May I finger Comic-Con and all its bliss for delaying my editing? I’ll go ahead and do that. I need to start updating when I say I will. It’s so rude. I’d hate me too. And yet, I don’t think it’s a good idea for me to edit late at night, as my dyslexia becomes pronounced and I start to spell words like “guarantee” as “garentee”. *Sigh*. It’s a never ending cycle.
VERY SPECIAL DISCLAIMER: Trelan and Raniean are OCs from Cassia and Siobhan’s Mellon Chronicles. They gave me permission to add him in; he’s there because I love fanfic, and this story, being a metafanfic, wouldn’t be complete without appearances from famous OCs. If you have not read Mellon Chronicles, I recommend you do so.
Boundaries of Mirkwood
Chapter 18
“Déjà Vu”
“By Eru, what have you done?” Demanded a voice from the prince’s doorway. Legolas continued skimming through a thick tome as though it were entirely natural to find the Woodelves’ archer prince surrounded by a bulwark of literature. To be reading it.
“Has the library become so overcrowded by new editions that it must now be housed in the royal apartments? Or might the void been filled, Morgoth set free, and his highness has chosen to pursue scholarship of—what is this?! Genealogy?” Raniean was stooped over one pile of tomes, careful not to step on stray scrolls, closely examining the titles and authors as Legolas ignored him.
“I smell conspiracy,” Raniean continued to rant, crossing his arms indignantly.
“Do you?”
“Trelan, the short snoop the he is, was seen haunting the infirmary. He was feigning an earache and other such nonsense until found out this afternoon.”
Legolas frowned. “Was he?”
“Indeed.”
“In that case, he ought to have reported straight back to me on the other infirmed.” Legolas’ sharp ears caught Raniean’s faint growl of disapproval.
“Then it’s such a pity he was waylaid by our visitors.”
“I don’t suppose you had anything to do with that diversion.”
“Dear me, never.” Raniean made no attempt to sound convincing.
Legolas shut his book and stood. “Fine, I’ll follow your lure. What guests did the court receive?”
“A number—say, one-half dozen—all in a thither over the trees.”
Trees? He was upset. No one had told him anything about trees. Granted, he’d been avoiding everyone, but he was still the prince. “The trees?”
At attention, mostly because he was finally getting some, Raniean straightened his shoulders. “We received a steady flux of visitors since mid-day. All came to report that the tree-song in their part of the woods has changed, or rather become more frequent and urgent in tone. Some sing of warnings, other despair—”
“It is peculiar and discouraging that I was not informed of this.” Legolas discarded his tome amidst one of several book stacks and made for his bed where a clean over-tunic had been laid out for him some hours ago.
“With all due respect, your highness, of course not. The prince has been off scouting, and tending to boarder defenses, and keeping the hapless wanderers out, and all other manner of wearisome duties. His majesty has insisted that you receive some well-earned rest before . . . is this a script on Malbeth?”
“Probably,” Legolas replied without seeking visual confirmation as he roped off the last tie on his tunic and strode to the door.
“Enough!” Raniean called, fed up with not being paid any heed. “Whatever you and Trelan are plotting, I demand to be let in on it!”
“Plotting has not ensued. We are currently in the research phase, plot pending. Make yourself useful and read through the books on that side of the couch while I’m gone. Keep a written list of anything unusual concerning Foresight—”
“What in Arda has that to do—”
“And stack them over there when you are done. I’m off to find—” The apartment door opened behind the prince with a bang, admitting Trelan who slammed it shut and pressed his back against the sturdy wood as though he were trying to barricade himself inside. Legolas mumbled, “Speaking of Morgoth . . .”
“I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again,” Trelan declared. “That pack of pretentious rabble from the west-wood are the greatest hoard of—” and here Raniean coughed so loudly as to make the shorter elf unintelligible, “—bs this side of . . . are we going somewhere?”
Legolas swatted a half-empty day pack into Trelan’s chest and cheerily asked, “Feel up to raiding the kitchens? I wish to hear the tree song firsthand, from different parts of the wood, and you’ll be telling me what you accidentally overheard in the infirmary. I will ready the horses. With luck, we will be out before the evening is old and back before the sun rises.”
“The sun is only just set!” Raniean protested. Trelan inclined his head toward the stacks of books and a look passed between the prince’s companions which was equivalent to ‘he’s intelligent, but hasn’t read this many books in his 2,000 years combined’ to ‘I know, he’s up to something’.
“Really Trelan, have you any notion as to what this is about?”
“Something to do with that elf coming in last night and the tree song, I’d imagine,” Trelan surmised, turning expectantly to the prince.
Legolas’ mind raced. Though he’d canvassed nearly every book in the Mirkwood archives on Seeing and Foresight, his research shed no light on his particular experience, nor how he was to interpret the vision, nor what the curious red bird meant. “I cannot be sure of what is happening, as there are many clues which do not fit, but I am sure the tree song, the elf, and the spider activity is all related. I know we can uncover the cause and it must be done in all haste.”
After a moment Raniean said, “I don’t like where your clues are headed.”
“Neither do I.”
“Then it really is related,” Trelan said.
“It certainly would be, if the anomaly in the tree song originates in the same part of the wood as the spider attack,” Legolas reasoned.
“Survey work it is,” Trelan said accepting the daypack and slinging it over his shoulders.
“One question before you throw yourselves headlong into danger,” interrupted Raniean, pointing at the book stacks. “Why am I going through these?”
As much as Legolas respected and trusted his friends, he wanted to be sure of what he’d seen before making such an outstanding claim as having Foresight when he wasn’t sure himself. “For my own assurance, Ran. I need your help on this.”
Raniean tried to catch a glimpse of Legolas’ sparse notes, but the prince pulled them from view as he gathered his weapons.
“Don’t look to me.” Trelan insisted as Raniean frowned, looking for explanation. “I have no more inkling than you.”
“Kitchen Trelan.”
“Yes your highness-ness. Do you require any particular confection?”
“Kitchen.” Legolas pointed one of his arrows at the door.
“Going.” The short elf slipped out, putting on a ridiculous show of being frightened.
Raniean decided another round of dissuasion couldn’t hurt. “Leaving at this hour may not be such a good idea.” Before any pompously indignant protests could ensue, he added, “Obviously you and Trelan are capable of handling yourselves in precarious situations, but things have become unpredictable of late. Not to mention your father expressed wishes for you to remain here, not gallivanting into the woods after Nolaquen.”
“Do think Raniean; with horses along, we must stick to trails and they will be sooner missed about the stable than the prince, wandering tramps he and his friends are. Besides, you ought to know by now that if I were truly planning to so something reckless I’d be dragging you along with us.”
“That, there. Your problem is that you never expressly plan to get into trouble; rather, it tends to find you, and like a fool—”
“Happy reading, Ran.” Legolas opened the door and took his leave.
“Don’t you dare go looking for trouble without me!” Raniean called back, clinging desperately to his future reading as the door shut.
Legolas stepped softly between leaves of dark ivy, thick patches of trees, and rough outcroppings of stone. From all he saw, he recognized the terrain as belonging to the gullies and foothills of the southern Mirkwood Mountains. His horse was far behind him. Ahead, he sensed that the forest cleared. Through the density he heard the sound of fire, but his nose could smell no hint of smoke, nor his eyes see the flicker of flame. There was no other sound; all else was too quiet.
Pressing through a gap in the growth, the branches and nettles gave way before and enclosed after his progress. When the walls about him ceased shifting and the first break in foliage exposed the clearing to his sight, he was met with the quickening scent of blood and the shaded figures of corpses half enveloped by the ivy-covered den. The prince broke through and the shadows, as though they had been death veils, rolled back revealing the faces of the fallen. Nolaquen, Ohtallo, Failon, Turgon, and so many others in the command, half rotted through. At his side was the fresh felled Trelan, one eye plucked out. On his chest roosted the Red Bird and draped in its beak was an eye-nerve, the bloodied white orb dangling on the other end, turning until the iris and black pupil was set upon the prince. He found himself unable to move his arms to set his bow, nor able to turn away from the lidless eye. At once the roaring of the flame pierced his ears and he knew from whence the flame came. It was the Red Bird, raging as though the kindling potential to set the wood alight was encased within its breast.
The prince knew what must be done. He had killed the Red Bird before, and once it was done, this end would be prevented. Ever still did the roar grow louder, until his ears were pained. Something took hold of him, and shook him, but he did not wish to perceive . . . and when had he fallen down?
“Legolas! Legolas, awaken this moment or I’ll chain you to a bed in the infirmary!” The voice sounded muffled, as through from far away and through a barrier. Its owner was giving way to frightened panic, and the prince felt someone patting his cheek as to wake him. “Legolas, open your eyes!”
Another voice joined in, the sound still far away but familiar as well and striking close to the prince’s heart. He wished to obey it at once, but found he lacked the strength. “Eru, his ears bleed. Legolas, wake! If you hear, know that if you die I shall claim your bow. I shall snap it.”
“It’s no use! Run for a healer, tell them he collapsed outside his door and will not rouse—”
Mustering what little strength he had, Legolas managed to interrupt and mutter, “Tre—” trying to name his dear Trelan.
“Legolas!” Trelan cried, infirmary forgotten, falling back to his friend’s side.
“Quiet, he must be given a moment to speak! And do what you may to open your eyes Legolas, you have the appearance of the dead. It’s distressing.”
Legolas struggled against the slow-to-fade weakness. He had to get up if he were to stop the Red Bird; he was the only one who knew of it, not to mention that someone needed to let Raniean know that if one was to give another a moment to speak, one must shut up and Trelan wasn’t attending to his duties. Prying his stubborn eyes open, he found himself on his back no more than a few steps from his door looking up at the troubled, yet relieved faces of his two best friends.
“You terrorize us Legolas!” Trelan declared, his voice muffled still. Something was definitely wrong with his ears.
“I heard you fall,” Raniean said, his face wan. “You’d only just shut the door and once I found you, your eyes were shut like the dead.”
“It was I who saw you dead,” Legolas replied, his voice returning though he found it unnervingly tiring to speak. “I am not afraid anymore. I have seen the Red Bird, and know I can stop it.”
Silence. Incredulously, Trelan started to wave a hand in front of Legolas’ face, but the prince swatted it away.
“It’s chains and the infirmary, then,” Raniean said, taking Legolas’ arm and attempting to haul him up, but Legolas shoved him off, his returning strength surprising them both.
Legolas managed to remain sitting upright, recovered his voice, and spoke in earnest. “I am not mad, nor do I jest. The danger is to the south-east, in the gullies and washes; I recognized the land. Some are already dead and Nolaquen is walking into a trap, but if we act now it may not be too late.”
Raniean and Trelan were confused. “What?”
Urgency was taking hold of Legolas and he spoke quickly. “Ran, the reason I set you on those books was because I though I may have Seen.”
Raniean blinked, a rare sight on an elf. “Seen, as in ‘I see the wall’ or, you know, Seen, as in, Seen.”
“I’m not pulling one over on you. Before, or just as the injured elf arrived I had a dream while I slept.”
Trelan’s eyes widened. “Like a mortal? A dream?”
Legolas became angry. He was certain his friends were being intentionally obtuse. “It wasn’t a dream! I didn’t know what I’d seen, so I went to read up on the subject, but now I have no doubts. I was there, it was real, the Red Bird is the source of these fell happenings and I will put out its flames, assisted or no.”
“We do not doubt you my friend.” The usual mirth in Trelan’s voice was gone; he was perfectly serious, his countenance solemn, though alarmed. “If you say you saw a Red Bird, then we most heartily believe you. But you must admit it is strange, portentous of evil. I do not trust the source of this sight—you never Saw before. It has made you bleed without cause; I fear it may have killed you if Raniean and I had not roused you.”
Touching the joint where his earlobe met his jaw, Legolas’ fingers felt the narrow stream of drying blood which had trickled from his ear. “This was not the doing of the Sight. It was the Red Bird; it can make such noise. It was so real.”
Raniean looked even more upset by this revelation and continued to protest, though Legolas could tell Trelan was becoming as set upon this evil bird as his prince. “But that does not explain why you were so weakened, or why something you Saw could effect you here and now! Do not be swayed; speak of this with your father.”
“There is no time.” Legolas moved to stand, and Trelan was at his side to help him. “Nolaquen and his men should reach the foothills within a day or two; it is unlikely they have already. If we do not move quickly, the bird will meet them first. Father will wish for a war counsel, for healers to prod me and for those with Wisdom to assess my sanity. It would take days, Raniean.”
“I know.” Indecision and hesitancy crept into his voice. “But I still do not like these evil events, I do not trust the origin of these visions, and I do not trust that this bird wouldn’t lure our prince by means of visions into a trap!”
“He makes a good point,” Treland admitted.
“But do I leave it to chance?” Legolas demanded. “I could not bear to receive word of harm coming to Nolaquen and his men, while knowing I sat back to preserve my own skin.”
“I would willingly bear warning.” Trelan volunteered.
“As would I,” Raniean agreed, as though the matter might be settled.
“This is beyond sending messages!” Legolas felt his heart twist in his chest; he knew, simply knew he was the only one who could stop the bird before it did its worst. Before the flames started to burn. “I am leaving for the south-east, on horse as long as I can until the wood forces me to my feet. My destination is known.”
“Then I will go with you,” Trelan stated.
Raniean still looked dubious.
“I am not ignoring your concerns.”
“You are. You don’t know anything about Sight. You’re a level-headed warrior, not subject to whim. You’re not acting yourself.”
“Whim? I act judiciously, and so far my caution has cost lives.”
“How can you possibly know?”
Legolas touched the blood again; his dratted ears still smarted, and he worried they would for some time. “Would I willingly ask you to keep a weather ear open for me, in the wood? I can hear no further than the entrance hall.” He admitted bitterly.
Raniean and Trelan exchanged startled glances. “You cannot hear the guard—”
“No. It is returning, but it will be slow to recover.”
“But it couldn’t have been—”
“Real?” Legolas questioned, but his point was made. “Ran, my friend, I am about to do something reckless.”
Raniean sighed. “Then it is decided. You may not go looking for trouble without me!”
***
Arielle saw a bat flutter and perch upside down.
Arielle saw a bat flutter and perch upside down.
“Déjà vu.”
Arielle blinked.
“Shit.”
VERY SPECIAL DISCLAIMER: Trelan and Raniean are OCs from Cassia and Siobhan’s Mellon Chronicles. They gave me permission to add him in; he’s there because I love fanfic, and this story, being a metafanfic, wouldn’t be complete without appearances from famous OCs. If you have not read Mellon Chronicles, I recommend you do so.
Boundaries of Mirkwood
Chapter 18
“Déjà Vu”
“By Eru, what have you done?” Demanded a voice from the prince’s doorway. Legolas continued skimming through a thick tome as though it were entirely natural to find the Woodelves’ archer prince surrounded by a bulwark of literature. To be reading it.
“Has the library become so overcrowded by new editions that it must now be housed in the royal apartments? Or might the void been filled, Morgoth set free, and his highness has chosen to pursue scholarship of—what is this?! Genealogy?” Raniean was stooped over one pile of tomes, careful not to step on stray scrolls, closely examining the titles and authors as Legolas ignored him.
“I smell conspiracy,” Raniean continued to rant, crossing his arms indignantly.
“Do you?”
“Trelan, the short snoop the he is, was seen haunting the infirmary. He was feigning an earache and other such nonsense until found out this afternoon.”
Legolas frowned. “Was he?”
“Indeed.”
“In that case, he ought to have reported straight back to me on the other infirmed.” Legolas’ sharp ears caught Raniean’s faint growl of disapproval.
“Then it’s such a pity he was waylaid by our visitors.”
“I don’t suppose you had anything to do with that diversion.”
“Dear me, never.” Raniean made no attempt to sound convincing.
Legolas shut his book and stood. “Fine, I’ll follow your lure. What guests did the court receive?”
“A number—say, one-half dozen—all in a thither over the trees.”
Trees? He was upset. No one had told him anything about trees. Granted, he’d been avoiding everyone, but he was still the prince. “The trees?”
At attention, mostly because he was finally getting some, Raniean straightened his shoulders. “We received a steady flux of visitors since mid-day. All came to report that the tree-song in their part of the woods has changed, or rather become more frequent and urgent in tone. Some sing of warnings, other despair—”
“It is peculiar and discouraging that I was not informed of this.” Legolas discarded his tome amidst one of several book stacks and made for his bed where a clean over-tunic had been laid out for him some hours ago.
“With all due respect, your highness, of course not. The prince has been off scouting, and tending to boarder defenses, and keeping the hapless wanderers out, and all other manner of wearisome duties. His majesty has insisted that you receive some well-earned rest before . . . is this a script on Malbeth?”
“Probably,” Legolas replied without seeking visual confirmation as he roped off the last tie on his tunic and strode to the door.
“Enough!” Raniean called, fed up with not being paid any heed. “Whatever you and Trelan are plotting, I demand to be let in on it!”
“Plotting has not ensued. We are currently in the research phase, plot pending. Make yourself useful and read through the books on that side of the couch while I’m gone. Keep a written list of anything unusual concerning Foresight—”
“What in Arda has that to do—”
“And stack them over there when you are done. I’m off to find—” The apartment door opened behind the prince with a bang, admitting Trelan who slammed it shut and pressed his back against the sturdy wood as though he were trying to barricade himself inside. Legolas mumbled, “Speaking of Morgoth . . .”
“I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again,” Trelan declared. “That pack of pretentious rabble from the west-wood are the greatest hoard of—” and here Raniean coughed so loudly as to make the shorter elf unintelligible, “—bs this side of . . . are we going somewhere?”
Legolas swatted a half-empty day pack into Trelan’s chest and cheerily asked, “Feel up to raiding the kitchens? I wish to hear the tree song firsthand, from different parts of the wood, and you’ll be telling me what you accidentally overheard in the infirmary. I will ready the horses. With luck, we will be out before the evening is old and back before the sun rises.”
“The sun is only just set!” Raniean protested. Trelan inclined his head toward the stacks of books and a look passed between the prince’s companions which was equivalent to ‘he’s intelligent, but hasn’t read this many books in his 2,000 years combined’ to ‘I know, he’s up to something’.
“Really Trelan, have you any notion as to what this is about?”
“Something to do with that elf coming in last night and the tree song, I’d imagine,” Trelan surmised, turning expectantly to the prince.
Legolas’ mind raced. Though he’d canvassed nearly every book in the Mirkwood archives on Seeing and Foresight, his research shed no light on his particular experience, nor how he was to interpret the vision, nor what the curious red bird meant. “I cannot be sure of what is happening, as there are many clues which do not fit, but I am sure the tree song, the elf, and the spider activity is all related. I know we can uncover the cause and it must be done in all haste.”
After a moment Raniean said, “I don’t like where your clues are headed.”
“Neither do I.”
“Then it really is related,” Trelan said.
“It certainly would be, if the anomaly in the tree song originates in the same part of the wood as the spider attack,” Legolas reasoned.
“Survey work it is,” Trelan said accepting the daypack and slinging it over his shoulders.
“One question before you throw yourselves headlong into danger,” interrupted Raniean, pointing at the book stacks. “Why am I going through these?”
As much as Legolas respected and trusted his friends, he wanted to be sure of what he’d seen before making such an outstanding claim as having Foresight when he wasn’t sure himself. “For my own assurance, Ran. I need your help on this.”
Raniean tried to catch a glimpse of Legolas’ sparse notes, but the prince pulled them from view as he gathered his weapons.
“Don’t look to me.” Trelan insisted as Raniean frowned, looking for explanation. “I have no more inkling than you.”
“Kitchen Trelan.”
“Yes your highness-ness. Do you require any particular confection?”
“Kitchen.” Legolas pointed one of his arrows at the door.
“Going.” The short elf slipped out, putting on a ridiculous show of being frightened.
Raniean decided another round of dissuasion couldn’t hurt. “Leaving at this hour may not be such a good idea.” Before any pompously indignant protests could ensue, he added, “Obviously you and Trelan are capable of handling yourselves in precarious situations, but things have become unpredictable of late. Not to mention your father expressed wishes for you to remain here, not gallivanting into the woods after Nolaquen.”
“Do think Raniean; with horses along, we must stick to trails and they will be sooner missed about the stable than the prince, wandering tramps he and his friends are. Besides, you ought to know by now that if I were truly planning to so something reckless I’d be dragging you along with us.”
“That, there. Your problem is that you never expressly plan to get into trouble; rather, it tends to find you, and like a fool—”
“Happy reading, Ran.” Legolas opened the door and took his leave.
“Don’t you dare go looking for trouble without me!” Raniean called back, clinging desperately to his future reading as the door shut.
Legolas stepped softly between leaves of dark ivy, thick patches of trees, and rough outcroppings of stone. From all he saw, he recognized the terrain as belonging to the gullies and foothills of the southern Mirkwood Mountains. His horse was far behind him. Ahead, he sensed that the forest cleared. Through the density he heard the sound of fire, but his nose could smell no hint of smoke, nor his eyes see the flicker of flame. There was no other sound; all else was too quiet.
Pressing through a gap in the growth, the branches and nettles gave way before and enclosed after his progress. When the walls about him ceased shifting and the first break in foliage exposed the clearing to his sight, he was met with the quickening scent of blood and the shaded figures of corpses half enveloped by the ivy-covered den. The prince broke through and the shadows, as though they had been death veils, rolled back revealing the faces of the fallen. Nolaquen, Ohtallo, Failon, Turgon, and so many others in the command, half rotted through. At his side was the fresh felled Trelan, one eye plucked out. On his chest roosted the Red Bird and draped in its beak was an eye-nerve, the bloodied white orb dangling on the other end, turning until the iris and black pupil was set upon the prince. He found himself unable to move his arms to set his bow, nor able to turn away from the lidless eye. At once the roaring of the flame pierced his ears and he knew from whence the flame came. It was the Red Bird, raging as though the kindling potential to set the wood alight was encased within its breast.
The prince knew what must be done. He had killed the Red Bird before, and once it was done, this end would be prevented. Ever still did the roar grow louder, until his ears were pained. Something took hold of him, and shook him, but he did not wish to perceive . . . and when had he fallen down?
“Legolas! Legolas, awaken this moment or I’ll chain you to a bed in the infirmary!” The voice sounded muffled, as through from far away and through a barrier. Its owner was giving way to frightened panic, and the prince felt someone patting his cheek as to wake him. “Legolas, open your eyes!”
Another voice joined in, the sound still far away but familiar as well and striking close to the prince’s heart. He wished to obey it at once, but found he lacked the strength. “Eru, his ears bleed. Legolas, wake! If you hear, know that if you die I shall claim your bow. I shall snap it.”
“It’s no use! Run for a healer, tell them he collapsed outside his door and will not rouse—”
Mustering what little strength he had, Legolas managed to interrupt and mutter, “Tre—” trying to name his dear Trelan.
“Legolas!” Trelan cried, infirmary forgotten, falling back to his friend’s side.
“Quiet, he must be given a moment to speak! And do what you may to open your eyes Legolas, you have the appearance of the dead. It’s distressing.”
Legolas struggled against the slow-to-fade weakness. He had to get up if he were to stop the Red Bird; he was the only one who knew of it, not to mention that someone needed to let Raniean know that if one was to give another a moment to speak, one must shut up and Trelan wasn’t attending to his duties. Prying his stubborn eyes open, he found himself on his back no more than a few steps from his door looking up at the troubled, yet relieved faces of his two best friends.
“You terrorize us Legolas!” Trelan declared, his voice muffled still. Something was definitely wrong with his ears.
“I heard you fall,” Raniean said, his face wan. “You’d only just shut the door and once I found you, your eyes were shut like the dead.”
“It was I who saw you dead,” Legolas replied, his voice returning though he found it unnervingly tiring to speak. “I am not afraid anymore. I have seen the Red Bird, and know I can stop it.”
Silence. Incredulously, Trelan started to wave a hand in front of Legolas’ face, but the prince swatted it away.
“It’s chains and the infirmary, then,” Raniean said, taking Legolas’ arm and attempting to haul him up, but Legolas shoved him off, his returning strength surprising them both.
Legolas managed to remain sitting upright, recovered his voice, and spoke in earnest. “I am not mad, nor do I jest. The danger is to the south-east, in the gullies and washes; I recognized the land. Some are already dead and Nolaquen is walking into a trap, but if we act now it may not be too late.”
Raniean and Trelan were confused. “What?”
Urgency was taking hold of Legolas and he spoke quickly. “Ran, the reason I set you on those books was because I though I may have Seen.”
Raniean blinked, a rare sight on an elf. “Seen, as in ‘I see the wall’ or, you know, Seen, as in, Seen.”
“I’m not pulling one over on you. Before, or just as the injured elf arrived I had a dream while I slept.”
Trelan’s eyes widened. “Like a mortal? A dream?”
Legolas became angry. He was certain his friends were being intentionally obtuse. “It wasn’t a dream! I didn’t know what I’d seen, so I went to read up on the subject, but now I have no doubts. I was there, it was real, the Red Bird is the source of these fell happenings and I will put out its flames, assisted or no.”
“We do not doubt you my friend.” The usual mirth in Trelan’s voice was gone; he was perfectly serious, his countenance solemn, though alarmed. “If you say you saw a Red Bird, then we most heartily believe you. But you must admit it is strange, portentous of evil. I do not trust the source of this sight—you never Saw before. It has made you bleed without cause; I fear it may have killed you if Raniean and I had not roused you.”
Touching the joint where his earlobe met his jaw, Legolas’ fingers felt the narrow stream of drying blood which had trickled from his ear. “This was not the doing of the Sight. It was the Red Bird; it can make such noise. It was so real.”
Raniean looked even more upset by this revelation and continued to protest, though Legolas could tell Trelan was becoming as set upon this evil bird as his prince. “But that does not explain why you were so weakened, or why something you Saw could effect you here and now! Do not be swayed; speak of this with your father.”
“There is no time.” Legolas moved to stand, and Trelan was at his side to help him. “Nolaquen and his men should reach the foothills within a day or two; it is unlikely they have already. If we do not move quickly, the bird will meet them first. Father will wish for a war counsel, for healers to prod me and for those with Wisdom to assess my sanity. It would take days, Raniean.”
“I know.” Indecision and hesitancy crept into his voice. “But I still do not like these evil events, I do not trust the origin of these visions, and I do not trust that this bird wouldn’t lure our prince by means of visions into a trap!”
“He makes a good point,” Treland admitted.
“But do I leave it to chance?” Legolas demanded. “I could not bear to receive word of harm coming to Nolaquen and his men, while knowing I sat back to preserve my own skin.”
“I would willingly bear warning.” Trelan volunteered.
“As would I,” Raniean agreed, as though the matter might be settled.
“This is beyond sending messages!” Legolas felt his heart twist in his chest; he knew, simply knew he was the only one who could stop the bird before it did its worst. Before the flames started to burn. “I am leaving for the south-east, on horse as long as I can until the wood forces me to my feet. My destination is known.”
“Then I will go with you,” Trelan stated.
Raniean still looked dubious.
“I am not ignoring your concerns.”
“You are. You don’t know anything about Sight. You’re a level-headed warrior, not subject to whim. You’re not acting yourself.”
“Whim? I act judiciously, and so far my caution has cost lives.”
“How can you possibly know?”
Legolas touched the blood again; his dratted ears still smarted, and he worried they would for some time. “Would I willingly ask you to keep a weather ear open for me, in the wood? I can hear no further than the entrance hall.” He admitted bitterly.
Raniean and Trelan exchanged startled glances. “You cannot hear the guard—”
“No. It is returning, but it will be slow to recover.”
“But it couldn’t have been—”
“Real?” Legolas questioned, but his point was made. “Ran, my friend, I am about to do something reckless.”
Raniean sighed. “Then it is decided. You may not go looking for trouble without me!”
***
Arielle saw a bat flutter and perch upside down.
Arielle saw a bat flutter and perch upside down.
“Déjà vu.”
Arielle blinked.
“Shit.”
Subtitles
- Darkness and Starlight
- Abigail of Wellington
- Niobe of St. Andrews
- Arielle of Cedar Brook
- Yumiko of Shinjuku
- The Banks of River Running
- Stiff and Stark
- Screams in the Dark
- The Red Bird
- Many Meetings
- Night Fight
- Yumiko's New Friend
- A Mind of One's Own
- Running in Circles
- The Price for Revenge
- The Coming Night
- It Speaks English!
- Fragile Things: I
- Lull