The Sons of Durin

On the Banks of the Anduin

Fíli was relieved when he saw that Legolas, not meaning to travel through the mountains any more than he had to, had turned aside from entering the Grey Mountains. Instead he had chosen to follow the Anduin River in its southward course as it wended its way through the countryside that lay between the west edge of Mirkwood and the east side of the Misty Mountains; that would be the quickest way to Rivendell, he said. "But, I shall have to ask you to refrain from throwing yourself into this river as you did with the Forest River," he cautioned Fíli, "for the movement of the Anduin is stronger than that of Mirkwood's little streams, and I cannot promise I will be able to rescue you ere the current sweeps you away."

To Fíli, the Forest River into which he had fallen hardly seemed a "little stream", but when he saw the great Anduin, he understood why Legolas called it such in comparison. It was wide at the place where Legolas first guided Voronwer to follow its course—wider than any other river Fíli had ever seen, so wide that one had to squint to see its opposite bank (at least when one looked at it with the eyes of a Dwarf; as for Legolas, Fíli noted that his eyesight seemed to reach much father).

The landscape that rolled past now was mostly lowlands with flat meadows and gently sloping hills, with not many trees. The surrounding countryside would have been a lovely scene at other times of the year; fresh and delicate when clothed in spring's green garb, or languid and cheery in the golden gown of summer, but covered with a blanket of frost and the scatterings of a light snowfall that had been released from the clouds during the previous night, it looked rather dreary. But of course you would think so, because in the wake of the battle everything seems dreary to you, Fíli silently reminded himself, as he closed his eyes and tried unsuccessfully not to lean very heavily on Legolas's back. The river water had long since been dried from Fíli's clothes by the penetrating warmth of the Elf-fire by which he had spent the night, but they were still smudged with what remained of the mud that had been smeared on them when he had lain on the riverbank, and he knew that Elves were particular about such things. Unfortunately, Fíli could hardly sit up on his own, let alone shift his position, and so after a while he decided that Legolas would just have to tolerate having Fíli's soiled clothes rubbed against his back. To the Elf-prince's credit, he did not complain about this issue, nor did he really even seem to notice it, but he rode on in silence, sitting tall and erect astride Voronwer's unsaddled back.

The pain in Fíli's back was still present, but it had lessened to become a somewhat duller ache than the one to which the young Dwarf had become accustomed during the past few days. For this, he was grateful, though the fact that he still could not feel his legs still worried him. What if even the magic of the High Elves in Rivendell was not sufficient to heal him? What then? Then I would remain a cripple for the rest of my days. And I'm not sure how I would get back to Erebor, then... I'm sure the Elf-prince is going to be tired of carrying me around on the back of his horse by the time we reach Rivendell, so I'd better not count on him to be helping me with the return journey if I'm not able to make it on my own. And what will I do, then? Beg Lord Elrond to take me back to Rivendell? But I don't think that he'd be willing, either, because he advised Thorin not to continue with the quest to reclaim Erebor, and he might consider me losing the use of my legs to be a just punishment for the way we disregarded his counsel. Perhaps one of the other Elves would be willing to take him back, then. But Fíli did not think it likely; if Elrond refused to aid him, then the other Elves would more likely take his side on the issue than Fíli's. And then Fíli would have nowhere else to go... not to mention no way to get there.

Legolas, seeming not to know or care what thoughts of gloom with which Fíli's mind might be occupied, spoke a few gentle words that slowed Voronwer to a walk, after which the rate at which they traveled seemed to become unbearably slow. Fíli tried not to think of how long it might take, even when borne by an elvish steed, to reach the hidden valley of Rivendell on the other side of the Misty Mountains. Weeks, perhaps, if they were exceptionally lucky... and otherwise, months.