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Chapter 11: Spider Elf

Legolas stood at the border between Dunland and Eregion rubbing down his horse. "You have served us well," he said to the horse, "but now that we have reached Eregion, it is only right that I return you to your master. You and your companion must make straight to Edoras and present yourself before Théodred at Meduseld."

Legolas wove the fletching from one of his arrows into the horse's mane so that Théodred should have no doubt as to who had sent the horse. Then he moved on to the other horse and did likewise. When he was finished, he divided the last of the Dunlending apples between the two horses.

"Farewell, my friends," the Elf called as the horses trotted south. He turned to Mithrandir, who had been watching grumpily. "I don't see why we couldn't have kept them a little longer," the wizard complained. "Now we shall move more slowly. I don't feel altogether myself, I hope you know."

"I thought," teased Legolas, "that you were the one who did not wish us to make use of horses."

"I didn't want to ride horses to Mordor; that doesn't mean I had any objections to riding them from Mordor."

"Mithrandir," Legolas chided gently, "we have already ridden these horses far beyond the borders of Rohan. I do not think Théoden had that in mind when he offered to loan us mounts."

Mithrandir sighed. "Yes, I suppose it would be an abuse of his hospitality to take them any further. So we must walk tomorrow, then?"

"Unless you mean to provide us with wings so that we might fly," Legolas replied cheerfully.

"Scamp," muttered Mithrandir. He yawned. "Aren't you going to light a fire? It grows cold."

"Here," said Legolas, handing the wizard his cloak. "I will not only light a fire, but I will fetch water and brew you a cup of tea."

The wizard brightened. "Tea? I thought we ran out of tea weeks ago."

"It is true that we have no more of the tea that you procured from the Shire. However, I shall steep some athelas leaves in hot water. That beverage will smell better than Hobbit brew, and it is medicinal to boot."

"There is nothing wrong with the aroma of Shire tea-leaf!"

"I will grant you that tea-leaf does smell better than pipe weed," replied Legolas, "and it tastes better, too, but athelas has healing power, whether inhaled, imbibed, or mashed into a poultice. Indeed, after you have drunk the liquor, I shall make such a poultice and bind it over your wound."

While Legolas and Mithrandir were debating the relative merits of athelas and tea-leaf, miles away Saruman stood upon the summit of Orthanc. A flock of crebain had but lately returned from a scouting mission, and now, summoning forth all his power, the white wizard concentrated upon sending an obscuring mist toward the border between Dunland and Eregion. "You shall not know of the approach of my servants," he chanted, raising his staff high into the air and gesturing in the direction of his intended victims. "Let your eyes be blind; let your ears be deaf. Sleep. Let one of you awake to death, and the other to the ministrations of the Haradhrim who in my dungeon await you."

Oblivious to the approaching threat, Legolas had now lit the fire and placed the camp kettle upon it. Bending over the vessel, he was about to cast a handful of athelas leaves into it when suddenly he thrust them back into his pouch and reached for his bow.

"What is it, Legolas?" asked Mithrandir.

"I do not know," said the Elf. "Come away from the fire."

Mithrandir arose at once, seizing his staff as he did so. Elf and wizard retreated to the darkness of the tree line.

"Mithrandir," Legolas said softly, "do you recall how you hid in a tree when we were pursued by Orcs?"

"Aye, Legolas."

"I know you still suffer from your wound, but you must once again climb into the shelter of a tree."

The Elf knelt upon the ground so that Mithrandir might stand upon his shoulders. Then, in one smooth movement, the Elf stood up. With several branches now within easy reach, the wizard clambered to safety. Once Legolas saw that Mithrandir was ensconced within the tree, he moved to the other side of the clearing and drew and nocked an arrow. Silently he watched and listened. He saw and heard nothing, but he was convinced that enemies approached. "Something wicked this way comes," he murmured. "I do not know what form it will take, but I am sure of its presence."

The foes that he could neither see nor hear now drew near indeed, and at last they were close enough so that Saruman's spell no longer sufficed to hide their shapes. "Yrch," hissed Legolas. The Orcs and half-goblins stopped in the tree line opposite from the one where Legolas had taken his stand. As he had hoped, they were intent upon him, little dreaming that above them crouched their actual target. They studied Legolas; he studied them.

"That's the man-brat," grunted an Orc to their chieftain, who was one of the half-goblins. "Ain't we suppose ter slay 'im?"

"It's true the master don't want the man-brat," replied the leader, "but we had better not cut his throat just yet. No, not 'till 'e squeaks and tells us where the wizard be. Take 'im boys!"

At his cry, Orcs poured into the clearing and rushed Legolas, who coolly shot them down until he had no more arrows in his quiver. Then he drew both his blades and began to cut down his foes two-handed. He judged that at the outset he faced one-hundred Orcs and half-goblins, and for a warrior-elf of his rank, those were good odds. He swiftly slew a great number of the foes who swarmed at him, and the survivors began to hang back, unwilling to close with a 'man-brat' who fought with such skill and ferocity. What Legolas did not know, however, was that Saruman had sent out not one-hundred Orcs but two. Just as the first wave of Orcs broke entirely, a second wave, equal in number to the first, swarmed out of the woods at Legolas's back.

The Elf was taken completely by surprise, a thing unheard of, and Mithrandir, safe in his tree, watched in despair as the wave swept over his friend. He saw Legolas struggling amongst his foes, and then one big brute of an Orc, who looked more than half Troll, struck the Elf to the ground with one mighty blow from a club.

Trembling, Mithrandir raised his staff. "Injured as I am, I do not know what strength is within me," he vowed, "but I shall venture it all for Laiqua." Uttering a word of Power, he cast his body and soul into the hands of Eru Ilúvatar. From the end of his staff shot out a mighty blast that enveloped the entire clearing. Mithrandir closed his eyes. When he opened them again, not a single Orc was standing. Closing his eyes again, Mithrandir felt his grip upon the tree loosen. In a faint, he plummeted to the ground.

When Mithrandir awoke, he lay upon his back. He opened his eyes, and above him he saw rafters rather than tree limbs. "Where am I?" he said to the ceiling, "and where is my friend?" Out of the corner of his eye he saw movement. Groaning a little, he turned his head stiffly in that direction. Sitting cross-legged was a little girl no older than five years of age. She was examining Mithrandir's pointed hat, holding it upside down and peering into it as if she expected to find something hidden therein—a rabbit, perhaps, or a dove. Feeling the eyes of the wizard upon her, she looked up and smiled shyly. "I liked the horse with the horn upon his head," she whispered. "Will you make another by and by?"

"I remember you," marveled the wizard. "Tell me, child. Do you know what has become of my friend?"

The little girl giggled. "He is beside you, Grandfather."

Mithrandir turned his head gingerly in the other direction. As the child had said, beside him lay Legolas. The Elf's face was badly bruised, and he was deeply unconscious.

"Child, my friend had a little pouch with some leaves in it—not pipe weed, mind you, but something that you might think an ordinary weed. Is that pouch anywhere hereabouts?"

The child scrambled to her feet and went to a corner, where Mithrandir saw that their gear had been piled. She rummaged about a little and then returned with a small leathern pouch.

"Excellent! Now, my child, I need a vessel of hot water. Can you get that for me?"

"Yes, Grandfather. My Ma is without, cooking supper. She'll let you have some hot water."

The little girl vanished out the door. A few minutes later she returned, followed by a woman who ducked a little to enter through the low opening. In her hands she bore a pot from which arose tendrils of steam.

"Thank you, daughter," Mithrandir said gratefully. Placing the pot upon the floor, the woman smiled but said nothing. Mithrandir crawled to the edge of the pallet and dropped a handful of leaves into the water. Soon the aroma of athelas filled the room. Legolas stirred but his eyes remained closed. Mithrandir plucked a leaf from the bowl and waved it under the Elf's nose. Legolas moaned and opened his eyes a little.

"'Thrandir?" he murmured.

Mithrandir sighed with relief. "Legolas, when that Orc struck you down, I feared you were dead."

"It takes more than one Orc to kill an Elf," rasped Legolas, attempting a smile, a rather lopsided one.

"Will two hundred do?" retorted the wizard. "Because I very much believe that that is the number that assailed you!" He examined the Elf's face carefully. "Oh, dear," he exclaimed. "I believe that your nose has been broken. It looks a trifle askew. Perhaps Elrond will be able to set it so that it is straight again."

Legolas shrugged dismissively. "I don't mind. Perhaps now Men will no longer be so quick to say that I am pretty."

While the two were speaking, the woman had vanished. Now she returned, bearing two bowls and accompanied by her husband.

"Good morning, Grandfather," the Man said to Mithrandir. "And I am glad to see you awake, young Master," he said, turning to Legolas. "You were very kind to my son. My land is poor, and I should never have had the wherewithal to pay for his apprenticeship."

In an attempt to be polite, Legolas tried to push himself up on his elbow but fell back.

"Nay, Master, lie still," the Man said hastily.

If the Elf could not arise, at least he could speak. "Your son is a worthy lad; I was honored that I might assist him."

The woman sighed and stepped forward. "Whilst you exchange pleasantries," she chided her husband gently, "this stew grows cold." She pulled a rough hewn three-legged stool next the bedstead and placed two bowls upon it. Her husband laughed.

"My wife doesn't speak o'ermuch, but when she does, it is to the point. We will leave you to your supper."

The two humans retreated, and Mithrandir helped Legolas to sit up. There was little meat and much cabbage in the stew, but it was hot and well-flavored with herbs. Legolas felt his strength returning. "I think I shall be ready to depart upon the morrow," he declared.

"You are forgetting that it is not entirely up to you," Mithrandir replied. "I have some say in this matter, and it is my counsel that we should send a message to Elrond and ask that Elves be sent to fetch us."

Legolas looked horrified. "Mithrandir! I do not wish to be carried home as if I were an infant!"

"I said not that you would be carried. Would it not please you if Elrohir and Elladan brought us horses?"

Mollified, Legolas agreed that Mithrandir's plan was indeed a good one. When the woman came for their bowls, Mithrandir asked her if she could spare someone to carry a message to Rivendell.

"To the elf-palace!" she exclaimed, looking a little frightened.

Legolas smiled. He had never thought of Elrond's home as a 'palace', and he knew that Elladan, Elrohir, and Estel would not have called it that, either. Indeed, it was generally known to Elves, Dwarves, and Men—and the occasional Hobbit—as the Last Homely House East of the Sea. Hardly the name of a palace!

"Mother," the Elf said, "you needn't fear. I will give the messenger tokens to present to the Master of Imladris, who will order that their bearer be received with kindness and honor."

Reassured, the woman summoned her second son. Legolas knelt upon the dirt floor of the hut and drew a map for the youngster, who carefully memorized it. Then Legolas gave him one of his matched knives.

"Show this knife to Master Elrond in token that you bear a message from Legolas Thranduilion," he told the lad. "Tell him that it is the desire of Legolas and of Gandalf the Grey that he send Elladan and Elrohir to this place with spare horses. I pray that you assure him that we are not seriously injured, but that it would be best if we rode the remainder of the distance, for we have both been ill."

The lad promised to set out at once, and Legolas arose from the floor and turned toward Mithrandir. To his dismay, Mithrandir was lighting his pipe. "I did not think that any pipe weed remained," the Elf exclaimed. "The child brought me more," replied the wizard, gesturing toward the little girl, who had slipped into the hut while Legolas had been preoccupied with his map drawing. Legolas made a face. "Mithrandir, I believe I shall shelter in a tree for the time being."

Mithrandir drew the pipe from his mouth and sent a dragon flying in the Elf's direction. Legolas batted it away, and the child giggled. At the sight of the young one's happy face, Legolas could not keep from smiling himself.

"I suppose I do understand your delight in pipe weed, Mithrandir—but you must concede that it smells foul!"

The wizard nodded his understanding, if not his agreement, and the two friends parted for the night on amiable terms.

Epilogue

Spider Elf, Spider Elf
Clings like a spider to cliff shelf.
Lowers a wizard with silken thread,
No fear he'll drop him on his head.
Look out!
Here comes the Spider Elf!

Legolas went to the window. "If you sing that wretched song one more time," he shouted, "upon your heads I shall pour the contents of my chamber pot!" The singers fell silent. "I know you are still out there, Elladan, Elrohir," Legolas continued, "and I advise you not to take my threat lightly."

The bough of a bush dipped slightly and then sprang back into place. Satisfied that his invisible serenaders had retreated, Legolas returned to his bed, where Elrond had insisted that he remain for several more days. "You have suffered a concussion, Legolas," he had told the young Elf, "and I command you to stay abed. I do not request. I do not advise. I command."

Truth be told, Legolas found it easy to obey this order, for keeping to his room spared him the attention that would otherwise have been paid to his shorn locks. Legolas grinned as he remembered Elrond's reaction to his unorthodox haircut. Legolas had ridden up to the hall with his hood up, and he had kept his hood up when Elrond and others of his household, Erestor among them, had come out to greet the wizard and Elf. Erestor had of course frowned and gestured significantly at the young Elf's head. Even though Erestor was no longer Legolas's tutor, he still insisted upon lessoning him at every opportunity. Obediently, hiding his smile, Legolas drew back his hood. "Your hair!" exclaimed Elrond, horrified. "Pray do not tell me that Mithrandir did indeed cast a spell upon you!"

"Far from it," said the wizard. "Legolas sacrificed his hair to secure our escape from Mordor, and the deed was done with an ordinary blade, wielded by myself with great skill, I might add." With that, the Istar launched into a recitation of their adventures. By the time he had finished, Elladan and Elrohir were softly singing "Spider Elf, Spider Elf," and they had not left off tormenting Legolas since.

Legolas's reflections were interrupted by a knock upon the door.

"Enter," he called, and Mithrandir strolled in. "Hullo, my boy," he called genially. "I have come to cheer you up." The wizard pulled out his pipe. "Thought I'd entertain you by blowing smoke creatures," he teased.

"Mi-thran-dir," said Legolas warningly.

"Oh, very well," said the wizard, smiling as he put away his pipe and helped himself to an apple from a bowl on the table next to Legolas's bed. "In fact, I have come to bid you farewell for the time being. I have an errand to the Shire that cannot wait."

"Do you feel strong enough?"

"Quite. I believe Elrond must have laced my weed with athelas."

Legolas pretended to pout. "Elrond may meddle with your pipe weed, but I may not. I call that unfair!"

"My dear lad," rejoined Mithrandir, "I should have thought that you had quite enough of 'meddling' with my pipe weed. If I recall correctly, you did not have the stomach for it."

Legolas laughed his acknowledgement, and Mithrandir arose and went to the door. "Stay well, Mithrandir," Legolas called. Mithrandir grinned before replying.

"And you as well—Spider Elf."

Mithrandir ducked from view as an apple flew in his direction. "Waste of a good apple," Legolas said regretfully as he lay back upon his pillow. "Fortunately, there are more where that come from, and I am sure that the day will come when I shall be able to replenish my stock."

And with that happy thought let us leave our Spider Elf.