~ The company comes near inhabited areas and sees an amazing view. Thranduil is an "old softie". ~
43. Sightseeing at the Anduin
Wynne's vision was limited to a minimum by her pulled up hood. Incessant rain poured down for the third day in a row, and on top of that it was cold and windy though it was Mid-Year.
Mid-Year's Day had been yesterday, a supposedly festive occasion, but in this weather nobody had felt like throwing parties. Instead the day had passed rather unnoticed with the only remarkable event being their reaching the Gates of Argonath.
She had been looking forward to seeing the famous pillars for the first time but even that had been a slight disappointment. The low-hanging clouds covered Isildur's and Anárion's heads, giving the kings of old a decapitated look. The monument was impressive anyway, of course, and it was hard to fathom that humans were once able to build something so enormous. The statues' bases were carved out of the very rock itself and in a seamless transition they grew up to reach at least fifty yards above the top of the mountain.
Peering through the fog over one shoulder she could still dimly see their looming shapes as if the kings were following her on the journey.
It was not the Argonath she had turned after, however, it was a certain golden-haired elf. Legolas only gave her a slight smile in return before looking away.
What was the matter with him? It had been several days since the misfortune in the lake and it almost seemed he was avoiding her. But why? Was he angry because she insisted that he told the tale of the Fellowship? He had seemed a bit reluctant at first and she had almost instantly regretted asking him, noticing how uncomfortable it made him – especially with everybody else listening.
She was fairly certain he had omitted a great deal of the story, probably the parts that had affected him the most, which was another reason to have a heart-to-heart – so she could ask him to elaborate. Somehow she had a notion he needed that.
Wynne remembered how she had felt after each time she encountered danger. The sleeplessness that followed, fear overcoming her at night. How her heart would pound every time she was reminded of the incident. Talking with Legolas afterwards had helped every time.
Who had he talked with after his frightening experience? Nobody, she suspected.
She hoped to get an opportunity to speak to him soon and until then she just had to be patient.
Being patient was not easy in this bleak weather, however. Torrents of rain whipped her face, hurting her eyes, and nearby Sidra's youngest wailed pitifully. A tiring, enervating moan that had gone on for hours at end.
Wynne understood why her friend had brought the child but right now she badly regretted the necessity.
Unfortunately she would need to have at least one baby herself, for Legolas' sake. She looked forward to making it but not to be forced to endure its noise.
In the afternoon an increasingly booming rumble told them they neared the Falls of Rauros, another famous sight. The rain was finally subsiding and Thranduil informed them they would camp above the falls. Hopefully then Wynne would get the chance to see at least one of the attractions of the Anduin clearly.
The river widened considerably here, with a barren island in its middle, but since their last unfortunate lake experience nobody wanted to make camp close to this one. Instead they found a good spot on a rounded hilltop with a view both over the lake and the spectacular Falls. It had stopped raining entirely now but above the waterfall hung a perpetual mist, reflecting the afternoon light in rainbow colors.
The Falls of Rauros were huge. The sheer drop was a hundred yards or more and the water cascaded down it with intimidating force. The rumbling escalated to a deafening roar as they came close.
Wynne almost gaped, awestruck at the many strange sights unfolding beneath her.
Below the mind-numbingly tall Falls she saw the Anduin continuing its route to Minas Tirith, which must be located somewhere beyond the southern horizon. The river grew increasingly wide on its way, fed by a delta of many smaller tributaries from Rohan in the west.
A vast landscape expanded to the east where the part closest to the river must be the Marsh of Nindalf and further east the Dead Marshes – but they looked nothing like wetlands anymore. Straight channels had been dug in a checkered pattern all over them, leading away excess water to create acre upon acre of dry, fertile fields and neat orchards.
The area was busy; everywhere she looked, ant-sized people, horses and carts scurried about on unknown errands.
An enormous wooden structure had been built beside the Falls, and in it she saw an entire boat being elevated by means of an intricate web of ropes and pulleys.
"This certainly has changed since Nugu and I last passed through here!" Sidra had to yell to be heard over the sound of the cascading water.
"Do you know why they are lifting the boat?" Wynne asked Thranduil.
He bent forward to speak close to her ear. "King Elessar wants to establish a shipping trade route to Rohan and the Elvish realms. I assume this is how he intends to travel against the current."
She looked back; the boat was almost up now. The lifting contraption ended by the lake, close to their vantage point.
"Go and talk to them," Thranduil ordered Galion. "Ask if King Éomer is down there and prepare them for our arrival tomorrow. And also mention there will be an uruk-hai coming who must not to be harmed."
He nodded curtly and cantered down to the shore.
Wynne returned her gaze to the sight below, still having a hard time believing what he saw. She had thought the Argonath statues were an impressive example of the ingenuity of man, but this achievement almost surpassed those. Only to think that all these things had been built, irrigated and planted in just a few years! Her king had certainly kept his workers busy.
Watching the miniature people down there, she again thought of ants. It was a good parallel. She loved watching the anthill behind the stables back home, the busy workers carrying their heavy burdens, effortlessly balancing pine needles several times longer than themselves. Sometimes she would drop a breadcrumb or a dead bug nearby just to see them pick it up and quickly hide it in their mysterious tunnels.
Galion returned. "They are only testing the lift. They said this was the first time they carried a loaded ship up here and it held. Fascinating! They are hoisting it back down now."
"What about the Rohan king, is he there?" asked Thranduil impatiently.
"Nay, but I bid them to send word to him immediately that we have arrived. His foreman will meet with us tomorrow."
"Unfortunate, but expected I guess. Not every regent can afford to stay absent from his court for such a prolonged time." Thranduil looked smug.
Wynne wondered who handled the Woodland realm in his absence. Come to think of it, it was rather strange Thranduil had not let Legolas rule in his stead, since he was the crown prince.
Or he could have sent his son alone on the quest, with an additional guard perhaps, while he stayed behind. Did he not trust Legolas?
oOo
Since it was the first clear evening for several days they had a proper, warm meal. Nodir and Bronedir went fishing and brought back a pike and a basketful of striped perch. Wynne dug up cattail roots and some sprouts while Sidra baked flat cakes with the last of the meal they had brought from the orc town. There was no need to save their rations any longer; tomorrow they would be back in civilized parts with homesteads and hostels along the way.
It became quite a feast, one of the nicer dinners they had had the entire journey. Even the orclings were happy, especially when Thranduil obliged them with some knee-riding before bedtime.
"He really likes children," Wynne observed to Legolas.
"They are rare among elves," he replied. "Those who marry have two elflings, maybe three at the most, and it can take centuries between their births. When I grew up there was none other than me in the Realm."
He turned away to speak with Nugu, leaving Wynne with unspoken questions. Why did they have so few children, and, more importantly, how? Did they just stop doing... it?
But surely, to be wed for perhaps thousands of years, and never... No, that couldn't be the case. Or? She was rather sure she would like to do such things more than two or three times in her life.
"Who wants fire water?" she asked to get something else to think about. It was Mid-Year after all.
Everybody happily accepted except for Nugu who claimed he already had been forced to drink strong spirits to last for a lifetime.
"Finally I get a chance to try this famous sugar beet wine! I have been so unlucky the previous times and always was assigned the first watch." Galion poured a generous amount into his cup.
"Careful." Thranduil gave him a stern look, making him blush all the way to the tips of his ears.
At Wynne's questioning look, Legolas grinned impishly. "Why Galion, I believe our Wynne has not heard of your... misfortune that time."
Galion became even redder and mumbled something inarticulate that sounded vaguely like "not necessary".
Legolas, of course, couldn't resist telling everything. Apparently some years back the Elvenking had taken a company of dwarves prisoner. Galion, who was then Thranduil's butler, had stolen wine from the king and shared it with the prison guard, until they were so drunk they fell asleep. The dwarves had used this opportunity to sneak out and escape in the empty wine barrels, and later caused great havoc by releasing the dragon Smaug and later bringing forth the Battle of the Five Armies.
Afterwards, Galion had been sacked and assigned the lowest possible position in the Woodland Guard.
"So now you see why we try to keep him away from anything stronger than fruit juice," said Bronedir.
"We want these peaceful times to last," agreed Nodir.
Legolas nodded solemnly. "Aye, we could not risk another war."
"I was a terrible butler anyway." Galion smiled good-naturedly, having overcome most of his embarrassment. "And you have to admit I did well in the Guard. Working my way up to captain and everything."
"I have still not forgiven you." Thranduil's face showed no emotion except for the tiniest upturn in one corner of his lips.
Wynne couldn't resist. "You have." She playfully elbowed him in the ribs, feeling bold from the half cup of fire water she had had.
His lips formed a real, warm smile. "I have."
"You old softie you."
"Softie?" His smile vanished.
"But you are. You're not fooling me."
Thranduil then did something that made everybody's eyebrows rise in bafflement. He put an arm around her shoulders and hugged her. "You are a sweet girl."
A/N:
I am glad to be posting this when it's nearly Midsummer's Eve in Sweden, one of the most celebrated days of the year here (you can probably find funny youtube clips of us jumping like frogs around a maypole wearing traditional dresses! (or just look below, where I provided one).
Just like in the story, it usually is raining this day. Actually, it's a popular belief that the weather on Christmas and Midsummer is basically the same, 15 degrees C and rain. :/
The forecast says it will 29 degrees and sunny tomorrow, but I'm not believeing it until I see it!