~ The company meets people, sees wine and Legolas gets a letter. ~
44. The Living Marshes
The tent was too damp for comfort. Wynne slept badly and woke up already before sunrise. Pulling on her clothes she crawled out, trying not to wake her tent mates.
The past few days she had shared tents with Sidra and the kids, while Nugu had been invited to share with Thranduil and Legolas much to everybody's surprise. The Elvenking sleeping next to an uruk-hai! But there was a first time for everything, Wynne figured.
The air outside was humid too, with white swirls of mist covering the fields below.
She spotted a silent figure ahead, tall as a young tree, lithe and strong, standing beside the Falls like an Argonath. He regarded the flowing water with a faraway look on his beautiful face.
"Wynne," he acknowledged. As usual he knew who it was without turning around.
"Legolas... is something wrong?"
"This is where we sent him. Down the waterfall."
"Boromir?" Wynne remembered from his tale that the Gondor warrior had died near the Anduin.
"Aye."
"Do you miss him?"
"Aye. Despite what he..." He didn't finish the sentence.
"Want to talk about it?"
He shook his head.
Wynne didn't press him. That kind of conversation was better suited somewhere more private. Here, the others could wake up at any time.
"Are you avoiding me?" she asked instead.
"Maybe. A little." He finally tore his eyes from the waterfall and met her gaze, smiling slightly. "Ada knows. Again. There is no hiding things from him."
Wynne sighed. "What shall we do?"
"We wait a little more... until he meets Aragorn."
"I don't want to wait." She took a step closer and nestled an arm around him.
"I know." He looked down at her upturned face, still with that forlorn expression etched on his features.
She guessed his thoughts remained with his lost friend and the Fellowship. She stroked his cheek, heart aching with sympathy.
His eyebrows drew together. "Do not pity me."
"I'm sad when you are sad." She smoothed his creased forehead with her fingertip.
He gave her a light peck on her lips. "Others are waking up. I hear them." He kissed her cheek, and the other. "You must go. Please."
Wynne nodded and turned away, chest burning, the feeling of his lips lingering like scorch marks on her skin.
Never mind Thranduil, she would get him alone and try to comfort him as soon as possible.
oOo
When they broke camp later that morning, everybody looked unusually clean and neat, dressed in their finer outfits. For the first time in weeks they would meet other people.
They rode eastward along the ridge to find a less steep way down. According to the men Galion had spoken to, there would be a road somewhere ahead that had replaced the broken old stairs that had been there in ancient times.
Soon they found it, a dirt path meandering down in wide serpentines across a series of terraces. When they came near, they realized the terraces were man-made and cultivated with rows of green, climbing plants.
"This is a vineyard," exclaimed Thranduil with some surprise, observing the trellises and growing tendrils where small, golden grapes hung in thin clusters. "By the look of it, none too impressive though."
"The vines are young yet, I am sure they will improve in years to come." Galion plucked an unripe grape, crushed it in his hand and smelled it expertly. "Thaun Môr – hard to grow, but will make a lovely red if prepared well."
"Trust Galion to know about wine," sniggered Bronedir.
Further down the road, they met the first human, an old man with a donkey cart full of grapevine plants. He stopped when they passed by, eyes bulging.
"Good day." Thranduil gave a curt nod.
"G-g-good day sir!" The man bowed so deep he dropped his straw hat and his wrinkled face became beet red. Wynne could feel him staring after them a long time afterwards.
"Well, that went alright I guess," said Sidra. "At least he didn't point a pitchfork at my husband."
"He was probably too awestruck by the elves' beauty to even notice." Wynne winked at Legolas, who smiled briefly in return before regaining his somber face.
He was obviously still brooding over dark memories.
"That is likely," Thranduil agreed. "Our kind often appears intimidating to mortals."
"And conceited," murmured Sidra in Wynne's ear.
"I heard that."
The closer they came to the former Marshes, the more people they met; groups of workers, more carts and even the odd horseback rider. It was evident most of them had been forewarned about the company but still they ogled them with wide eyes and open mouths, whispering to each other about the strange sight.
No wonder, too. Here came five impressively tall and handsome elvish warriors – on meara horses, no less – their finely sculpted faces held high, their long hair flowing in the breeze. As if this was not enough to cause wonder they were followed by a dark-skinned Haradrim woman, a grumpy uruk-hai and two half-orc children. Wynne was the only remotely normal person of the group.
The vineyards ended below the hill and were succeeded by vast orchards. Lemon, orange and apple trees grew in neat rows, still young, yet promising a bountiful harvest when autumn came.
"When I get my own house I'm having lemon trees," Wynne decided, breathing in the lovely aroma of the white blossoms and tiny, unripe fruits. "Every guest will be served homemade lemonade."
"We shall visit you often, then," said Sidra warmly. "I love lemonade."
Wynne stifled a sigh. Would she ever have a home of her own, though? Where would she even live? If Thranduil finally accepted her as his son's bride, customs said she would move to his palace – and that was delved underground. There would be no orchards there, and no heather meadows either.
A group of riders cantered to meet them, giving Wynne other things to think about. The horses were of a sturdy, common breed, but she still recognized their Rohan origin.
A dark brown gelding detached from the others and made a halt before Thranduil. The rider looked official, dressed in a short tunic and knee-high boots, and the tip of his hood was so long it reached the horse's back.
"Greetings, King Thranduil and Prince Legolas." The man bowed to the royals, obviously recognizing them from description, and then nodded to Wynne and Sidra. "My ladies."
"Greetings." Thranduil nodded curtly. "Master...?"
"How impolite of me, my apologies! I am Lyndon, foreman of the Green Valley, as we call these lands nowadays."
"Ah, King Éomer's man. Well met, Master Lyndon."
"We have already sent word to the king of your arrival, as per your wish – however, I was instructed earlier that if you passed through I was supposed to send you onwards to Osgiliath and Prince Faramir's city residence."
"Will the king meet us there?"
"He did not see fit to inform me of his plans but I am sure the prince will know. Oh! That reminds me... Another of the prince's guests told me to convey a message to you, Prince Legolas."
Legolas had been regarding the nearby fruit trees dispassionately and started at the mention of his name. "To me?"
"Yes, sire, from the Lord of the Glittering Caves."
"Gimli!" His face brightened considerably.
"The Lord Gimli says, wait..." Lyndon fumbled in a leather bag attached to his belt and pulled out a piece of parchment. He cleared his throat and began: "Tell the laddie to hurry and get his pretty little–" His voice faltered. "Uh, I think you better read the rest for yourself."
Legolas read silently, his grin growing wider.
"Well, are you not going to let us hear it?" Thranduil tried to peek over his shoulder but he quickly folded the letter and stowed it away under his tunic.
"He just says to come and meet him in Osgiliath, and he wants to show a bridge and a gate he built. And he misses me." Legolas' smile waned. "Seeing as you would not allow him to prolong his visit in Greenwood, it has been a while."
He looked a tiny bit guilty. "You know I have bad experiences with dwarves in my realm."
"Do you wish to know some of what we accomplished here?" asked the foreman, smoothly breaking the tense atmosphere.
"It would be my pleasure." Thranduil smiled politely.
Soon Lyndon was enthusiastically giving them detailed descriptions about the fields, crops, previous harvests and all the work they had done.
The road became wider and busier the closer to the Anduin they got. There were several big wooden wheels by the river, spinning rapidly with water flowing through them.
"These are our mills and saws. Water powers them, see? And you already saw the Lift of Rauros, as we call it." He pointed at the huge tower where the boat had been elevated.
"This is impressive work," admitted Thranduil.
"Thank you, sire." Lyndon beamed like it was he alone who achieved it all. "Now, here starts the Osgiliath Road, which is all new as well. You will find that it follows the Anduin for the most part and there are several good hostels along the way. It should take you four days or so on horseback."
They thanked the foreman and bid him farewell. Soon they were on their way, making good speed, the fresh gravel of the road crunching under the horses' hooves.
Legolas still gazed distractedly at the surroundings, but now a thin smile played on his lips, warming Wynne's heart. This Gimli was clearly a good friend and meeting him was probably just what Legolas needed after his bleak mood the past days.
A/N:
I'm sure you all wondered how it went with Midsummer and the weather forecast? Well, it started out good, indeed it was 29 C and sunny. But just when it was time for the barbeque, sure as ever came a downpour, and then another, and another... The host had to put up a party tent in the end. I knew it would be so, you all are my witnesses. :D Still, it was a great fun party!
Image Credits:
Public Domain (Piqsels), source: https://www.piqsels.com/sv/public-domain-photo-ifydm