smile and then turned to the front.
"We will not ride for much longer, lady. Then we shall all rest," I said softly and placed a hand on her shoulder. So delicate, this did not seem the shoulder of one who brought down a dragon. I still could not fathom how she had succeeded and was a little aggravated that I had only met with failure. A disappointing thought occurred to me.
"Lady Miredhel?" I asked.
"Yes…" she turned wearily to face me, not sounding like she wanted to talk anymore.
"Why did you ride back to the bridge?" I asked flatly.
"Is it not obvious enough?" Miredhel retorted with a gentle roll of her eyes.
"I told you to ride away, and you deliberately rode back to the bridge," I reminded her.
"I know," she said, casting down her eyes.
"You should not have done so," I said sternly.
"I probably saved your life, my lord."
"You very well may have, but no one asked for your involvement," I said sternly.
"You seem rather ungrateful, Prince Legolas," she said and then blinked, obviously surprised by her own daring.
"We are not discussing my appreciation or lack thereof, lady," I said and paused. "You intentionally disobeyed an order."
"Do not confuse yourself. I am not one of your Mirkwood subjects, and I am not yours to command," she replied haughtily and whipped back around to the front.
"You are one of my subjects now, and you will learn to follow my lead," I said low in her ear.
She turned again, and our faces were so close together that I could feel her warm breath on my cheek. I was glad that Eledhel rode in front of us, so he would not witness such a scene. Miredhel's face flushed.
"I did not break the promise I made you," she said, her voice equally low and controlled as mine. "I promised to ride when the first of you fell. Neither of you did," she added smoothly.
"It matters not. You could have been killed," I insisted.
"You and my brother could have been killed," she retorted. "Do not make orders that you yourself would not follow." She glanced ahead to check that Eledhel still rode ahead. "Look me in the eyes. Tell me that if you were in my position, you would have ridden away like a coward, leaving your friends to die. Can you?" Miredhel asked boldly but for the tremble of her lower lip.
I knew the truth of her words, but I returned her gaze full-force, never one to back down from a challenge. Even so, honesty had long been the foundation for my principles. It's why my father said I made a terrible diplomat. And I would not cheapen my commitment now, merely to win an argument.
"You are right," I said slowly. "I would not have left, even if ordered to do so."
Her face softened in surprise, and the tears she had been trying so desperately to hold back escaped from the corners of her eyes. She obviously had not expected this concession from me. She blinked and wordlessly faced forward. Only now her brother had slowed his horse to walk by a small grove of trees, so Arod might catch up. Eledhel's eyes widened as we approached.
"Miredhel, what ails you?" he asked and then shot an angry look to me. "What happened?"
"Eledhel, it is…" I started to say.
"My brother, do not worry for me. I am simply weary. Perhaps the prince would allow us a short rest before we join the road again," she said hopefully without looking at me.
As much as I could not understand why she had kept our argument from Eledhel, I could not refuse her request and announced that we would stop for the day and ride to the borders of Mirkwood in the morning. We dismounted and looked for a suitable place to camp among the trees, preparing for the evening and night to come.
Author's note: Sooo, who's up for some camping with Legolas? Miredhel probably just wants to lie down in a ditch and try to forget everything that's happened.
Was Legolas too hard on her? Was he being an ungrateful jerk?
Thank you for reading! Please Review, Follow, and Favorite! Legolas promises to make you a s'more!
