Fathers and Sons

Chapter Nine

Note: I hope everyone likes all the father son feels. My husband and I have been going through a lot of father related turmoil in our real lives and this story is sort of my response to it.

The journey through Mirkwood was slow going. The elves protected their king, knowing the dangers that had crept into the forest in recent times. Giant spiders, enchanted water, and the air heavy with the stench of decay and illusion. The sickness that was consuming the once vibrant Greenwood was growing.

Legolas had made sure that Thranduil would make the journey in as much safety and comfort as the woodland elves could muster. A procession of twenty fully armed elven warriors and archers guarded the carriage where Thranduil lay. The palace healer had protested, saying that the king was too ill to make the journey, so Legolas promptly recruited him to go with them and demanded that he not leave the carriage. His only duty was to tend to the king.

"Foolish," was all Thranduil said when he regained consciousness, only briefly. Legolas had been there when he opened his eyes and although the king had seemed less than coherent, disoriented and not understanding what was happening, Legolas had tried to explain where they were going. Of course, Thranduil had protested. But he was in no position to put up any resistance.

Drizzt had never ridden a horse before and neither had Zaknafein. He was a little weary of being on top of this strange beast at first, but the beautiful grey dapple mare immediately put him at ease. Her body was light grey with dark contrasting spots, and her tail and mane shone with a black sheen. She was magnificent and Drizzt had named her Bal'eoul, a drow name meaning burning gem because her gleaming, vibrant eyes reminded him of an obsidian gem.

By fortune, they cleared the forest in a few days, and were now moving south along the mighty Anduin River, which they had crossed earlier that morning, a difficult feat considering the carriage and the deadly current of the river. They had gone over a precarious cluster of stones protruding from the shallow waters, using their elven agility to their advantage. They carried the carriage on wooden planks; rows of elves bearing the weight of it on their shoulders. Carefully, one by one, they crossed and again, fortune was with them because all the river claimed was a leather pack.

Drizzt gazed in amazement at the world around them. The wide open world. In Mirkwood, his horse had sloshed through the mud of fallen trees and decaying vegetation. The air was thick with a chill mist that froze their very bones.

Here, Drizzt inhaled deeply, glad to be away from the stuffiness of that closed in forest. But the clearance came at a price for the drow. The sun had been dimmed under the canopy of trees, and now it hit them, stinging their eyes and blurring their vision.

"This forest wasn't always so ominous," Legolas spoke of the home they had left behind as they moved along, keeping the river to the east and the Misty Mountains to the west. Mounted on his own pearl white steed, the elf trotted alongside the two drow, the three of them taking up position a few feet behind Thranduil's carriage. Soldiers marched in a linear formation, some on either side of the carriage and many taking up the rear and the front of the procession as they marched along.

"Once, it was called Greenwood," Legolas continued. "The forest was airy and light and it was alive with forest creatures. Birds and scurrying chipmunks are becoming rarer in this land. We find them dead more often than naught.

"What is the source of this decay then?" Zaknafein asked as he trotted along on the other side of Drizzt, not as comfortable on his horse as his son was.

Legolas shrugged unknowingly. "A sickness. My father understands it better than I," he admitted. "He has seen the world beyond the forest. He speaks of the horrors of the past age returned."