Episode 1: Humans

"Humans," groaned Legolas. He threw aside the bedclothes and sat up. The moon cast a bar of light upon the floor, its tip coming to rest upon a muddy boot. "Humans," repeated Legolas, turning to look at Aragorn, who lay sleeping soundly, his mouth open. Legolas wrinkled up his face as he noticed that the pillow beneath the Man's stubbly cheek was damp. Then he grinned as he remembered a rhyme Elrohir had loved to chant when he was younger. "Humans drool; Elves rule," the young Elf would sing when human traders or ambassadors came to Imladris. Of course, Elrohir had grown up and no longer uttered such foolishness. Still, it was true that Men drooled.

Legolas glanced again at Aragorn. 'Yes', he thought to himself, 'Humans do drool. They also snore and stink. I think I would rather share a bed with a Dwarf. A Dwarf would be smaller; the odor would therefore be the less'.

Legolas was not being logical, as he would have conceded had he been pressed upon the subject. A polecat, for example, is small, yet stinks all out of proportion to its size. Still, Legolas could be forgiven his specious reasoning. He had been looking forward to a good night's sleep at a comfortable inn after a long march but now found that rest was denied him. Sighing, he drew his legs up. Clasping his arms about them, he rested his chin upon his knees. He sat hunched in that position until his back began to ache. Then he stretched out beneath the bedclothes again, lying upon his back and staring up at a dragon-shaped stain upon the ceiling. Finding that this dragon did nothing interesting, after a few minutes he turned onto his side and curled up. In the midst of this maneuver, his elbow struck Aragorn's chest.

"Mmph," muttered the Man, who rolled away from the offending limb. As he did so, his body became entangled in the bedclothes, which were yanked clean off the Elf. Legolas was not cold, but he yanked back on principle. He regained a share of the bedding, but Aragorn came with it, rolling back toward the Elf and fetching up against him. Soon Legolas found himself clinging to a narrow strip of mattress at the edge of the bed.

"Aragorn, you're taking too large a share of the bed," Legolas complained. There was no answer but a snore. The Elf poked the Man and tried again. "Aragorn, you're squashing me!" Aragorn made a snorting noise that reminded Legolas of the grunts of the feral pigs that roamed the scrublands of Dunland. The Elf tried not to giggle at the thought, but the harder he tried, the more ridiculous his predicament seemed. He began to shake with suppressed laughter, and before too long the inevitable happened: he found himself sliding off the edge of the bed.

Legolas landed with an inelegant thump, but as Aragorn continued fast asleep, there was no one to witness his discomfiture. Sprawled upon the floor, the Elf looked up at the bed, from which Aragorn's arm now dangled. He gave a shrug of resignation. Aragorn was heavier than he; this was one battle he could not win. He arose and went to the door. It was a mild night, the moon was now near setting, and the sky clear. It would be a good night for stargazing. Holding his shoes in his hand—the muddy boots were Aragorn's—Legolas slipped quietly from the room. Behind him Aragorn muttered in his sleep.

Once outside, Legolas watched as the moon's disc slid beneath the horizon. The night was now at its darkest, and the Elf studied the stars, picking out the constellations that he had learned as a child. "The ship Vingilot," he murmured, "sailed by Eärendil the Mariner. There is the star that marks the Silmaril that is bound unto his brow."

Near Vingilot flew Thorondor the Eagle, as was fitting, for together they had helped the Valar defeat Morgoth's dragon armada during the War of Wrath. Facing Vingilot and Thorondor was their foe, Ancalagon the Black, greatest of all winged dragons. His head was downmost, in token of his defeat. Eärendil had slain Ancalagon, and his body had plummeted onto the mountains of Thangorodrim. The spines of Morgoth's mountains had been shattered by his fall.

Legolas turned to look for the other dragon constellations. There was the ancestor of all dragons, Glaurung the Golden, a beautiful name for a deadly worm that had ravaged Beleriand for centuries before being slain by Túrin son of Húrin. But Túrin's sister had named her brother the master of doom by doom mastered. For a spell of Glaurung rendered Túrin and his sister unable to recognize one another, and they grew enamored of each other and wed. When she learned the truth, Turin's sister slew herself, and a despairing Túrin impaled himself upon his own sword. The weapon could be seen in the sky beneath Glaurung.

Not far from Glaurung was Scatha the Worm. A cold-drake but as deadly as his fiery cousins, Scatha had been the scourge of both Men and Dwarves. It was a Man who slew him, Fram, ancestor of Eorl the Young, first ruler of Rohan. Afterward the Dwarves and Men had quarreled over Scatha's hoard. The dragon had stolen his gold from the Dwarves, but it was a Man who slew the worm, and Men had therefore claimed a share of the wealth. Fram's folk succeeded in wresting at least some of the gold from the hoard, but their leader fell in battle. Legolas shook his head. Foolish Men, to quarrel over golden baubles when lives are more precious.

A light streaking across the sky interrupted Legolas's ruminations. It was followed by another and another. "The Valar weep," the Elf murmured. "I wonder what grievous crime has been committed this night."

A branch snapped behind him. Legolas spun about. As he did so, his hand went to his belt. To his chagrin, the Elf realized that he had left the room without any weapons. He stared intently at the darkness beneath the nearby trees. He saw nothing, but he sensed that someone or something lurked behind a tree trunk. That the person or creature did not show itself did not bode well. Keeping his face toward the forest, the Elf slowly began to back toward the inn. Then he heard a noise from his left. It was the sound of a pebble rolling under a foot, and it was joined by a sound on his right, the crunch of a leaf trodden upon by a heavy boot. Next he heard the most distressing sound of all, a footfall directly behind him. "Aragorn?" he said softly, even though in his heart he knew it was not his friend. The answering laugh confirmed his fears.

"Aragorn, eh?" the voice mocked. "Is that the name of your fellow-traveler? Don't hold his liquor well, that one. He looked right smashed after one pint."

"He was weary, not drunk," Legolas defended his friend.

"Weary. Drunk. It's all one. He ain't here. Likely snoring like a bear in winter." Legolas tried not to show his distress at the aptness of the latter observation, but the Man chortled. "I'm right, ain't I?" he sneered.

Four Men had come out of the darkness, and Legolas tried to size them up without appearing to do so. The one behind him spoke in stentorian syllables, and if his size matched his voice, he had a considerable advantage in weight over the Elf. The one to the right carried a cudgel, but he was young and looked frightened. The one to the left brandished a knife, but more impressive in size was the gut that the Man lugged. Legolas did not think the pudgy Man would be able to wield the knife to any great effect. The Man in front of Legolas, however, was fit, and he bore an axe. Still, the Elf thought that if he could get his hands upon a weapon, he might disarm his foes, for he was a trained warrior, and they were not.

'It is four against one,' he said to himself, 'but I shall try to put them off their guard. Then I shall seize the cudgel. I expect it will be easy to take it from the boy. A wooden rod may not be much good against an axe, but only if the Man wielding it manages to strike the cudgel. I warrant I am better at feinting than the axe man, and if I get past his guard and land one or two blows on his pate, that will be the end of him. As we scuffle, the pudgy Man will circle about us unsure what to do, although he will make up his mind quickly enough once I have got the axe. He will take to his heels, I have no doubt. That leaves the Man behind me. When I seize the cudgel, I must be sure to spring aside so that I may keep him in sight'.

Legolas began to put his plan into effect. "I am only one," he said, trying to placate the Men. "As you have pointed out, my friend is asleep within. Whatever you want, I will yield it. I am no fool and will do what I must."

"It's you we want," retorted the Man behind him.

"I have gold in my purse," Legolas said quickly, feeling the Man draw nearer. He wished to pivot to face him, but at the same time he did not want to turn his back on the Man with the axe. "One of your friends has a knife. Let him hold it to my throat as I return to my chamber to fetch my purse."

"We will see to your gold later—after you are dead. I don't reckon your friend will object. Indeed, we will do him a kindness. We will cure his snoring by cutting his throat."

"Why do you want to kill me? I have done nothing to you."

"You are an Elf," spat the hidden Man.

"Why should that offend you?"

"Your kind slew my kin."

"We are at peace with the Men hereabouts," objected Legolas.

"We don't hale from hereabouts. We are from Dunland."

Dunland. The treaty with the Dunlendings had lately been broken by renegade Men, and the Elves had had no choice but to defend themselves when assailed by raiders. Legolas doubted that his would-be murderers would see matters from his point of view, however. He suspected that Saruman the Honey-voiced had persuaded the renegades to consider themselves ill-used by the Elves. He tried another tack.

"You think me your enemy because I am an Elf, and I doubt I can convince you otherwise. My friend, though, is no Elf. Surely you do not wish to slay an innocent Man."

"The friend of my enemy is my enemy," the Man said, quoting a proverb that among Men was as common as it was nonsensical.

By now Legolas had decided that he had better go for the axe straightaway. His muscles tensed as he prepared to leap forward, but before he could do so he was struck hard between the shoulder blades. He was borne to the ground, stunned, for he had thought that the hidden Man had meant to taunt him a little further before slaying him. He felt no pain, but it seemed to him that a heavy weight pinned him to the ground.

'It does not hurt to die', he thought in surprise, 'but I did not expect the Halls of Mandos to smell so foul'.

Dazedly, he tried to lift his head but gasped as he gazed into the dead eyes of the Man with the axe. Nearby he heard the gibbering voice of a youth. "Please don't slay me, Master," the boy was crying. "I only took up with these Men because I have no kin."

By now Legolas's head had cleared, and he understood that he was pinned down by a body, doubtless that of the Man who had been standing behind him. He struggled to crawl clear of it, at the same time crying out for mercy on behalf of the boy. "Hold, friend," he exclaimed. "The lad had only a staff. Surely you would not slay someone merely for the crime of carrying about a support for his weary steps."

"Staff? Looks like a cudgel to me," came the reply.

"Aragorn!" cried Legolas. Freeing himself at last from the stinking carcass of his would-be murderer, the Elf arose. His friend held the boy by the collar, but as Legolas watched, the Ranger dropped the arm holding his knife, which had been pressed against the boy's throat. To the other Dunlendings, however, he had shown no mercy. All three were sprawled dead upon the ground, their blood sinking into the soil.

"Now I've spared him, what shall I do with him?" Aragorn asked dryly. "He says he has no kin; now he has no friends, neither—such as they were."

"When we stabled our packhorse, the ostler was complaining that he didn't have enough help. Perhaps he'll take the lad on."

"You hear that, boy?" said Aragorn, turning the youngster so that he had to look the Ranger full in the face. "Would you be willing to muck out stables? You'd be sure of your meals."

"I'd rather muck out stables than lie in the muck," the boy replied earnestly, gesturing at the bodies of his erstwhile companions.

"Likely you'll have to sleep in the hayloft," warned Aragorn.

"I've slept in worse places," the youngster replied. "And the horses will smell better than he ever did."

The boy pointed at the body that had fallen upon Legolas. The Elf grimaced. "I can testify to the truth of that statement," he said wryly. "Aragorn, compared to him, you smell like a meadow in springtime."

By now the sky was turning gray with the approach of dawn, and the ostler emerged to see to the horses. After many expressions of dismay at the sight of bodies in the yard, he agreed to take on the boy, who was at once given the task of digging a common grave for his former comrades. "Soil's pretty soft over there," said the ostler, pointing to a corner of the yard. "Used to be a latrine."

Legolas wrinkled up his nose, although he knew that the soil of a long-abandoned privy was as inoffensive as ordinary loam. Aragorn laughed at him. "You are too fastidious," he grinned as they returned to their chamber. He threw himself upon the bed. "I am going to turn in again," he announced. "Lucky for you I am such a light sleeper, but not so lucky for me."

"You are not a light sleeper!" protested Legolas.

"Indeed I am! I sensed when you left the room. Had I not, you might have been destined for a resting place as ignominious as the one those fellows found."

Legolas considered pointing out that Aragorn had 'sensed' his departure long after it had occurred, but he decided that any attempt at argument would be fruitless.

"You ought to rest as well, Legolas," the Ranger continued. "You look very tired. Silly of you to be up and about at night. Whatever were you doing?"

"Stargazing," Legolas replied shortly.

"There's an Elf for you—stargazing when he ought to be recovering from a long march. I am not so foolish. I sleep whenever I am able."

"And very able you are in that department," Legolas muttered under his breath as he removed his shoes and set them neatly by the wall, where no one would trip over them. Aragorn had already begun to snore by the time the Elf crawled into bed. 'Perhaps I ought to warn Arwen about this habit of his', Legolas thought to himself. 'She is in for a rude awakening, I think'. Smiling at his own pun, Legolas pulled the covers up and tried to immerse himself in dream.

"Humans," groaned Legolas a half hour later, staring balefully up at the bed, from whose edge dangled Aragorn's arm. "Humans!"