The air was crisp and fresh after a long night of heavy rainfall. The mood of the village, however, had a certain heaviness to it; a tension only found when a long and gentle peace had been suddenly and rudly broken. Silent worried thoughts swirled as feet, hesitant and fearful, stepped on the rain soaked dirt and onto the needs of the new day.
Illeandir slung his heavy pack over his arm and ducked out the door. Thrilo followed shortly after with his own leather pack and axe strapped across that. Ithilwen was still inside putting together the last of their supplies.
Earlier that morning, when the sun had just barely ascended above the horizon, Thrilo had approached Illeandir with a poor, but heartfelt apology for his outburst the night before. Knowing the dwarf wouldn't rest until an apology was tried, Illeandir sat patiently until it was finished. Thrilo had rambled himself into silence and, with nothing left to say, grunted, his honor restored.
The two stood in silence for a short time watching the going-ons of the morning. Children raced by, paused, and oggled at the two vastly different strangers. They whispered and giggled, daring each other to get as close as possible. A brave lad of no more than eight or nine years, with freckles so thick they darkened his skin, tiptoed within a few yards of Illeandir. He clutched a roughly hewn wood sword with both freckled hands and shuffled forward.
Illeandir turned to face him and the boy jumped back, glancing at his friends. They egged him on eagerly. Courage bolstered, he puffed out his little chest.
"I, Sir Grand, challenge you to a duel!" he proclaimed. The other children chattered excitedly. Thrilo choked on his breath, but a beaming smile split his face.
"Ai!" Illeandir exclaimed. "What misfortune has befallen me, Sir Grand. For I am weaponless." He hung his head in shame.
"What's that at your side?" the boy asked, gesturing with his sword.
"This?" Illeandir asked, holding up his own sword that was nearly as long as the child was tall. "This is but a stick compared to your great sword, Sir Grand."
"I'll not have that!" the boy said. He turned pompously on his heel and marched purposefully toward his friends.
"My enemy, Sir..." the boy faltered and turned to Illeandir. "What is your name, sir?"
"My name is Elstan," Illeandir answered.
"My enemy, Sir Elstan, requires a sword!" Sir Grand demanded. "Sir Forest, give your sword to him."
"But it's my sword, Jerret," Sir Forest whined. "He can get his own."
"C'mon, Lenny, he'll give it back. He's a grownup. They always give our stuff back," Jerret said. Lenny harrumphed and thrust his sword into Jerret's hand.
"Fine."
Jerret, Sir Grand, marched back to Illeandir, struggling a little with the awkward weight of two swords. He handed Lenny's sword, blade first, to Illeandir and stepped back.
"Now we fight like men!"
"Aye, good sir. May I have the honor of knowing what we fight for?"
Jerret grinned and looked around sheepishly. He gestured for Illeandir to come close. Illeandir knelt down. Jerret pointed to a young girl, perhaps a few years older than him, sweeping off her front porch. Illeandir nodded seriously.
"May the best man win," he said.
"To arms!" Jerret shouted. He attacked Illeandir with all the force his skinny arms could muster. Illeandir held out long enough for the girl Jerret was trying to impress to look up from her work and watch the playful fight. She shook her head and smiled. Illeandir pretended to slip on the grass and lose his balance. Jerret tackled him and sent the elf crashing to the ground.
Ithilwen walked out at that precise moment and gave a little shriek when she saw Illeandir go down. She rushed forward a few steps then noticed the children cheering and Thrilo smiling widely.
"Ai!" Illeandir lamented. "The great Sir Grand has bested me in battle, the heart of lady fair is his should she see fit to give it." Illeandir lay limp on the ground while Jerret placed his foot on Illeandir's chest and held his little sword high.
"Fair lady Halana," he shouted as deep as his high voice would allow. He paused for a moment, unsure of what to say.
"My love for you knows no bounds," Illeandir whispered.
"Ew! Gross," Jerret scowled. "Love is for old people."
Illeandir laughed, sending tiny convulsions through Jerret's body as the boy practically stood on his chest.
"Very well, Sir Grand. Ask her for her heart then," Illeandir suggested.
"Why would I do that?" Jerret asked, now blatantly looking down at Illeandir. Halana, having heard every word of their conversation, was struggling to contain her mirth.
"It's poetic, I don't know," Illeandir said. Fortunately Halana came to his rescue.
"My valiant knight," she called from the porch, "thou has defeated thine enemy and proven thyself worthy of my heart. I give it to you freely."
"See?" Illeandir said. Jerret smacked Illeandir on the arm with his sword.
"Hush, peasant!" He turned to Halana, beaming. "When will you give me your heart?"
By now Ithilwen and Thrilo were laughing. Halana covered her mouth to hide her giggling.
"On the morrow, valiant Sir Grand."
"Tomorrow?" Jerret asked. His face twisted in confusion. Halana nodded. "You could have just said that," Jerret said, hopping off Illeandir. Illeandir sat up, but before he could stand Jerret sat in the grass next to him.
"I know you let me win so I could impress Halana."
"She's a beautiful girl, how could I not?" Illeandir admitted. Jerret smiled.
"Do you have a fair lady?" Jerret asked rather loudly. Illeandir smiled and looked at Ithilwen.
"Something like that," he said. Ithilwen's face turned scarlet. She tried to hide her face behind her hands. Illeandir felt his own face heat up. He hadn't known how he felt about Ithilwen. She was controlling and opinionated, but kind and understanding. In some ways she reminded him of the many mothers he had seen in his travels; protective and nurturing. Though no great beauty among elves, her simple features were stunning in their own way.
"Do you love her?" Jerret asked. Illeandir could feel the disgust eminating from the boy's voice. Ithilwen turned away, shoulders shaking.
"Well," Illeandir paused, "no. It's a bit more complicated than that." He glanced at Ithilwen who had turned her head back toward him. "But, given time... perhaps." Illeandir felt someone tug at his hair.
"Why is your hair so long?" a little girl with twin braids and a green eyes asked.
"Because I like it that way," Illeandir replied.
"Oh." She fingered his dark hair again. Thrilo cleared his throat.
"A'right, laddies and lassies, it be time fer us to leave. Shoo! On with you." The children screeched and laughed as Thrilo chased them off. Illeandir stood up. Lenny grabbed his toy sword and ran after his friends. Thrilo came trotting back.
"Shall we?" he asked, gesturing to the faint road leading northwest toward Lothlórien.
"It's our best hope. Wherever Zaharias is being kept," Illeandir said heavily, "It's around there." He couldn't say how he knew. Only that a small voice in the back of his head urged him to the once great forest of Laurelindórenan.
And so they left Gondor and stepped into the hardest journey of their lives with Illeandir in the lead, Thrilo behind him, and Ithilwen bringing up the rear they began.
...
That night, around a warm fire on the very edge of the Entwash, Illeandir and Ithilwen sat, wide awake, while Thrilo slept, sounding more like a thunderstorm than a sleeping dwarf. The stars shone brilliantly in a moonless sky.
Illeandir lay on his back next to the fire, arm and leg aching from the distance they had traveled and past injuries still healing. They had traveled nearly ten leagues, halting only when the sun dipped below the horizon. Tomorrow they would begin the long, arduous trek across the Entwash and from there follow the Anduin to Lothlórien.
"Illeandir," Ithilwen said suddenly.
"Yes?"
"What you said to the little boy this morning..." She moved her eyes from the fire to his face, searching, "did you mean it?"
"Mean what? What did I say?" Illeandir asked, hiding a smile. He regained control of his features and turned to her again. She rolled her eyes.
"You are perhaps the most dense elf I have ever had the misfortune of knowing," she exclaimed. Thrilo snorted and rolled over in his sleep. The two elves glanced at him nervously. A tired dwarf, was an angry dwarf. "You're incredibly stubborn with no sense of self-preservation, and can barely go a day without maiming yourself," She continued, "So I ask you, before you go and get yourself killed, did you mean what you said this morning?"
Illeandir propped himself up on his good arm and looked directly into her starry blue eyes.
"Come here," he said.
"Why?"
"I want to show you something."
Ithilwen stood up, brushing the dirt and grass off her clothes. She walked lightly over to Illeandir and flopped, rather ungracefully, next to him. Mimicking his position, she glared at him. Beneath that though, Illeandir could see her curiosity.
"Look at the stars, what do you see?"
"Stars, blackness," Ithilwen stated, slightly irritated.
"Look closer."
"I see nothing," Ithilwen said after a long moment. Illeandir leaned toward her until his head was nearly touching hers. A small, pleasant shiver ran down her spine. He pointed directly above their heads and began tracing the stars.
"Long ago lived the Great Hunter, who hunted among the stars. Each day he set out to hunt and each night he returned home with enough food to feed his family until he returned again. Do you see him now?"
Ithilwen vaugly saw the rough outline of the Great Hunter. She nodded.
"For many years he hunted, until," Illeandir began to trace another shape, "a great dragon burned his home to the ground. So terrible was the blaze that it's embers still burn many hundreds of years later." Illeandir pointed to a thick band of tightly clustered stars stretching across the sky. "The Great Hunter gathered his friends and allies to slay the dragon. But in his anger and grief over his slain family, the Great Hunter led his people poorly. One by one the dragon killed them until all that remained was the hunter. With naught but his sword in hand and strength of heart he chased the dragon across countless skys and innumerable years. One day, it is said, that the Great Hunter will realize that a sacrifice must be made. He will give up his life to destroy the dragon."
Illeandir fell into silence. Ithilwen gazed at the stars in wonderstruck awe. She could clearly see the dragon, it's great wings spanning across the sky, and the Great Hunter, his mighty sword raised high.
"Who told you that?" she asked.
"Cúnor, my mentor and sort of father, told me it once when I was younger. At the time I didn't know what he was trying to teach me, but as the years passed I realized there was more than just one lesson to be learned. As a soldier, I learned that we cannot let emotions rule our decisions. The Great Hunter led through emotion and everyone died as a result. He lost everyone. In a way I related to him. I had no one left. Zaharias was gone, and now Eldarion is gone as well." Illeandir stopped and looked up at the Great Hunter, there was a great sadness in his eyes.
"And yet," he began. "I am not like him. He is forever alone, and I am not." Illeandir looked at Ithilwen, green eyes sparkling in the firelight. "I have gained two friends. And I cannot ask for more." Illeandir grinned sheepishly. "And I never did properly ask if you would accompany me on my quest, mission, thing..." He frowned in confusion. Ithilwen laughed.
"Would you, fair lady Ithilwen, accompany me to the rescue of Zaharias?" Illeandir asked. She laughed again, unable to contain herself. Seeing Illeandir laying on the ground, propped up on his arm, asking her to come with him while she was already too far along to leave now, and telling stories about stars, triggered uncontrollable laughter. The whole situation was beyond ridiculous.
She buried her face in his blanket to stifle her laughing and avoid waking Thrilo. Illeandir waited patiently, but his deadpan expression when Ithilwen glanced at him set off a whole new episode. It was several minutes before she could control herself.
"I'm sorry," she whispered hoarsly. "I shouldn't be laughing," she continued before realizing he was staring at her with a small smile on his lips. "Of course I will join you, if you tell me one thing."
"Anything you want."
"Did you mean what you said this morning?" Ithilwen asked.
"Every word."
******************************
Trying my hand at a little romance here, despite my hatred for it. Hope it didn't feel forced. There is a reason to my madness though, which you shall see shortly... hopefully.
Probably not a good idea, but I'm watching Just for Laughs; Gags while writing this.
Imma ask y'all something.
What is the most common thing Illeandir says to Ithilwen, whether in general phrasing, similar, or flat out says it all the time?
Also, what do you want him to say to her? I'm curious.
Also...
Anybody know what the heck kinda bug this is? Found it on the window this morning.
My dad said it's some sort of moth, but he can't remember the name.