Title: The Wrong Path

Author: White Wolf

Genre: Angst/Action/Adventure

Timeline: 2960 TA

Disclaimer: Alas, I don't own anything J.R.R. Tolkien created. I couldn't compete with him even if I tried. All I can do is borrow some of his creations and write my own pale imitations. I'm certainly not making any money from this offering. It's just entertainment (hopefully).

Chapter One

Elrohir, youngest elven son of Elrond, the Lord of Imladris, stood at the window of one of the libraries in his family’s home. From this window, the elf could see the courtyard. His mind was on nothing in particular, when he saw two horses on the far horizon. He squinted, trying to make out who might be approaching Rivendell. When the horses got a bit closer, his elven eyes made out the fact that one horse was dark and the other was gray.

The elf smiled. Estel and Legolas were finally returning and only four days late. That had to be some kind of record. He continued to smile and watch as the horses got closer still, moving at a fairly quick pace. He then noticed something that wiped the smile from his face. It was replaced with a frown of concern. There was only one rider. There was no one sitting on the horse that followed. Elrohir was just about to turn away, when he realized that the gray horse carried two riders, not one. He stood and stared a moment longer to confirm that fact.

Elrohir quickly crossed the carpeted library and ran out into the hall, yelling for his father. His heart was racing. Had he stopped to look, he would have seen his hands shaking. His long black hair flew out behind him as he raced down the corridor.

Elrond and his eldest son, Elladan, were in the elf Lord’s private study, going over a new book of healing that Elrond had just acquired from the Lady Galadriel of Lothlorien. They were deep in research and discussion, when they heard the shouting. They both looked at the door simultaneously and then at each other. A look of foreboding passed between father and son. Elrohir’s shouts were bordering on panic.

Elrohir was running past the study door, still yelling, when Elrond and Elladan hurried out into the corridor. "Elrohir," Elrond called out in a stern tone. "What is all the shouting about?" Were they under attack?

"Ada, Elladan, they are back, but..." his previously excited voice trailed off into silence. The look in his eyes made his father and twin brother cringe. It was not the first time they had seen that look. They knew what it meant; something was terribly wrong with either Estel or Legolas.

Elrond knew he didn’t want to hear what his son might say, but, he had to hear it, so the elven Lord squared his shoulders and asked, "Which one?" He knew Elrohir understood perfectly well his meaning.

Sadness had overtaken panic for the moment, and Elrohir’s breathing was a bit rapid. It was then that he did notice his shaking hands. He put them down and pressed his palms tightly against his thighs, but it didn’t help much.

"They are both on Legolas's horse," Elrohir said at last. It’s all he could manage to say.

"Then, it is Estel," Elrond breathed. "Come. We must hurry. He will likely need immediate attention." He started off down the hall toward the courtyard, his blue silk robes swishing, and his twin sons in his wake.

All three elves were standing at the foot of the steps that led from the courtyard into The Last Homely House. All three were staring toward the open gate and the small section of road leading to it that was visible from where they stood.

Elven eyes went wide in surprise, as the first horse came in to view. It was Legolas sitting in front, not Estel. The human had his left arm securely around the elf, whose head was hanging forward and swaying slightly with the motion of the horse.

Elrond let out a sigh of relief that his foster son was apparently not injured or ill. However, his heart clenched to know that Legolas was clearly in dire need of attention. **Just once, why could they not both return whole and healthy?** he thought.

After Aragorn pulled his horse to a stop, Elrond stepped forward. He shuddered to see the limp body of the elf and the haggard look on his son‘s face. Aragorn looked exhausted. "Let Elladan take Legolas," Elrond instructed gently.

Aragorn shook his head. He slid from the saddle and pulled Legolas down into his arms and began to carry him up the steps. He said not a word nor was he in the kind of rush that usually accompanied the two friends’ return from one of their adventures. This fact alone did not bode well.

The three elves left behind all looked at each other. "Estel?" Elrohir called after his foster brother. Then, he looked at his father, "What has happened?" he asked, though he knew Elrond didn’t know any more than he did. With a look of horror, Elrohir suddenly started shaking his head rapidly. "No. No. Tell me Legolas is not dead." There was a stricken look on the younger twin’s face.

"I do not think so. Estel looked grim but not grief-stricken," Elladan said, trying to convince himself as much as his brother. There had been no sign of tears. Elladan only hoped he had analyzed the situation correctly. He spun on his heel and began to run after his human brother.

When Aragorn turned down the corridor to the left, Elladan, who had just caught up, asked him, "Why are you going this way? The House of Healing is that way." He was pointing to the right.

With a flat voice, Aragorn said, "He isn’t wounded."

TBC

Chapter Two

Aragorn continued down the corridor with his best friend in his arms. He mounted two more flights of stairs toward the family’s private wing of the house. His father and brothers were keeping pace behind him. They each knew they would all have to wait until Estel was ready to talk to them before they would get any answers from him.

When Aragorn reached the room Legolas always stayed in while in Rivendell, Elrohir rushed ahead and pushed down on the gold handle of the large oak door, which swung open on silent hinges. He then ran across the room to the glass doors that led to the balcony on his right. He grasped the hunter green velvet curtains and pulled them aside, flooding the room with bright sunlight.

The elf then pushed on the balcony doors, opening them until they lay back against the wall on either side. Legolas couldn’t stand being closed in even by curtains and clear glass doors. He was only comfortable when he could not only see the sky, but listen to the trees and feel the breezes as they blew into his room. Thus, both curtains and doors were only closed when the elf prince was not in residence.

There was a light breeze blowing inward just now, and the room was soon filled with the fresh scents of Spring.

Meanwhile, Aragorn lay Legolas on top of the bedspread, whose leaf-pattern was the same color as the curtains and the carpet. The room had been decorated with the leaf pattern and dark green color especially for the woodland elf.

Aragorn carefully made sure the elf’s legs were straight, and then with his hands behind Legolas's head, he gently lowered it to the fluffy feather pillow that rested at the base of the ornate wooden headboard.

Elrond noted with trepidation that Legolas hadn't made even the slightest movement nor did any sound escape his lips. He was totally limp and unresponsive. Elrond moved up beside Aragorn and put his hand on the young man’s shoulder.

It was then that Aragorn turned the saddest expression a human is capable of making toward his father. With the shake of his head he repeated the words he had said to Elladan just moments before. "He isn't wounded."

Elrond had already noted in a quick visual inspection that there was no blood on the archer. Nor was there any other mark that he could see without a thorough examination. Aragorn was also a healer and would have checked Legolas before bringing him home. He would know if a wound was present. Elrond trusted both his foster son’s skills and his judgment.

Very softly, he asked, "What ails him?"

"That's just it, Ada. I don't know," Aragorn said helplessly. With that he turned toward the bed and removed Legolas's belt. Then, he began to undo the elf’s outer tunic. There was a gentleness in his movements, but at the same time, he seemed to move almost too deliberately. It was painfully obvious that he was working very hard to keep a tight rein on his emotions. One crack and they would all come flooding out. He couldn't afford that indulgence right now. His best friend needed him.

Elrohir pulled Legolas's soft suede boots off and set them together on the floor at the foot of the bed. Then, he stood silently and watched his two brothers undress their friend.

Elladan had crossed to the far side of the bed, with his back to the balcony and was helping Aragorn pull Legolas into a sitting position. Together they removed his tunic. Elladan had to put one hand under Legolas's chin and grip it firmly to keep his head steady. They then pulled his leggings off, leaving him wearing only his long silk shirt. Aragorn lifted the elf up while his oldest brother pulled the bedding back. When Legolas was lowered back down, the covers were pulled up to his chest. Aragorn pulled Legolas's arms from under the cover and crossed them gently over the elf's stomach.

Aragorn still held onto one of the archer's hands as he sat down on the side of the bed and leaned forward. "I'm sorry, mellon nin. I'm so sorry." There was both infinite sadness and a large measure of guilt in those words.

Elrond picked up on the guilt he heard but decided that now was not the time to discuss it. He would have to ask about that later. "Estel, let me look at him. Perhaps, I can find what the trouble is."

Aragorn didn't move or say a word at first. He just stared at Legolas's face. Then, he slowly nodded his assent and stood up. He knew if anyone could help Legolas, Elrond could, though he had the deep-seated feeling that even the power of the elf Lord would do no good in this case. It had nothing to do with his father’s abilities, it was.... He didn’t know what, and it was that lack of knowing that scared him as much as anything else.

After half an hour, Elrond had made a thorough examination of every inch of the elf’s body. He even undid Legolas's braids and examined his entire scalp. Finally, Elrond stood up and faced his three sons. "I know not what is causing this." There was a note of apology in his voice and a look of heartbreak on his ageless face.

Aragorn sat back down on the bed, gripping the elf’s hand once more, and then he closed his eyes. Those words from his father confirmed his own feelings of despair. All along he had the feeling that there was something evil involved that was behind what was wrong with his friend. If his father couldn’t find a physical reason, then Aragorn was terribly afraid he was right. But, he wasn’t ready to speak of that just yet.

Aragorn was pulled out of his thoughts, when Elrond said, “I will find out.” The elf Lord’s firm voice reflected his attempt to be as reassuring as he could. It was far too early to give up hope. To continue, though, he needed details.

“What can you tell me about what happened? Was he attacked by someone or something?” That seemed the most logical place to start.

“I can’t answer any of your questions,” Aragorn said somewhat harshly. He shook his head. “I’m sorry, Ada. I’m just so worried.” He kept to himself that he was also so tired he could hardly move. That fact, he knew, they were all very aware of. An elf was much better at hiding weariness and much better at detecting it in others than any human. The look of concern in his father’s eyes was also for him, as well as Legolas.

He looked up at Elrond. “I have no idea what happened. We were setting up camp for the night. Legolas tended the horses, as usual, and went off to hunt for dinner while I set up the camp. When he didn’t come back in a reasonable length of time, I went looking for him. I found him lying in the grass just as you see him now. I couldn’t rouse him, but I couldn’t find anything wrong, either.” He laughed bitterly and waved his hand toward Legolas. “Unless you consider this condition as being nothing wrong.” More softly he said. “There’s no physical clue as to why he’s like this. You saw that for yourself.”

The tears that Aragorn had been holding back threatened to spill out, but he managed, with a great deal of effort, to keep them from falling. “What can we do, Ada? How can we help him, if we don’t even know what’s wrong with him?”

Elladan wanted to know the answer to those questions himself. He came around to the side of the bed where his foster brother sat. He steeled himself for the argument he was sure was coming. “Estel, Legolas is safe. He is in no immediate danger. You need to get some sleep before you collapse.”

“I have to stay with him.” Aragorn whispered tiredly.

“ Not if it means you make yourself sick,” Elladan replied firmly. “I promise that Elrohir and I will not leave this room until you wake and return here. I am sure Ada will be hard at work, looking for answers, in his books of healing.” He took Estel’s free hand. “Please, for all our sakes, if not your own, get some rest.” He looked toward Legolas. “He will need your strength later.”

Everyone was surprised when Aragorn nodded. It was proof that he was too exhausted to argue. Aragorn reluctantly let go of Legolas's hand, as Elrond took him by the shoulders and pulled him to his feet. He gave a small smile of encouragement to his weary son.

Aragorn gave his brothers as stern a look as he could muster. “Promise me you’ll come get me, if there’s any change, no matter how small.”

“We promise,” Elrohir said, nodding.

Elrond had his arm around Aragorn as he guided his son from the room. The intricately carved door closed softly behind them.

Elladan looked out of the open balcony doorway and noted it was about mid-afternoon. He pulled one of the two chairs in the room up next to the bed, and a moment later Elrohir did the same.

They sat down to wait.

TBC

Chapter Three

Aragorn woke up groggier than usual. He opened bleary eyes and looked around him. It took a few seconds for him to recognize that he was in his own bed, in his own room, which he felt sure was in his own home. It was hard to be positive, though. His mind was acting like a thick fog was swirling through it.

The ranger sat up, a move that took a great deal of effort. He quickly lowered his head into both of his hands. He hadn’t felt this out of it since he had overindulged with some questionable wine that time he and Legolas were...

At the thought of the Mirkwood prince, Aragorn cried out, “Legolas!” All the memories of what had happened to his friend came crashing in and almost swamped the tenuous grasp on the senses that he clung to. He wanted to believe that it had all been a horrible nightmare, but he knew it was all too real.

It took him mere seconds to get to his feet and slide into a pair of soft slippers that sat just under the edge of his bed. He grabbed a long, cream-colored robe from the back of a chair near the door. While doing so, he took note that the sun was just now rising, as it peeked over the far garden wall. He was dismayed to realize that he had slept the entire night, not to mention the better part of yesterday afternoon. He sprinted down the corridor to Legolas's room, managing to get into his robe as he ran.

Aragorn burst into the room and rushed over to the bed. Legolas was lying as still and quiet as the ranger had left him. He closed his eyes and shook his head. He was so hoping that he would be greeted by an alert, smiling elven prince, who would chide him for sleeping so long. The ranger dropped down dejectedly onto the bed in the same spot he had occupied earlier.

It was only after satisfying himself that the archer was still breathing and had no fever that he allowed his own breathing to slow to a normal rhythm.

Looking up, he noticed that the two brocade-covered chairs by the bed were empty. “Empty?” Aragorn exploded. Distraught and shaking, he said aloud, “They promised they wouldn’t leave him!”

“Nor did we,” came a very familiar voice from across the room.

Aragorn spun his head around and found himself staring into the face of Elladan, standing in the balcony doorway. The dark-haired elf had his arms folded over his chest. Aragorn saw his brother’s stern expression.

“We do not break promises, Estel,” Elrohir said from behind him, speaking a bit more harshly than he intended. He walked around the bed and sat down in one of the plush chairs, placing a large leather-bound book in his lap.

It was immediately obvious to Aragorn that, considering the direction Elrohir had just come from, he had been getting the book from the set of shelves behind the door and hadn‘t been seen when the ranger burst in. “I’m sorry,” Aragorn said contritely. “I didn’t mean to accuse either of you. I’ve evidently been sleeping rather hard for hours, and I‘m a bit groggy and...” He paused, then admitted, “No excuses. Forgive me.”

After exchanging glances with his twin, Elladan said, “You are forgiven.”

“We never could stay upset with you for very long, Estel. You know that,” Elrohir commented. He had a small smile on his face.

Elladan said, “And by the way, Estel, you have been asleep for almost two days.” He grimaced, preparing for the inevitable explosion.

“Two days!” Aragorn wailed. “Are you telling me that I went to sleep the day before yesterday?” When a nod from Elladan confirmed it, Aragorn’s eyes narrowed in anger.

“You were almost out on your feet, when you arrived. You obviously needed it, or you would not have slept that long.” Elladan said logically in a calm voice.

“I told you...”

“You told us to come get you, if there was any change,” Elladan interrupted in the same calm tone. “There has not been.” The elf walked over and stood beside his younger twin, resting one hand on the high back of the chair Elrohir sat in. He looked down at Legolas. “Sadly, there has been no change at all in his condition. He is still the same.”

“Ada has been here several times to check on him,” Elrohir added. “And, when he has not been here, he has been holed up in his study, searching through his books of healing.”

“But, he’s found nothing to help Legolas, has he?” Aragorn asked dejectedly, already knowing the answer. He almost said he could have told them that would probably be the case. He was now convinced more than ever that some kind of evil had befallen the elven prince. But what and from where, he had no clue. And, if he was right, he also had no clue as to whether Legolas was the intended victim or was just in the wrong place at the wrong time and ended up paying the price for it.

Aragorn looked at his twin brothers. It was then he noticed that Legolas's unstrung bow was propped up in the corner of the room next to the bookshelves. He looked around the room and spotted the archer’s quiver of arrows and his twin long knives lying on a table next to the wardrobe.

Elladan realized what Aragorn was looking at, so he explained. “One of the stable boys removed them from Legolas's horse after the two of you came home, and he gave them to Glorfindel, who brought them up here. Yours are in your room.”

Aragorn nodded. He had to admit he hadn’t given any of the weapons a thought since arriving, although he did seem to remember Elrond taking the ranger’s sword belt off of him just before he collapsed into bed.

“Have you eaten?” Elrohir asked, sure that his human brother had come straight in here from waking. He had no idea how long before Estel had arrived that he had eaten. It was most likely days.

Aragorn shook his head. Emotionally, he didn‘t care to eat anything, but his body was telling him quite the opposite. He felt sure that if he even attempted to say he wanted nothing, both of his brothers would hold him down and force him to eat. “Just something light. Fruit, maybe, and honey tea. And cheese. And some bread and maybe a few sausages.” He looked toward Legolas. “And a piece of Lembas.”

Elrohir looked at his foster brother; the solemn atmosphere that permeated the room and the reason for it being the only things keeping him from laughing out loud. He couldn‘t, however, keep a bit of humor out of his voice. “Just something light he says.”

“I noticed,” Elladan agreed.

Coming to an unspoken agreement, both twins quietly left the room, making not a sound, as was the way with the Firstborn. The ranger’s attention had gone back to the unconscious elf in the bed, so they were sure Estel hadn’t even taken notice of their departure.

Aragorn sat alone with Legolas, whose seemingly lifeless body tore at the ranger’s heart. “Please, open your eyes, mellon nin. Please.” He squeezed the elf’s hand. “We need you back with us. I need you back.”

*This was all my fault. If only I had...*

Aragorn shook his head, banishing that silent thought. It would do no good to dwell on his guilt now. It wouldn’t help Legolas in the slightest, and at this point in time, that was his all-consuming concern. “I’ll make it up to you, Legolas. I promise. Even if it takes me the rest of my life.”

~*~*~

After Aragorn finished the breakfast that Elrohir had brought to him, he looked down at his elven friend. “It's time for me to take care of you.” *That’s all I can do for you right now.*

He set the food tray on the table near the bed. Elrohir had brought him everything he had requested, and Estel’s starving body had not let him stop until he had eaten every bit of it. Only the Lembas was left. He had plans for that.

Aragorn broke off a small piece of the elvish waybread and set it down into a small bowl. Then, he picked up the cup he had left some of the tea in, and he carefully poured it on top of the Lembas in the bowl. He set it aside to let the waybread soak.

In the meantime, he went to Legolas's dresser and got out a clean nightshirt and took it into the washroom. He gathered two large towels, soap and a wash cloth and put them on the stand beside the polished wooden tub.

When that was done, he went back into the bedroom. Pulling the covers back, he lifted Legolas into a sitting position and slid in behind him, pulling the elf back against his chest. He picked up the bowl and, stretching his arms out in front of the elf, took a spoon and began mashing the waybread up with the tea until it became the consistency of a slightly thick broth.

Aragorn took a deep breath. “This isn’t going to be easy for either of us, my friend, but you have to get nourishment into you somehow.” The ranger took the spoon, got a little of the mixture into it, and, holding Legolas's head back, he opened his mouth and poured the mixture from the spoon into it. He began to massage the elf’s throat to try and bring about a reflexive swallowing motion.

Nothing happened at first, but then the elf began to swallow. He had a small coughing fit at first, until with subsequent tries, Aragorn lessened the amount of the mixture he put in the spoon.

When Elrohir came to get the food tray, he was very pleased to see what Estel was doing. Then, the ranger explained about the bath, so the elf personally hauled buckets of steaming water into the washroom and filled the tub, confident the water would cool down enough before Aragorn needed it.

Elrohir volunteered to help, but Estel said he would handle everything by himself. The elf didn’t argue with him, knowing it was something that Estel felt he needed to do. Elrohir left the room.

It took a while, but eventually Aragorn got all the Lembas and tea into Legolas. He followed that up with a small amount of plain water from a nearby pitcher.

Aragorn sighed deeply with satisfaction. He knew the accomplishment was a big victory, because now he knew the archer would not starve.

During the remainder of the morning, Aragorn bathed Legolas, changed his nightshirt, washed, dried and brushed his hair and put him back into a bed that had been fitted with fresh, clean bed linen while the bath bad been in progress.

Aragorn once again sat down by his friend’s side. And, as he sat, he looked out through the balcony doors. The sun was shining brightly, bathing everything in its golden glow. He could hear the birds chirping merrily outside in the trees, as the branches swayed gently in the warm spring breeze.

With another deep sigh, the ranger thought to himself that Legolas shouldn’t be in here confined to this bed. He should be out in the sunshine and the open air. That’s where the woodland elf belonged.

It was then that Aragorn hit upon an idea.

He got up, and with a bit of effort, moved both chairs out onto the balcony, each half facing the other. Then, he went and picked Legolas up and set him in the chair that would allow him to fully face the sun. He put the feather pillow behind the elf's shoulders and titled his head back so it turned up to the sun. Aragorn draped a light blanket over his friend's bare legs and feet and rested his hands in his lap.

Aragorn sat down heavily in the other chair, letting his arms hang down beside the arms of the chair. Being a mortal, he couldn't converse with the trees, but he fervently hoped they would hear his plea. "Please, send your strength to Legolas. Renew his spirit, so he can come back to us---and to you."

A single tear made its way down his cheek.

TBC

Chapter Four

It had been back on the fourth day after Estel’s and Legolas's return that Elrond had mentioned contacting King Thranduil and telling him of Legolas's condition. Aragorn, despite understanding the right the elf King had to know about his son, had argued vehemently against it. He had insisted that Thranduil would either come himself or send one of his other sons to get Legolas and take him back to Mirkwood. There were no healers in the woodland realm who had anywhere near the healing ability that Elrond possessed. Aragorn had argued all this, despite the fact the elf Lord hadn’t as yet been able to do anything for the prince. The ranger had gotten so upset that Elrond had relented---for the time being, at least.

He and the woodland King were already less than friendly. They had clashed more than a few times in the past. So, having to face Thranduil’s fury, when he finally did learn of all this, would hardly be a new experience. Still, it was not something Elrond was looking forward to. As always, however, he could well hold his own.

~*~*~

Aragorn's life became strictly regimented, something of his own devising. Every morning, he got up and went immediately to Legolas's room, relieving whomever it was that had stayed the night. It was usually one of the twins, but Elrond also stayed occasionally, as did Glorfindel.

The ranger would feed Legolas, bathe him, wash and brush his hair, and change his nightshirt. He would then lay the elf out straight on top of the bed and carefully massage his muscles back and front to keep them firm. It didn't replace normal activity, but it would help keep them from wasting away---for a time anyway. Next Aragorn would put the elven prince into the chair out on the balcony in the sun. It was only then that he would eat his own breakfast.

The ranger would sit in the other chair and talk to Legolas, as if the elf was capable of listening, which was something Aragorn had wondered about. In fact, he had even asked Erond if it was possible that deep down Legolas could hear and understand everything that was done and said around him. Elrond didn't know, but told his son it couldn't hurt to talk to Legolas, in hopes something he said or the sound of his voice might get through to him.

These same tasks were performed day after day, one following the next with no deviation until they became like a ritual. There was no light or dark in the ranger’s life as it existed now, only a dull shade of gray. He sometimes despaired, and he sometimes cried, but in his heart, he never gave up hope. And, he never resented what he did for the elf. Legolas was his best friend in the entire world, and his heart was too full of love, loyalty---and guilt---to ever allow that to happen.

Legolas, however, remained unresponsive, and Aragorn remained determined to bring his friend back from wherever his spirit had fled to. For that is exactly what the ranger came to believe. There was no evidence of a physical reason for the elf’s continued unconsciousness, so Aragorn became more convinced, as the days advanced and he had much time to think on it, that some truly horrible evil had befallen the elven prince. He could see no other reason for his courageous and stubborn friend’s spirit to retreat. Whatever had caused this had somehow driven the elf to seek sanctuary deep inside his own mind. Or perhaps, it was forced into retreat against the elf‘s will. All of this sounded logical to the human, but he still had no way to reach Legolas except through what he was already doing, hoping against hope, something would eventually work.

~*~*~

On the morning of the ninth day, Elrond had gone out on the balcony and pulled Aragorn back into the room and steered him over to the far side of the bed. He quietly insisted that Thranduil had to be notified. This time the Lord of Rivendell refused to give in to Estel's protests. The elven King would be told what had befallen his son and that was that.

After Elrond left the room, Aragorn began to panic. He knew the king would take Legolas away to Mirkwood, and he might possibly never see his best friend again, especially since he was sure Thranduil would blame him for everything. *Even though it is my fault.* He had steadfastly refused to discuss his deep sense of guilt with his father or his brothers. Even Glorfindel, who had always been a confidante and mentor to the young human, couldn't get him to speak of it.

All of this turmoil was taking a toll on Estel. Everyone saw it, though no one outside of the family, Glorfindel, and several of the servants ever laid eyes on Aragorn during this time. If the people of Rivendell hadn’t known about Legolas's condition, a fact that had spread quite quickly, they would have assumed the two friends had left again. When the human son of Elrond and the Mirkwood prince were together in Rivendell, everyone knew it, especially if the twins were with them.

The ranger had been steadfastly holding himself together through all of this. Now, with Elrond's decision to contact King Thranduil, it was almost too much for the young human to bear.

The day after Elrond had said he was notifying the King of Mirkwood, Aragorn was sitting glumly on the balcony with Legolas, as usual. He looked around and his eye was caught by the delicate blue flowers that grew in the large wooden flower box that sat at one end of the balcony. The flower resembled a day lily, only smaller. It had a strong fragrance and was Legolas's favorite. These flowers bloomed for only a short while in Spring. Wanting to be close to them while they were in their glory was why Legolas had them near his room. He had planted them himself, tended them lovingly, and they always bloomed hardily for him.

Aragorn picked one. Then he went over and knelt down beside Legolas. He held the flower up under the elf's nose, waving it slowly back and forth, hoping that the rich fragrance would somehow penetrate his subconscious. Estel knew it was probably a futile gesture, but he had long ago vowed that he would continue to do whatever he could think of to try and rouse the unconscious elf.

After a few minutes, Aragorn sighed. It wasn't working, as he had really believed it wouldn't. With a sad smile, he put Legolas's hands together, palms up one on top of the other, and gently laid the flower there. He shook his head to think that if Legolas were awake, such would be the power of the elf’s love for Nature, that he would be totally delighted and yet awed by the simple beauty of this one single flower.

He could almost hear Legolas's laughter floating on the wind.

It was suddenly more than the ranger could bear. Right then, he couldn't bear to see the elf's fair face upturned to the sunlight, when he wasn’t even aware of it, his loose hair cascading over his shoulders and down his chest. He couldn’t bear to see his friend’s eyes closed, hiding the light that should be shining there. He couldn't bear....

Aragorn stood up, emitting a strangled cry, and ran into the room, intending to keep going. But, he couldn't abandon his friend, even as grief overtook him. So, he stopped at the door, leaned his head against it and sobbed, tears overflowing and shoulders shaking with the emotional outburst.

So it was that he didn't see the forefinger on Legolas's right hand jerk. Nor did he hear the soft moan that accompanied the movement. What he did hear was a blood-curling scream.

Aragorn whirled around and ran back to the balcony. When he reached the open doorway, he stopped dead in his tracks. What he saw horrified him. Legolas, eyes still closed and head still tilted back, was clawing at his open mouth with fingers that were now covered in blood.

TBC

I will be oit of town until the middle of next week, so there won't be another update until then. I wish my fellow Americans a happy and safe Thanksgiving.

Chapter Five

Aragorn stood transfixed and wide-eyed by the horror of what the found himself staring at. His mind was screaming at him to move, but he couldn’t get past the horrendous scene before him in order to give his body the command to do so.

He quickly snapped out of his lethargy, rushed to his friend and fell to his knees beside the chair. He grabbed both of Legolas's wrists and pulled his hands away from his bloody mouth.

The elf fought the move, pulling hard against Estel’s grip to try and get his hands back to his mouth. He jerked his head from side to side, sending blood flying in all directions. He was trying desperately to break free from whatever was holding him. Whether it was Estel’s hold on his wrists or something within the elf’s mind, the ranger couldn’t tell. Legolas showed surprising strength, considering the long time he had been inactive. All that messaging had worked, Aragorn thought grimly.

“Daro!” Legolas screamed with heartrending terror in his voice. “Daro! Car al car nad sen!”

“It‘s all right, Legolas, It’s me, Estel. Calm yourself. Please, don’t fight me,” the ranger pleaded, trying to speak gently yet firmly. He knew he needed to get through to the obviously frightened elf. Yet, he certainly wanted to avoid upsetting him further, though it was hard to think the archer could get any more upset than he was already.

Aragorn was taken by surprise, when he was almost hit by an elven hand that suddenly shot out toward his face. He managed to stop the blow an inch short of his nose. The elf’s legs began to kick, but Aragorn was well out of the way of those potential weapons.

“ADA!,” Aragorn yelled, hoping desperately that if Elrond didn’t hear him, someone else would. He couldn’t handle Legolas like this on his own, not as long as his friend continued to fight him. He couldn‘t let go of his wrists to do anything else for him, as the elf‘s body started writhing in his effort to get free.

A gurgling sound caused Aragorn’s heart to lurch as Legolas, with his back arched and his head now all the way back, was beginning to choke, as blood ran down the back of his throat. The human let go of one wrist to try and grab the elf’s head and pull it forward, but Legolas immediately jerked forward himself and put his free hand, fingers curled into a claw, in his mouth and began raking his fingernails back and forth. More blood spilled out and ran down his chin. It then continued down his neck and began to spread, as it encountered the edge of his lavender silk nightshirt. He then jerked his head forcefully back against the pillow. Aragorn had no choice but to grab Legolas's hand again and pull it away from his mouth.

“ADA!” Estel yelled out frantically once again.

A few seconds later, Elrond, who had heard Legolas scream, came rushing in and moved around to the far side of the chair. “By the Valar!” the elf Lord exclaimed. He quickly put his hand behind the younger elf’s neck and pulled him forward, tilting his head down slightly. With his free hand he pulled the blood-stained pillow from behind the archer and pressed the elf against the back of the chair. He tossed the pillow in the general direction of the other chair, not caring where it landed.

With more surprising strength, Legolas once again threw his head back, pulling it out of the grip Elrond had on his neck. A violent coughing spell erupted. Blood sprayed outward, hitting both Elrond and Aragorn in the face and splattering their clothes. A spray of crimson fell once more upon the archer’s blond hair, on his nightshirt and on the blanket that had become wadded up in his lap.

“He’s choking on his own blood,” Aragorn said, his voice still holding a tinge of horror.

Just then both Elladan and Elrohir came running into the room and onto the balcony. They, too, were shocked by what they were witnessing, staring in mute horror. They unconsciously grabbed and held each other’s hands.

Elrond, who was facing them, said, “Elladan, stand behind the chair and put your hands on each side of Legolas's head and hold it steady. Keep it tilted forward.” He wanted to make sure no more blood would go down the elf prince’s throat.

“Elrohir, get me two towels and a basin of water.” When there was no sign the elf had heard his father speak to him, Elrond called his name more urgently. “Elrohir.”

Elrohir snapped out of his trance. “Sorry, Ada.“ He sprang into action and ran into the washroom. When he returned, he handed a fluffy towel toward his father, leaving one draped over his arm. He held onto the basin, waiting until he was asked for it. He stood motionless and watched what was unfolding before him. There were tears in his eyes to think of the fear and pain Legolas must be going through.

Once Legolas's head was secure in Elladan’s grip, the elf Lord took the towel Elrohir offered and put one small part of it in Legolas's mouth to soak up the excess blood. He exerted a small amount of pressure to staunch as much of the blood flow as he could. He repeated the process over and over, each time using a clean part of the towel, until there was no signs of fresh bleeding. Most of the white towel he held was splotched with red. He handed it to Elrohir.

Legolas had quit struggling, however, his body was jerking with uncontrolled spasms, accompanied by low moans. At least, he was able to breathe, Aragorn thought, trying to find something positive in this horrible situation.

As Legolas calmed further, Aragorn and the elves began to relax slightly, though they remained alert to a possible repeat of what had just occurred. The ranger cautiously let go of Legolas's wrists. Small tremors still ran through the elf’s body.

Elladan continued to hold Legolas's head, as Aragorn took the water basin from Elrohir’s hands. He then took the other towel, dipped it into the water and began to clean the elf’s face, neck and hands. He also wiped as much blood as he could from his hair.

Elrond frowned. He had seen many a bizarre behavior in his long years, but never had he seen anything quite like this. “What happened, Estel?”

Feeling shame, the ranger didn’t want to admit his temporary abandonment of his friend simply because he couldn‘t control hjs own emotions. Unable to look his father in the eye, he kept his head down, as he began to clean the blood from under Legolas's fingernails. “I was in the room, when I heard him scream. I ran back out here and found him clawing in his mouth. He looked like he was trying to dig something out of it. It was so sudden and violent. I can’t imagine what caused him to do something like that.”

Just before Legolas went completely limp, he uttered one word. A word that only Elrond fully heard and comprehended. “Lhûg.”

Elrond , already on his knees, fell backward onto his heels. There was a sharp intake of breath from the elven Lord. The look of utter disbelief on his face was disturbing to all who saw it. No one saw anything happening right at that moment that could cause such a reaction from the normally composed elf Lord.

“Ada, what is wrong?” Elrohir asked, concern clearly showing on his face. He made a move to go to his father, thinking he must have suddenly been afflicted in some way.

Elrond held his hand up and gave a small wave to indicate he was all right. His expression, however, didn’t chance. The elf Lord shook his head. “It cannot be. I missed it.” Elrond looked stunned. He lowered his head. “I never thought to look there.”

When he raised his head again, he saw three pairs of eyes starting at him. His sons couldn’t imagine what he was talking about or why he now looked totally distraught. No one spoke.

With a concerted effort, Elrond pushed aside what he had just experienced and, to all outward appearances, returned to the efficient, in-control elf Lord they all knew. He gave no explanation.

Elrond got back up onto his knees. He opened Legolas's mouth, and using gentle hands, began to inspect it. It was assumed that he was checking to see what damage Legolas had done to himself. In truth, he was checking for something far different. He could find nothing other than the slashes and gouges that Legolas's fingernails had inflicted. “Destroyed,” Elrond whispered almost under his breath.

Even without elven hearing, Estel heard the word clearly. “What’s destroyed?“ His eyes suddenly went wide. “Do you mean he’s destroyed his mouth?” He knew that was extremely unlikely, and the question sounded ridiculous, but it was the first thing that came to mind, so he had blurted it out.

“No. His mouth is damaged quite badly, but it is not beyond repair. I was speaking of something else.” For a second, Elrond’s mind seemed to move far away. With a jerk, he shook off the dark thoughts that had taken momentary hold of him. “It does not need to be spoken of just yet. Right now, we must get Legolas back into bed.” The tone of the elf Lord’s voice gave no room for argument.

Aragorn pulled the blanket from the elf’s lap and handed it to Elladan, who released his hold on Legolas's head. He carried his friend back into the room and set him on the bed, holding him upright as he told Elrohir to get a clean nightshirt. Once that was changed, Legolas was put under the covers.

It was only then that Glorfindel’s presence was discovered. Like the others, he had come running in when he heard the scream and ascertained where it had come from. Upon his arrival, he had seen that the three elves and the human had the situation in hand, so he kept back out of the way.

His presence was acknowledged but no one spoke at first. Then, Elladan said, “You saw what happened?” At Glorfindel’s nod, the younger elf said, “Do you know what may have caused this?”

Before answering, Glorfindel caught the warning look in Elrond’s eye. Since, in truth, he had no answers, he simply shook his head sadly. He would definitely have to have a talk with Elrond, because the Lord of Imladrs knew something he didn’t want discussed, at least not in front of his sons. The older blond elf was determined to find out what it was.

Elladan remained out on the balcony as he held the blanket up to fold it rather than leave it a wadded up mess, when he noticed something fall out of it onto the balcony floor. He bent down and picked the object up. He found himself staring at one of the blue flowers from Legolas flower box. The little flower was splattered with blood. Knowing how Legolas felt about this particular flower, he couldn’t bear to just crush it up, so he set it gently on top of the balcony railing.

Elladan laid the folded blanket on the chair and turned away and so didn’t notice that the wind picked the little flower up and sent it flying toward the garden below. It landed on a patch of new Spring grass. No one was a witness, as its petals waved gently in the air current.

In the room, Elrond was telling Estel to go in the washroom and clean himself up. When the young man returned, he handed his father a damp towel and watched as Elrond wiped his own face and hands. He looked down at his now blood-stained blue robe. The robe itself didn’t matter. It was the reason behind the robe’s condition that saddened his heart.

The elf Lord began to address everyone, who were now standing around the elf prince‘s bed. “Someone must stay right at Legolas's side at all times. Therefore, two of us will always have to be with him, so if one needs to leave or take a break, Legolas will not be alone. We cannot take the chance that this may happen again, when someone’s back is turned.”

Aragorn’s shoulders slumped, as he hung his head. Elrond put a hand on his son’s arm. “No one is blaming you, Estel. You have done more for him than any of us. Do not take yourself to task. It could have happened to anyone who was here.”

Aragorn felt only marginally better by what his father said. His head knew the words were true, but would he ever be able to convince his heart?

~*~

Many miles away from Rivendell, a tall figure dressed all in black stood in a dark forest and stared toward the north. Mordraug couldn’t see the woodland realm he looked toward, but he knew all too well exactly where it lay.

An orc, somewhat large for his kind, approached. “Will he come, Master?”

“Oh yes, Grug. I have seen to that,” the tall figure replied, very pleased with himself. An arrogant smile appeared on Mordraug’s face, as he stroked the head of the slender black snake that was wrapped around his left arm. “He will come.”

TBC

Chapter Six

Legolas remained still and quiet, since being settled back into bed after his terrifying outburst. He was again as unresponsive as he had been all the previous days, since he and Aragorn had returned.

Elrond had prepared a bowl of hot water containing athelas leaves, and now that the leaves had steeped a sufficient length of time, he dipped a cloth into the bowl and wrung out the excess liquid. He sat on the bed and leaned over Legolas, as he applied the cloth to the inside of the younger elf’s mouth. Only a small amount of still oozing blood came away on the cloth.

By the time the mixture in the bowl had cooled completely, the elf Lord was satisfied that he had made enough medicinal applications. He sat up straight and handed the bowl and the cloth to Elladan. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “That should be quite adequate for now.” He looked at his eldest son. “Every couple of hours repeat what I have just done.” Elrond stood up. “We can only hope that Legolas's natural healing ability has not been damaged by whatever has happened to him. However, it may well have been. That is why I want several applications of the athelas to keep the healing process continuing.”

Elladan nodded. “I will do it, Ada.” He took the bowl and the cloth and set them on the stand next to the bed. He would take them away when it was time to replace them for another treatment. Right now, he wanted to hear what his father might say.

Elrond looked toward Glorfindel. He almost wished he hadn’t. The fair haired elf was looking at him with a stern expression, and he knew there was no way he could avoid the discussion he felt sure was coming. He didn’t mind actually. It would be good to talk to someone about what he suspected, though Glorfindel would not be the least bit happy with what he would have to say. No one would, when all the details finally became known. However, the time was not yet right for that bit of news.

Elrond left the room without another word. Glorfindel was right on his heels. Just as Elrond closed the door, he saw that Estel had sat back down on the bed and taken Legolas's hand in his. It had become a common sight. Having physical contact with his friend seemed to lessen his son’s burden, at least in part. He knew, however, that having Legolas wake up was the only thing that would truly bring joy to Estel’s heart. And, he had to hope that Legolas would somehow know that Estel was there with him.

Glorfindel followed Elrond down the hall and into his private study. An assortment of books of all sizes and colors, the majority of which were leather-bound, lay all around the room, stacked on table tops and on chairs. The long sofa that was set against the wall on the right side of the room and on which Elrond sometimes slept was covered with the tomes. The large wooden desk that dominated the far end of the study was piled high with them, some opened and some closed.

Only when Elrond was determinedly searching for answers to puzzling mysteries did the room look this disheveled. It was usually extremely neat and tidy, though the desk itself was never without an abundance of papers spread out upon it. So many books were scattered around that there were large gaps in the many rows of books that lined each wall floor to ceiling.

As Elrond sat down behind the desk, Glorfindel moved a pile of books on the seat of one of the chairs that helped to furnish the room and set this stack on top of another on the corner of the desk. He pulled the chair up so that when he sat down, he’d be looking directly across at his friend, whom he now stared intently straight at. “You know what has happened to Legolas, do you not?” Glorfindel tried to keep his tone neutral. He didn‘t want to sound accusatory.

Elrond sat with his elbows on the desktop, lacing his fingers together. He put them against his forehead, as he bent his head forward, and then he sighed. He placed one thumb on each temple and began to move them slowly in a circle, trying to message away the pain that was beginning to make itself felt there.

He decided there was no point in stalling. After another moment of messaging his temples, he looked up, placing his hands on a scroll, yellowed with age, that was rolled up and sitting in front of him. “I have no proof, but yes, I believe I know what has happened to Legolas.”

Glorfindel eyed the scroll and waited, but when Elrond said nothing further, he asked, “What is it?”

The elf Lord directed a look toward his friend that Glorfindel swore bordered on fear. “Mordraug.”

Glorfindel’s eyes went wide, and he couldn’t stifle the gasp that escaped his lips. He averted his eyes, when he saw the fearful expression on his friend’s face intensify. It was quite clear that Elrond dreaded even having to say the name. He couldn’t blame him. Staring at his own hands, Glorfindel shook his head and said, “It cannot be. He was destroyed almost two thousand years ago.”

“That‘s what we were led to believe. Now, I am not so sure. You did not hear what Legolas said just before he went completely limp again.”

No, Glorfindel had to admit, he hadn’t heard Legolas say anything at all. “What did he say?”

“One word---lhûg.”

For the second time in a few short minutes, the blond elf’s eyes went wide. “No,” he whispered, despite now knowing Elrond was probably right about the reason for Legolas's condition. “Not again.” He looked up. After the shock wore off a little, he asked a question that only appeared to change the subject. “When will Thranduil arrive?”

“In four days, if I know him. As you know, I notified him yesterday. It is a long journey, but he will surely push himself and those with him very hard where his son is concerned. Despite all his faults, he loves his children, as much as I love mine.” *If only he was easier to deal with in every other aspect of his life,* Elrond mused.

“I am glad it is you and not me that has to give him this news,” Glorfindel said, feeling only slightly guilty at the cowardly admission. Being Elrond’s friend had put the elf on the Mirkwood King’s enemy list. No one sided with people Thranduil didn’t like and stayed his friend. But this time, instead of butting heads, which he was fully prepared to do should the need arise, Glorfindel would do all in his power to help the woodland King, if only Thranduil’s pride didn’t let him refuse that help. He knew Elrond felt the same.

Glorfindel suddenly realized what Elrond meant, when he had looked in Legolas's mouth and said the word, “Destroyed” and why his inspection seemed so much more intense than the situation warranted. “You were looking for evidence to back up your suspicion, but there was too much damage to confirm it.” It was a flat statement and not a question.

The Lord of Imladris nodded. “It just never occurred to me to look there. If I had...” He understood the feeling of guilt that Estel was experiencing, though he still didn’t know what his son believed he had done wrong.

“You had no reason to consider looking in his mouth.” Glorfindel said, as he tried to defend Elrond’s actions and ease his friend’s conscience.

Elrond suddenly felt very weary and very old. “I should have considered it,” he whispered so softly that Glorfindel barely caught it.

“Elrond, all the others died within days, some within hours. They did not linger the way Legolas has. You had no reason to connect what happened then with what is happening now.”

“Perhaps.” Elrond’s remark still held a note of guilt, because he still wasn’t ready to absolve himself entirely from the fact that the answer had been within his grasp, if only he had gone back into his memories. They were memories that he had forcefully buried long ago. It mattered not to him that what Glorfindel said was reasonable, and Elrond could not have logically made the connection. Still....

In a normal tone, Elrond said, “These next weeks are going to be extremely hard for all of us, especially Legolas and Thranduil.”

“Can Legolas be saved?” It was a blunt question. The answer, be it one way or another, needed to be faced.

Elrond shrugged. “You know Mordraug and what he is capable of, as well as I do,” was his only reply. He was going to let Glorfindel come to his own conclusions, because he had did not want to think of Legolas's possible fate, though he truly feared for the woodland elf. The young prince had hung on far longer than any other of Mordraug’s victims. But, whether that was due to the elf’s stubborn determination to survive or whether it was by Mordraug’s design, he knew not.

Elrond stared at all the books that lay around the room, knowing full well that all the research he had been doing in them night and day had been a complete waste of time. Only the scroll meant anything now, and it held no secrets, no answers that weren’t already known. *How can we go through this again?* If the elf Lord had been given to tears, now would have been the time to shed them---for Legolas, for Thranduil, for them all.

A deep silence descended between the two friends, each lost in his own thoughts and memories of a horror from the past that was coming back to haunt them.

~*~*~

Aragorn and the twins had been too unnerved by what had happed to Legolas out on the balcony to question what Elrond’s words had meant. For his part, the elf Lord hadn’t expanded on those cryptic words, because he knew it would all be laid bare soon enough. Aragorn had even forgotten that King Thranduil was on his way and would soon be arriving in Rivendell.

Aragorn now refused to leave Legolas's side even to sleep in his own room. It didn’t matter that the twins agreed, once again, to stay with the Mirkwood elf. More than once, the ranger had fallen asleep sitting on the bed, Legolas's hand encircled within his.

Elladan and Elrohir brought their brother food, which he hardly ate, despite their urgings and threats. They finally gave up arguing but continued to bring trays to the room, hoping that with each one, Estel would change his mind. The trays always went back barely touched.

Legolas's mouth had swollen somewhat, even with the athelas applications that Elladan administered, so Aragorn was afraid to try and feed him. He did continue to bathe his friend, wash his hair and change his nightshirt. Yet, even with the beckoning sunshine and warm Spring breezes, he couldn’t bring himself to put Legolas back out on the balcony.

 ~*~*~

Finally on the third day after the incident, Legolas began to stir. It started with soft moans, and then the elf started to shift his body, the way most waking beings do. It was only small movements at first, but then he became louder and more active.

Aragorn, who had been dozing, woke up immediately. He looked intently at Legolas and then up at Elladan, who was the one with him this day. The expression of joy on Estel’s face went far beyond a mere smile, and pure happiness shone in his eyes. “He’s coming back to us.”

So long had they waited for just such signs that Legolas's was waking up, and so long had it been since a smile had graced his human brother’s face, that Elladan couldn’t contain a broad smile of his own. He didn’t even try, because his own heart was overflowing with happiness.

Elrohir, who had chosen just that moment to come into the room with a lunch tray, was sent off to get Elrond, as Aragorn and Elladan practically held their breaths.

Aragorn moved closer to Legolas and began to call to him softly. “Mellon nin, you must open your eyes. Come to the light, Legolas. Come to us. We’re here waiting for you.” His eyes never left the elf’s face. Estel squeezed the elven hand tighter, as he placed his other hand, palm open, against Legolas's chest over his heart.

TBC

Chapter Seven

Legolas suddenly became aware of his own existence. He looked around him and saw only darkness. He sensed no walls nor did he sense open air. He focused his hearing but could detect no overt sounds. There was nothing but a deafening silence, so palpable it was like a distant muffled roar in his ears. He had never experienced such a phenomenon before, and he almost laughed to think that total silence could be so loud.

Where was he? He had to think hard to try and recall how he came to be here, wherever ‘here’ was. *Why do I not remember?* Legolas felt himself rapidly growing frustrated.

He noted with anticipation that the darkness was beginning to fade. But, instead of revealing his whereabouts, his eyes were met with a world of swirling gray. He shook his head, but he couldn’t feel it. Nor, he realized with dismay, could he feel his body. He looked down, but saw nothing. He held his hands up in front of his face, at least that was the command he had given to his brain. There was no sense of movement and nothing to see. His mind seemed to be suspended in space, yet there was no sensation of floating. *How very strange,* he mused.

As he pondered the implications, a feeling of panic began to crawl through his mind. *Am I dead?* He dismissed the thought almost immediately. *This cannot be the Halls of Mandos. I should be seeing others of my kind waiting for me.* He thought of his mother. Surely, she would be there to welcome him. And his grandfather, Oropher, as well as friends he had lost to battles fought during his lifetime. This was nothing like what he had been led to believe the Halls would be like. Had he done something to cause himself to be condemned? Was that what he couldn’t remember? Was this gray nothingness a place of punishment where he must wander alone, without a body, for all eternity?

Legolas made a conscious effort to banish those dark thoughts and try to come up with an alternate possibility. *Perhaps, I’m not dead after all.* Before he could gain much comfort from exploring that idea, he thought, *Then, why am I not able to see or feel my body?*

All the questions with no answers were only adding to his confusion. “I do not understand any of this.” He was startled, when he realized he had spoken out loud. A grim smile touched his lips, as it then dawned on him that at least he could hear his own voice. He again looked down to where his body should be in the hopes that it had made itself visible. No such luck.

He looked up then and saw a form moving in this gray world. It was only a shadow at first, just something indistinct that was only slightly darker than the gray color all about him. The shadow undulated, disappearing from sight and then reappearing a few seconds later only to vanish once again, making Legolas doubt he had really seen anything at all. Staring hard into the grayness, he saw that there definitely was something, and it was coming toward him. It became larger and darker and took on a more definite shape as it neared. The elf stared, mesmerized by the rapidly solidifying apparition.

Legolas may not have been able to see his body, but he suddenly felt it quite plainly. His heart almost came to a full stop, causing a jolt within his chest, and his breathing became shallow and rapid, as he saw what was approaching him. The form had finally coalesced into a huge black snake, rising up and hovering menacingly above him, yellow eyes gleaming and fangs extended. It radiated an evil that he could almost taste.

Without warning, it lunged straight down toward his upturned face. He heard a blood curdling scream and knew it was his own.

Then, awareness fled, as he was enveloped in a coccoon of nothingness.

~*~*~

Legolas became aware of his own existence once again. There was no way to tell if he had been unaware for a minute or a millennium. He struggled to open his eyes, expecting to see either the darkness or the gray world he remembered. He was certain there had been something else, too, an evil form of some kind, but he couldn’t place what it was. The memory vanished before he could grasp it. He only knew that the thought of it made him shiver.

The elf prince was surprised, when he found himself in a world of light. Very bright light. Where was he now? The wall of light didn’t surround him the way the darkness and the grayness had done but instead seemed to be concentrated to his left. It hurt his eyes, but it was so welcome that he forced himself to endure the stabbing pain, as he struggled to keep his eyes open. It didn’t take long, however, for the pain to force him to turn his head away from it. The most intense part of the brilliance faded to a manageable level as he slowly turned his head to the right.

He saw a form above and beside him, and he flinched back. Was this the thing he feared in that other place? No, he soon reasoned. This form didn’t radiate the evil he had felt from the one he couldn‘t quite remember. His tensed muscles began to relax just a little. Until he understood where he was now and who or what was there with him, he couldn’t relax competely.

Legolas blinked several times until slowly, very slowly, the form beside him began to come into focus. A human, dark-haired. He stared, as if not sure the human was real. He was suddenly afraid the apparition would vanish, and he would be left alone again. The fear of isolation terrified him. He blinked again. The human was still there. Still, a touch of fear remained in his eyes.

“Am I really here?* he asked himself. He needed to know, so he brought his hands up and held them bare inches from his face. *I can see my hands.* A quick glance down revealed the shapes of two legs and two feet under the covers. An overwhelming wave of relief flooded through him. He had a body!

Legolas was almost afraid to move his hands out of his sight for fear they would disappear, but keeping them in front of his face like this was impractical, so he lowered them, though somewhat reluctantly. He stared at the human again, realizing then, who it was that sat beside him. It was Estel, his best friend. His heart skipped a beat with the sudden joy that came close to swamping him, but for some reason, he couldn’t make his face reflect the joy his heart felt. He wanted to frown in frustration but couldn’t manage that, either.

Aragorn was unable to contain his own joy at seeing that his friend’s eyes were open. Watching the elf examine his hands with a sense of wonder---or was it relief?---bewildered him. So did the different emotions that chased each other rhrough the depths of his friend’s eyes. But, just then, it didn’t matter. Legolas had awakened, and he recognized the ranger.

“Legolas.” The elf’s name was spoken with all the feeling Aragorn’s overflowing heart could command. A huge smile split his face. “Legolas,” he said again, this time saying the name so softly it was like a breath.

“Estel.” Legolas's voice confirmed the recognition. It sounded more like a raspy croak than the normally melodic voice of the Mirkwood prince. His mouth was as dry as a desert, and it was sore.

“Yes, Legolas. It’s me.” Aragorn slid his hand on top of the elf’s but didn‘t grasp it. The ranger’s smile soon faded, when he reached toward the elf’s face with his other hand to touch his cheek and give his friend a reassuring caress.

In that instant, all Legolas saw was a slender form coming toward his face. Without fully understanding why, he jerked his head away from Aragorn and gave a small cry of panic. He knew who it was, but his reaction was done without conscious thought. He had no idea why he felt such terror at the gesture. Estel was his best friend, a man into whose hands he had placed his life many times and would do so again without question. Estel would never hurt him. Yet, he couldn’t have stopped his reaction, even if he had been given the chance.

Aragorn pulled his hand back quickly, not understanding but not wanting to do anything that would upset his friend. The elf made no effort to pull his right hand from under the ranger’s, so he either wasn’t fully aware of the touch yet or that type of contact didn’t bother him. Aragorn didn’t know which was true, but he had no intention of questioning Legolas about it.

Fear slowly faded from Legolas's eyes, as he realized he was in a bed. Bewildered, he looked back at Estel and asked, “Where...?”

The archer heard a soft noise off to his left. He saw a raven-haired elf come through the wall of light to stand beside the bed. “You’re back in Rivendell,” Elladan said quietly. He had the same broad smile that was still on Estel’s face. “It’s so good to see you awake, mellon nin.”

Legolas nodded toward Elladan. Wanting to say something to his long time friend in return, the blond elf swallowed several times, wincing a bit as he did so. “Thirsty.” It seemed that all he could manage to get out was one word at a time.

Elladan picked up the pitcher on the nightstand by the bed and poured water into a cup that had been sitting beside it. He slipped his hand under Legolas's shoulders and lifted him up enough for the elf to drink from the cup. The elven prince drank every drop of the water. He shook his head when asked if he wanted any more.

“Thank you, Elladan.” He opened his mouth to say more but couldn’t get any words to come out.

Just then, Elrond came hurrying into the room with Elrohir right behind him. Both elves smiled to see that Legolas was truly awake. It was something that all of them had hoped for with all their being.

Elrond approached the bed slowly, not wanting it to appear that he was swooping down upon the young elf, who he suspected might still be somewhat bewildered. He wasn’t wrong in that assumption.

Legolas stared at him, and even though his expression didn’t change, there was also recognition in his eyes for the elf Lord and Elrohir beside him. Both now wore the same smile that dominated the faces of Estel and Elladan.

There was no thought of asking the prince if he could remember what had happened. Considering what Elrond knew about the origin of Legolas's condition, he was sure it would take time for the young elf to be able to talk about it. Coming to terms with it and placing it in the past would take a lot longer. He knew that fact from experience, though not from the viewpoint of a victim, which had to be far worse. There was no fear in the archer’s eyes, so Elrond felt sure that for the time being, at least, Legolas didn’t remember what had taken place.

“You’ve no idea how...” Estel started to say long, but decided not to inform him just yet that he had been unconscious for almost two weeks. So instead, he said, “...much we’ve wanted to see those beautiful elven eyes of yours open.”

Legolas spoiled Aragorn’s hopes with his next question. “How long have I been here?” His voice almost gave out just from putting those few words together, despite the refreshing water Elladan had given him.

“We can talk about that later,” Elladan replied, trying to steer the younger elf away from the subject.

The blond would have none of it and shook his head. “How long?”

*Stubborn elf* Aragorn thought but then realized that it was probably that famous Greenleaf stubbornness that was responsible for the elf’s awakening.

Estel looked at his father, who gave an almost imperceptible shrug. He decided that avoiding the subject would probably be more aggravating for Legolas than the answer was likely to be.

“Thirteen days,” Aragorn said simply, not sure what the reaction would be. He decided not to mention that he had also been unconscious for four days before that while on the road back to Rivendell.

Legolas greeted Estel’s words with a more intense expression of disbelief. *Thirteen days?* How could he have been unconscious that long? Wouldn’t he have starved by then? Even being an elf and not having to eat as much or as often as mortals, he still would have needed food to sustain his body during all that time. He knew, though, that Estel was telling him the truth. His weary mind told him he would have to ask about that later.

Elrond moved a bit closer to the bed. “I know this may sound strange to you, considering how long you have been unconscious, but you need to sleep. Good healing sleep,” he added firmly. “I know you are confused, Legolas, and I am sure you are full of questions, but after you have some genuine rest, you will feel more able to deal with everything.” Legolas's mouth, for the most part, was already healed. It was the elf’s mind and spirit, more so than his body, that needed true rest.

Elrond regarded the young elf with a stern yet fatherly expression. It was obvious that he would not take no for an answer. As if to confirm that fact, he crossed his arms over his chest. Everyone, even a confused elf who had just come out of a deep coma, knew what that meant.

Legolas had to bow to Elrond‘s wisdom and nodded. No matter how much he wanted answers to all the questions that were colliding inside his head or how much he wanted to remain awake to be with his friends, he was exhausted. He had fought so long and so hard to return to the light and perhaps to survive, he couldn’t muster the strength to fight sleep.

The blond warrior locked eyes with Estel. After a few seconds, he again attempted to smile. This time he got the corners of his mouth to cooperate. They barely lifted and many would have missed it, but Estel did not.

Legolas's eyelids began to droop. He slipped his hand from under Estel’s and laid it on top, squeezing his friend’s hand. There wasn’t much strength behind the move, but it was enough for Estel to understand that Legolas was saying ‘thank you’. The elf may never know all that the ranger had done for him, but he knew Estel. He knew the love, loyalty and unselfishness the man would have put into trying to bring him back.

Legolas surrendered to the true sleep his body was craving, and he finally closed his eyes. His chest rose and fell in an easy rhythm, and there was a collective sigh from everyone in the room. Only the fact that his eyes were closed spoke of true exhaustion and not regular elven sleep.

“Quel kaima, mellon nin,” Estel whispered.

Even though he looked the same way he had for all these past days, Aragorn knew that the elf was getting the kind of sleep he needed. He tried not to think about the fact his spirit may have been damaged in some way by his experience, whatever it had been. He knew by the terrifying incident out on the balcony that it must have been horrendous. Only time would reveal just how horrendous.

Aragorn forced the thoughts away. This was the time for happiness, not the time for borrowing trouble where none may even exist. However, he did say a prayer to the Valar that Legolas's sleep would not be invaded by dark dreams and nightmares.

~*~*~

Aragorn never left Legolas's side, as the elf slept until late afternoon of the next day. Instead of the death-like stillness he had been lost in before, this time he acted the same as any other sleeping creature. He occasionally shifted his body, moved an arm, a leg and turned his head from time to time. Once he even burrowed down farther under the covers and moaned contentedly, which drew a happy smile from Estel.

In fact, each of the elf’s moves, no matter how small, brought a smile to Estel’s face and lifted his heart just a little bit more. He had convinced himself that when Legolas finally woke up again, he would be the same elf he had known for years.

 TBC

Chapter Eight

Legolas slept until the afternoon of the next day before his inner being dragged his consciousness back into the waking world. It wasn’t a torturous journey, but it was a reluctant one. There had been no dreams, good or bad, just a warm sense of well-being. Well, almost.

Somewhere deep inside, on the very fringes of his mind, he knew there was a terror he couldn‘t define. Try as he might, he wasn’t able to grasp it and expose it to examination. He wasn’t so sure he wanted to bring it to the forefront of his mind anyway, so the dark feeling was pushed away, as he let himself be guided back toward wakefulness.

When he felt himself on the surface, he cautiously opened his eyes, not sure which world would greet him this time. With great relief, he saw that he was in the familiar world of light.

He saw Estel sitting on the bed pretty much where he had last seen him. This time the man was adjusting the covers that lay lightly over the elf. They didn’t need adjusting, having been smoothed out and folded and creased and smoothed out again over and over in the last few hours.

Legolas watched the ranger’s movements and shook his head ever so slightly. Estel was fidgeting while he waited for Legolas to awaken once again. He was normally very patient, but this wasn’t the first time the elf had seen his friend do little meaningless tasks to occupy his mind while he waited for something to happen that he was anticipating. It was, however, never done before a battle or in front of other rangers or soldiers or anyone else who might interpret this fidgeting as a reason to doubt his ability to lead successfully. It seemed to be a private thing when only close friends or family were around. It was done with unfocused attention and always caused Legolas to marvel that Aragorn’s mind could unconsciously make the distinction.

In an attempt to ease his friend’s obvious anxiety, he said, “The bed covers look very nice, Estel.” He was happily surprised his voice sounded almost normal.

The sound made Aragorn jump. He looked at Legolas and caught the amusement in those blue-gray eyes he knew so well. He quickly understood the reason behind the elf‘s words, so he played along.

“Well, I couldn’t have you waking up and complaining that the hosts of Rivendell keep their guests in rumpled beds. We have a reputation to uphold, you know.” He tried hard to look stern, but he was just too happy and couldn’t make his face do anything but smile.

The friends were so in tuned to one another that they could comfortably discuss, with absolute honesty, any subject under he sun. But, they also often used humor to lighten potentially intense moments.

First things first, Legolas decided. “I am thirsty,” he said, remembering that the first time he had awakened he had also had a great need for water There was no longer any soreness in his mouth, but it was parched and made swallowing hard.

Aragorn helped him drink an almost full cup of water. “Are you hungry?” he inquired, as he set the cup back down and eased the elf back against the pillow.

“Not now,” Legolas replied, much to the ranger’s surprise. He hadn’t had anything to eat since.... He shook off the thought. He had no intention of mentioning anything that had happened unless specifically asked. Estel knew the fear that had appeared in the Wood-elf’s eyes the day before would not be noticeable except by those who knew him well, and they wouldn‘t question him until they knew he first remembered what had happened and then was able to handle it. Aragorn decided instead to concentrate on the happiness that dominated the elf’s eyes.

Legolas did want the answer to a question of his own, so he asked, “How long have I slept this time?”

Aragorn’s smile didn’t diminish at all. “A day. It was yesterday, when you first opened your eyes. And, it was one of the happiest days I can remember.”

Legolas saw clearly the immense depth of Estel’s feelings, and it caused he, himself, to became overwhelmed with emotion. He held his arms out toward the man, and Aragorn leaned down and enfolded the elf in his strong arms. “Welcome back, mellon nin,” he whispered into his best friend’s ear.

“Hannon le, Estel. It is good to be back,” Legolas whispered in return, switching languages easily from one sentence to the next. Even having no clue as to what had happened since arriving in Rivendell, he believed that it had been Estel’s nurturing as much as the elf’s own fighting spirit that had brought him back to consciousness.

Aragorn gave Legolas an extra tight squeeze and then sat up straight with an even bigger smile on his face. He understood the feelings Legolas had, because he knew how he would feel in the elf’s place, and having him demonstrate those feelings this way meant the world to the ranger.

At that exact moment, Elrond was walking down the hall on his way to Legolas's room. Glorfindel was with him and asking how long before the truth had to be told, especially to Legolas. Elrond didn’t have a chance to answer, because just as they reached the door to the prince’s room, there was a commotion on the stairs at the end of the hall they were facing, and that commotion was heading up toward their location. It didn’t take a genius to know what was happening.

Elrond stood facing the stairs. He exchanged a glance with Glorfindel, who took a deep breath. They could have been hard of hearing and still would have clearly heard the booming voice directed at two unfortunate servants. “Where is Prince Legolas?”

King Thranduil of Mirkwood had arrived.

The two elf Lords watched as an imposing, blond-haired elf, looking every inch a king, strode toward them. His handsome face was a mask of storm clouds. He stopped barely a foot from the Lord of Rivendell. “Where...is...my...son?”

Up until now, Elrond had hoped to inform Thranduil about Mordraug before he did anything else, but he knew that the Mirkwood king would not listen to any explanations at this point. Elrond couldn‘t really blame him, either. He wouldn’t have let anything stop him from first seeing one of his children, if their roles were reversed.

With a sigh, Elrond stepped back and motioned to the door a few feet to his left.

Almost snarling, the woodland king said, “I will deal with you later, Elrond. And you, too, Glorfindel. Count on it.” Thranduil then pushed past Elrond and headed straight toward his son’s room. He unceremoniously threw open the door and left it standing wide open as he marched in.

Aragorn swung his head around when he heard the door fly open. He jumped to his feet, masking his feeling of dread, as he saw not just that Thranduil had arrived, but his angry countenance, as well. *He’s going to take Legolas away.* He knew it with absolute certainty. It was his first and only thought, and for the moment, it replaced the joy he had been experiencing since Legolas had awakened the day before.

Thranduil went to the same side of the bed where Aragorn stood, seemingly ignorant of the human‘s presence, though in truth, he was well aware of it. He didn’t look at the ranger. In fact, he didn’t look at anything except the figure lying in the bed. Aragorn was sure the elven king would barrel straight into him and knock him over, if he didn’t move, so he backed a few feet away.

When Thranduil reached the side of the bed, his furious expression softened into a look of pure love and no small amount of worry. His eyes never left Legolas's surprised and happy face.

Without hesitation, Thranduil pulled the covers aside and sat down. Reaching down, he put his arms around the back of Legolas's shoulders and pulled him up into a tight embrace. After a moment, he released his hold on his son and held him out in front of him.

“Ada. You have come.”

“I will always come, when you need me, Little One.” Thranduil smiled warmly.

“You have not called me that in a long time.”

“You have become an adult, Legolas, a brave and skilled warrior, and I am very proud of you. But, deep in my heart, you will always be my Little One.”

Thranduil again pulled Legolas against his chest. He pressed his son’s head against his shoulder and held him close, as Legolas's arms wrapped tightly around his father’s back. The elven King absently took a handful of Legolas's loose hair and pushed it behind his delicately pointed ear, stroking the golden strands over and over. He put his cheek down on Legolas's head and closed his eyes.

Thranduil loved each of his three sons and two daughters as much as any father can love his children. But, Legolas was his youngest, the one that most resembled his loving mother, who had been killed when Legolas was still very small. He also possessed her pure heart, fierce loyalty and lighthearted personality. Thranduil knew he would never marry again. This was his last child, and he cherished him.

The two sat for a long time holding each other. Thranduil rocked slowly back and forth. It was so much like the days of Legolas's youth, when he had held the child after the elfling had cried for his mother or become upset over one thing or another.

Memories overtook Legolas as well, as he also closed his eyes, remembering all the times his father had held him just like this. He felt so safe and secure in Thranduil’s arms. Adult he may be, but right now, this was the only place in the world Legolas wanted to be.

Aragorn felt as if he was intruding on a very private moment between father and son. There was no jealousy in the ranger’s heart. He turned and slipped quietly out of the room. His own father, both of his brothers, who had arrived after Thranduil’s loud entrance, and Glorfindel were standing just outside in the corridor, having witnessed the whole scene through the open door. They stepped aside and let Aragorn exit the room.

Elrond stepped forward and closed the door on father and son. “I do not know of anyone other than Thranduil, who can go from a furious king to a loving father in the space of a minute.”

“Did it take that long?” Glorfindel asked, shaking his head. He looked at Elrond. “He will go right back to being the furious king, when he walks out of that room.”

Elrond looked at the closed door and sighed. “I know.” He spread his arms out to encompass his sons and his friend. “Come. Let us give them some time together before the storm breaks.”

Only the faces of the two older elves did not reflect a puzzled expression. Elrond’s three sons were all sure those ominous words had nothing to do with the weather.

~*~*~

After what seemed like hours, Legolas sat back and looked at this father. “I am sorry to worry you, Ada.” He shook his head. “I do not remember anything that happened to me.”

“We can sort that out later, Legolas,” his father assured him. “All that matters right now is that you are all right .” Thranduil looked hard at his son. “Did that ranger get you into trouble?” His words were accusatory and bordered on anger.

Legolas shook his head. “Estel saved me, Ada. Please, do not try to blame him. I would not even be here or be awake, for that matter, if it were not for him.”

Thranduil signed. He never had totally approved of his son’s choice of a best friend. But, at the same time, he didn’t really dislike the human, once he had gotten to know him. He trusted Legolas's judgment, so if he gave credit to Aragorn, then he wouldn’t pursue accusations. “I will have to thank him,” was all he said.

Thranduil leaned forward and kissed Legolas on the forehead. “I am taking you home, but first I am going to find Elrond and get some answers.”

TBC

Chapter Nine

Dinner that evening was somewhat subdued. The four elves and one human that sat at the main table in the dining hall were all very happy with the fact that Legolas had finally awakened. It was hard to dampen that euphoric feeling, but the almost somber countenance of the two oldest elves seemed to come close to accomplishing just that. It confused the elven sons of Elrond. On the other hand, Estel’s conviction that Thranduil was taking Legolas home to Mirkwood was easy to understand.

Finally, after a particularly long silent spell, Elrohir asked, “Ada, why are you and Glorfindel so quiet? I know you have to be happy that Legolas is finally back with us.”

Elrond regarded the youngest twin and nodded. “Yes, of course, we are very happy at such an occurrence. It truly is a blessing to have him back.” The joy that Elrond’s words conveyed, though genuine, soon faded, and he fell silent again.

“But?” Estel asked. He had no intention of letting his father off the hook that easily. “Something is wrong. You’ve been hinting at it for several days now, with all your cryptic little remarks. We think it’s time that we knew what is really going on.” It was easy to know who the ‘we’ was he referred to. He stared hard at his foster father.

“I want to know the answer to that myself,” came a strong and obviously unhappy voice from behind Aragorn.

All heads turned to see Thranduil approaching the table. No, one was surprised to see him. They were, however, surprised to see that Legolas walked beside his father. The younger elf was dressed in dark blue leggings and a long light blue silk shirt that almost reached his knees. He wore soft leather shoes. His hair had been pulled back and put into the braids he normally wore. The elf looked slightly paler than usual, but he was not unsteady on his feet. Still, Aragorn made a move to stand up with the intention of offering him help to the table.

Legolas gave a small smile to his friend and waved the ranger off. “I am fine, Estel.” At the ranger’s look of doubt, the elf said, “Really. I am fine.” Aragorn didn’t entirely believe him but decided against making any comment.

Legolas and his father sat down between Elladan and Aragorn, who had moved to make room for them.

The King had not been all that pleased to have his son leave his bed so soon after such a long confinement and try to participate in the forthcoming discussion, but Legolas had once again shown his stubbornness and refused to be left behind.

Legolas’ strategy had been to turn Thranduil’s own words back on him. He had reminded his father that he had just told him he was an adult. As such, the younger elf had said he was fully capable of making his own decisions regarding himself. He had made that decision, and he was going with or without his father‘s permission. End of argument.

Thranduil had no choice but to relent, short of tying his son to his bed. The thought had occurred to the elder elf and may have been acted upon, if he had even the slightest belief it would have worked.

“Elrond, before we get into anything else, I want you to tell me why you took so long to notify me that my son was unconscious and no one knew what was wrong or how to help him. I am his father. I should have been told immediately.” Thranduil’s voice, though low in volume, was angrily accusatory. His eyes, the same blue-gray as his son’s, were blazing.

“It wasn’t my father’s fault,” Aragorn spoke up, knowing that sooner or later, he would have to make that admission. “I was the one who didn‘t want to let you know right away.” He looked evenly at Thranduil. “I wanted to wait until after Legolas woke up.”

Thranduil’s earlier thought of thanking the human for helping his son just went out the door. He turned his cold glare full on the ranger. “I hardly think you did that for my peace of mind. You had no right to make that decision. He is my son!”

“Ada,“ Legolas said. “Please do not do this. Estel did what he thought was best at the time. You know that no one in all of Middle-earth can match Lord Elrond’s healing powers. Estel wanted to give me the best chance to recover.”

“A lot of good that did you,” the King responded, his anger beginning to mount again, though it certainly wasn‘t directed at his son. “He could not do anything for you, could he?”

“I believed he could,” Aragorn said defensively.

Thranduil pointed a finger at the ranger and in a voice as cold as ice, said, “You always get my son into trouble. Stay out of his life.”

Elrond, his own anger flaring, now felt the need to defend his son. “That is unfair, Thranduil. The world is a dangerous place. Our children are always at risk, when they go out into it. Estel and Legolas both accept that risk. Estel has been injured many times, and I have never tried to blame Legolas for any of it.

“No one was more upset by what happened to Legolas than Estel. He stayed with him, feeding him, bathing him, talking to him to try and bring him back. He even put him out on the balcony every day so he could be in the open air and the sunshine. No one did more for him than Estel.

“As for waiting to notify you, I am the Lord of Imladris. The final decision was mine and mine alone. Do not blame my son.” Elrond spoke with a dangerous edge to his tone that matched Thranduil’s own.

As Elrond had spoken, Legolas had looked at his best friend. He had just heard, for the first time, some of the things that Estel had done for him. He couldn’t help but smile and nod. Aragorn returned the smile.

Then, Legolas looked at Thranduil. His expression was hard, though he knew that his father’s anger stemmed from feeling left out. His look softened. “Ada, I told you I am alive and awake because of Estel. He is and always will be a big part of my life. There is no more to be said on that score.” He cocked his head, almost daring Thranduil to continue his criticism of his best friend.

Thranduil knew that any further attack against the ranger was futile and would likely end up in an argument with Legolas. He calmed down, not willing to risk any harsh words with his son. “All right, I will bow once again to your choice of friends, because that is what you want.” he conceded with a sigh, though his tone clearly said he didn’t understand it.

The elven King looked directly into Elrond‘s dark eyes. “I will not pursue what is between us any further---for now. But, know this, Elrond, it is far from finished.”

Elrond nodded. He hadn’t thought for a minute that is was. Thranduil would have the last word on this or any other situation, no matter what. Elrond had learned that much about the woodland King over the centuries.

Thranduil’s eyes never left Elrond‘s. “You were about to answer a question for us.” His voice was cool but his anger seemed to have passed.

Elrond had known that none of his sons would let the matter of what was going on rest for long. Now that Thranduil and Legolas had joined them, he knew the time had come for answers. He looked toward Thranduil, as if to say, ‘Are you really sure you want Legolas hearing this right now?’

Thranduil, who had picked up on the meaning of the look, nodded. He wasn‘t sure at all, but no one else was going to know that, nor would they know that Legolas was here, because he hadn‘t been able to keep his son away. “Proceed,” he said curtly.

Elrond took a deep breath and steeled himself for what he was about to say. For the moment, he ignored his sons and Legolas and looked directly into the eyes of the woodland King. “Mordraug has returned.”

Thranduil just stared across the table at Elrond. He was taken totally by surprise. The previous angry look on his face had been replaced with...horror. He lowered his head and stared at a spot on the table directly in front of him. Unconsciously, he reached over and took his son’s hand in his. Slowly his head began to shake back and forth. “It cannot be,” he said, not knowing that was the exact same words that Glorfindel had uttered the day before in Elrond’s study.

Legolas asked the obvious question. “Who is Mordraug?” He had the distinct feeling that this Mordraug had something to do with whatever had happened to him. However, the name meant nothing to him and judging by the looks on the faces of Estel and the twins, they didn’t know any more than he did.

Elrond said, “Mordraug is an Avari.”

“An Avari?” Aragorn asked. He had heard tales of these elves, but he had never seen one.

When he expressed this fact, Elrond nodded. “You would not have, Estel. Most Avari disappeared from Middle-earth long before your birth. The few that are left rarely ever have anything to do with the other peoples of Middle-earth.

“As for Mordraug himself, we thought he had been destroyed almost two thousand years ago.” Elrond’s face became a mask, as he attempted to keep it from reflecting his inner turmoil. He never thought he would be discussing this subject ever again.

Elladan said, “The Avari are the ones who never answered the call of the Valar to go to Valinor, right?” He remembered reading about these elves years ago. The details escapted him right then, but he was pretty sure about this fact.

Both Elrond and Glorfindel nodded in unison. Thranduil was still staring at the table. Considering the intensity in his gaze, it was a wonder he didn’t bore a hole right through the polished wood.

“All right,” Aragorn said. “We have all heard or read the stories. The Avari were tuned to the dark paths and often did harm to the other Eldar in earlier times. So, what is it about this Mordraug, in particular, that has the three of you so worried? Is he that evil?”

“Oh, yes,” Glorfindel said. He was trying very hard to keep a tremor out of his voice. What he could not keep out of his voice was pure hatred. He looked at the ranger. “He was one of the worst; mentally twisted beyond recognition. His heart became more corrupted than any orc’s ever could.”

“Ada, what did he do that made him so feared?” Legolas asked. His father hadn’t responded to anything Elrond or Glorfindel had said. The archer frowned, because he had rarely seen his father react this way to anything. He seemed to be lost in a world of remembered pain, and a dread had begun to grow in Legolas’ heart.

The young elf also felt a tiny prickling feeling at the edges of his mind. Had Mordraug been that evil thing in the gray world? He still couldn’t grasp the memory, yet he had to force down the fear that was rising within him. Legolas asked, “What did Mordraug do to the Eldar?”

An expression of dread passed between the Rivendell elf Lords and the King of Mirkwood. It was a look that no one at the table missed.

Elrond took the lead. “Mordraug quite simply wanted to rule the elves of Middle-earth. He started with Greenwood the Great, because he believed that it belonged to him by rights, having been ruled by his uncle in the distant past. Then, Oropher and Thranduil brought their people there and settled among the Silvan Elves. Mordraug was determined to destroy both of them. Oropher was killed in the Battle of Dagorlad during the Last Alliance before Mordraug could act. However it happened, Oropher’s death suited his purpose.”

The elf Lord looked at Legolas, a sympathetic expression in his eyes. “When Thranduil took the throne, Mordraug was more determined than ever to destroy him.” He hesitated a moment.

Aragorn took that opportunity to ask, “How did he plan to do that?”

Glorfindel took up the tale. “Mordraug schemed and planned but never had the right resources at the right time to be able to fulfill his plans. Then, one day in a dry stream bed, he found a clear amber-colored stone that held the tiny body of a black snake inside. He, of course, thought the snake was dead, but he kept the stone, turning it into a medallion, because it was so unique.

“Not too long after that Mordraug was thrown from his horse, and the stone shattered on some rocks. Immediately, the snake began to writhe and grow. When it reached a length of three feet, it crawled up Mordraug’s leg and then wrapped itself around his left arm. It has been there ever since.”

“What does this snake do exactly?” Elrohir asked. He was pretty certain it wasn’t just an ordinary snake. “It surely has to have some kind of special powers.”

Elrond said, “Once it allied itself to Mordraug, it took on his will and did his bidding. It was the elf’s reward for freeing the snake. It‘s poison became infused with Mordraug‘s evil intents. Whatever Mordraug wanted, the snake‘s venom would accomplish.”

“How did it work?” Elrohir wanted to know. He, like everyone else who didn’t know the story, was fascinated.

“The snake’s venom would drive the mind of an elf into darkness and their bodies into unimaginable agonies of fire and ice. Most victims lasted only a few hours and in some cases a few days. But in the end, they all died, because that‘s what Mordraug wanted to happen. The torture they suffered was just a twisted pleasure of his.

“When the poisoned elves were found, their muscles were so contorted they had broken their bones. Their bodies were twisted into horrible disfigured shapes that were sometimes hard to recognize. Their faces reflected the absolute agony their bodies had gone through.” Elrond looked at Legolas, who was staring at him. “Mordraug’s message was delivered.”

“But, he did not kill me,” Legolas finally broke his silence. He was now convinced that Mordraug was behind what had happened to him. “I was not tortured, at least I do not think I was. My body certainly was not broken. Why?”

“Al the others were warnings,” Thranduil said. All eyes turned to him. “He wanted to let me know that he was coming for me. Then he was stopped, for good we had hoped.

“Now, he has chosen you, Legolas, to continue his terror. He wants to keep you alive, so he can be assured that this time I will go to him.”

Aragorn looked at his foster father. “How do you all know these things about Mordraug and his snake?”

Elrond looke back at his human son. “We were all there.”

TBC

Chapter Ten

“You and Glorfindel were in Greenwood with Mordraug?” Elladan asked, obviously surprised.

“Yes,” was Elrond’s simple answer. Then, he continued. “When the bodies began showing up, Thranduil asked for help. Glorfindel and I went there, as did Lord Celeborn from Lorien. We spent many a day trying to untangle the mystery of who could be killing the elves of Greenwood. We finally found the murderer, or rather, he found us.”

“He wanted to be found?” Elrohir asked, still fascinated by the story, though the gruesome details were most distasteful and disturbing.

“Mordraug was waiting for us, as we rode with an escort of ten warriors into a forest near Greenwood that none of us had ever been in before. Mordraug simply appeared on the trail in front of us. Incredibly, he was alone. He introduced himself and arrogantly told us his story. He beleived that he and his little pet could easily defeat all of us right then and there and take over not only Greenwood but Imladris and Lothlorien all at the same time. That idea was just too tempting for him to ignore, so that’s why he came forward to meet us.”

“I am assuming that all this happened before Sauron built Dol Guldûr,” Elladan said. “Mordraug wouldn’t dare have challenged him.”

“No, I dare say not,” Elrond agreed. “This happened almost fifty years before Dol Guldûr.”

Going back to the subject of the evil elf appearing alone, Glorfindel added, “Mordraug also wanted us to know that he needed no army to defeat us. The bastard is beyond arrogant.” The elf practically spit the last sentence out. “He might well have challenged Sauron, thinking he and that snake of his could actually win.”

Elrond made no comment on Glorfindel‘s words. “The snake was loosed among us without warning. It was a dire battle. There was only the one snake, yet it was so fast, it looked and acted like a whole writing mass of them. There were fourteen of us, but we couldn’t kill the thing. The four of us were saved, because our escort protected us. The snake managed to kill all but three of those brave, unselfish warriors.”

Elrond closed his eyes at the memory. “For some unknown reason, Mordraug called the snake back to him, and he disappeared into the forest. We came to the conclusion later, that the snake must have had a limited amount of venom. Too many of our escort were killed, using it up, we assumed.

“We were left to watch as they died in agony, cruelly being twisted and broken in the way I described to you a moment ago, their bodies tortured first with burning fever and then bitter cold---fire and ice. You cannot imagine the horror of watching something like that. And, nothing I did could help them.”

“Their screams will forever haunt my memories,” Glorfindel said, his eyes shimmering with unshed tears. “Those of us not bitten managed to escape, though at the time, it seemed a hollow victory. Mordraug was obviously furious that the four of us got away safely.”

Memories of that day flooded back to Thranduil, as Elrond and Glorfindel relayed the tale. He looked at each of the younger elves and even the human. His gaze finally came to rest on Legolas, as he spoke. "After that, he chose just one elf at a time to kill. We found that odd at first, but then a pattern emerged. Each one killed was closer to me than the one before, until..." The woodland King couldn't finish. An involuntary cry of utter pain and anguish escaped his lips, as he closed his eyes and put one hand over them. His face had paled to match that of his recently ill son.

Legolas looked at Thranduil in bewilderment. He hadn't seen his father crumble this way since his mother's death, even though he had been a small child, when it had happened. He remembered the agony his father had gone through then. He had known from an extremely early age that elves could die of grief, and for a long time, he was terrified his father would do just that.

Legolas's brothers and sisters had assured him their father would not die, but it took Thranduil himself to convince the little elfling that he wouldn’t leave them all without a parent. The elven King believed that it was his children, especially his still growing youngest son, who had saved his life. Without them he knew he would have grieved until he joined his wife in the Halls of Mandos.

As Legolas thought about what his father had just said, his eyes suddenly got wide. "Ada?" When his father didn't answer, Legolas said more desperately, "Ada?" The truth hit him like a physical blow. He pulled his hand free from Thranduil's grasp. He had to grab the edge of the table to keep himself from falling out of the chair he sat upon. "Did Mordraug kill Naneth?" His voice was barely above a whisper, but it was filled with horror. The question begged for denial.

When his father continued to say nothing, Legolas began to shake. Thranduil's failure to answer was all the confirmation the archer needed. Suddenly, anger overcame shock, as he said, “How could you have kept such knowledge from me?” Legolas wanted to run screaming from the room, but he couldn’t move or utter another word. He clutched the edge of the table in an iron grip.

Aragorn and the twins were stunned. None of them had ever heard how Legolas's mother had died, only that she had been killed. And now, to hear that she had died a horrible death at the hands of Mordraug was incredible.

Estel wanted to hug his friend in sympathy and comfort, but he didn't dare. With things suddenly so raw between Legolas and Thranduil, it didn’t seem the right time. But, Aragorn vowed the elf would not go uncomforted for long.

As proud as Thranduil was, he couldn't keep the tears out of his eyes. With his head again lowered, they fell down his face. The memory of the heartbreaking death of his beloved wife had hit him full force. He was also feeling horribly guilty that his son was finding out about his mother's death this way and in front of others. He should have told him years ago. He took his hand away from his eyes and looked at his son. "I wanted to protect you, Legolas. You were so young." It was all the explanation Thranduil could get past his lips.

"Protect me? How can keeping the truth from me, protect me? Were you not the one who constantly told me to always tell the truth? You said that, when all was said and done, a person's word was the most important measure of that person’s character."

The woodland King had indeed taught all of his children that and was proud that they had each learned that lesson well. He now felt shame that he had not followed that sage advice himself where his youngest child was concerned.

After a pause, Legolas asked, “Why did you not tell me, when I got old enough to understand? You just told Elrond and Estel that you had a right to know about my condition, well I had a right to know how my mother died.”

“I wanted to tell you, but the time never seemed right. And, then I just wanted to forget how it happened.“ Thranduil looked and felt miserable. He wanted to hold his son and tell him how sorry he was, but he didn’t think Legolas would let him, and he couldn’t bear to be rejected. So, he just sat in misery.

For a long time, no one broke the fragile silence. The twins, though in total sympathy with Legolas, were still anxious to know what had happened to Mordraug to make everyone think he was dead all these years, but they didn’t believe now was the time to ask. It was a question to tuck away until later.

Finally Elrond sighed. He also had a great sympathy for the young prince. Even though he didn’t agree with what Thranduil had done, he did understand it. He knew that Legolas and his father would have to sit down in private and sort all of that out between them.

Now, there was one last thing that Elrond needed to tell the young elf. He didn't want to, especially now after all that had just happened, but it was part of the truth, and he didn’t want to fall into the very trap that had just been exposed.

"Legolas, there is one more thing you need to be told." Despite his determination to continue, Elrond's voice lacked conviction.

After a moment, the young archer looked at Elrond. His eyes weren’t completely focused, giving him a dazed look, like someone who had just been hit in the head but was still partially conscious. There was aslo a deep sorrow there that made the elf Lord cringe. A look of betrayal resided in the blue-gray depths, as well. Elrond could well imagine the young elf’s reeling mind and emotions.

Reluctantly, the Lord of Rivendell realized now was not the time, after all. He would have to do it, when Legolas was better able to understand and handle the news . After everything that had just gone down, how could he tell Legolas that the poison that the snake had injected into him was still in his system and could be activated by Mordraug at any time?

TBC

Chapter Eleven

Legolas sat unmoving. His mind was reeling just as Elrond had suspected. Grief exploded in his head, as if his mother’s death had just occurred. And, his father... How could he come to terms with the fact his father had hidden the truth from him for almost all of his life? What must the others think? He shook off the thought. It didn’t matter. They were his friends and would wish only to support him. This he knew.

There were expressions of shock from those around the table, except for Elrond and Glorfindel, who had always known the truth about Legolas's mother. They had been there. alfter all. What they hadn’t known was that the young prince had never been told.

Along with the shock were expressions of deep sympathy. Just as Legolas believed, everyone wanted only to help him cope with the revelation. But, they were at a loss as to how to go about it. Only Thranduil seemed lost in his own thoughts and memories.

Suddenly Legolas could stand it no longer. He had to get away. The elf stood up from the table quickly, pushing the chair back as he rose and almost tipping it over. The scraping noise the chair made as it slid across the stone of the floor was the only sound, and it almost seemed to echo around the large room. Without looking at anyone, the blond elf turned and hurried out of the dining hall.

It wasn’t until he had left the room that he began to run. He paid no attention to where he was going, just letting his feet carry him away, as his subconscious guided him. His soft shoes made not a sound on the carpeted hallway. Walls, doors, furniture and elaborately framed paintings went flying by as he rapidly sped down the corridors.

He half expected to end up in the garden where he could gain comfort from the trees and the flowers that he loved so much. But, to his surprise, he found himself running down the hall toward his room. He would have had to go up two flights of stairs to get there, but he remembered none of it.

Legolas entered his room, closed the door and slid the bolt into the hole in the sturdy door frame. He realized now that’s why he had come here. He could lock himself in and no one could get to him. The garden, while large and comforting, was confined by surrounding stone walls, and he would have been, if not easily found, then certainly eventually so.

Legolas threw himself on his bed. He wanted to empty his overwhelmed mind and numb a body that ached and had become drained of strength. He wanted blessed nothingness to envelop him. But, to his consternation, the shocked, raw feelings remained, and his body shook with emotion.

Yet, through it all, he couldn’t cry.

~*~*~

Downstairs in the dining hall, no one had yet spoken. The silence was beginning to get on Aragorn’s nerves. He felt a great sadness for Legolas, and at that moment, a great dislike, bordering on hatred, for Thranduil, despite the obvious pain the woodland King was in. He decided it was time for the comforting support he was determined to give his friend.

Besides, if he stayed any longer, he knew he would say something that he would later regret, though he couldn’t imagine anything he could possible say that King Thranduil would not have thoroughly deserved. More than anything, he didn’t want things to get any worse between Imladris and Mirkwood because of any careless, heated words spoken by him.

Aragorn finally said, “I’m going to find Legolas.”

Elrond shook his head and regarded his human son with a large measure of sympathy. “I know you want to help him, Estel, but he probably needs to be alone right now.”

“No, Ada. That’s exactly what he doesn’t need. Trust me in this. I know him.” With a sad smile for his brothers at leaving them in the current situation, Aragorn walked out of the room.

He headed directly for the garden, sure that’s where the woodland elf would head in this time of great stress.

Elrond looked at Thranduil, who chose that moment to look up at him. “I know what you are going to say, Elrond. I handled all of this rather badly. I kept the secret about Legolas's mother from him, and now he is terribly upset.” He sighed deeply. “He may never forgive me for this.”

“He will forgive you, Thranduil, though I think he will be hurt and angry for a while to come.” In an effort to give a measure of comfort to the unhappy elven King, he said, “What you did was simply an error in judgment. Legolas will come to understand that.”

“I know my son has a good heart, and a large one, but this involves his mother and what he perceives as betrayal on my part. It may not be so easy for him to forgive, even if he does understand.”

The twins looked at each other and came to the same conclusion at the same time, as they often did. There was obviously no more information forthcoming on Mordraug, and whatever was to happen with Thranduil and their father was none of their business. They decided to leave the three elder elves to their discussion.

“Ada,” Elladan said, “Elrohir and I think it best, if we leave now. We will see you in the morning.”

They each bowed in respect to all present, gave their farewells and left. They made a beeline for Elladan’s room, where they could talk about the recently revealed events.

~*~*~

In Legolas's room, the elf heard his name being called out in the garden. *Estel is looking for me.* He sat up and sighed. When he wasn’t found there, he knew the ranger would be coming to his room. He almost wished he had gone to the stables, gotten his horse and ridden out of Rivendell. But, he knew that would only cause everyone to worry, sending out search parties and fearing for his emotional health. That’s the last thing he wanted to happen. He didn’t want to spread his misery to anyone else. *Even my father*, he thought, as a feeling of sympathy momentarily flashed across his mind. That feeling soon reversed itself. *It would serve him right.* He was far from ready to forgive his father for his deceit. With an effort he pushed all thought of Thranduil from his mind.

Legolas heard his name called several more times and then nothing. He knew Estel would be on his way here, so it was not the least surprising, when a few moments later, he heard a soft knock at the door.

“Legolas, it’s me, Estel. Please open the door.”

There was no answer from the elf. He wanted to be alone, but if he expressed that fact, he was sure it would only encourage Estel to be more determined to try and get in.

“I want to help you, mellon nin. Please let me in.”

Still no response. Aragorn knocked once more. After a silent moment, he put his folded hand up to knock yet again, but this time he paused in mid-air. He opened his hand and placed his palm flat against the wood. “Legolas,” he said softly.

Legolas was determined to be alone, so Aragorn knew that he was evidently not going to gain entrance. He was still convinced that was not the best thing for the elf right then, but there didn’t seem to be anything he could do about it. He didn’t feel rejected. He only felt a sadness that he wouldn’t be allowed to try and help the troubled elf.

Just as he turned to leave, he heard the bolt on the inside of the door being pulled back. There was no other sound, and the door did not open. Aragorn cautiously opened it himself and stepped into the room. After quietly closing the door, he reshot the bolt.

Turning around, he was greeted with the sight of Legolas, sitting crossed-legged in the middle of his bed. Severl crystal globes containing burning candles were sitting on tables and cabinets all around the room, emitting a soft golden glow. They had been lit by servants while he was downstairs. It was a nightly ritual they performed for all the residents of Elrond’s house, so no one ever had to return to a dark room. More unlit candles were in evidence, so the room’s occupant could adjust the amount of lighting, as he saw fit.

Silently Aragorn approached the bed. He saw Legolas's shoes sitting by the bed and knew his friend was barefoot, a fact he couldn‘t visually confirm, since the elf‘s feet were tucked under his thighs.

Aragorn took his own shoes off and then climbed on the bed. He seated himself cross-legged in front of the archer with their knees barely touching. It was the only physical contact between them.

In a soft voice, Estel said, “What you just learned about your mother and about your father keeping that from you has to be devastating. I won’t try to tell you that you shouldn’t feel the way you do or that everything is fine. In fact, I won’t say another word, if you don’t want me to.” He hoped the elf would open up and talk to him, but he didn’t think that would happen. He wasn’t disappointed.

All Legolas did was nod. Silence descended between them and lasted for almost half an hour.

Legolas spent most of that time with his head bowed, staring at his hands, which were resting in his lap. He then began tracing the leaf pattern on the bedspread with his finger. After a while of doing this, he turned his head and looked at the balcony for several minutes

Suddenly, he said, “Have you ever noticed that the golden light from a candle will always push the moonlight away but never the other way around?”

Aragorn was only mildly surprised by the subject matter his friend had chosen to comment on. He had had a feeling that, when the elf decided to say something, it wouldn’t be about what was really on his mind. Legolas seemed to have the need to lead up to it, and Estel was going to let him do just that.

The ranger looked out toward the balcony and saw that the candle light was shining out through the doorway rather than the bright moonlight shining into the room. “I never really thought about that, but you’re right. As bright as the moonlight can be, it can never outshine the light that represents the day.”

Legolas made no more comment.

After a few more minutes, the elf looked directly at Aragorn and said, “Mordraug killed my mother, Estel, and she died a horrible death. Then my father, whom I trusted, deceived me, and I never knew any of it. How stupid does that make me?”

“Oh, no,” Aragorn said sharply. “Don’t you dare blame yourself for any of this. You were too young to know what had happened to your mother. Thranduil is your father. Of course, you would trust him to tell you the truth. It is in no way your fault that he didn’t. You put all that guilt right out of your head.” He reached out and put his hand behind Legolas's neck and shook him gently. “Do you understand me?”

Legolas nodded, but he didn‘t looked too convinced.

Aragorn didn’t think he had ever seen a look of such pain in the archer’s eyes before, and he had been with him during some terrible times. He moved his hand from Legolas's neck and put it back down on his own knee.

“How could my father have not told me something like that? She was my mother.” The tears were so close.

“Let it out, Legolas. It isn’t a weakness, I promise you,” the man assured, knowing how stubbornly independent the elf was. *Please, my friend,* the ranger begged to himself, *let the dam break and ease the pressure in your mind*.

Aragorn’s silent plea was answered. It took only seconds for Legolas to rise up onto his knees. The ranger quickly uncrossed his legs and did the same, enfolding the elf in his arms. He heard not a sound, but Aragorn felt the elf’s slender body shake with wrenching sobs. Rubbing Legolas's back, Estel patiently let his friend’s tears run their course.

After several minutes, the sobbing stopped, but Legolas made no move to disengage himself from the ranger’s grasp. He was so still and quiet, Estel thought for a second that he may have fallen asleep from sheer emotional exhaustion, though he knew it was unlikely. For one thing, the elf’s body was still somewhat tense, not totally relaxed.

Legolas finally pulled away and sat back down, crossing his legs once again. He wiped his tear-stained face with the sleeves of his silk shirt. He turned red eyes on the human. “Thank you, Estel. It seems there is no end to the things you are willing to do for me.”

Aragorn smiled. “I’m happy to do anything I can to ease any burdens you have. You’ve certainly done that for me on more occasions than I can count.”

“That is what friends are for.”

“Exactly,” Aragorn agreed. “Do you feel any better now?”

“I do.”

“Is there anything else you wish to say?”

The elf shook his head. “My father and I will have to get this sorted out. I think we can, but it will be hard. I am not up to dealing with any of it right now. I am very tired.” That was a rare admission from the normally energetic elf.

“I’m not surprised. You look exhausted.” He grinned, as Legolas looked at him with a ‘thanks-so-much’ expression.

Aragorn got up and reached around behind Legolas and pulled the covers down until they reached the elf’s back. “Scoot back.” Legolas did so. He then slid his legs down under the covers. Reaching both hands behind his head, the elf undid his hair in back, leaving the side braids intact. He ran his fingers through his long hair and then shook his head to loosen the silky strands.

After Legolas lay back on the pillow, Aragorn pulled the covers up to his chest. “Sleep,” the ranger commanded, emphasizing the word by pointing his finger at the elf. “We’ll deal with whatever we have to tomorrow.”

Legolas smiled. He had not missed the implication of the ‘we’ in Estel’s comment. He knew beyond a doubt that the man would be with him in whatever was to take place, not just the next day but in the days and weeks to come. It was a comforting thought, because he was well aware of what may lie ahead. In truth, he wasn’t even close to the reality that awaited him.

Aragorn went around the room and blew out all of the candles. By the time he had reached the last one, beside Legolas's bed, the elf’s eyes were closed, a clear testament to his exhaustion. The man put his hand gently on the elf’s head. “Rest well, mellon nin. Do not dream about your troubles.”

Aragorn walked across the room toward one of the chairs near the door. He sat down and glanced to his right. He smiled to himself. Legolas had been right. Now that the candlelight was gone, the moonlight shone in through the balcony doorway.

He didn’t intend to stay there all night. He just wanted to stay long enough to turn away anyone, especially Thranduil, who might knock at the door before the household settled down to sleep. No one was going to disturb his friend this night.

Fifteen minutes later, the ranger was sound asleep.

TBC

A/N: I have one comment to make about the second dream sequence that follows. Even though it’s Legolas's dream, and as such, he wouldn’t really be privy to Aragorn’s private thoughts or his actions while he wasn‘t there, I’ve written it as a normal narrative to give it a richer texture from both characters regarding what happens. I hope no one minds that it isn‘t strictly from Legolas's POV.

Chapter Twelve

Legolas stirred slightly, as he slept. Normally, the deep level of exhaustion he had reached would have kept him in a dreamless state. His emotions, though eased by his outpouring as Estel had held him, still ran deep. The intensity of those emotions would not be denied, even in sleep. So, he entered the elven world of dreams and now made the choice to dream about one of the happy times with his mother before she was taken away from him.

A small smile touched his lips as he dreamed of the day his parents had taken him out for his first picnic in the forest away from the palace. He was a young elfling, the equivalent of four in human years. He had felt so grown up, being allowed to roam around the small clearing they had chosen. A blanket laden with food was spread out on the soft green grass. Legolas's siblings, the youngest being almost grown, were not in attendance. He had his parents all to himself.

The three of them were enjoying the wonderful sunny spring day. Legolas, being the curious child that he was, soon became fascinated with a luminescent blue butterfly. He tried to catch the colorful creature, but found that each time he attempted to grab it, it flew just out of his reach. He giggled happily, as he chased it around and around, never quite able to get his hands on the illusive being.

The young elfling never cried or got angry or frustrated. He just kept trying and trying to catch the brilliant blue butterfly. His parents laughed heartily at his antics. His mother’s musical laughter floated all around the clearing, as she watched her young son.

Legolas's golden hair, just reaching his shoulders, flew about his face, as he ran this way and that. Finally, in a move that surprised the elfling, as much as it did his parents, he caught the butterfly in one small hand. He quickly cupped it in both hands, being very careful not to mash it. He ran to his mother and with the love and innocence of a young child, opened his hands and gently lowered it into one of her hands. “For you, Naneth.”

The butterfly did not try to escape but sat on the she-elf’s hand, slowly opening and closing its wings, seemingly secure in the knowledge that it would not be harmed. She held her other hand out to her son and pulled him close to her.

With a smile, she said, “Legolas, this butterfly is a wonderful gift, and I know you gave it to me out of love. But, you know it is a living thing. It belongs in the forest with its own kind, just as you belong with us. You would not want to take it away from its family, would you?”

The elfling looked at his mother and then at the butterfly. His mother knew he understood, when he said, “If we take it away, it will not be able to see its naneth or ada any more, will it?”

“No, Legolas. It will not. So, you know we have to set it free.”

When Legolas hesitated, his father said, “We can bring you back here, so you can see the butterfly again.”

“I can?” the boy said in wonder. He had believed that to set it free meant it would be gone, and he would never see it again.

His mother smiled and nodded, and his father said, “Aye, Little One, you can.”

With delight rather than sadness, the elfling carefully took the butterfly from his mother’s hand and carried it over to a small bush. He set the blue creature down and stood back. Its wings waved several times, and then, it flew away.

Legolas returned to his mother, who hugged him very tight and kissed him on the cheek. When she let him go, he looked up into her sparkling blue-gray eyes. She was so beautiful, and he loved her with all his heart, just as he knew she loved him.

“Naneth,” Legolas called out softly in his sleep.

Then, unbidden, the dream shifted. He was now an adult, sitting on his horse atop a ridge and looking down into a broad valley that contained a lush forest, spreading across the valley floor to the base of high cliffs on both sides. His best friend, Estel, was by his side. The two were alone.

A feeling of foreboding grabbed at the elf’s mind, as he stared down at the forest. The thick canopy of trees was broken in a few places, revealing a trail on the right side and another on the left near the tree line. The left trail appeared to head straight toward the open pass at the end of the valley, which was also on the left side. It looked to be an easy trip to traverse down the left side of the forest and out of the valley. So, what was there about this forest that made him so uneasy?

Legolas shook his head. “I do not like this.”

“I know this valley,” the ranger said reassuringly. “The forest is thick and rather dark, but we can travel through it in a day. We can camp tonight and easily be out by this time tomorrow afternoon.

“Once we leave the valley,” Aragorn continued, “it’s only eight more days travel to your father’s palace. As you already saw, when we approached, those cliffs are so wide that to go around them on either side would add at least three days to our trip. Your father’s expecting you for that council meeting in ten days with those ambassadors he‘s expecting. He wouldn’t react kindly, if you missed it. He‘d blame me---as usual.”

Aragorn looked at his elven friend, expecting some humorous comment, but none was forthcoming. The expression on the elf’s face hadn’t changed from the look of concern the ranger had seen there, since they had first reached the top of the ridge.

After what seemed like many moments of silence, Aragorn said, “Legolas?”

Hearing his name seemed to bring the blond-haired elf back to himself. “What?”

“You were lost for a minute. What do you sense?”

“Nothing I can put my finger upon.” He smiled and shook his head, seeming to banish the dark thoughts that filled his mind. “Let us go. Whatever we encounter, I am sure we can handle it.” With a laugh, he added, “I have a ranger with me, after all.”

“You most certainly do,” Aragorn agreed, adding his own laugh to that of his friend. He wasted no time in urging his horse forward. The man felt confident in what he had just said about getting quickly and easily through the forest. Yet, he also trusted his elven friend’s instincts, so he decided to keep a sharp eye out for any trouble that might find them, which seemed to be the normal way with them.

All traces of humor faded from Legolas's countenance, as he followed his friend down from the ridge and into the forest. His feeling of foreboding did not lessen, as the leaf-laden branches closed in over his head. He had been right when he told Aragorn he couldn’t put his finger on what was causing his concern. It was like an itch he couldn’t scratch. He felt sure, though, that it wasn’t the possibility of orcs or wargs or other such fell creatures that was making him uncomfortable. This uneasiness had a different feel to it.

They hadn’t gone a hundred yards into the forest, when Legolas stopped his horse and focused his hearing, listening intently but detecting no unusual sounds. Neither did his keen eyes pick up any unnatural movement. Yet, the uneasy feeling remained. Even the trees were strangely quiet, seemingly whispering to themselves but saying nothing to him. That was a little unsettling for a wood elf, though it did not necessarily mean there was anything wrong. Trees did not always chatter to him everywhere he went.

“Do you hear or see anything amiss?” Aragorn asked. He had watched Legolas lift his legs up and then pull himself up onto his knees, easily balancing on the stallion’s back. From this added height, the elf surveyed the surrounding trees. Seeing his friend sit back down and shake his head did nothing to ease Estel’s mind. He clearly saw that the elf’s tense muscles hadn’t relaxed any.

“No,” the elf finally had to admit, obviously unhappy that he couldn‘t solve the puzzle. “All seems as it should be. Even the sounds of the birds and small animals appear normal.” Those animals didn’t seem to be the least bit wary of the forest, so Legolas dismissed any significance to the trees’ lack of communication with him.

Aragorn nodded and again started forward.

Legolas's horse snorted loudly, flaring his nostrils and flattening his ears against his head, all signs that the animal was fearful. That only confirmed Legolas's concerns. If possible, the elf’s senses heightened even more. Yet, try as he might, he could not detect anything that seemed in the slightest outside the norm. He calmed his mount with a few elvish words spoken softly and accompanied by an elven hand stroking the arched neck. It appeared to work, as the stallion moved smoothly forward, though his muscles, too, were tense.

After several silent moments, the two friends came to a fork in the road. Legolas automatically started down the path to the left while Aragorn didn’t hesitate in heading to the right.

The ranger stopped when he realized that Legolas was no longer beside him. He looked around and saw the elf moving down the left pathway. “It’s this way,” the ranger informed his friend,

“That is the wrong path,” Legolas contradicted. “The pass that leads out of the other end of the valley is to the left, right where this path leads.” Growing up in a forest and learning to find his way there had given the elf a sense of direction even more acute than the normal one elves possessed, so he was certain about what he said.

“Have you ever been in this forest before?”

“No, I have not.”

“Well, I have. The path we take is this way.” He pointed to the right. “The left path may seem shorter and straighter, but it actually winds around so much, it’ll take hours more to get where we want to go.” He looked at Legolas. “Trust me.”

Legolas did trust the ranger. So, he nodded and turned his horse to the right. With a great show, he swept his arm forward, indicating that his friend should lead the way. He waited until Aragorn had tuned his attention away before looking back down the left path. He still believed that was the way they should be going. But, his friend thought otherwise, and since the man had been there before, the elf said no more.

Once they began moving again, Legolas forced his concerns to the side, though his senses remained on full alert. He moved up beside the ranger, and the two continued in silence.

Legolas noted that the path they were on was indeed relatively straight, angling ever so subtly to the left. “You were right, Estel. This path seems to be heading straight for the pass.”

Aragorn coughed rather loudly. “What was that you said?” He emphasized his words by putting a finger in his left ear and jerking it up and down. “Say again? I don‘t think I heard correctly.” He had to work hard to keep from laughing.

The elf adopted a look of exasperation. “Yes, Estel. You heard correctly. I said you were right about the path.”

“I think I should take note of today’s date. Wait while I write it down.”

“Exaggerating a bit, are we not?” the elf asked.

“Are you kidding? You never admit you’re wrong.”

“Not true,” Legolas said defensively. “Not true at all.”

“Are you going to sit there and deny that you possess a stubborn streak as wide as the Anduin, not to mention pride beyond belief?”

“Me?” Legolas, raising both eyebrows, replied in his most innocent tone of voice.

“Yes, you. You’re the subject under discussion at the moment.”

Legolas said haughtily, “I think I am rather level-headed and quite practical.”

“You talk to trees!”

Legolas looked indignant. “All Wood elves talk to trees. That does not mean that I am not practical,” he declared firmly.

It was Aragorn’s turn to raise his eyebrows. He added a hearty laugh. “All right, let’s go back into history a bit, shall we? Two years ago, summer time. We were in southern Mirkwood. Elladan and Elrohir were with us. We had just setup camp, when we were attacked by orcs. Remember that?”

Legolas reluctantly nodded. He was sure he knew where this was going, and he knew it wasn’t going to win him any arguments.

Aragorn took great amusement from the look of dread on the archer’s face. He continued undaunted. “After a fierce battle, we were all four banged up to varying degrees. I seem to recall that you had a deep sword wound in your side and a bone-revealing gash on your thigh. Before realizing just how bad your wounds really were, I asked how you were doing. Do you remember what you told me?”

Legolas knew to the word what he had said to the ranger. But now, he just stared at his friend, looking for all the world like someone who hadn’t the vaguest idea what the man could be talking about. It didn’t fool the man in the slightest.

“You stood right in front of me and said, ‘I am fine, Estel. You do not need to worry about me.’ Then, ten seconds later you collapsed and almost bled to death before Elladan, Elrohir and I could patch you up. Now, tell me your declaration of well-being was not stubborn pride. And, that’s hardly the only time something like that has happened, and you know it.”

The elf stared a moment longer, and then with a huff urged his horse into a gallop. “This human must be crazy,” Legolas muttered, as he rode away. It didn’t matter that this human was also completely accurate in his retelling of the tale.

The ranger watched as his friend left rather than remaining to argue further. “That means I’m right, doesn’t it?” Aragorn called out to the elf‘s quickly disappearing back. As expected, he received no answer, so he just sighed, shook his head and moved to catch up with the Mirkwood prince

TBC

A/N: Reminder: the dream doesn’t strictly follow Legolas's POV, as stated at the beginning of the previous chapter.

Chapter Thirteen

Legolas's dream was following the exact series of events, as they had played out in reality. He shifted in the bed, feeling that something might be coming that he hadn’t been able to remember. Perhaps, the dream would reveal to him what had happened to him in those woods. That thought made him shiver. He unconsciously slid down deeper under the covers, like a child who feared a monster was coming. He might have pulled the covers up over his head, if he’d known how right he was.

The elf, though apprehensive, let his mind continue with the dream. He had to know what had befallen him.

~*~*~

As he and Estel traveled down the path, the sun began to sink down below the cliff tops, plunging the forest into a light gloom that deepened with each passing minute. The sounds all around the two friends began shifting to those of the night. The day creatures were heading for their places of rest and safety, as the night hunters prepared to came out to begin their search for prey. Those prey, in turn, would soon use the darkness to hide their presence, as they hunted for their own food.

A large brown owl suddenly swooped down from the trees and flew across the path several yards in front of the riders. Wings spread wide, it silently glided toward a spot to the right. Extending its legs out in front of its feathered body, the bird spread its talons. The owl’s aim was deadly. It barely slowed, as it grabbed an unfortunate furry creature and then disappeared back into the leafy canopy., The screech of triumph echoed through the trees and then died away, as the winged hunter landed on a sturdy branch and began to devour its meal.

“That poor thing had no chance,” Aragorn commented.

“No, it did not.” Legolas looked at his friend. “One must die so another may live and feed their young. To be born and then killed by someone more powerful or cunning is often the cycle of life in this world.” He refrained from saying it was the cycle of mortal life. Yet, the fact that even immortal elves could be killed sometimes made them a small, though reluctant, part of that mortal cycle.

After a few moments of pondering the inevitabilities of mortality, Aragorn said, “I think we should stop and make camp. There’s a stream not far from here, in that direction.” He pointed to the right.

Legolas nodded, having heard the water rushing over the rocks of the stream bed half a mile back. He turned off the path and headed for it. He quickly scanned the area both upstream and down beside the flowing water before picking a spot that had an opening in the thick canopy of trees. Whenever he was the one to choose a campsite, he tried to make it in a place where he could look at the stars without having to climb to the top of a tree to do it. He often needed to be on the ground to patrol the perimeter of a campsite and be close in case of danger.

By the time they had dismounted, moonlight was shining into the little clearing. The moon was only half full, so there wasn’t as much light as they would have preferred in this dark forest, but at least, there was light enough to see by.

Legolas turned to Aragorn. “Do we make a fire?”

“Yes. It’s safe enough. I’ve never seen any signs that orcs have ever even been in this forest.”

“There are other dangers besides orcs,” the elf reminded his companion.

“I know. Don’t worry,” Estel grinned, “I won’t let any big brown owls come and carry you away.” He laughed and slapped the archer on the back. He began looking around for some wood to build the fire. They hadn’t been able to have one for the last three days, in an effort to escape notice from unfriendly eyes---or noses. It would be nice to enjoy the warmth a blaze would provide. It was springtime, but the nights were still rather chilly. Of course, that didn’t effect Legolas, something the elf was fond of reminding his friend.

Legolas, as usual, tended the horses. He removed the packs, throwing Estel’s to him and dropping his own nearby. He took the saddle and bridle off of the ranger’s dark brown stallion and then removed the soft leather bridle from his own horse. He never used a saddle. Both horses followed him down to the stream and drank their fill. In the elven tongue, Legolas told them to eat all the grass they wanted but to stay close. They both nickered softly, as he stroked their necks and then pushed them away, gently slapping both on their rumps. The elf retuned to the clearing.

Aragorn was sitting down and looking through his pack. After a seemingly fruitless search, he slammed the pack down on the ground. “I don’t believe this,” he wailed.

Legolas stared at him. “What is it you do not believe?” He couldn’t imagine what the man was so upset about. Then, he said, “Did you use up all your pipe weed?” Anyone who knew Aragorn, knew how much he loved his pipe. Legolas hated the foul weed, but he didn’t begrudge Estel his enjoyment of it.

“No. I forgot to replenish the lembas.” He sighed loudly in exasperation. “This morning we finished off the last of the food we purchased two weeks ago, and now with no backup food there’s nothing to eat.”

Legolas burst out laughing. “An unprepared ranger. I wonder how Elladan and Elrohir will react to that piece of news.”

Aragorn pointed his finger at the elf and narrowed his eyes. “Don’t you dare say one word to them about this. I couldn’t bear to hear about this for the rest of my days. And, you know that’s exactly what will happen.” There was a look of dread on his face.

“I will have to think about it.” Legolas paused and rubbed his chin, frowning in thought. “I am sure there is something you can do for me to buy my silence.”

“Buy your silence?” Aragorn squawked. “Why you backstabbing son of a....”

“King is the word you are looking for,” Legolas supplied smugly. He had the ranger in a bind, and he intended on making the most of it. “We can discuss a ‘deal’ at a later time.” He grinned wickedly. “Perhaps now, you should make us something on which to cook dinner.”

Aragorn just glowered at him. “What dinner?”

The elf took pity on the poor mortal, but not so much that he stopped himself from laughing again. "We are in a forest, Estel, there is food all around us.” He shook his head. “I will get us something to eat. Do not worry. You will not starve. You just tend to your little fire." His tone was patronizing but held a large measure of amusement.

Aragorn felt slightly foolish. No, he felt very foolish. He had been so angry with himself about the lembas that the idea of hunting for food had simply not entered his head. How ridiculous was that? No wonder Legolas was so amused and threatening to tell his brothers about this whole sorry incidenr. It was such a little thing really, yet he groaned inwardly to think again of what those twin terrors would do with that knowledge. They could take the smallest, most innocent of happenings and turn it into something that resembled a catastrophe. In the end, though, the ranger couldn’t help but laugh at himself.

Legolas had taken a few steps back and crossed his arms over his chest. He was watching, as Aragorn took several of the sturdy sticks he had gathered and began trimming them down. When he had finished, he took three of them, crossed them near the ends with a leather strip so that they formed a triangle. He did this with another set of three sticks. He set each pair on opposite sides of the fire. He got another branch that was long enough to reach each set of sticks. Whatever Legolas came back with would be skewered on the top stick, laid across the end pieces and roasted over the fire. The man’s mouth began to water just thinking about it.

“Well?” Aragorn asked, when he looked up and saw the elf just standing there, staring at him. “I thought you were long gone. Did you decide you lacked the skills to find something for us to eat?”

Legolas snorted. “As if that is ever going to happen,” he muttered so low he couldn’t be sure if Aragorn heard him or not. In a normal voice, he said, “I wanted to wait and see what you were going to make, so I would know what to catch.“ Eyeing the structure critically, he said, “A rabbit, I think.” With that declaration, he disappeared soundlessly into the dark forest.

The elf unslung his bow and fitted an arrow to it, as he headed away from the camp. He would be ready to down any edible creature that made its presence known to the elf’s keen senses.

Since he had mentioned a rabbit to Estel, he was hoping that was what he would be able to find and triumphantly bring back. He wasn’t above trying to get the best of his friend whenever the situation presented itself, providing the circumstances allowed for humor and were not overly serious in nature. To this end, he stopped every few yards to focus on the sounds around him.

Despite the recent humorous exchanges between himself and Estel the foreboding Legolas had been feeling was far from gone, but right now, beyond being alert to danger, he knew he had to concentrate on the immediate goal of finding something for dinner. He was not going to spend time trying to find a rabbit to the exclusion of any other food source.

The darkness wasn’t total yet, so his elven eyes pulled in all the bits of light that were available, making the surrounding forest appear to him as early twilight. It was only in absolute darkness, with no light to draw from, that the elf’s vision was rendered as useless as a mortal’s was in the darkness of an ordinary night.

Moving swiftly and yet with confidence in the unfamiliar forest, Legolas approached a particularly dense grouping of trees. After taking several more steps forward, he stopped suddenly.

Hearing something behind and slightly to the right of him, he turned around in time to see a large white rabbit scamper across his line of sight, moving right to left. Legolas grinned. It would indeed be rabbit for dinner.

The creature, running full tilt, disappeared behind the closest tree before the archer could fire. Legolas frowned that even with his incredible elven speed, he couldn’t get a shot off in time to bring it down. With a determination that this creature was not going to get away, he started after it.

Legolas was running after the rabbit as fast as he could go between the trees. He was as nimble as the rabbit and kept the little creature in sight but couldn’t stop long enough to aim his bow. The trees were too close together and allowed no opening for him to get a decent shot away. He tried that once and lost the rabbit for a moment before his keen sight picked up movement several yards father along. He kept his bow armed by firmly holding the arrow in place with his forefinger, as he gripped the bow in his left hand. He ran on.

Suddenly, the elf came around a large oak and saw a small clearing in front of him. He slowed and raised his bow before even spotting the rabbit. Then, he saw that the creature was just about to dash behind a tree on the other side of the clearing, when the archer fired. A direct hit.

He walked over to the fallen creature. Thoughts of roasted rabbit came to mind, and he smiled. Maybe, on the way back to camp he could spot some mushrooms or perhaps some edible berries to accompany the meat. He had hardly had the time to survey his surroundings for delicacies while dashing after the rabbit.

Just as Legolas started to reach down and pick the rabbit up, he stopped. His intuitive senses were now screaming at him that something was wrong---terribly wrong. The feeling was so strong, he couldn’t stifle a sharp intake of breath.

Before he could do more than register the feeling of intense dread that struck him full force, there was a noise behind him. He whirled around and was greeted by a flash of light in front of him that was so bright he had to turn his head away and put his right arm up to shield the painful assault on his eyes.

~*~*~

As he slept, Legolas felt very strongly that there was something frightening in or beyond the bright light that had flashed in front of him. He was poised on the very edge of finding out what that was. He knew it would take strength of will on his part to face it, but he was a warrior, one of the Firstborn, so he would meet this unknown terror with as much courage and dignity as he could muster.

The light vanished and to his utter surprise, he stared into---darkness. He frowned in frustration. Was the darkness part of what had really happened or was it just his own mind, afraid to reveal the truth about his experience in the forest. If it was the latter, it must have been something truly terrifying for his mind to hide that knowledge from the consciousness of someone as strong as he was.

Legolas clenched his fists, gripping the bed linen tightly in both hands. He found himself experiencing a fear he had never known before, and that alone frightened him even more.

TBC

Chapter Fourteen

Like someone searching a deep black cave without a torch, Legolas's mind cast itself through the darkness, probing relentlessly. The truth was there. He was sure of it, and he was determined to find it.

As he continued to search, a light appeared in the far distance. Then, without warning he felt himself being propelled forward at an alarming rate until he suddenly burst into the light.

~*~*~

The brilliance faded leaving only a soft glow, and Legolas found himself in the same clearing where he had shot the rabbit. With his elven sight, the clearing now appeared almost as bright as would a cloudy day under the trees. To confirm to himself that he was in the same place he remembered, he looked down to see the rabbit lying on the ground in the same spot where he had last seen it.

Feeling the hair on the back of his neck  rise, Legolas looked up and saw a strange elf, dressed all in black, standing several feet from him. He had never seen this individual before nor had he seen any elf that looked remotely like him. The elf had black hair and black eyes to match. Even his skin was darker than any elf Legolas had ever seen. he knew immediately that this was no ordinary elf.

Because of the black clothing, it took Legolas several moments of close head to toe examination of the elf before he noticed the black snake wrapped around the stranger's left arm. With its head resting on the back of the elf's hand near the base of his fingers the whole thing gave the appearance of being a large elaborate bracelet. Legolas couldn't tell if it was real or not.

The dark elf, who had waited patiently for Legolas to finish his examination, now smiled. "I see you have noticed my pet. Beautiful, is he not?"

*So, it is real,* Legolas thought. Ignoring the question about the snake, he dragged his eyes from the serpent and moved them up to the other elf's face. There was something in those black eyes that Legolas didn't trust. He wasn't sure what it was, but he kept his guard firmly in place. "Who are you?"

Deciding, for the moment, to humor the young elf by answering his question, the dark one said, "My name is Mordraug." He waited for a reaction, but when none was forthcoming, he said, "Have you not heard of me?" He watched closely to see if Legolas was making an effort to hide any recognition he might have had.

The archer shook his head. "No. Should I have?"

*So, Thranduil has not told his son about me and what happened in Greenwood, when this one was just an elfling.* Mordraug knew that no matter where this conversation led, he would have the immense pleasure of revealing the truth to this Thranduilion. To Legolas, he said, "I thought perhaps my old friend, Thranduil, might have told you about me."

Legolas's curiosity had suddenly peeked. He couldn't help but be aware of a prickling feeling in the back of his mind. "You know my father?"

"Thranduil and I go a very long way back. I have not seen him in many centuries. How does he fare?"

The remarks and the question sounded innocent enough, almost friendly, but Legolas's instincts were telling him that all was not as it seemed. For one thing, he felt an unexplained stab of fear at the mention of his father. Also, he wondered if this elf was the reason for the uneasiness he had been experiencing, since first laying eyes on this forest. He asked, "How do you know who I am?"

Mordraug laughed. "I know a great many people and a great many things."

That enigmatic reply didn't exactly answer Legolas's question. He decided not to pursue that subject for now. The blond elf decided instead to try and get some information from this elf and see where it led. Therefore, in a neutral tone, he said, "My father is well. Did you often visit Mirkwood?"

"Ah, I had forgotten that the name has changed. It was called Greenwood the Great, during my times there."

"That was indeed a very long time ago---before Dol Guldûr." It was Legolas's turn to observe the other elf's face. He was looking for a reaction to the mention of one of Sauron's strongholds, even though almost twenty years ago the Necromancer had been driven out by the forces of the White Council and was now rebuilding Barad-dûr in northwest Mordor.

Taking a chance that his next remark might be offensive, he said, "I am sure my father would have mentioned you, if the two of you had truly been friends." Did he see a quick flare-up of anger in the other elf’s dark eyes? He pressed on. "Where have you been for all these centuries that you have lost touch?"

A shadow crossed Mordraug's face at the question. His dark eyes flashed in anger once again. The elder elf took a deep breath. He didn’t want to let this young elf bait him, even if it might be unintentional, though Mordraug figured that as Thranduil’s son, the prince would likely be both intelligent and clever.

Then, he thought *Why not? Let us get everything out in the open.* That decision made, the Avari said, "I was forced into seclusion---by your father." With a snarl, he added, "He is the reason I have been gone from this land for almost two thousand years!" His voice rose, as he made this last declaration.

Legolas immediately tensed even more, seeing that the pretense at friendliness was gone. This elf was definitely what he had been dreading. His fear began to rise, and fear for his father was increasing accordingly. Revenge was in the dark elf's manner. Legolas could read that as clearly as if Mordraug had actually said the words.

Legolas's eyes widened when the snake, who had until now been inert, lifted up and hissed, sending its forked tongue flicking rapidly in and out of its mouth. It hissed again and swayed slightly, seeming to dislike the aroma that it was encountering with its sensitive tongue. Had the scent of honor and goodness upset the creature?

Too late, Legolas heard a noise behind him. Before he could turn around to see what it was, hands on both sides of him grabbed both of his arms and pinned them firmly to his sides. He tried to pull free but his struggles went for naught. Attempting to kick his captures only resulted in both arms being painfully squeezed and twisted until he was forced to stop struggling. He looked to each side, noting that both beings who held him were orcs much larger than he was. He chided himself for being so distracted by the snake that he hadn't heard the less than graceful orcs approach him. He was sure that Mordraug had counted on just that.

Finally, realizing he was not going to get loose, Legolas ignored the orcs and turned his own anger toward the dark-haired elf in front of him. Much to his consternation, his anger was tempered with a fear that was stronger than he could ever remember feeling before, from orcs such as these or from the giant spiders that inhabited southern Mirkwood. Even wargs had never frightened him so. He fought hard to control the trembling that began to invade his body. He knew he hadn't been successful, when he heard both orcs laugh. It was obvious they were taking pleasure in his fear.

Mordraug walked up closer to Legolas. He stared into the younger elf's blue-gray eyes. "Your father rules the forest realm that should have been mine. He tried to destroy me, when I went to Greenwood to reclaim it. He stole it from me."

"He stole nothing from you or anyone else. My father rules because he was Oropher’s heir. You have no right to our land." Fear was not keeping this prince from having his say. He had never run from anything in his life, and he wasn't about to start now. For the moment, anger overrode the fright he felt.

"You know nothing," Mordraug declared dismissively. "Oropher took what did not belong to him. He was killed, a death much too easy for him. I tried to kill Thranduil, but the coward brought his powerful friends and warrior guards to protect him."

"My father is not a coward!" Legolas's voice rose in anger. He took several breaths to calm himself. He didn't want to lose control in front of this elf. It wasn't just pride that made him repeat what he had said much more quietly. "My father is not a coward." He couldn't afford to antagonize this dark elf into doing something drastic. It was just too dangerous, though in truth, he believed that Mordraug’s course of action had already been well planned.

"I would expect you to defend him. You learned at his knee, did you not? Nevertheless, I know the truth." Mordraug's calmness was derived from the fact he totally believed what he was saying, not to mention that he certainly had the upper hand in this current situation.

Again the snake began to hiss and flick its tongue. Mordraug smiled. It was a cold smile, completely devoid of warmth. "He likes you," the dark elf said in a deceptively silky voice, stroking the serpent's head affectionately. "Perhaps, the two of you should get to know each other better." Mordraug moved even closer to the blond archer. There was a palpable evil that emanated from the pair.

Legolas clenched his teeth. His instinct was to move backwards, away from the hideous reptile, but he forced himself to remain in place. His heart may be full of trepidation, but he didn't want to display it to the elf he faced. It wasn’t until a few seconds later that he remembered he couldn`t have moved if he tried.

The younger elf's attempt at bravery didn't fool Mordraug, as he said, "I see you fear my pet." With a level gaze, he added in a tone so cold, it almost froze Legolas where he stood. "You should fear him." Those words sent shivers down Legolas's spine.

"Thranduil will soon suffer an agonizing death. Too bad you did not see the others die, like...." Mordraug was clearly going to say more but stopped short. He decided he would save that bit of news for a later time. "If you had watched them writhe and heard them scream, you would truly know terror beyond comprehension. When you die, Thranduil will suffer such an agonizing loss of one more he loves before he also dies. You, my little prince, will bring him to me, to watch you die and meet his own end."

Had ice fallen from Mordraug's lips or frosty air poured forth on his breath, Legolas would not have been surprised. The words were spoken with a cold hatred that seemed to chill the air around them.

What had this dark elf meant when he said that Thranduil will suffer such an agonizing loss of one more he loves? Legolas's first thought was of his mother. But, what had her death to do with Mordraug? The archer didn't understand, so he concluded there was no connection.

The snake hissed yet again, and Legolas turned his attention back to it. He couldn't keep his eyes off of the serpent so close to his face. Ridiculous as it seemed, the snake looked as though it was smiling at him, imitating its master, the look in its eyes just as frigid. An involuntary shiver went down Legolas's spine once more. At that moment, he felt more fear for his father than he did for himself. "I will never betray my father," Legolas finally said in defiance to the dark elf.

"I think you have no choice in the matter. Your father will come to me to try and save you, but his pathetic attempt to do so will be in vain."

Legolas tried to analyze Mordraug's plan and come up with a plan of his own to stop the evil elf before he could make good on his intentions. Legolas's heart fell, because he knew there was truly nothing he could do to intervene. Nothing in all of Middle-earth would keep his father from coming to save him, and they would both die horribly, or so Mordraug had said, and the archer had no reason to doubt him.

The Avari looked up at the orcs that held Legolas tightly in their grasp. He nodded his head toward them.

While one orc moved behind Legolas and pulled his arms around so that he alone could hold their captive, the other orc grabbed Legolas's jaw and jerked it down and quickly shoved his fingers in each corner of the elf's mouth and held it open. The very thought of the foul creature's fingers in his mouth made Legolas's stomach lurch. He almost gagged. He tried to bite down on the claw-like fingers but couldn't quite manage it. The attempt brought a painful squeeze on both of this arms from the orc that held him from behind.

Legolas was terrified. He didn't know, at first, what Mordraug was going to do. He tried to jerk his head away, but as was the case with his arms, it was held firmly in place. He couldn't imagine why his mouth was being held open like this. His mind reeled, and his heart pounded, as it raced within his chest. His breathing became shallow and rapid.

Legolas knew that the vile reptile was not there just to intimidate him. He was certain it was poisonous, and he was just as certain that he was going to get bitten. After all the years as a warrior fighting in numerous battles, defending his home, family and friends, was he now about to die from a snake bite? The thought was ludicrous, so his mind tried to reject it. It didn't work.

The snake unwound the top portion of its body from Mordraug's arm and extended its head toward the elf. Hissing loudly, it flicked its tongue against Legolas's face.

The elf was repulsed by the touch of the forked tongue that felt like cold, wet leather on his skin. He clenched his eyes tightly shut, knowing he couldn't move out of the serpent's reach. It continued to flick its tongue, up and down his neck, along his jaws and cheeks, across his forehead and along the edge of one of his sensitive ears and even over his closed eyes. That alone made the elf cringe in revulsion. But, it wasn't until its tongue flicked into his open mouth and touched his own tongue with its cold, wet one that nausea came close to overwhelming him. However, he knew he would most likely only end up choking himself, so with a monumental effort, he forced the nausea down to a manageable level.

Suddenly, the flicking stopped. Legolas waited a moment and then slowly opened his eyes. He was greeted by the sight of the snake staring at him with its unblinking yellow eyes. It began to move side to side, undulating, as it rose higher into the air. It's movements were slow and hypnotic, its head moving in counterpoint to its swaying body. Side to side. Right to left and back again. Legolas was so mesmerized that he couldn't have taken his eyes off of it had he been suddenly set free and told to run.

When the snake was as high as it could get while still keeping the back half of its body wrapped firmly around Mordraug’s arm, its eyes flashed with an eerie red inner glow, and then it lunged down at the young elf’s face.

In a lightning strike that was no more than a black blur, the serpent's sharp needle-like fangs embedded themselves in the soft tissue under Legolas's tongue. His eyes went wide with pure terror, as he felt a fiery liquid being injected into his flesh. *This cannot be happening! Dear Elbereth, please, help me!*

He tried to scream, but only a gurgling sound came out. Yet, in his mind the screaming was full blown and continuous. He thought his heart would stop, and right then, he wasn't so sure he didn't wish it to do so.

The serpent withdrew its fangs, folding them back against the roof of its mouth. It moved backwards, slithering slowly, as it wrapped its body back around the dark elf's arm. The serpent lowered itself so that only its head was raised. It continued to stare at the woodland elf.

The sharp pain from the snake's bite intensified, causing Legolas's whole mouth to feel like it was on fire. But, he had no defense against it, nor against the venom he knew was now beginning to course through his veins. His whole body shook violently, as somewhere in a distant, detached part of his brain he again wondered if this was the way he was going to die.

*Ada!* Legolas was calling for salvation from the one person he had counted on his entire life. The silent cry went unheard.

Mordraug couldn't help but laugh at the distress of the young Mirkwood prince, son of the elven king he despised. The dark elf had waited a very long time for this portion of his revenge. It pleased him to see such pain and terror and to know that it was he and his pet, who had caused it. How delicious this was.

However, torturing this young one was not his main goal, so the joy he felt, as great as it was, would only be complete, when Thranduil watched the body of this beloved youngest child being twisted and deformed in excruciating agony until it was unrecognizable, just as it had happened with his mother all those centuries ago. Then finally, seeing Thranduil die that same way would be the crowning glory to his years of rage, frustration and planning. How delicious that would be.

Mordraug had waited almost two millennia for his opportunity, and it was now within his grasp. He licked his lips, as he savored the anticipation of his ultimate revenge. *Oh yes, that will be worth waiting for.*

On a silent command from Mordraug, the orcs let go of Legolas, but the young elf did not fall. He felt as if his body was suspended in midair. Everything began to swim around him, swirling in waves of distortion. Had he not known better, and he really couldn't be sure of anything at this point, he would have believed he was looking at the world through a curtain of moving water. Was he the one actually moving or was the world the one that was spinning? He didn't have the answer nor, at that moment, did he have the mental capacity to figure it out.

The last thing the Wood elf heard was Mordraug's almost hysterical laughter accompanied by the hissing of the snake. Both sounds fused together and echoed through his mind.

Legolas suddenly felt himself being propelled rapidly again, only this time he was moving backwards, away from the light that was swiftly fading into the distance. He was soon greeted again by total darkness.

Then, his shattered mind shut down and all awareness ceased.

TBC

Chapter Fifteen

Aragorn woke up just as the first rays of the rising sun peeped over the far garden wall. The golden light shone into the room through the balcony doorway. It was faint at first but it quickly grew in intensity. The man was in shadow, and it took a moment for him to get his bearings.

His first cognizant thought was that he was not in a bed. He glanced around him and saw that he was slumped down in a green and white brocade chair. It was one of the chairs in Legolas's room. He had obviously never made it to his own room last night.

His next realization was that he ached. He shook his head and laughed softly. He was a ranger, used to spending the night in conditions far worse than a soft chair, yet his body ached all over. He decided it was because he hadn’t been able to really lay out flat. Sitting up on the edge of the chair, he now languidly stretched his muscles out, arms, legs, and back, groaning as he did so. He even stretched the fingers on both hands. All of this was accompanied by several huge yawns.

Looking toward the large bed, he was fully expecting to see Legolas, lying where he had last seen him. The bed was empty, which brought a frown to the man’s face. The elf should have still been sound asleep, considering how exhausted, both physically and emotionally, he had been the night before.

Aragorn decided that his friend must have gone down for an early breakfast and hadn’t wanted to disturb him. *Ever the considerate elf,* Aragorn mused. *I’ll go join him.* He briefly wondered if Thranduil would be there. He decided to hurry, in case Legolas needed him for moral support, though he knew he really needed to let the father and son work out their problem in private. That last thought didn’t slow him down any, though. Besides, breakfast in the dining hall could hardly be considered private.

Aragorn headed for the door. When he pushed down on the handle, he was expecting the door to open and himself to continue on through. Instead, he slammed up against the hard wood, causing a painful surprise. The door hadn’t budged. He rubbed his throbbing nose, as he found that the the door was still bolted. Even a clever elf like Legolas couldn’t bolt a door front he outside. Turning back around, he now made his way to the balcony. That was the only other place the elf could be.

As he emerged onto the balcony, now drenched in early morning sunshine, he saw no evidence of Legolas's presence there. He turned and looked to the left where the wooden flower box, containing Legolas's favorite blue flowers, stood. No elf there. He then looked to his right. No elf there, either.

Puzzled he walked to the edge of the balcony, placed his hands down on the stone railing and stared down into the garden. He was standing a good thirty feet off the hard ground below. No elf would risk injury by attempting a jump that far, unless it was an act of pure desperation. He didn’t think that could be the case here. However, he couldn’t keep a feeling of concern from entering his mind.

Aragorn decided that standing there wasn’t going to find his friend. As he turned to go and see if he could locate the missing archer, his vision swept past the right side of the balcony. He had already looked there, but now his eyes came to rest on a figure huddled down in the back corner. It was Legolas, and Aragorn had almost missed seeing him.

The elf had his legs pulled up tight against his chest with his arms wrapped around them. The right side of his head was resting on his knees, and he was staring across the balcony toward the flower box. His loose hair hid most of his face, as it fell like a golden curtain down to his ankles. Only his eyes were visible, and they were unfocused. He didn’t appear to see Aragorn, who at first thought the elf was asleep. This conclusion soon changed, when he noticed that the elf’s whole body was shaking uncontrollably.

Aragorn rushed over and knelt beside his friend. He reached out and took a handful of sunlight-colored hair and put it behind the elf‘s left ear, the same way Thranduil had done the day before. “Legolas. What is it? What’s wrong?”

Slowly Legolas's eyes focused, but he didn’t move his head or look up. “I...I know what happened, Estel.” He looked to be in shock, and his soft voice quavered, reinforcing that notion.

Estel thought that he was referring to him learning what had happened to his mother. He quickly shook off that idea. This reaction was far too intense to be a continuation of that occurrence. “What do you mean?” When the elf didn’t answer, he said more softly. “Please tell me what happened.”

Aragorn put his hand on the elf’s back and felt the trembling body. Quivering was the word that came to the ranger’s mind.

It was then Legolas looked up at the man, who almost jerked back at the horror he saw reflected there. His friend looked haunted...and frightened. Estel waited patiently, feeling that pushing too hard now might drive the elf’s obviously tenuous hold on his self-control over the edge.

Aragorn sat down beside Legolas, though facing him rather than sitting shoulder to shoulder.

Legolas lifted his head and stared straight out in front of him. “I had two dreams last night. One was of a time from my childhood while my Naneth was still alive. It was a happy dream.” There was a tiny smile at the memory. “The other was...“ He paused, closing his eyes briefly before opening them and continuing. “The other was a dream I did not bring forth deliberately. It began with the two of us on the ridge overlooking that valley forest.”

He looked at Aragorn and saw a frown cross the ranger’s face but could only guess at what his feelings were. He did see concern, but there was something else, as well. Was it anger?

Aragorn knew now what it was that Legolas had dreamed about. He had no idea what the details were, but he was sure it was about whatever Mordraug had done to him to cause first his deep coma and now the reaction he was witnessing. He became angry at the thought of what horrors that dark monster might have done to this gentle, ethereal soul beside him.

The man knew how hard it would be for Legolas to retell the story, but he also knew that it would be necessary to help him deal with it, just as he had needed to unburden himself the night before. Aragorn saw by the look on Legolas's face that he also understood the need to do so. Yet. it was clear he was reluctant to speak of something that was obviously so terrible.

Aragorn waited.

With a voice that trembled slightly, almost matching the tremors in his body, Legolas began. The story tumbled out, and Estel listened, becoming more and more shocked, as the tale unfolded. To the surprise of both, Legolas's voice, which had begun so softly and tentative, had become stronger as he talked. When he finished his story, he said, “That horrible snake licked my face and then bit me in my mouth, Estel. Can you imagine how terrifying that was?”

“No, Legolas, I truly can’t. I’d be lying to you if I said I did. It’s beyond any experience I’ve ever had or even heard of.” Then, Aragorn’s eyes went wide in realization. “So, that’s what you were doing that day out here on the balcony.”

Legolas looked at the ranger with a puzzled frown. “What are you talking about?”

When Estel explained the incident when Legolas had clawed in his mouth, the elf shuttered. “I must have been reliving that moment in the forest. It was worse than any nightmare you can imagine.”

Aragorn was horrified at the story Legolas had just told him, but he knew it best not to react too strongly. He didn’t want to add to the elf’s obvious pain and fear. He was sure that Legolas understood that. Instead he put a reassuring hand on the elf’s forearm, squeezed it gently, and said softly , “I wish I had been there to help you.”

Legolas shook his head. “You would have been a hindrance to Mordraug, and he would have killed you outright. I am glad you were not there.”

“I’m not so easy to kill.”

The elf gave Aragorn a small smile. “I am certainly glad for that.” But, he knew the ranger was aware of the truth of his previous words. The smile lasted only a second before his countenance changed, and he continued. “I thought I was going to die, when that snake bit me. I knew it was poisonous. I know now the kind of death I would have suffered.”

Again, he looked Estel in the eye. “I was poisoned the same way as all those others that Elrond told us about.” He couldn’t bring himself to mention that it was also the same way his mother had died. He still hadn’t come to terms with that. “So, if I was bitten by the same snake as the others, why did I not die, too?”

Aragorn thought about it for a moment. He had no idea how the poison could kill the others and not Legolas, though he was certainly happy that it hadn‘t. “I guess Mordraug can somehow control the poison. My father did say that the snake would do whatever Mordraug wanted him to do. With you still alive, he could threaten Thranduil with your death, if he didn’t do as he said. Dead you were no real use to him, because Thranduil wouldn‘t give up Mirkwood, if you were beyond rescuing. You were merely a hostage to get what he wanted.”

Legolas nodded. “But, he left me in the woods for you to find, and I am safe now. So, what Mordraug did to me has gone for naught. Letting me go does not make sense, Estel. There has to be more here than we know. I am sure of it.”

This time Aragorn had to agree with the elf. He was safe now, so how could that benefit Mordraug? It occurred to him that Elrond, Glorfindel and probably even Thranduil had the answer. As soon as Legolas got his emotions under control, Aragorn intended that they would find out.

“There is one thing that Mordraug either does not know or does not believe.”

“What’s that?”

“My father may want revenge, but he will not risk my life nor his own just for that. More than that, he would never turn his kingdom and all the elves that live there over to someone so evil, even if it meant the sacrifice of one of his children.” Legolas knew this for certain, though in that forest with Mordraug, he had been fearful that his father would stop at nothing to rescue him. As King, Thranduil was well aware that personal feelings to the side, Mirkwood had to come first. All his children had grown up with this knowledge.

It was after a few moments of silence that Aragorn told what he had done in the forest after Legolas had left the camp. “When it started getting late, and you hadn’t returned, I began to get very concerned. I tried to tell myself that it was just that you hadn’t caught anything and with your pride, you weren’t about to come back empty-handed. As time passed, though, I knew something was wrong, so I started searching. It took me hours in that dark place.”

He paused, thinking back on that night. “I finally found you, lying motionless in a small clearing. I tried and tried, but I couldn’t rouse you at all. I also couldn’t find any evidence of a wound or other injury. I carried you back to the campsite and continued to try and wake you. But, I never could get you to stir or even make a sound. I have to admit it scared me. I wanted to leave right then but knew that would be a bad move, and I would have to wait. So, at daybreak, I got you on your horse and brought you here to Rivendell, totally convinced my father could fix whatever was wrong. I’m so sorry. Legolas. This was all my fault.”

Legolas turned a bewildered gaze on his friend. “How is any of this your fault?”

Aragorn looked at the elf. “I was the one that made us go down that path. You were the one that wanted to go the other way. Remember?”

“And you think that was what caused Mordraug to find and attack me?”

“Yes.” The entire weight of all his guilt was evident in the ranger’s voice.

“You have been feeling this guilt the whole time I was unconscious.” Legolas's own voice held disbelief.

“Of course, I have. You just told me the horrors you endured. It was my fault, Legolas. I should have listened to you and taken the other path the way you wanted us to.”

Legolas shook his head and put his right hand over Estel’s hand that was still on his arm. “No, Estel. You are not to blame for any of this. Mordraug wanted me. He would have found me no matter where we went. Whichever path we took, even it we had not entered the forest at all and gone instead around the cliffs, he would have been waiting for me. Do you not see that?”

Aragorn had not considered this line of reasoning at all. He had known nothing of Mordraug until Elrond had informed them all of the dark elf’s presence the night before, so the man had just assumed that taking the right hand path in the forest had led to whatever had happened to his friend. Even after learning of Mordraug’s existence, he had not thought there was reason to alter his feelings of self-blame.

Legolas saw that Aragorn was struggling to come to terms with what he had just learned. When their eyes met, the elf said, “You have no blame in this, Estel, I promise you. It was Mordraug‘s doing and none other.”

Aragorn nodded, but Legolas had a feeling that the man had been so long in the throes of guilt that the elf would need to say it several more times before Estel completely accepted that fact. Legolas fully expected him to say. ‘I know you’re right, but...’

So, when Aragorn said, “I know you’re right, but...” Legolas couldn’t hold back a laugh. It was a small sound, hardly the volume or musical quality of the elf’s usual laughter, but it warmed the ranger’s heart nonetheless.

That warmth lasted mere seconds, as the haunted look soon returned to Legolas's eyes.

TBC

Chapter Sixteen

Legolas took a deep breath and unwound his arms. He pulled his body forward over his legs and rose up on his bare feet. The elf felt a moment of lightheadedness, but it wasn't enough to cause him to lose his balance, so he forced himself to ignore it. He particularly didn't want Estel to notice, or the man would try to convince him to go back to bed. At the least, he would have done his best to keep Legolas in his room.

When Estel also rose, Legolas said, "I must talk with my father. I have to get things settled with him first of all. This business with Mordraug cannot be dealt with properly, as long as tension hangs between us."

"Are you sure you're ready for that right now? You're not as steady on your feet, as you would have me believe."

So much for hiding his brief dizziness. The elf wasn't really surprised by Estel's remark. As a ranger, he had honed his skills of observation to a fine art. He had to. His life and that of others often depended on it, therefore little got by the ranger. Legolas was grateful his friend hadn't said more, so the elf just nodded in response to Aragorn’s question. "I have to be." He gave his friend a small smile of reassurance. "I will be all right, Estel." Then, he remembered the verbal exchange they had had in the forest, so he added, "And, it is not because of stubborn pride that I say this."

That remark brought a smile to the man's face. He gripped Legolas's shoulder, noting that, though lessened, tremors still ran through the elf's body. He decided not to comment on it. Getting into a verbal battle of wills with Legolas as fragile as he currently was would only cause more stress for him. His friend didn't need the aggravation. It was best to trust him and let him do whatever he felt he needed to do without an argument. Aragorn would just keep himself near to offer support, if and when it was needed.

"Do not be concerned, Estel. I will be with my father." Legolas turned and left the balcony.

*That's what worries me,* the man said to himself, knowing full well where Legolas's stubbornness came from. On more than one occasion, he had been witness to a battle of wills between Thranduil and his youngest son.

Legolas stopped in his room long enough to change shirts, discarding the rumpled blue one he had slept in and exchanging it for a fresh dove gray one. He then put on his soft suede shoes.

When the elf finished dressing, Aragorn called his name. "Legolas."

The elf turned and faced his friend. "Yes?"

With a grin, Aragorn said, "I saw the rabbit. I knew you wouldn't have come back to camp empty-handed."

Legolas appreciated the ranger's comment. He smiled and nodded, then turned and headed for the door, which was beyond Aragorn’s line of sight.

Aragorn heard no footsteps, of course, but he did hear the bolt on the door being pulled back. The door closed quietly, leaving the ranger alone to ponder all that Legolas had told him. He shivered at the mere thought of it. He also unconsciously put his hand up to his mouth. When he realized he had done it, he pulled it away and made a face like he had just eaten a bitter piece of fruit. He was glad he hadn't done that in Legolas's presence, though he doubted the elf would have faulted him for it.

Thinking again on the story, Aragorn knew that no words could describe the trauma such an experience must have caused Legolas. No wonder he was trembling. Aragorn felt that if that had happened to him, he probably wouldn't even be able to put two words together in a coherent thought. He once again admired his friend's strength of will.

He wondered if it was the venom itself that had sent the elf into a deep coma, or if Legolas's mind had driven his consciousness deep inside himself to protect him from the memory of what had been done to him. He would have to ask Elrond what he knew of it or at the least, his thoughts on the subject. His own idea was that it was probably both, though the venom held the edge. It was a thought that made him very nervous. He couldn't explain why he believed there was more heartache ahead---but he did.

Aragorn knew there was nothing more he could do while standing on the balcony, yet he found that he couldn't pull himself away, as his eye was drawn to the garden. He walked back to the railing and stood, watching the leaves on the trees gently swaying in the early morning breeze. It moved across the balcony, caressing his skin like a cool breath. He closed his eyes and held his face to the sun. Right here, right now his body felt calm and relaxed. So, why did his heart always seem to exist on the edge? He decided it was the state of the world he had to live in. Would evil ever leave them in peace in his lifetime?

~*~*~

Legolas walked down the hallway toward the room where he knew his father was staying while in Rivendell. He paused briefly in front of the large oak door. This was going to be difficult, and he didn't feel the least bit like having the kind of confrontation with Thranduil that he knew was coming, but it had to be done. He had meant what he told Estel. The business with Mordraug couldn't be dealt with properly, if there was tension remaining between him and his father.

With a deep sigh, Legolas knocked on the door. At first there was no answer. So, the young elf knocked again. There was still no answer. Along with the next knock, Legolas called out, "Ada. It is me."

It took no more that three seconds for the door to open. Thranduil's tall, lean yet muscular form stood in the doorway. The king regarded his son. The expression on his face was one that Legolas could not read. "May I come in?" he asked politely, after receiving no encouragement to do so from the elder elf.

Thranduil just nodded and stepped aside, so Legolas could enter the room. It was a room befitting a king. Half again as large as Legolas's own, it was decorated in white and gold. One end of the room was dominated by a large canopied bed and the opposite end contained a large fireplace surrounded by a sofa and several chairs. The pieces of furniture were plush and their wooden frames ornately carved. It was all much too elaborate for Legolas's simple tastes, but he had grown up with similar ostentation. knowing his father relished such luxurious decor.

The younger elf walked to the center of the room and then turned to face the elder elf. Legolas bowed is head and crossed his right arm over his chest, his fist over his heart. He held the pose for several seconds.

Thranduil was only mildly put out by the gesture. It was usually only performed by family members during very formal occasions. He certainly did not require it of his blood kin in private. Legolas had been doing that in similar circumstances most of his life. The King knew Legolas hadn't done it to hurt him. It was just his son's way of showing that things between them were not on a comfortable footing. It exasperated the king, but as always, he just accepted the gesture, since he had long ago forgone any comment on it. Thranduil sighed. This was not going to be easy.

Legolas's respectful recognition of his sovereign executed, the young elf lowered his arm and raised his head. Forgetting the elf before him was his King, Legolas now saw only his father. "We have to talk."

The two were now simply father and son and not king and subject, so Thranduil directed Legolas to the sofa. After the younger elf sat down on one end of it, Thranduil sat down next to him. They faced each other.

"I wish to apologize to you, Legolas," the woodland king began. "I have done much thinking on what transpired between us last evening."

"Do you think that an apology will make things right?"

"Not entirely. I certainly hope it will be a beginning." The King's voice was soft yet clear and strong.

"Why did you keep the manner of Naneth's death a secret from me all these years? Did I not deserve to know the truth?" Legolas's voice was anything but soft. It was louder than normal and tinged with anger.

"As I told you last evening, I did it to protect you."

"And, I told you that keeping secrets was not the way to protect me." Legolas stared straight into his father's blue-gray eyes so like his own.

Guilt and regret may have dominated Thranduil's emotions, but he did not flinch from his son's stern gaze. He was a king and never backed away from any situation, no matter how unpleasant.

"Tell me, Legolas, how would knowing the manner of your Naneth's death have done you any good? Would knowing the truth have allowed you to sleep better at night? Would it have made your remembrances of her fonder?" Thranduil did not want to be harsh in what he said, but it was the only thing that he knew to say to try and get his son to understand his motives.

Legolas shook his head. "No. It would not. Yet, you have always taught us that truth is its own reason for being and that truth, in the end, transcends any sadness or heartache that it may cause. You did not trust me to handle the truth. Why did you not follow your own teachings?"

"Believe me, Legolas, it was never a matter of trust. In this circumstance, I let my heart rule my head. I love you more than you can possibly imagine, and I had hoped to spare you such heartache. I admitted last evening that I was wrong, and I admit it again right now." It was only now that the sorrow Thranduil felt in his heart could be read in his expression.

Legolas felt for his father. He truly did, but there was one more thing he had to know. "Did my brothers and sisters know the truth?"

"Yes." Thranduil paused, and it was then that Legolas recognized that the word ‘yes’ that his father had just said sounded so much like the ‘yes’ Estel had said earlier, when he had admitted to Legolas that he had been feeling guilty, because he felt his decision in the forest had led to Mordraug's attack. If not for the difference in the voices themselves, Legolas wouldn't have been able to tell which one had spoken.

With a small start, Legolas realized that his father had continued with the explanation. "They were much older. You were but a young elfling."

"And, the secret could easily be kept from me."

A nod confirmed Legolas's reasoning. In his own defense, Thranduil said, "I did try to tell you several times, when you were older, but I never could bring myself to do it. I just wanted to forget the horror of it and remember her the way she had been during our life together. It is hard to let one event, no matter how deeply wrenching, ruin the memory of so many centuries of happiness. For you it was different. You had only a little time with her. I did not want the few memories you held tainted with the horror of what happened. I would do it differently today, but I cannot change the past." This explanation was the best way Thranduil knew to express his reasons for what he had done.

Tears sprang to Thranduil's eyes then, but he refused to let them fall. The one thing he did not want to do was let his tears sway Legolas. His son had to forgive him or not based on Legolas's feelings about what his father had just told him and not on emotional display, however unwanted and unintended it was.

The elder Wood elf watched Legolas's face closely and saw the various emotions playing across his handsome features. He thought, as he often did, of how beautiful Legolas was, even among a race of beautiful beings. He also marveled again that his Little One had a heart and soul to match.

Thranduil knew how upsetting it would be if this precious child that he had raised and loved with all his heart could never forgive him. He tried so hard not to think that a foolish, though well-intentioned, decision he had made so very many years ago could come back to break his heart now. He waited, almost afraid to hear what Legolas would say.

Legolas had listened to everything his father had said. He also watched the King's face and body language very closely. Thranduil was basically honest and straightforward. However, as a king, he had found that on occasion it was prudent to be less than forthright in some of his dealings with those from other realms. It was a necessary game that Thranduil felt he was sometimes forced to play to protect Mirkwood. After thousands of years of doing it, he had become quite good at it.

Legolas knew his father very well. He was one of the few who could tell when Thranduil was being genuine and when he had what Legolas called his ‘Kingly Mask' in place. It was a mask Thranduil virtually never used when dealing with his own people. One thing Legolas knew for certain: no matter what game Thranduil played, once he had given his word, he kept it.

Legolas saw no deception in the elder elf before him. His father had truly spoken from his heart. He also hadn't missed the misty eyes his father had tried so hard to hide. Without a word being spoken, Legolas reached out and wrapped his arms around his father’s shoulders. "I love you, Ada, and I forgive what you did."

Thranduil returned the embrace. It was only then that the elven King let the tears roll down his cheeks. His son had forgiven him. Nothing in all the world right then could have given him more joy. There would be many that knew the King of Mirkwood as temperamental, difficult and fierce, who would be very surprised, if they could have see him at that moment.

After a moment spent in the silence, Legolas pulled away. He made no remark about the tears he saw on his father's face. "Let us go down to breakfast together."

"I would like nothing better," Thranduil said with a large smile.

Legolas got up from the sofa and started toward the door. He paused when his father said, "I have to put on a robe a little more formal than this." He swept his hand down the front of his clothing. "Wait for me in the hall. I will join you shortly."

The young elf smiled. His father was already wearing a robe fine enough to impress most people, but it did not satisfy Thranduil. Legolas knew that his father also needed to dry his tear-stained face. He nodded and left the room.

Legolas walked out into the hall and stood and waited for his father to join him. He had forgiven Thranduil and had no intention of dwelling on what he considered a closed subject. He couldn't keep a smile from crossing his face. It felt good to get that settled. In truth, it would have broken his heart, as well, to be at odds with his Ada much longer.

Such were his thoughts, when unbidden, the dream and the snake's attack sprang to the forefront of his mind. Most times he was good at forcing unpleasant thoughts from his consciousness and ignoring them for as long as he needed to. This wasn't going to one of those times. It was just too traumatic to stay hidden for long. The settling of the difficulty between himself and his father had allowed for the more intense thoughts to spring forward.

As if triggered by the memory, a searing, white hot pain exploded through his whole body. It was so sudden that his knees buckled and it forced the air from his lungs.

He soon found himself on his hands and knees, head hanging down, panting for breath. During his long life, he had sustained wounds, burns, broken bones, animal bites and other types of injuries, all of which had been painful. However, this pain was unlike any he had ever experienced before. Agony had blasted through every fiber of his being all at once. Every nerve in his body was screaming. It felt as if he was being consumed by flames.

TBC

Chapter Seventeen

Legolas would have screamed, if he had had the breath to do so. He was certain that the flames were devouring his flesh. He almost laughed when he found himself wondering if he was going to set the house on fire. What strange things the mind contemplates, when the body is dying.

Aragorn was just walking out of Legolas's room when he almost ran straight into Elrond, Elladan and Elrohir. He pulled up short and stared at each of them, obviously a little startled.

Before he could speak, Elrohir said, “We wanted to check with you about Legolas, but since you were not in your room, we decided you must be here.”

“How is Legolas?” Elrond asked. His tone was neutral, though his face reflected an expression of deep concern. Of the four present, he was the only one that knew the full truth about the poison in Legolas's body.

“He’s with Thranduil, trying to sort things out between them.” There was a tone in Estel’s voice that indicated he wanted to say more. It was clear to his father and brothers that he was agitated.

His son hadn’t really answered the question asked, so Lord Elrond just raised his eyebrows. Estel knew very well what that gesture meant. He had certainly seen it often enough, so he continued, saying what he had started to say before. “Legolas had a dream and relived everything that happened in the forest. It was horrible, and he now knows it all.”

Down at the other end of the hall, Legolas's name was shouted out. The three elves and the human were startled and looked toward the sound. They saw Legolas in the middle of the corridor on his hands and knees. Thranduil was rushing to his side. They all took off at a dead run toward the two blond-haired wood elves.

Suddenly, Legolas heard his name echoing from somewhere above him. He felt hands gripping him. Why would someone risk burning themselves by touching him? His eyes were tightly shut of their own accord, so he couldn’t see who it was. He then felt himself pulled over onto strong arms, lifted up and carried. In seconds---or was it hours?---he was laid out on something soft. Had whoever picked him up put out the flames? It didn’t feel like it.

He then heard more voices, talking excitedly. He couldn’t make out a single word that was being spoken. The sounds were vague, like those being whipped around by a strong wind.

He became aware that he was thrashing and tossing, trying to escape the pain. But, he knew there was no where to go to get away from it. His mind hadn’t told his body to move. It was the burning agony that was driving the movements, giving his body commands of their own.

Elrond looked toward Elladan and Elrohir, who were on the opposite side of the bed and trying to hold their elven friend still. They were only marginally successful. The elf Lord put his hand on Legolas's forehead, knowing exactly what he would find. “He is burning up,” he stated with concern.

Legolas nodded. There it was. Confirmation that he really was burning. He felt his charred flesh being pulled from his bones every time he moved under the hands that were holding him. But, he could not stop. The horrid thought came to him that if this continued, soon there would be nothing left of him. *Put out the flames. Please, put out the flames!* he begged, though he couldn't be sure, if he had spoken out loud or not.

The pain was excruciating, yet Legolas's mind still functioned somewhat clearly. How was that possible? He was being burned alive, wasn‘t he? Surely his mind would soon fly away with no body left for it to inhabit.

“He was fine a moment ago,” Thranduil said, his voice betraying his near panic. “We embraced. He had no fever. Nothing was wrong. I would have known.” He looked worriedly at Elrond. There was also a knowing look in his eyes, and that look was pleading for the elf Lord to tell him that what he knew to be true really wasn‘t.

The look was not missed by Aragorn. “You know something.” He tried to keep an accusatory tone from his voice. It wasn’t easy. He was aware Thranduil and his father knew more than they let on, and he was desperate to find out what it was.

The flames were suddenly gone. They hadn‘t died down, they had just vanished. *Thank the Valar.* Legolas's gratitude was short-lived as cold fingers of ice began to creep through his body. It now felt like icy mountain water was flowing through his veins. Right behind the cold came the numbness, and he realized that he was shivering violently. Elves didn’t shiver, because they didn’t get cold. Not like this. So, why was this happening to him? He didn’t understand. But, understand or not, it could not be denied. It was a totally new sensation for him, and he didn’t like it.

All eyes turned to Legolas then, as the elf‘s body shook with the reaction to the cold that had now gripped his body. It seemed as if mere seconds had passed, when his skin began to take on a bluish hue.

It was Aragorn this time who felt of the elf’s forehead. Legolas's skin was soft, but it otherwise felt like a piece of marble that had been left out in the snow. It felt like...death. Aragorn shook his head to banish that word from his mind. He didn’t know what was happening, but he refused to believe that his friend was dying. Not Legolas.

Aragorn grabbed for the bedcovers to wrap around Legolas's shivering form. “He’s freezing.”

Elrond stayed his hands. “That will not help, Estel. The cold comes from the inside.”

The ranger looked at this father. “What is happening to him? How can he be burning up one minute and freezing the next? It makes no sense,” he wailed in desperation.

“Yes, Estel, it does,” Elrond replied. “Fire and ice. Remember I told you last night.”

“It is Mordraug,” Thranduil declared angrily, his eyes never leaving Legolas's face. “He is doing this to my son.”

Aragorn looked again from one elder elf to the other. He was totally bewildered. How could Mordraug possibly be in control of what was now happening to Legolas? He was many miles away. He looked at his twin brothers, but they wore expressions as bewildered as his own.

Legolas began gasping for air. He knew his lungs were ceasing to function because of the cold. They, along with every other vital organ in his body, was freezing into a silent stillness. He was completely aware of his impending death, as his physical being continued its advancement toward oblivion.

He mentally smiled, thinking that soon he would be with his Naneth again, this time in the Halls of Mandos. The thought was comforting, thought it was mixed with regret that he wold be leaving all those he loved here in Middle-earth.

Suddenly, the archer’s body went still, and before anyone could react to the fear that he had died, he moaned. All eyes remained on the elf, as they waited. When he slowly opened his eyes, he saw the face of his father leaning close to him, a frightened expression on his face.

"Ada."

Thranduil's expression remained one of deep worry. He put his hand on Legolas's left cheek. It was cool but beginning to warm up. "Ion nin."

Legolas realized then that he was in a bed, propped up on large, soft pillows. He looked around him and also saw the faces of Estel, Elrond and the twins. They were all looking back at him, as if he had suddenly come back from the dead. Had he? He remembered the burning heat and then the numbing cold. He had been dying. He was sure of it.

The blond archer closed his eyes and took stock of how his body felt now. It was no longer giving him any pain nor was it numb, but he felt drained and weak. His body felt as if a great weight was pressing down on him, keeping him from moving.

Legolas looked back at his father, and it took a moment for him to realize that Thranduil had not shown any sign of surprise by the sudden attack he had just suffered. There was worry and fear, yes, but not surprise. He searched his father's face, looking for answers. "Ada, you know what just happened to me, do you not?"

Without hesitation, Thranduil nodded and said, "Aye, Legolas, I do." There was now a look on the elven king's face that said he was profoundly sorry for that fact. He knew he would have to tell his son what was behind the attack, but he would rather face a Nazgûl unarmed than have to reveal what he knew.

Elrond put his hand on Thranduil’s arm. “I can do it,“ he said, indicating that he was willing to be the one to tell Legolas what the young elf needed to hear.

The elven king shook his head. “Thank you , Elrond, but I must do this.” He knew that Elrond was there to add support, but he would have to do most of the explaining. Thranduil sighed and looked at his son. "I must first tell you what Mordraug did to you."

"I know what he did to me, Ada. I dreamed of it last night. I relived every detail of it just as it happened to me." Legolas's voice was soft, as he spoke. He had already told the detailed version of the story to Estel, and he didn't want to relive every bit of it once more. He simply told everyone in several short sentences what had taken place. The shortened version was horrific enough---to tell and to hear.

Even though he had known about the snake, hearing the story of what his son had gone through broke Thranduil's heart. An especially close emotional attachment to his children had always caused him to suffer, whenever any of them were hurt. The woodland king was always careful to see that none of them ever knew how bad it sometimes got. Once Thranduil had needed to spend several days isolated in his private rooms in Mirkwood to recover after both of his youngest sons had nearly died from multiple spider bites.

Legolas watched his father's face and was sure there was more that Thranduil knew than just what Mordraug had done. "Tell me, Ada,” Legolas pleaded. “What just happened to me?"

Thranduil moved his right hand from his son's cheek and grasped his hand, all the while looking into the younger elf’s eyes. "Legolas, the venom that Mordraug's serpent injected into you is still in your body. It is my opinion, and I am sure that of Elrond also, that he has just activated it to bring great hurt to you. It is his way of trying once again to get to me."

Legolas just stared at his father. The shock had not completely worn off, when he found his voice. "I thought the poison had finally left my body, and that is what allowed me to wake up."

"That is not what brought you back. I believe it was Estel. I never cared for humans, as you well know. I never fully approved of your friendship with him, though I have accepted him, because you wanted me to. I have found out, since being here, just what he went through to give you back to us."

Thranduil spoke as if Aragorn were not even in the room, much less right beside him. The ranger was not offended. He hadn’t really expected anything different from the woodland king. However, he was pleased to hear Thranduil concede what the man had done for his son.

Despite Legolas's current shock, he managed to spare a smile. "I always told you he was worthy of my friendship, or anyone else’s, for that matter."

As strong as his feelings about Estel were, the young elf couldn't keep his thoughts from turning back to the venom he now knew was a living part of him. He turned to Elrond. "Can you not rid me of this poison?"

With all the sadness in the world, the Lord of Imladris shook his head. "I am sorry, Legolas. I know of no way to remove it from your system. Mordraug controls the poison. As long as he desires it so, he can use it against you."

Legolas's eyes went wide in realization. "You mean that he can do this to me any time he chooses?" He was looking at his father, as he asked the question.

Thranduil’s face crumpled. "I..."

Legolas put his free hand on his father's shoulder. "You do not have to say it, Ada. I know that you cannot turn Mirkwood over to someone like Mordraug. Those of our people he did not kill, he would turn into his slaves."

"It pains me more than you can ever imagine to know that I can do nothing. I cannot rid you of the poison, and I cannot give Mordraug what he wants to free you." Thranduil came close to breaking down at having to say those words. He was, in essence, giving his youngest child a declaration of doom.

"Ada, you know that he would never free me. Even if you readily turned Mirkwood over to him, he would never let any of the royal family live, even down to my little nieces and nephews. He would always fear someone in the family would someday rise up against him. And, they probably would---in time."

"I love you so much, ion nin, it kills me to know what Mordraug has done to you. But..."

“But, I am right.” It was a firm statement. Legolas now knew for certain that he would die, and it would be pain far beyond what he had just endured. As a warrior, death had never frightened him, however, the manner of that death sometime did...like now. Yet, it was the thought that his entire family was the target of an evil, renegade elf that frightened him the most. If at all possible, he would use what remaining time he had to try and destroy the one who wanted to destroy them and thereby save not only his family, but Mirkwood itself.

A plan began to form in his head.

TBC

Chapter Eighteen

For a long time no one spoke. Both of the elder elves were greatly saddened by what they had just revealed to their children. It was devastating news. How could it not be?

Thranduil, especially, was almost beyond consoling. He was going to lose his son. It was a decision that Thranduil, the King, had to make while pushing Thranduil, the father, to the side. He would have given his own life in an instant to change the outcome. But, Legolas was the one who had the poison in his system, so that choice had been taken away from the elven King. He also had to admit to himself that Legolas had been right, Mordraug would never set him free no matter what Thranduil did. That knowledge did nothing to make him feel any better.

Elrond felt as totally helpless now as he had all those centuries ago, when Mordraug had first shown up. *No,* he thought. *I feel worse, because I have come to love Legolas, as much as if he were my own.* But, he too, knew that Legolas was beyond salvation, a thought that made his heart ache. As strong-willed as Elrond was, at that moment, the elf Lord couldn’t bring himself to meet the eyes of Legolas, Thranduil or any of his own children.

“I can’t believe this!” Aragorn shouted. “You are all just sitting here talking about Legolas's death and saying nothing about how to prevent it from happening.”

“Estel...” Legolas began.

“No, Legolas. You are not going to die. I won’t allow that to happen. There has to be a way to stop Mordraug and save you, and I intend on finding out what it is.” Aragorn was so distraught and angry that he was shaking. He looked to his brothers for support.

Elrohir ventured a suggestion. “We could all go to find Mordraug. If we are fully armed and have a large contingent of warriors with us, there is no way he could get us all.”

“Elrohir, I appreciate the offer.” Legolas said with a nod to one of his dearest friends, “but we would be sacrificing too many brave warriors to a horrible death. I will not let that happen just to save myself.” He looked pointedly at Aragorn, who looked like he was about to protest. “Would you do differently, Estel, if you were in my place?”

Aragorn knew Legolas had effectively silenced him, because he knew he would not do it any differently in the same circumstance. He couldn’t bring himself to voice the negative answer, so he just hung his head and stared down at the gold-colored bedspread.

As much as Elladan wanted to agree with his twin, he had to disagree by bringing up another important point. “Even if we killed Mordraug and his snake, how could we stop the poison? We do not even know if there is an antidote to neutralize it. We could kill the dark elf and still not be able to...” He stopped short of saying ‘save Legolas‘.

Legolas, who had been sitting up since the pain had left his body, put his hands on either side of his head and closed his eyes. His head had started to hurt...bad. He knew immediately that it wasn’t the poison this time. It was just a normal headache, though he hadn’t had one in many years.

“Legolas,” his father said fearfully. “Has the pain returned?” He reached out and put his hand over one of the young elf’s. He didn’t know if he could stand watching his son suffer another vicious attack.

“No, Ada. It is only a headache. I think I need to rest. I feel very tired.”

Thranduil, as well as all the others in the room, were surprised that the stubborn young elf would admit that. It did not bode well for how he must really be feeling, since any pain he had was usually ten times worse than whatever he admitted to.

“Lie back down, ion nin,” Thranduil encouraged. “Try to sleep. I will watch over you.” He briefly thought back to the times he had done that for Legolas, the elfling.

Legolas was about to protest when he saw the look in his father’s eyes. He also noted the same look in Estel’s. He knew that neither one would be able to conduct activities as usual while they were concerned about him. That went for Elrond and the twins, as well. He hated people worrying on his account, but under the circumstances, there was nothing he could do about it. He did understand, because if any of them had been in his place, he wouldn’t have left their side for anything. He nodded at his father‘s suggestion.

He tried very hard to keep his eyes open, so there would be no more concern than there already was, but he just couldn’t do it. As soon as he settled back down on the pillows, his eyes slowly closed. Everyone else present was immediately aware of the significance of Legolas's closed eyes, and their worry increased.

Elrond motioned the twins away from the bed. The Lord of Imladris walked over to the door, and his elven sons followed. In a low voice, he said to them, “I think we need to leave them alone for now. Perhaps, we can go to my library and see if there is something we missed that could help.”

He led his sons out of the room. All three knew that any such search through Elrond’s books and scrolls would be as useless as those searches had been all during the time of Legolas's coma. But, they had to do something besides sit and think too hard on what had happened to the Mirkwood prince and what the twins found out about the poison in their friend.

Behind them Thranduil and Aragorn sat on the bed and stared at Legolas. Both of their minds were filled with sorrow and helplessness.

Aragorn still wasn’t ready to give up on his best friend. He would never give up---never---not as long as the elf drew breath, and that was something that the man was determined to see continue to happen.

Thranduil, who had known the truth about the venom, had already surrendered all hope. All he wanted to do now was spend as much time with his son as he could. He mentally cursed Mordraug and his maniacal idea that he was the rightful ruler of Mirkwood. There was no truth to it, but because of that false belief in the mind of an insane elf, Thranduil was to lose his youngest child. He put his right hand over his eyes and sobbed silently and bitterly.

Aragorn was so full of anger, he could barely keep himself still. He watched Legolas sleep, not knowing if any second the archer would have another cruel attack. The thought that Mordraug could do this to his friend as often as he wished until he received what he wanted infuriated the ranger. To Aragorn’s way of thinking, no elf deserved to suffer the way the elves all those years ago had, but none deserved it less than this elf.

The elven king and the human ranger spoke little for the rest of the day. Legolas slept soundly, and they kept their vigil. The twins brought two food trays to the room for their brother and the king at lunchtime, but neither felt like eating anything. The trays were left.

When asked by Aragorn if anything had been found in Elrond‘s library, Elladan shook his head. The man hadn’t really expected the answer to be any different.

~*~*~

Just as the sun was sinking below the western horizon, Legolas woke up. He smiled when he saw his father and best friend by his side. The smile remained, even after the joy in his heart faded. He felt far worse for them and what he knew they felt than he did for his own impending death. He would have given anything to spare them what they would go through when he finally passed into the Halls of Mandos. He also felt bad that his father would have to return to Mirkwood with his body and explain to his brothers and sisters that their little brother had suffered the same fate as their naneth had. Still, he was glad it was him and neither Thranduil nor Estel that would be leaving this life. He held on to the belief that they would recover in time.

It was then that Aragorn noticed the elf’s eyes were open. “Legolas.”

At the sound of his son’s name, Thranduil turned his head to face the young elf. “Ion nin. you are awake. How do you fare?”

“I am all right, Ada. My head no longer pains me.” He gave his father and then Aragorn a reassuring nod. He was glad that he spoke the truth. The headache had indeed disappeared.

The young elf noticed that the sun had set and soft globes of light from candles were lit around the room.

“Neither of you have eaten all day, have you?” He didn’t need to see the untouched food trays to know that. “You both must not worry so. I have accepted my fate.” He looked at his father and saw that he had, as well. The look on the ranger’s face was far different. “I wish you would, Estel.”

“No, I won’t, and I can’t believe that you would give up on yourself.” He tried to keep the anger out of his voice, but it was there despite the effort.

“I have never been one to give up. You know that, Estel. But I also have never held on to false hope, when all genuine hope is gone.”

“More of your elven logic.”

“I am a logical elf, “ Legolas replied. There was no need to mention that he could be a very emotional one, as well. “Do not fight against reality, Estel. It will only cause you heartache.”

“And, you think your death won’t?”

“See? You have finally accepted the inevitable.”

Aragorn took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He did not want to spend time arguing with Legolas. He’d be crushed if the argument somehow triggered another attack. “You are too stubborn for you own good.”

“So, I have been told,” Legolas said with mild amusement, looking at both his friend and his father.

The king had been privy to many such exchanges between his son and the human. It still confused Thranduil, but he had never been able to turn Legolas from his chosen path of having this man for a friend. Now, he found himself glad that he had not.

“Ada, I wish to go back to my own room. I want to be alone for a while before the evening meal. I am all right, and I promise that I will seek help if anything happens.”

That remark didn’t ease Thranduil’s concerns any, since an attack would leave his son totally helpless and unable to do anything to aid himself. But, the last thing he wanted was to waste time arguing with his son. He nodded. “We will eat together.”

“Later tonight, please. I am not hungry now.”

Again Thranduil nodded.

Both Thranduil and Aragorn stood up and moved so that Legolas could get out of the bed. The elf was surprised and happy that he felt neither pain nor dizziness. “Until later.“ He gave his father a quick embrace. He wanted to hold him tight and tell him goodbye, but he knew he couldn’t let Thranduil suspect what he was planning. He simply smiled, turning quickly so no one would see the look in his eyes.  He left the room.

Legolas hadn't turned quickly enough.  There was something in Legolas's eyes as he left that stirred a feeling of foreboding in the man’s heart. He knew that look. He turned to Thranduil. “I will see that he arrives at his room in good order.” With no further words, he followed his friend out of the room and down the hall.

When Legolas reached his room, he opened the door and started inside. Before he could close it, Aragorn was standing there. He pushed himself past the elf and entered the room without asking for permission. His voice was angry as he turned on his friend and asked, “Just when were you planning to leave? While we were all at dinner? Or, did you intend on sneaking out in the middle of the night?””

“I do not know what you mean.”

“You know exactly what I mean. I know you too well, Legolas. You intend on going to find Mordraug and try to destroy him by yourself.” He moved closer to the elf. “That’s true, isn’t it?” His question was accusatory and harsh.

Legolas sighed. Estel did know him too well. It was a waste of time to deny it. “I must,” was his only reply.

“Why? Don’t you know he’ll kill you.”

Legolas put his hand on Aragorn’s shoulder and looked evenly into his eyes. In a soft voice, he said, “He already has, Estel. Deep down you know this as surely as I do.”

“I know no such thing. I will never let you just resign yourself to death. I told you there has to be an answer.”

“There is, but you do not wish to hear it.” Legolas's voice was calm, and it seemed to rouse Aragorn’s anger even more.

“I will never accept that, you infuriating elf! You are not going to die. Not in my lifetime. You are immortal, and you must live until it‘s time for you to sail to the West.”

“Not all elves reach Valinor.”

Aragorn‘s shoulders slumped just the tiniest bit. “You aren’t going to change your mind, are you?”

“No.”

“Then, I’m going with you. The two of us have a better chance anyway.”

The entire time Aragorn was making his declaration, Legolas was shaking his head.. “I must do this alone.”

“Why?”

Legolas brushed past the ranger and walked over to his bed. Aragorn followed. He held his arms out in front of him with his palms up in a pleading gesture. “Just tell me why.”

The elf stepped around Aragorn. The maneuver forced the man to turn until his back was to the bed. When Legolas had the ranger positioned exactly where he wanted him, he said, “Because, you have not been poisoned. I have.”

In a lightning fast move, Legolas clenched his fist, pulled his arm back and swung it forward, hitting the ranger on the jaw---hard. Aragorn saw it coming but could do nothing in time to stop it. He fell back limply onto the bed.

Legolas lifted his friend up and carefully laid him down lengthwise on the bed. He gently rested Estel’s head on the large pillow. When he stood, he looked down at the man’s face. “Please forgive me for this, Estel. It was necessary.” With a sigh, he turned and walked out onto the balcony for the last time.

The elf stood and looked out over the garden. How beautiful it was in the silvery glow of the full moon, which had now risen above the treetops. How he would miss this scene that had given him so much pleasure. He started to turn back, when a breeze brought to him the scent of his favorite blue flowers in the wooden box at the left end of the balcony. A smile touched his lips.

He walked over and bent down, holding two of the flowers in the cupped palms of each hand. He released the one in his left hand and slid his right hand a couple of inches down the stem of the other one. With a quick twist, he snapped it neatly. He put the flower under his nose and breathed in deeply, closing his eyes and relishing the strong fragrance. It soothed his Silvan soul.

He turned and went back into the room and sat down at the small desk near the doorway. There was a lit candle in a crystal globe near the edge, and he pulled it closer as he opened a drawer and pulled out a pen, ink bottle and two pieces of parchment. With little hesitation, he began to write.

Before long, he laid the pen down and swiftly glanced over what he had written on both sheets of paper before nodding and signing his name to each. Once he was sure all the ink was dry, Legolas carefully folded the papers separately and wrote a name on the outside of them.

The elf stood up, picking up the papers and the flower. He walked over to where Aragorn lay. He lifted the man’s left arm and set the papers next to each other on the bed with the flower on top of one of them. He lowered Aragorn’s arm so that his hand rested on the papers and his fingers encircled the blue flower. Then, he walked over to where his quiver rested on a table next to one wall. He took out one of the green-fletched arrows that he had lovingly made himself, as he had all of his arrows. He went back and laid it down next to Estel.

He leaned over and placed the palm of his hand on Estel‘s chest over his heart. “Namarie, mellon nin.”

Legolas gathered his weapons. With one last look around the room and then at his friend, the elf silently slipped out of the room.

TBC

Chapter Nineteen

Aragorn woke up and found himself staring up at the flickering candle light, as it danced on the ceiling above him. Why was he lying in a bed? One glance around told him he was still in Legolas's room. What had happened between himself and the elf came back to him. “He hit me,” the ranger said aloud, remembering the elven fist that had come smashing into his face. He hadn’t been able to stop it. Aragorn sat up and gently rubbed the tender spot on his jaw, knowing by the pain of it that it was bruised.

Aragorn then became aware of something under his left hand. It felt cool and soft against his fingers. He looked down and saw a blue flower cradled under his left hand. He gently picked it up and stared down at its simple beauty. Without even sniffing, the fragrance reached his nose. *Oh, Legolas.*

He looked down again and spotted the folded papers. He saw that one had the word Estel written in Westron in the center. With hands that were shaking slightly, he unfolded the parchment. Inside he found a letter written in Sindarin in the neat, precise hand of his friend. He began to read.

Dearest Estel,

By the time you find this, I will be gone. I regret that I had to leave you behind. Please do not be angry with me. I would love to have had you by my side one more time on the last journey of my life. But, it could not be.

You are a great man, Estel, and one day, all of Middle-earth will know it also. I believe that your destiny will be one of legend. Mine is to try and see that such a thing will take place.

You have been a light in my life. Never would I have thought, all those years ago, that a human child would grow up to become so dear to me. Your heart has been true and your actions noble and honorable. Keep it so, and do not despair, even in the darkest of hours, for the light will always return, and you must be ready to greet it.

Thank you, Estel, for all the devotion and companionship you have given me through the years. It has been one of the greatest joys of my life to have called you my friend.

My wish for you is a heart full of happiness, always.

Legolas

Aragorn just sat and stared at the letter, rereading it over and over. Soon, the tears in his eyes blurred his vision until the page was no longer readable. It didn’t matter, for he had already committed every word to memory. He folded the paper and laid it down next to the flower.

The second paper had Thranduil’s name on the front. The man dreaded the thought of having to give this letter to the woodland King. He knew it would cause a pain even greater than his own.

Aragorn picked up the arrow that lay beside him. He ran his fingers along the smooth, almost polished surface of the wooden shaft. The arrowhead was of a design that Legolas had created himself, when he had become a warrior. The green fletchings were perfectly formed and attached to the shaft with great care. Even an inexperienced eye could see that this arrow would fly far and true. In the talented hands of the youngest Prince of Mirkwood, it would never have missed its mark.

Aragorn clutched the arrow to his chest and closed his eyes, believing, at that moment, that he would never see his best friend again.

TBC

Chapter Twenty

In Elrond’s library, the Lord of Imladris and his two elven sons were deep in their search for answers. Elrond himself wasn’t sure why they were really there. He had gone over and over everything that could even remotely be associated with what had happened to Legolas, and there was precious little of it.

He had done extensive research on snakes in general and unusual ones in particular once he had realized that Legolas's condition was due to Mordraug. There was nothing that resembled the snake the dark elf was using as a weapon. It seemed that the snake and his abilities were unique in all of Middle-earth, at least as far as he was able to tell. The snake had been embedded in an amber stone. There was no way to know how long it had been there. He doubted that even Mordraug knew its origins, not that he probably cared over much. It did his bidding, and that was surely all the dark elf was interested in.

Elrond and his sons had been there for close to an hour, when Glorfindel knocked on the door. At Elrond’s invitation, he entered the library. “Could you use some help?”

“We would appreciate it,” Elrond said, smiling at his old friend.

“I just talked to Thranduil,” Glorfindel stated. When all eyes turned to him in surprise, he shrugged. “I know he and I do not exactly see eye to eye most of the time, but I am concerned about Legolas. He told me, just now, everything that happened to Legolas in the forest, as well as the cruel attack he just suffered. All of it is dreadful beyond words. I still cannot believe that what Mordraug did almost two thousand years ago is happening all over again.”

Elrond sighed. “I have a hard time believing that also, except I saw with my own eyes what Mordraug just did to Legolas. We need to find something that will help him.” His words were determined, but his tone held little hope.

Glorfindel sat down on the sofa next to Elladan and picked up a book. He was sure that he had read that same book recently, but maybe there was something he hadn’t noticed before that would stand out now. It was unlikely, but he would read the book upside down and backwards, if it meant he might find something to help the young Wood elf.

The four elves turned their attention to the research. The only sound in the room was the occasional rustling of a page, as it was turned. From time to time one or another of the elves would go to a shelf and choose another book, replacing it with the one already studied. The spirits of all four gradually grew increasingly frustrated.

“This is a waste of time!” Elrohir said after a while, as he slammed a book shut. “There is nothing in any of these books,” he swept his arm around to encompass the whole room, “that will tell us how to fight the venom. I think we all know that by now.”

Elrond understood his son’s despair, but it was Elladan that spoke first. “We have to keep trying. I do not think any of us want to give up on Legolas.”

“That is not what I meant,” Elrohir said defensively. “The answer we seek is not to be found in anything here. We must look elsewhere.”

Elladan looked at his twin. “And, just where is ‘elsewhere‘?”

Elrohir hesitated before continuing. “I still think we should go after Mordraug.” He held his hand up. “I know what you are going to say. Legolas will not let us risk any of our warriors. So, why do we not just go ourselves and take our chances?

“Legolas would not let us do that, either,” Elladan replied. “I cannot blame him. I would not let any of you do it for me were I in his place.”

“So, we just let him die?” Elrohir didn’t mean to sound so harsh. He just couldn’t stand doing nothing useful. He knew full well that Estel would not give up, as he had already stated quite firmly. “There is more at stake here than just the life of a dear friend. Many more elves will surely fall, as well, if Mordraug is not stopped, and there does not seem to be anyone else to do it.”

Before anyone could remark on Elrohir’s comment, Estel came bursting into the room. One look at his tear-stained face frightened them all. The man didn’t notice the startled expressions that soon turned to ones of fear. He blurted out, “Legolas is gone!”

Each and every elf in the library immediately assumed that Legolas had had another attack, and that Estel was telling them that the young Wood elf had died as a result of it. The sorrow that suddenly permeated the room was so thick it was palpable.

At first no one moved. Even Aragorn was rooted to the spot, as he seemed to be waiting for someone to say something. Elrond quickly rose, walked around his desk and enfolded Estel in his arms. “I am so sorry, my son. I know how you cherished Legolas. He was a friend beyond measure to you---to all of us.”

It took Estel a moment to realize what his father meant by his words. He pulled back from Elrond’s embrace. “No. No, Ada. You don’t understand. Legolas isn’t dead. By ‘gone’ I meant he’s left Rivendell. He went after Mordraug. He believes he’s already doomed, so he thinks going alone is the only way to save his family, as well as Mirkwood.” He looked around at the faces in the room. Their expressions were a mixture of both relief and anguish.

Elrond, whose overriding emotion was one of relief, put his hand under Estel’s chin and turned his head to the right, studying the left side of his son’s face. He closely studied the bruised jaw. “He knocked you out, so that you could not stop him from going alone.” It was a flat statement born of Elrond’s countless years of quickly gathering facts and making correct suppositions.

“Yes, that’s exactly what he did. I saw it coming, but elves are fast.” He tenderly touched his jaw. “They hit hard, too.“ There was no mirth in the remarks. He shook his head out of Elrond’s grasp. “We have to go after him, Ada.”

“Are you saying Legolas has gone after Mordraug?” came a voice from behind Aragorn. Standing in the doorway and looking decidedly distraught was Thranduil.

Aragorn turned and looked into the concerned blue-gray eyes of the elven king and then nodded. “You know that Mordraug will not hesitate to kill him.”

Thranduil was shaking his head. “Mordraug will not kill my son before I arrive. I am sure of that. How long ago did Legolas leave?” Thranduil’s tone had taken on that of someone who had decided to take action and was gathering information before doing so.

“Judging by the moon, I’d say almost an hour. He has a big head start on us, but we can catch him, if we leave right now.” Aragorn wasn’t really sure if anyone could catch Legolas. His elven stallion was incredibly swift, and Legolas would be moving without much rest to get to Mordraug and at the same time outrun any possible pursuit. He wasn’t going to mention that last little fact, though he doubted he needed to.

Elrohir did it for him. “We will never catch him now. He will not slow down, except to rest his horse, until he reaches that valley forest. You know he knows some of us are going to follow, and we will have to rest our horses, as well.”

Elrond seemed to be the only one to pick up on the fact that Elrohir had said the ’will’ of certainty and not the ’would’ of doubt about following the young Mirkwood elf. His eldest son began speaking before he could make a comment.

Elladan quickly agreed with his twin, when he added, “He will want to finish the whole affair before any of us can reach the forest. He is determined to protect us, no matter what it costs him.”

“He thinks he’s already been killed,” Aragorn said sadly, the argument with Legolas still fresh in his mind. A touch of anger resurfaced, as his mind added, *infuriating elf*, echoing what he had called Legolas earlier.

Elrond looked directly at the Mirkwood king. “You cannot go, Thranduil. You must stay far away from Mordraug. If you saw him harming Legolas, you might become overwhelmed emotionally and give in to his demands in order to save your son. It would be more than any father could be expected to endure.”

“Thank you for your concern, Elrond, but I have been the ruler of my kingdom for several millennia, so I am quite strong enough to do what I must to protect it,” Thranduil declared firmly. “I have to go.” His determination not to be swayed was evident. He seemed to have forgotten his earlier belief that the dark elf would not spare Legolas no matter what he did. He also seemed to forget that the poison was irreversible. In truth, he had forgotten none of it. But, now that he was faced with his son dying alone, far from him and his home he could not just sit and do nothing. At the least, he may be able to help Legolas destroy the dark elf once and for all before.... HIs mind refused to form the thought. If he should also fall against the dark elf, he knew his eldest son would carry on as a capable ruler for their people.  He also knew that the rest of this family would fight for Mirkwood's freedom down to the last drop of their blood against all comers.

Aragorn seemed to realize in what direction Thranduil’s thoughts were aimed, as he watched the Wood elf’s face. “You and I will go,” he declared to the King.

Thranduil nodded and turned to go. When Aragorn began to follow, Elrond grabbed the man’s arm. “No, Estel. You are not part of this.” He steeled himself for an argument. He was not disappointed.

Estel looked back at his father with wide eyes. “Not part of this? How can you say that, Ada? Legolas is as much a part of me as any blood kin ever could be. We were together in the valley forest. I took care of him when he was unconscious. He is my best friend, my brother in spirit. I am standing here right now, because he has saved my life countless times during our friendship. Oh yes, I am very much a part of this, and I will go after him, like it or not.” Estel was sorry to speak to his father this way, but he was not about to be denied. He would go after Legolas.

“We will go, as well,” came Elladan’s voice. He and Elrohir had already indicated that they would follow their elven friend, but now the eldest of Elrond’s twins was clearly declaring it. He knew his father would not be pleased about all three of his sons heading out into danger, but he and Elrohir weren’t going to be denied, either. He didn’t even have to look at Elrohir to know he agreed completely.

When Elrond looked toward the twins, he saw that Elrohir was nodding. “There is no way we are letting Estel and Thranduil go alone. Besides, Legolas is our friend, too.” Elrohir stared back at his father. “You love him, too, Ada. You know he is doing this for all of us.”

Elrond sighed. He had no more arguments left. He knew it was true. He also knew that he really couldn’t stop any of his sons from going. They were all grown and had been making their own decisions for a long time. It was just his father’s heart that wanted to keep them safe in Rivendell.

“I will go with them,” Glorfindel said, coming into the debate for the first time. He hoped that his offer would not be construed as him wanting to go to protect the three sons of Elrond. He truly thought he could be of help. “I suffered watching the horror of what Mordraug did all those years ago, and I would like nothing better than to share in the revenge.” His eyes glinted with anticipation.

Elrond looked around at all the faces in the room with him. He could do nothing to prevent what was to come. “I will go with you, also. I was part of the beginning of it, and I will be part of what I hope will be the end of it.”

Somewhat to his own surprise, Elrond felt himself becoming eager to confront Mordraug. Normally, the elf lord did not engage in retribution, but this was different. Elrohir was right. Mordraug needed to be stopped. Elrond’s only regret was that Legolas couldn’t be saved in the process.

Aragorn hadn’t wanted to interfere with the debate going on, as each elf made their own decision on what they would do. However, he had now reached a state of extreme impatience. “Then, come on. We must prepare and get started. Every moment of delay takes Legolas that much farther ahead of us. We must find him before he finds Mordraug.”

The man turned and headed out of the door, saying, “Meet at the stables in fifteen minutes.” Then, he was running down the hallway toward the stairs that led to the floor above where his room was located.

It wasn’t until he reached his room to gather his gear for the journey that Aragorn remembered the letter Legolas had left for Thranduil. He grabbed it off of the bed and put it in an inside pocket. He would decide later when the time was right to give it to the elven king. He knew the heartache it would bring, but Legolas had written it for his father, and had left it for the ranger to deliver. Estel could not, in good conscience, refuse to do so. He only hoped that the goodbye he was sure it contained would be an unnecessary one.

In exactly fifteen minutes, all the group was assembled at the stables. Elrond and Glorfindel had discarded their robes and in their place wore the clothes befitting warriors. It was a sight that the younger members of the group had rarely seen, since the warrior days of both were long behind them. Almost, it seemed.

They all stood together just outside the doors, as stable hands brought their horses out to them. Each member of the group began to load their packs and extra weapons onto their mounts.

The moon shone down on the group of five elves and one human, as they headed south down the road that each believed would take them to a harrowing encounter with evil.

TBC

Chapter Twenty One

Legolas rode through the night. The long strands of his golden hair that normally fell down the front of his shoulders, now flew out behind him as he leaned low over his stallion’s neck. The horse, Elenblaith , ate up the miles, as his hooves flew rhythmically down the road. The elf tried hard not to think about what he had done back in Rivendell, but he could not keep the thoughts at bay for long.

He had slugged his best friend and left him lying unconscious. Now, the last sight Estel would have of him alive was one of violence and betrayal. *It was necessary*, the archer told himself. It was the right thing to do to save his friend from following him to his own doom. Legolas would rather Estel hate him for the rest of his life than to see the man killed. He meant what he had said in the letter he had left. Estel was destined for legend. It would not be only among men but among all the races of Middle-earth. Even the elves who would later sail to Valinor would speak of him with awe and respect. The archer had no doubts about that.

Legolas was hoping that Estel would become so angry with him for punching him out that he would just turn his back and leave the elf to his fate. But, he knew better. He would never have had such feelings toward the ranger, if their roles were reversed. Estel had already demonstrated the depth of his brotherly love for Legolas so many times, including this last event with Mordraug, that the elf knew his friend would stop at nothing to come after him, alone if necessary. But, more than likely others would come, as well. It frightened him to think that Thranduil would also follow, as would the twins.

Spurred on by his fears for his father and his friends, Legolas unconsciously urged his horse even faster. He could not let these people that he loved face Mordraug. Even if the dark elf was somehow defeated, he could still inflict death and destruction on them all before he died. That was not acceptable in the elf‘s mind.

The moon rose to its zenith and began its descent below the horizon. Finally, Legolas slowed down. He couldn’t let his fears force him to run his horse into the ground, though he knew that to please his master Elenblaith would run until he dropped. The elf loved the stallion too much to risk his life, too. Also, on a purely practical note, he couldn’t afford to end up on foot.

Legolas stopped as he reached a narrow stream that ran through a small group of stunted-looking trees a few miles from the Misty Mountains. There would be few trees ahead of him, as he rode south near the base of the mountains. The next true forest he would encounter would be in the valley he sought.

The elf dismounted and let the stallion drink his fill. The archer likewise drank what he needed. In his opinion, nothing beat cold, clear mountain water to refresh a body. He also filled a small water skin that he had not taken the time to fill before hastily leaving Rivendell. He ate a piece of lembas to keep his strength up. He would need all of it to face Mordraug.

Then, while his horse grazed nearby, Legolas swung himself up into the largest of the trees. It provided little in the way of shelter, as the branches were sparse, though the leaves had done their best to festoon what branches there were in springtime greenery.  However, it was not shelter that Legolas was seeking.

The elf lay back against the squat trunk and gazed upward. He smiled, glad that the night sky was clear. Sitting in a tree, watching the stars sparkle like diamonds in the inky darkness of the heavens was soothing to his soul. Right then, and just for a few moments, he felt free of all the earthly cares that lay upon him. Mordraug, the poison in his body, the fear for his family, his home and his friends all faded into the background. He was a wood elf, and this was where he belonged. It mattered not that this wasn’t his home. It mattered not that this was probably the last time he would ever find himself in this position. It mattered not that this particular tree would be little more than a sapling in Mirkwood. It mattered only that it was a tree, and the elf could find peace in its comforting presence.

For its part, the tree was happy just to have an elf resting in its branches. It had been many centuries since, as a strong, young tree, it had sheltered one of the Firstborn. Now, that its time in Middle-earth was almost spent, the long-forgotten memory was reawakened. The tree took as much pleasure in the presence of the elf, as the elf did sitting in the tree.

It seemed like only a few moments later that the eastern sky above the dark mountain tops began to lighten, causing the stars to begin to fade. Several seemed to wink out of existence as Legolas watched. He took a deep breath, as if he could inhale and absorb the splendor he had witnessed before it surrendered to the light of a new day.

With a sigh, Legolas jumped soundlessly to the ground and whistled for Elenblaith, who came to him and nickered softy, as the elf rubbed the stallion’s velvety nose. His oneness with the tree and the stars was over. Now, he had to go back to concentrating on his self-imposed mission. Nothing else mattered now, least of all his own comfort.

The blond archer leaped gracefully onto Elenblaith’s back, and the two turned once again down the road leading south toward the valley forest.

~*~*~

The group that had left Rivendell a little over an hour after Legolas was making good time. Yet, as hard as they were pushing their mounts, none of them believed that they were gaining much on the Mirkwood prince.

“We cannot keep this pace up much longer,” Elladan felt compelled to say at last. “We must rest our horses, as I am sure Legolas has done.” It irked him that they could not continue uninterrupted. Had they been able to do so, they would have had a much better chance to catch the woodland elf.

Unknown to them, Legolas had just resumed his journey and what little advantage they had gained while he rested would now be lost when they did likewise.

Even Thranduil and Aragorn saw the logic in Elladan’s words. Reluctantly, they came to a halt. Neither one wanted to harm their mounts. And, like Legolas, they knew they could not afford to end up on foot. If that happened, the main purpose for their pursuit would be in vain, and even Aragorn believed that his friend would then be lost to them forever.

The group moved off of the road and walked toward a patch of grass near a group of large rocks that seemed to sprout up out of the ground. There were several trees scattered nearby.

Thranduil stood by his horse and gazed down the road so intensely that it was as if he was trying to spot his son riding along near the base of the mountains. *Where are you, Little One?*

He had not changed his thinking regarding Legolas's ultimate fate. It would have given him much strength, courage and joy to think he might be able to save his son. Even knowing he could not didn’t dampen his determination to reach Legolas and do what he could to make his journey to the Halls of Mandos as easy as possible.

Thranduil knew that seeing his youngest child suffer the same agonizing death as his wife would scar his own soul far beyond anything he had experienced in his over five thousand years of life. He had been in shock when his wife had died. In a way that had, at the time, clouded his mind to the full horror of it on a personal level. Even seeing the other elves die by Mordraug’s command had been in a swirl of disbelief. There would be no such shock or disbelief now, and the knowledge of what was to happen to Legolas ate at him mercilessly.

He had believed he had destroyed the dark elf all those years ago. Why hadn’t he made sure? Thranduil couldn’t help but believe his lack of thoroughness then was now allowing the current situation to take place. He shook his head. *Forgive me, ion nin.* It was a pitiful plea he knew, but there was nothing he could do to alter what was going to happen. He had been present when Legolas was born, and his sole intent now was to be with Legolas in his last moments of life, no matter how soul-wrenching it would prove to be. *I failed you before, Legolas, but I will not let you die alone.*

Thranduil’s thoughts of Legolas's fate were currently going through Aragorn’s head, as well. The only difference was that the ranger was still fully expecting to save his friend. No one was going to talk him out of that idea. Legolas had gone through too much to die now, and Aragorn had gone through too much to let him. He was a practical man and often had to engage in compromises, but when it came to his best friend, his mind would not allow him to accept anything that might take the archer from those that loved him. That was not going to happen.

Aragorn hesitated only briefly before walking up beside Thranduil and putting his hand on the King’s arm. Ordinarily, he would never have even considered doing such a thing. Ordinarily, the King would not have allowed it. Now, the two stood side by side, bonded, for a while at least, in a common goal. “We will save him,” Aragorn said softly.

Thranduil didn’t argue. He knew the human would not accept the inevitable, and trying to convince him to do so was an exercise in futility. There was no way of knowing exactly how things would play out, when they finally reached the valley forest. Perhaps, if the man still thought he was saving his friend, he would fight harder against the dark elf. *No,* the King thought, *he would fight hard to help rid Middle-earth of Mordraug and his evil snake even if my son was not involved.* It was a concession that surprised Thranduil. He realized he had not only fully accepted the human as a part of his son’s life but was glad for it. Yet, this change of attitude had come too late and at much too high a price.

Aragorn was startled a bit, when a hand touched his own arm. He spun his head around to see Elrohir standing on the other side of him, offering him some water. He hadn’t realized he was so thirsty until he looked down at the water skin. He smiled at his elven brother. Lifting the skin to his lips, he took several long swallows. He then offered it to Thranduil.

The wood elf shook his head, at first, and then changed his mind and took it. Denying himself the refreshing liquid he needed wasn’t going to help the situation in any way. He, also, took several swallows. “Hannon le,” he said to both Aragorn and Elrohir.

“Ada says we will be here for a little while yet. We have to rest the horses long enough to do them some good, or all hope of catching Legolas will be lost.” Elrohir had a moment’s stab of guilt at saying that, especially in front of Thranduil. However, they all understood the situation well enough to know it had gone far beyond needing to be delicate with their words.

Thranduil nodded and handed the water skin back to the dark-haired elf, who took it and headed toward the rocks where his twin brother sat. The elven king then turned his attention back toward the road. There was no thought of resting himself. He was an elf and could go farther on less rest than mortal man or horse. He stood silent and unmoving.

Aragorn saw that there would be no more conversation coming from Thranduil. He wondered briefly if this was the right time to give Legolas's letter to the woodland king. He sighed. Yes, it had to be now. There might not be another chance. With reluctance, Aragorn reached inside his tunic and pulled out the letter. He handed it to the elf. “Legolas left this for me to give to you.“ Without another word, he turned and walked away.

The man sat down next to the twins, noting that Elrond and Glorfindel were sitting nearby, talking quietly. Aragorn lay back on the grass. He pushed all thoughts from his mind. It was the only way he knew to attain the rest he needed. Continuing to think about Legolas and Mordraug would only lead to more tension and turmoil. He deliberately did not look in Thranduil‘s direction. Seeing the elf king’s reaction to the letter would be more than Aragorn could handle right then. He closed his eyes.

Thranduil stared down at the piece of parchment. He slowly unfolded it and immediately recognized his son’s handwriting. He knew what the letter meant without having to read a single word, yet there was no way he could avoid doing so. With a feeling of impending heartache, he began to read.

Dearest Ada.

There is so much I wish to say to you that I hardly know where to begin. I could write from now until dawn and not say everything to you that is in my heart.

First of all, please forgive me for what I am about to do. You know as well as anyone that there is no hope for me to survive this encounter with Mordraug. If I must sacrifice my life, I wish it to be for a cause that will allow you, my family and my friends to continue with your lives.

I want you to know that you have been the most important person in my life, since I first became aware of my own existence. You have loved and nurtured me, teaching me right from wrong. You taught me to be honorable when dealing with those I encountered, even other races. You encouraged me to seek knowledge and to use that knowledge to the betterment of myself and our people. You made me learn. Even when you scolded me for some misadventure or wrong I had done, you tempered it with love. You gave me my independence when I know you would have preferred to keep me safe at home. The driving force of my life has been to make you proud of me. You have always made me feel that I succeeded.

I remember the first time you took me hunting with you, the first time you let me ride a horse by myself, the first time you put a bow in my hands. All of these events gave me great joy. Yet, my fondest memory is of the many times I sat on your lap as an elfling with your arms around me, singing softly to me until I fell asleep. You have always---always---been there for me. Now, it is finally my turn to be there for you.

Please tell my brothers and sisters that I love them dearly. It saddens me that I will never get the chance to see them again or tell them goodbye. Give each of my nieces and nephews a kiss for me and tell them that their Uncle Legolas loved them.

I know you will grieve for me, as I would for you. But, I pray that you find comfort in knowing that I will spend eternity in the Halls of Mandos with Naneth.

I love you, Ada, with all my heart. Had I been able to choose a father for myself, I would have chosen none other.

Your loving son,

Legolas

Thranduil carefully refolded the paper and slipped it into his pocket. He walked away toward a lone tree several yards from where the others in the group rested. He climbed up into its branches and settled himself. Leaning his back against the tree’s sturdy trunk, the King of Mirkwood cried.

TBC

Chapter Twenty Two

Legolas was forced to stop and rest both himself and Elenblaith several more times along the way. Even his elven endurance needed a break from the relentless pace he was setting. Happily for him, the nights remained clear and the stars shone as brightly as ever. However, there were no more trees to climb just as Legolas had believed. He saw them in the distance but couldn’t take the time to detour toward them. He kept his focus southward.

The elf was sure that his father, Estel and whoever of the others had come after him were forced to mirror his own movements and stop at least as often as he did. Believing this made him feel a little more comfortable. They wouldn’t be able to gain any time or distance on him that way. But, just to make sure, he intended on pushing as hard as he dared.

He knew it would take at least another full day to reach the secluded valley where Mordraug awaited. And, there was no doubt in the archer’s mind that the dark elf was waiting. Of course, Legolas knew that Mordraug was really expecting that Thranduil would be the one to show up, and that the attack on him in Rivendell had been merely a nudge in an effort to force the elven King to come to him.

The Mirkwood Prince dismounted and began to lead Elenblaith. The elf glanced back over his shoulder down the road he had just traveled. *Please, Ada, do not follow me. We both know what awaits, and I would have you safe,* he thought with grim determination. He shook his head, knowing full well that the plea was in vain, because Thranduil was most assuredly behind him and trying hard to catch up.

He idly wondered if Estel had given Thranduil his letter yet. He knew the reading of it would be harder than the writing of it had been. Yet, he thought that, in time, the letter would be a comfort to his father. At least, he hoped so.

In a little over an hour Legolas, who had remounted and was riding swiftly again, left the road and started cross country to the southeast. The road bypassed the valley by many miles and while it had afforded him smooth going until now, continuing on it any longer would take him too far from his destination.

He and Elenblaith would now be moving across ground that was broken and strewn with rocks. both large and small. He would have to slow his pace. In Legolas's mind, the only good thing about it was that those following would need to do the same. As long as they did, he could keep ahead of them.

Elenbllaith was making better time than Legolas had dared hope. The gray stallion picked his way among the rocks and up and down the little hills and valleys of the broken land and still managed to keep to a gallop most of the time. It brought a smile to the elf’s face. He was letting the horse choose his own path and speed, and he was being rewarded by seeing the scenery move past him fairly rapidly.

Legolas rode into the night and once again stopped to take a break. As he himself rested, he thought of Estel. He missed having the ranger with him. So many times they had left either Rivendell or Mirkwood together to go hunting, or to track down the details of some mystery that had intrigued them. More than once, Elrond had sent them, sometimes with the twins, to gather information of some kind. Often they had just wanted to be in each other’s company for a while. There were a whole myriad of reasons that the two friends had gone adventuring together. Now, those times had come to an end, all because of Mordraug’s ambition to rule Mirkwood.

Unwilling to continue his dark thoughts of what lay ahead, Legolas wanted to lighten the mood in his mind. So, he searched through his memories for one of the more humorous moments of the journeys he and Estel had made. As if to give him a helping hand with his search, thunder began to rumble over the mountains where dark clouds had moved in, though they didn’t seem to be threatening th elf’s location, which remained clear. The wind was blowing them to the north. However, it served to remind him of an incident that happened several years ago.

***

Estel had gone to the woodland realm in the hopes of getting Legolas so they could go hunting. Thranduil had not been pleased to see the human show up. His first thought had been to tell Aragorn that Legolas was too busy with his patrols to go off on a vacation. Legolas had known his father’s thoughts simply because he knew his father. Legolas came close to telling Thranduil that his trips with Estel were often too harrowing to be called vacations. Real life was the vacation. He had thought better of mentioning that little comment, knowing that doing so would surely end all hope of leaving with his friend.

Legolas kept his mouth shut except to ask for permission to go. He was full grown, but he was also a subject of the King, as well as one of the realm’s most valuable warriors, so Thranduil would have to temporarily release him from his duties. Legolas was actually due a leave, as all warriors received every three months, from the stresses of the constant dangers that were spreading inside of Mirkwood.

“Why does it always have to be something involving that human,* Thranduil had thought at the time. In the end, the King, to please his son, had given his permission, with the stipulation that Legolas return in no more than eight days. He was determined that his son would spend a few quiet days of his leave with his family. Legolas had happily agreed.

The elf and the ranger rode through the forest of Mirkwood until they finally broke out of the trees and headed for the Anduin. They rode along the river’s eastern shore, passing closer to Dol Guldûr than they would have liked. However, they soon left the evil place behind them without even a hint of trouble. That fact alone should have given them cause to worry about what might yet happen.

Before the two friends could reach their intended choice of hunting grounds, it started raining. It rained, and it rained, and it rained. For three days it rained relentlessly. There was not a single patch of skin or cloth on either of them that wasn’t soaked through. Even their horses were finding the torrential downpour exceedingly unpleasant.

Estel had the hood of his cloak pulled done low over his face, but it did noting to keep the man‘s head dry. Water constantly dripped down along the edges of the fabric. He felt like he was standing behind a waterfall.

Legolas normally wasn’t bothered too much by rain, but even an elf got tired of being exposed for three days to the torrents that were assaulting him. He couldn’t believe that there could be that much water in the low gray clouds that seemed to hang just above their heads. *The rest of Middle-earth must be exceedingly dry,* he mused.

As much as he loved Nature, Legolas had finally had enough of this particular part of it and pulled the hood of his own cloak over his head. He soon found himself behind the twin of the waterfall that plagued his human companion.

As bad luck would have it, the particular stretch of land they were passing through was flat and there was no shelter to be found anywhere near. They would have to keep moving to reach the caves that littered the high ridges above the river several miles south. At least, they had hope. Shelter wasn’t too far away.

“I’ve never seen it rain this hard for this long,” the ranger said to his elven friend, riding close beside him. “I think the Valar is against us.” He chuckled to himself, then added, “I think your father pleaded his case to them so you’d return to Mirkwood much sooner than you planned.” Aragorn made a sound that closely resembled a growl. “This is ridiculous.”

Legolas laughed. “You sure do get grumpy when you get wet.”

“This goes beyond just wet,” Aragorn grumbled. “I think my bones are soaked.”

Legolas laughed even harder. It may have been a musical sound in ordinary circumstances, but it came at the wrong time, because right then it greatly irritated the man. Aragorn glared at his friend. “Impossible elf,” he muttered.

The ‘impossible elf’ shook his head. He mumbled something, but not having the same elven hearing that his friend had, Aragorn couldn‘t make out what was being said. Under the circumstances, he could well imagine it wasn’t a compliment.

Finally, after several more hours, they entered hilly terrain and Legolas soon led the way to a small cave in the closest ridge to them. It wasn’t deep or overly high, but it was large enough to fit the two companions and both of their horses into. There was even room to turn around inside---barely.

Water dripped down from several fissures in the stone ceiling, and formed little puddles in various places on the cave floor. The water that dripped from their hair and clothes added to the puddles. They could not start a fire, since all potential fuel was soaked as badly as they were. There would be no warmth in the chilly cave and no hot meal. Having to sit in drenched clothes, with no way to dry them, served to add to their misery.

All of those things were wearing their nerves thin. It didn’t take long for tempers to flare.

“There are other caves around here,” Aragorn complained morosely. “Couldn’t you have found one a bit larger? I keep getting hit in the face by a long tail.” The man swatted at his horse’s tail for what seemed like the dozenth time, trying to get it out of his mouth where several long strands had stuck. He couldn’t move far enough to get away from the water that dropped down on him from above. He also couldn’t put his feet anywhere that was not in a puddle of water.

Legolas just stared at the human. “I found us shelter, which I noticed you were eager enough to enter a few moments ago. Besides, you are a ranger. Could you not have been the one to locate sufficient shelter?”

“I seem to recall you saying, ‘I know just the place.’ I merely followed you, thinking, erroneously it appears, that you would lead us to a cave we could actually fit into. After all, you are the one who lives on this side of the mountains.”

“What does that have to do with anything?” the elf asked with irritation in his voice. “I repeat. You are the ranger here, always traveling far and wide. You act like you have never been around here before. I was simply trying to find the first place that offered us a chance to get in out of the rain. I certainly would not have stopped you from pointing out another cave that would have been more suitable, if you had bothered to do so.” Anger flashed in the elf’s blue-gray eyes.

Legolas turned around and tried to set his pack down in a corner of the cave. It kept falling over, which didn‘t improve his mood any. “You are the one that is always telling me how good you are at finding things.” He mumbled the words, almost to himself, but Aragorn heard them well enough.

Legolas sat down in a move that little resembled elven grace. He had finally stuffed his pack into a small crevice and stared at it, seemingly daring it to fall out.

“Maybe, it would have been better if your father had kept you in Mirkwood on patrol. It couldn’t have soured your mood any worse than the rain has,” Aragorn declared petulantly.

“The rain has not soured my mood. It is the company I am keeping.” A measure of familiar arrogance had crept into the elf’s voice.

The two glared at each other. Legolas narrowed his eyes. Most people would have been forced to look away from that stare. Aragorn was not fazed by it in the least. Not only had he seen it numerous times on Legolas's face, but he had also grown up seeing that same look on Lord Elrond‘s face, who Estel decided was the only one he knew who could outstare the Mirkwood prince.

Since neither of the companions could move far from the other, they just turned away with their backs to each other. Both refused to say another word, preferring to stew in silence.

After only a few moments Aragorn began to laugh. Legolas turned his head and glanced sideways at his friend and then joined in the laughter. The two turned to face each other. “We are acting like children,” the elf said, almost sheepishly.

“I know,” Aragorn admitted, equally as sheepish. “It’s only water. We shouldn’t let it ruin our friendship.”

“Ruin our friendship? That is a little dramatic, is it not?”

Aragorn grinned. “A little, I guess. All right, ruin is a bit overstated,” he admitted.

The two companions then moved closer to each other. Aragorn dug into his pack and pulled out two pieces of dried meat, which were a bit on the soggy side. “Hungry?” he asked, as he handed one of the pieces to the elf.

Legolas nodded and took the offering. He wrinkled his nose at the slightly spongy piece of meat, then shrugged and took a bite. He didn’t care for the damp texture, but it tasted fine.

“I’m just glad there were no witnesses to the display of our lack of maturity,” the ranger said with obvious relief.

“There were two,” the elf said, pointing at the two stallions standing almost on top of them. Both companions could have sworn that their horses were grinning at them.

The laughter of ranger and archer was soon bouncing around the walls of the small cave.

“Shall we look for larger quarters?” Aragorn asked.

“We might as well,” Legolas replied. “We certainly cannot get any wetter in the attempt.”

***

That memory was only a tiny moment in all the vast collection of them that the two friends had shared, but it was one that now put a smile on the elf’s face. There were so very many moments to remember that Legolas hoped that, in time, Estel would think of them and be as glad that he had known the elf, as Legolas was that he had known the ranger.

Still smiling, Legolas watched the stars until it was time to resume the journey.

By midmorning of the next day, Legolas was again resting Elenblaith by walking for a time. The horse followed close behind his elven master.

When the two rounded an outcropping of high rocks, Legolas stopped in his tracks, causing the gray stallion to bump into the elf’s back. Legolas took no notice, because no more than two miles ahead of him rose the cliffs that surrounded the valley forest.

To the casual observer the cliffs looked solid, more like a mountain with the top flattened out. No one who didn’t know would even guess that those cliffs contained a valley covered by a lush, though dark, forest.

Luckily, Aragorn had explained to him how to find the hidden entrance when they had approached from the opposite end three weeks earlier. Since he had been unconscious when they had left this end of the valley, Legolas hadn’t seen it for himself. Yet, he was sure Estel’s detailed description would prove quite accurate.

Legolas stared at the spot in the rock facing where he believed the gap that would take him toward Mordraug was located. With a sigh, he mounted Elenblaith and headed directly toward it.

TBC

Chapter Twenty Three

Thunder continued to rumble over the Misty Mountains, as the group from Rivendell moved over the same broken ground that Legolas had crossed an hour before. The clouds were still staying above the rocky peaks and right at that moment it looked like they were dumping a torrent of rain on the eastern slopes. However, the sun was still shining above the travelers, and they all fervently hoped it stayed that way.

The memory of Legolas's fist smashing into his face kept coming back to Aragorn. There was not the slightest hint of anger at the elf for doing it. If anything, he felt anger at himself for not figuring out what Legolas had planned to do. He was no mind reader, but he knew his friend as well as he knew himself. He should have realized that the elf would do something to try and protect those he loved.

Elladan and Elrohir rode up beside their foster brother, as they were all forced to slow their pace over this stretch of the rocky ground. They looked at Estel and then looked across at each other. Elladan shook his head, then said, “Why do you always feel guilty whenever you find that you cannot control a situation?”

Aragorn was not surprised that his thoughts had been read so easily in the expression on his face. “I should have known he was planning something like this,” the ranger replied softly, looking at first one twin and then the other. Then he looked down and shook his head.

“Why is that?” Elrohir asked.

“I know him. He would do anything to protect his father and his friends---us---from harm. I should have been more alert to his elven tricks.”

“I repeat. Why is that?”

“Because, he’s done it before.”

Once again the twins looked at each other. This time there was a look of disbelief on their faces.

Elladan recovered first. “He has hit you before? I never heard that. When did this happen?”

“And why?” Elrohir added. He was as intrigued as his twin brother to hear that tale. This incident in Rivendell was the first time he had heard of either friend hitting the other outside of a playful cuff after one had given the other some kind of insult.

“We were on our way to Lorien. It was about five years ago, I think. There had been reports of orcs riding wargs in the area where we were, so we decided to travel close to the Anduin, hoping we could avoid them in the open stretches beyond the treeline.

“The orcs decided to do the same thing. It didn’t take long for us to run right into three of them. They didn’t see us at first. Then, I slipped in some mud, fell and hurt both my left leg and my right arm, as I rolled over some rocks. They spotted us then and headed our way. I couldn’t walk or draw my sword or an arrow. Legolas quickly dragged me into the brush, and I protested rather vehemently. I even tried to crawl out of the brush and follow him. He didn’t want me trying to fight off the wargs and their riders in my condition, so without saying a word, he came back to me and just punched me and knocked me out. He had never done that before, and I was totally unprepared for it, just as I was unprepared this last time.”

Elrohir, though sorry his brother had been hurt, was much more interested in the outcome of the warg fight. “What happened?” he asked rather anxiously.

"When I finally came to and dragged myself out of the brush, I saw that there were two warg bodies by the river and three dead orcs nearby. According to Legolas, he ran the last warg off with an arrow in its neck. I doubt it made it very far. Legolas was sitting on the ground, because, of course, he ended up getting himself injured worse than I was, though luckily, not too seriously. It happened because he was protecting me." The ranger shook his head. "He's so stubborn."

 “He is not the only one,” Elladan remarked. “You have a stubborn streak, too, when it comes to feeling guilty. You always seem so determined to take the blame for the bad things that happen, even if you are in no way at fault.”

Aragorn looked indignant. “I only feel guilty about things that are my fault,” he declared defensively, a big frown on his face. He had spoken so seriously that despite the fact the statement sounded almost comical, neither twin could bring themselves to laugh.

“Of course,” was all Elrohir said, though it was a little on the sarcastic side.

Elladan looked at Aragorn with something approaching sympathy. “You said yourself you could not use a sword or a bow. If you had been out in the middle of the fight, you would have had only a knife for defense and then Legolas would have had to worry about you, as well as the wargs and orcs. Then, he could have been very badly hurt---or killed. Think about it, Estel.”

Elrohir raised his eyebrows in a gesture that all but dared the man to argue with his twin’s logic.

Elladan didn’t give Estel a chance to agree or disagree with what he had said, when he quickly returned to the original point that was being discussed. “You say you know Legolas so well. Then, you know he would have found some way to accomplish his goal. You could not have stopped him, Estel, whether you suspected some trick or not.”

“I could have hit him first,” the ranger suggested, “then tied him up.”

Elrohir laughed. “I imagine you would have tried that very thing, if it had occurred to you to do so. But, you still are not to blame for what happened. Legolas has a mind of his own, as we all know quite well, and will do whatever he sees fit to do.” He had no intention of mentioning the poison that was firmly ingrained in Legolas's body. It would serve no purpose but to cause more distress for the human.

There was no sense in arguing with his brothers about this, so Aragorn just took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Then, he saw the land in front of him flatten out and quickly urged his horse forward at a run. The twins were right behind him, and the rest of the group soon followed.

Thranduil was in the rear, having been unusually quiet since reading Legolas's letter. It took only a moment for him to pass both Elrond and Glorfindel. He was not going to be the last one to reach his son.

~*~*~

It didn’t take long for Legolas to reach the spot where he believed the hidden gap in the cliffs was located. Even close up, the opening was cleverly concealed. There was not the slightest hint of a trail or pathway that would give the opening’s existence away. The slightly sandy ground looked undisturbed, probably swept clean of any tracks there might have been by the almost constant wind that blew down from the mountains.

It was only when close up and moving at a slight angle that the elf could discern the subtle shift in the look of the uneven cliff face. The gap in the rock would appear non-existent to anyone who didn’t know to look for it.

He headed into the gap.

The opening and beyond allowed for only the width of a horse with barely three feet more than that to spare. Legolas turned left and moved down a dirt trail between stone that soared several hundred feet above his head, ending in a narrow opening overhead that was the only thing keeping the pathway from becoming a true tunnel. The sun had to be directly above the opening before sunlight could shine down to the ground. At present, Legolas was in deep shadow.

After going a few yards, the trail turned back on itself and he found himself going in the opposite direction. A few more yards and it turned back again. This zig-zagging continued for several more turns and then suddenly opened out onto the canopied forest he well remembered. Looking at it, he felt the same foreboding he had felt, when he and Estel had been here before. Now, however, he knew what the foreboding warned him of. That knowledge didn’t ease his mind any. If anything, it increased his fear. He couldn’t keep his body from shuddering.

Mordraug could not have picked a better place to hide out, if indeed this was where he called home. He could go undiscovered and undisturbed for ages and evidently had, because until the attack on Legolas almost three weeks ago, no one had caught sight of the dark elf in close to two millennia. Or perhaps, it was just that no one had lived to tell about the encounter.

Elenblaith stamped nervously. The stallion evidently felt the darkness that permeated the forest just ahead of him, as acutely as he had the last time he had been there. He was also very attuned to the uneasy feelings of his master.

Legolas bent forward and stroked Elenblaith’s neck, speaking soothing elvish words to calm the horse. The elf could feel the tense muscles beneath him. He realized that his own muscles were taut, as well. There was no way staying here and staring into the trees would get anything accomplished, so he started forward cautiously.

In less than two minutes, the trees closed in over Legolas's head. The forest looked just as it had previously. If he hadn’t known any different, he would have believed that he was again moving into the forest from the opposite end, so alike did everything look from this end to that.

Legolas started down the right hand trail. Unlike the first time he was here, he now knew it didn’t really matter which one he took. Mordraug would make his presence known, when he was ready.

The archer wondered if the dark elf was aware that it was Mirkwood’s prince and not its king that had entered the forest. He didn’t know how keen Mordraug’s powers were. He was no wizard or magician of any kind, so there was a question as to what kind of powers the snake could have given him, if any. It was possible that the snake possessed all the power and Mordraug only gave the commands.

For all Legolas knew, Mordraug could be watching him at this very moment. If the prickling on the back of his neck was any indication, he probably was.

The young elven archer moved deeper into the trees, now clearly feeling eyes upon him. He wondered how long it would be before Mordraug confronted him. Knowing he had only an hour’s leeway, Legolas decided that if Mordraug didn’t reveal himself soon, he would have to force the issue.

Five minutes later, Mordraug left the trees and walked out onto the pathway in front of Legolas. His look was grim, and his eyes flashed in anger. He was plainly not happy to be seeing Legolas instead of Thranduil.

Legolas couldn’t stop himself from smiling at the dark elf‘s displeasure. The time had definitely come to settle matters.

TBC

Chapter Twenty Four

Mordraug glared up at the blond elf, sitting straight and proud atop his gray stallion. "Why are you here?" he demanded with a snarl. A scowl graced his face, and it was easy to believe it belonged there.

"I came to settle matters with you once and for all," Legolas replied, pretending that he hadn‘t noticed the emphasis on the word ‘you’. He had been planning this confrontation since the attack he had suffered in Rivendell, yet now that he was actually face to face with this evil elf again, he found he had to work at keeping his composure, and that included forcing the memories of what had happened in this place back into the recesses of his mind. How well that was going to work would not take long to discover.

Mordraug's irritated voice instantly brought Legolas back from his thoughts to full awareness. "Thranduil is supposed to be here, not you." The dark elf's attitude, as he spoke the last two words, was more than just anger. It was almost dismissive of the elf before him.

"There was no need for my father to come," Legolas answered more calmly than he felt. "He is not going to give you what you want. Mirkwood will never be yours,” he declared emphatically. “I should think that you would know that by now." There was no mistaking the defiance in Legolas's words and condescending tone.

"So, the great king of the wood elves sends his youngest son to face death in his place. I am not surprised. I have always known that he is a coward at heart, also being descended from cowards." A sneer crossed Mordraug's face. He wanted to aggravate this young elf, and he was sure that insulting his father and his heritage was the easiest way to do it. He was wrong.

Legolas remembered declaring in his previous encounter with Mordraug that his father was no coward. It was a waste of time to declare it again. Defending his heritage was also a waste of time. He knew Mordraug was trying to provoke him into perhaps revealing some secret information or making some kind of mistake, and he was not going to fall into that trap. "No one sent me,” he said finally. “This is between you and me now. I am the one that you attacked. Therefore, it is logical that I am the one to face you now."

The sneer on Mordraug's face broadened, as another thought struck him. He wondered if Legolas had been told that the poison in his body could not be removed or neutralized. If not, it would give him a great deal of pleasure to reveal it. With that in mind, he said, "Do you know that the venom that is running through your veins is irreversible---and fatal?"

Legolas looked straight into Mordraug’s dark eyes. "I am well aware of that fact. I know what awaits me."

Mordraug frowned. *Elrond,* he thought with a bitter growl. *That insufferable, meddling....* He was too angry to finish the thought. The elf believed that no one else held the knowledge about the venom, and so it was likely that Elrond was the one who revealed his impending death to this prince. Mordraug wasn't sure which he hated more, at that moment, Thranduil or Elrond. Still, there was a definite positive to Elrond‘s meddling. Knowing that this wood elf had surely spent time pondering the inevitable loss of his immortality and the painful manner by which it would occur was a good thing, a very good thing.

Now, Mordraug was smiling. He bent his left arm at the elbow and held it up in front of him.

Despite his best efforts, Legolas could not keep his eyes from moving down to the slender black snake that was wrapped around the extended arm. The memories could not be held at bay any longer, and a tingling sensation made its way down his spine, ending in a shiver.

Feeling the elf's intense stare, the snake, who had been still and quiet until then, slowly lifted its head almost a foot above the arm it curled around. With a mesmerizing seductiveness it began to undulate slowly side to side in the same way it had done the first time Legolas had seen it. The elf’s' blue-gray eyes followed every move, unable to turn away. His heart began to pound harder, sounding like thunder in his ears. His breathing became quick and shallow.

The memory of the snake's needle-sharp fangs sinking into the soft flesh inside his mouth and injecting its venom made him visibly shudder. His mouth began to ache. Or, was it just those memories in his mind making him think so? He felt his fear rising, and he swallowed hard. He then chided himself for his weakness. It didn't occur to him that even the bravest warrior in Middle-earth, who found himself in that same situation, would have been equally as fearful. To him this fear was a flaw, and he hated acknowledging that fact to himself.

He believed that being bitten again would do him no more damage than had already been done. Yet, his fear continued unabated. Legolas's face reflected his grim determination not to appear helpless in front of this evil being, vowing to keep his courage strong. He had betrayed his best friend, likely broken his father’s heart and come too far to let these emotions cripple him now. He knew he needed to do something before his fear turned to panic and immobilized him.

Without warning, Legolas drew the twin knives that he had put in his belt. His bow and quiver were strapped on Elenblaith. He had known that, even as swift as he was with a bow, he would probably only have had one shot at Mordraug, and he felt there would have been little chance of hitting his target. Mordraug was also a swift elf, after all. and Legolas had never, in all his long life, fired an arrow at another elf. So, more than likely, if he had even attempted to shoot Mordraug, the elf would have simply avoided the arrow and disappeared back into the trees.

Legolas swung his right leg over Elenblaith’s neck and slid down from the horse's back, all the while facing forward and keeping his eyes on the Avari before him. "Now, it is time to finish it," he declared.

Mordraug stared at the half-crouching elf, whose blades were now moving back and forth in front of him. The dark elf laughed. "You seem very eager to engage in combat with me. Why do you wish to hasten your death?"

Legolas wasn't about to answer that question. Mordraug could not find out that Thranduil, Estel, and possibly others, were not only on their way there but would be arriving before long. Instead, he said, "Why are you not in a hurry to see that happen? I would think that watching me die would be a distinct pleasure for you."

"Indeed, it will be. But, I do not want it to happen too quickly. I wish to savor your fear first," Mordraug replied, stating the last sentence with the same relish he would have done, if referring to the enjoyment of a juicy piece of meat.

However, Mordraug's own questions had begun to make him suspicious. Why, he wasn't sure, since it was actually logical for the silvan elf to want to try and kill him and his pet as soon as possible. Or was it? Wouldn't he want to play this scene out as long as possible to try and find a weakness in the dark elf's defenses? Wouldn't he want to question and probe until he found something he could try and exploit? No, there was a definite reason the prince was trying to finish this quickly, even if he knew his own death was at the end of it.

Mordraug decided that he needed to get away and give himself more time to figure out what this clever young elf was up to. There was too much at risk to rush into anything. He had to stall. A smile came to Mordraug’s face, as he thought of the perfect place to go to think. It was also the perfect place for his eventual revenge.

He knew that as soon as he turned his back, Legolas would take that opportunity to try and drive both long knives into his retreating back. That, of course, would never do. Mordraug held his left arm straight out to the side, as he turned his back on Legolas and started walking away.

The snake looked toward Legolas, and then his eyes flashed with that same inner red glow it had displayed before it had bitten the archer previously. A searing pain exploded through Legolas's body. It wasn't quite as bad as the attack at Rivendell, but it was bad enough to knock him to his knees and stop him from using his knives, which was all that Mordraug wanted for now.

Mordraug didn't have to turn around to see what had happened. He laughed when he heard the involuntary cry of pain that escaped Legolas's lips. *Another weakness,* the woodland elf thought unhappily, as he panted for breath.

When Legolas was finally able, he looked up and saw that Mordraug was no where in sight. It took a few moments for the pain to subside enough for the elf to get to his feet. He swayed precariously but didn't lose his balance. It took several attempts to make his muscles obey his commands. His whole body hurt, but the fire that had swept through him was gone. His head felt a little woozy, yet his vision remained focused.

"Who is the coward now?" he managed to shout, although the sound was not as harsh as he intended nor as strong as he wanted. Still, he was sure it was heard quite clearly.

Legolas realized that he still clutched both of his knives in his hands. He put them back in his belt and started off, rather unsteadily at first, after the dark elf.

Elenblaith began to follow. The archer turned and held his hand up, stopping the horse’s advance. He rubbed the stallion's forehead and told him to go into the trees but to stay near the trail. He believed that when the final confrontation was over, the horse would be found. He would be taken home, possibly bearing his master's body. Legolas sighed. There was no time to think about that now.

He watched as the horse disappeared into the trees to the right of the path before he turned and headed once again toward where his keen senses told him Mordraug had gone. The evil that the Avari and the snake radiated was as easy for an elf to follow as a physical trail left by clumsy, heavy-footed orcs.

Orcs. Legolas suddenly remembered that two orcs had held him while the snake bit him. He shivered again at the memory of their rough hands holding him immobile. He also remembered their laughter at his fears. A surge of hatred swept through him. He despised those foul creatures. Legolas forced his mind to calm itself.

Where were the orcs now? The elf nodded in sudden understanding. The overly thick canopy of trees made the forest naturally a little gloomy, and it was easy to forget that there was bright sunshine outside of these woods. However, the low light did not quite make the forest dark enough for orcs to be comfortable. Wherever they were, they would be hiding until nightfall. That, at least, was an advantage for Legolas, though Mordraug evidently didn't think he needed their help. *Ego precedes a fall,* Legolas thought, remembering the phrase from one of his school masters, during a warrior training lesson on teamwork. *Perhaps, I can take advantage of Mordraug’s monumental ego.*

A good hundred yards farther down the trail, Legolas saw that Mordraug had moved into the trees. He had no idea where the dark elf was going, but it didn’t matter. Legolas was going to keep following him until he stopped. And, stop he would, because the blond warrior knew that Mordraug was leading him somewhere in particular.

A few moments later, Legolas began to feel a tugging on the edges of his mind. His body had now recovered, but there was definitely something nagging at him that he couldn’t quite grasp. He looked around him but didn’t detect anything that might be the source of his mental discomfort.

Then suddenly, he knew what the feeling was trying to tell him, as he realized that his surroundings were becoming familiar. Legolas now knew where Mordraug was leading him, so he picked up his pace.

~*~*~

Mordraug had been thinking hard during his walk through the forest. He kept asking why the Mirkwood prince would want to hasten his own death. The obvious thought kept coming back to him that the young elf had come here alone to face him. Why? Was there more to it than his declaration that it should be him, because he was the one who had been attacked. There had to be more.

Over and over he mulled the puzzle until, all at once, it hit him. Alone. Of course. The wood elf had seemingly come alone. But, had he really?

Mordraug may have been in virtual exile for almost two millennia, but he had not been totally unaware of events in the world outside of this forest. He had often sent his orc slaves out to spy on the goings on in Mirkwood. Many had been killed by the elven warriors of that realm, but enough had made it back to keep him informed of current events. He knew for instance, about the close friendship that Mirkwood’s youngest prince had formed with the human ranger. He also knew of his close ties with Elrond’s twin sons. Then, of course, there was his father, Thranduil.

Mordraug realized that none of them would have let this young archer make this journey by himself. So, he was now sure that those others were also coming. That had to be it. Perhaps, they were planning on entering from the other end of the valley. Perhaps, they were already in the forest, and Legolas was just a diversion until they reached their intended target---him.

Mordraug found it hard to believe that anyone could enter this forest, and he wouldn’t be aware of it. Mordraug was convinced that they hadn’t arrived quite yet, and that this silvan elf was, at present, truly alone. That still did not explain why Legolas was in such a hurry to combat Mordraug before his ‘help’ arrived.

Well, whatever they had planned wasn’t going to work. He and his pet had faced the Lords of Mirkwood, Rivendell and Lothlorien along with almost a dozen elven warriors all those years ago---and won. He didn’t think that there would be any warrior guards with them now. He believed that they, with their own egos, would want to defeat him without any outside help. He found himself eagerly awaiting their arrival. The prince he could easily control until they showed up.

Legolas stopped when he saw Mordraug standing in the center of the same clearing where he had been attacked and bitten by the snake. He had been right about where Mordraug had been heading.

The Avari had his back to Legolas, who was just about to make his presence known, when he heard Mordraug say challengingly, “Come, Thranduil. I cannot wait until you arrive to try and save your son. I hope you are coming, too, Elrond. And, I welcome whoever else you are bringing with you. None of you will escape. This time, you will all die.”

Legolas froze, and a knot formed in his stomach. *He knows!* he thought in dismay. *He knows they are coming.*

TBC

Chapter Twenty Five

A cold chill shot through Legolas’s heart, as he heard Mordraug speak those challenging words. He couldn’t be sure if they were spoken in anger solely toward his father and Elrond, or if he knew that Legolas was listening, and the words were meant for him to hear. Either way, he was dismayed to learn that the dark elf knew that others would soon be arriving.

The elven prince was forced to take slow, measured breaths to calm himself. He had to think rationally. That would have been fine, he told himself, if he had all the time in the world to get this matter settled with Mordraug. But, he did not. He had to finish it before his father and Estel arrived. At the same time, irrational thoughts and worse yet, actions, would not accomplish anything. He had to find something in the middle.

The blond archer slowly raised his head a few inches to see if Mordraug was still facing away from him. He was. His demeanor was almost relaxed. In fact, he had the air of someone who hadn’t a care in the world. Perhaps, in Mordraug’s mind, he didn’t. He was certainly confident he would win the upcoming battle with little trouble. Legolas was determined that that would not be the case.

Legolas couldn’t see the snake, since Mordraug held it in front of him. He knew, however, that the black serpent didn’t need to be anywhere near him to bring about an attack. He had learned that painful lesson all too well in Rivendell.

Legolas made up his mind what he would do and instantly acted upon it. There was neither need nor time to ponder that decision once it had been made. The elf drew his knives once again and prepared to throw one at Mordraug‘s back. He felt no compunction at making this kind of sneak attack. He much preferred facing an opponent, but Mordraug did not fight with honor, and Legolas had already realized that, in this case, he could not afford that luxury, either. If his honor was sacrificed in order to defeat Mordraug, so be it.

Mordraug, with his keen elven hearing, was aware of the movement behind him, recognizing it instantly for what it was. He whirled around, and ducked just a second before the knife would have buried itself in his flesh. The blade flew past and landed in the brush on the far side of the clearing, very near where the dead rabbit had lain.

Legolas was dismayed to see that Mordraug had deftly avoided the blade. There was only one thing left to do. With his one remaining knife, he sprang from the brush and charged the dark elf, rapidly closing the distance between them. He hoped that Mordraug wouldn’t be expecting a frontal assault this early in the battle.

Legolas was right. Mordraug was actually expecting another knife to come his way. With this in mind, he kept his eyes on the knife Legolas was now switching to his right hand.

Legolas sprinted the last few feet toward the dark elf. He refused to consider that this surprise attack might be the only advantage over the Avari that he would ever have

The charge quickly turned out to be no advantage at all. Mordraug waited until the last second and then sidestepped Legolas just before he could be impaled on the long knife the young elf held out in front of him.

Legolas heard a hiss in his ear, as his momentum carried him past Mordraug. He then felt a sharp pain on the left side of his head. He knew immediately that it was not the strike of a snake. Out of the corner of his eye, Legolas saw the dark elf’s fist move past his head.

Mordraug had reacted with anger, when he saw Legolas coming at him with long knife in hand. After stepping aside, he had balled his right hand into a fist and swung it at the charging elf’s head. It was an instinctive move, and he didn’t know if the blow would connect or not. He smiled when his fist landed solidly above Legolas’s left ear.

Legolas was not expecting to be hit with a fist, and thus did not move from his straight line charge. The pain from the blow was intense but did not deter him from his purpose.

Fortunately for him, Legolas did not fall or lose his balance. Instead, he whirled around and charged Mordraug again. Despite the blow Mordraug had given him, Legolas’s knife had remained level. He had decided that another quick charge was the best plan of attack, at this point. But, this time rather than trying to strike Mordraug, he took a swipe at the snake’s head.

The snake’s response was a swift one. Angered, the serpent did not wait for a command from Mordraug. It immediately rose up and struck at the fair elf. Legolas had raised his hand up in a defensive move, and the snake’s lowered fangs met with the flat blade of Legolas’s knife. The wood elf couldn’t believe his good luck.

The snake was enraged, but before it could strike again, Mordraug had put a restraining hand around the snake’s neck. “Stay your anger, my pet,” he said soothingly, as he began to stroke the black head. “For now, I wish him merely immobilized.”

Legolas had no time to prepare for what he knew was about to happen. The small yellow eyes that were now very close to his face flashed red and fire once again exploded through the elf’s body. For the second time in less than half an hour, the prince found himself on his knees, panting more from the shock to his system than loss of breath, though that was certainly part of it. He stared down at his knife, which was now lying harmlessly on the ground. He hadn’t remembered dropping it.

His mind was screaming at him to do something. He tried reaching for the knife, but his arm barely moved, refusing to obey his command. He felt the same way he had one time years ago, when he was caught in a strong river current, and he had tried to reach out for a nearby log to keep himself from being swept over a waterfall. The current had effectively kept his arm from moving forward.

There was only air between his hand and his knife now, yet he might as well have been fighting against the river current for all the success he was having. He reminded himself grimly that he had never been able to grab the log, either. His oldest brother had rescued him then. He laughed bitterly to think that he was actually wishing no one would show up to rescue him now. If he died at the same moment Mordraug did, this whole mission would be a success and he could go to the Halls of Mandos in peace. If only that would come to pass.

Mordraug stood and laughed down at him. “What is wrong, little one? Can you not pick up your own knife?”

Legolas’s head came up slowly, eyes narrowed, and he glared in pure hatred at the Avari. “Do not call me that,” he ground out between clenched teeth, trying to use his anger to ignore the pain that lanced through him. That was the name his father had called him when he was an elfling and more recently in Rivendell, and he didn’t want it sullied by coming from this evil elf’s mouth.

Mordraug laughed harder. He didn’t know why being called ‘little one’ irritated the young elf so much, but it amused him to know that it did. Perhaps, it held bad memories for the prince. It didn‘t really matter, as anger again flared in the dark elf. “I will call you whatever I wish, whenever I wish it. You will learn that before you die.” Mordraug raised his hand and started to take a step forward, intending to hit Legolas for his perceived insubordination.

“Leave...him...alone!” came a fiercely demanding voice from across the clearing.

Mordraug never took that first step, as he stared into the furious face of Thranduil, whose blue-gray eyes were now as dark and menacing as a thunderstorm. If it had been physically possible, the intensity of his glare would have ignited Mordraug where he stood.

The black eyes of Mordraug reflected his unbridled shock at the fair elf’s sudden appearance. Then, he quickly and effectively hooded his emotions. “I have been waiting for you, Thranduil,” Mordraug replied icily. He looked around to see who else had accompanied the woodland king.

Standing in a semicircle behind Mordraug were the Rivendell elves, Elrond being more to the side. Estel stood transfixed behind and slightly to the left side of Thranduil.

Elrond stood silently and gave Mordraug his own considerable glare. He had not drawn a weapon. However, Glorfindel and Elrond’s twin sons had their arrows pointed straight at the dark elf‘s head. They dared not fire, though, because they did not know whether or not this accursed excuse for an elf had the knowledge to cure Legolas of the venom’s poison. They could not risk killing what might prove to be their friend’s only chance of survival. That fact, however, did not cause them to lower their bows a single inch.

Ignoring the standoff that electrified the air around him as affectively as any nearby lightning strike could have done, Aragorn had now run up to Legolas and knelt in front of him. He locked eyes with his elven friend. The pain the ranger saw there caused his chest to constrict. He reached out to put his hands on the elf‘s shoulders, when Mordraug yelled, “Do not touch him, or I will kill him right now!” Aragorn jerked his hands back. He would have defied Mordraug in an instant, if the threat had been against him. But, he was not willing to risk further pain to his friend. His eyes reflected the regret he felt at not being able to offer Legolas any comfort.

Legolas nodded slightly in understanding. There was also a silent plea to Estel that he should not risk turning Mordraug’s wrath on himself.

Though it didn’t seem possible, the fury in Thranduil’s eyes intensified even more. “You will deal with me now that I am here. Leave my son out of this.” He began to advance on the dark elf. He stopped only when the snake raised its head again and hissed menacingly. As much as the elf king wanted to put his bare hands around Mordraug’s neck and squeeze until the life was gone out of him, he was no fool. He could not risk being bitten. It would do no one, including Legolas, any good.

With a smirk at Thranduil‘s forced restraint, Mordraug nodded in Legolas‘s direction. “As long as I have your son in my power, you dare not attempt any hostile moves against me.” He looked around him. “That goes for the rest of you, which I am sure you know quite well. You would have shot me by now, if you believed otherwise.”

The arrogance the dark elf showed was almost more than the other elves could bear. “Just so that you understand I mean what I say...” There was no need to finish the sentence, because just as those words left Mordraug’s mouth, Legolas arched his back and screamed.

The sound of Legolas’s torment tore at Thranduil’s heart, as it did them all, but he could not afford to turn his back or even his head from Mordraug or the snake. He also knew that no matter what he had told Elrond about the strength he possessed to protect Mirkwood, he dare not look at his son, or his resolve might well crumble.

Aragorn hadn’t been able to hold back a groan of frustration at not being able to help his friend. He sat on his knees and clenched both hands into fists. His face betrayed his emotional pain at his helplessness.

Elrond finally motioned for Elladan, Elrohir and Glorfindel to lower their bows. The look he gave Mordraug was almost as fierce as that of Thranduil, but he knew that if Legolas was to be spared further pain, his sons and his friend would need to refrain from showing any kind of threat for the time being, at least. Keeping their aim on him might push Mordraug to follow through on his threat to kill Legolas right then. It galled him to feel as helpless as Estel felt.

Mordraug’s laughter rang out, as he looked past Thranduil at Legolas. “Poor little one, he came here to protect a father who does not even care enough to look at him in his time of need. Is that how you acted when your wife was suffering? Did you turn your back on her, as well, Thranduil?”

The elf king had to work so hard to control himself from leaping at Mordraug that his whole body shook. Still, his eyes never left the black eyes of the Avari. He watched, as the snake’s eyes flashed red and a scream once again escaped Legolas’s lips. This time, unlike in Rivendell, the fire in his body drove him to the ground where he lay moaning, as his body jerked and writhed in agony.

This time instead of the steady sensation of fire burning his flesh, the pain now came in waves, each one seemingly more painful than the last. Legolas continued to writhe and moan. The sights and sounds of the world around him faded to nothingness, punctuated by flashes of intense white lightning that corresponded with each wave of agony. His entire world now was reduced to the burning agony consuming him.

Mordraug looked past Thranduil to watch the prince’s losing battle with a pain far beyond any he had previously known. The dark elf smiled at the results of his ‘handiwork‘. Not only was Legolas suffering but so was his father. That alone was a great source of joy for the Avari.

Mordraug’s joy was also a source of distraction for him.

Thranduil took that opportunity to draw his dagger. He would have driven it into the dark elf’s throat, if not for the fact that the snake was now watching him, and he knew full well that he couldn‘t kill Mordraug and get his hand out of the way of a strike from the snake. So deciding, Thranduil, in a lightning fast move, put the sharp blade of his knife against the top of the snake’s neck about three inches below its head. The serpent hissed angrily, but the elven king held his knife firm.

Instantly, Mordraug looked down and saw with horror that he no longer held the advantage. He realized, much too late, of course, that his feeling of triumph at what he had done to Legolas had distracted him. He had never believed what Legolas had told him about his father putting Mirkwood ahead of his family. That failure to believe was now costing him. Rage crossed Mordraug’s face as he looked up at Thranduil.

“Do not try to drop your arm and move this serpent out of the way of my blade,” Thranduil threatened icily. “You would not like the outcome for it---or for you.”

Mordraug knew that this was no idle threat. Even if he had not dealt with Thranduil at all in the past to know the seriousness of the threat, seeing the wood elf’s demeanor now would be convincing enough. A myriad of confusing thoughts swirled through Mordraug’s mind, as he frantically began to calculate his options.

TBC

Chapter Twenty Six

Mordraug stood and stared at Thranduil, who was calmly holding his sharp elven dagger against the snake’s neck. No, Mordraug amended, the elven king was not calm. He shook with rage and a tremendous desire for revenge, but unfortunately, his blade remained steady.

The armed elves behind him would be held at bay as long as they believed Mordraug might kill Legolas, so he was not overly worried about them, at the moment.

He sneered as he considered Elrond, the great half-elven healer and son of the morning and evening star, Eärendil. His attention had remained with Legolas, not once attempting to draw his sword. Consequently, he was all but dismissed from Mordraug’s mind.

None of them seemed to know that this attack would be different from the previous ones that had afflicted the young wood elf. This time there would be no stopping the attack. It would progress just as the others had done all those centuries before. The young prince was about to die horribly, and even the dark elf himself could not stop it. Considering the hopeless way Elrond was now looking down at Legolas, it appeared now that the Lord of Rivendell was all too aware of that fact.

“Release my son from the attack,” Thranduil demanded in a cold fury. “Now!”

With a smile that he could not keep from displaying, Mordraug said, “I cannot.”

Thranduil did not believe him. “You control the serpent. Tell it to end the attack.”

“I am so sorry.” The dark elf uttered the words in so sarcastic a tone that it was clear he was anything but sorry. In fact, he was intending to thoroughly enjoy imparting his knowledge of doom to the elven king. “My pet has unleashed the final stage of the venom. It cannot be stopped by anyone.”

At that moment, Legolas began gasping for breath. The fire had left his body and as before, near freezing blood began to flow through his veins, sending the frigid liquid seeping into every fiber of his body. His lips began turning blue, as his lungs slowly advanced toward immobility, forcing him to gasp in order to get any air at all. “Helkh,”

the elf rasped barely above a whisper, not having the necessary air to speak louder.

Legolas began to shake violently, his body trying vainly to keep the core of itself warm. Then to the horror of his friends, his body began to contort. His limbs were twisting. The muscles were being stretched and pulled. The archer’s arms crossed each other on his chest and his hands became distorted claws. The sound of breaking bone could be heard, when first one wrist snapped and then the other, as his hands twisted around each other. Legolas’s legs were also contorting at unnatural angles as they bent back upon themselves. His neck arched from the abnormal warping of the controlling muscles, throwing his head painfully backward. Legolas’s screams rent the air. It was an unbelievable sight.

Aragorn looked up at Elrond with eyes reflecting a sorrowful pleading the depth of which his father had never seen there before. “Please, do something, Ada.”

Elrond’s memories drifted back almost two millennia, as his mind’s eye transposed the faces and twisted bodies of those who suffered the cruel attacks he had seen back then onto the body he saw on the ground in front of him. He slowly shook his head. “I can do no more now than I did then,” he said with a heart full of anguish and an uncharacteristic tone of defeat. He clenched his fists in frustration much as Estel had done a few moments before. The healer in him raged at his inability to aid the young elf.

Mordraug’s eyes moved from the young blond elf on the ground to the older blond elf in front of him. The anguish and fury on Thranduil’s face was terrible to behold.

Th King had reached the end of his self-control. Through clenched teeth, he said, “If what is happening to my son does not end immediately, I will kill this black spawn of a demon.” He glared straight into the dark elf’s black eyes. He still did not believe that Mordraug could not end the attack on his son. It was inconceivable to him that the dark elf would ever have admitted that he had lost control over Legolas‘s fate, partly because of his immense ego and partly because that would mean he could no longer hold Legolas hostage. “I mean what I say,” Thranduil finished threateningly.

Mordraug knew the woodland king did not believe he no longer controlled the situation. It occurred to him suddenly that that was a good thing, because he had just made a grave tactical blunder. As long as Thranduil believed he could stop the attack on Legolas, he could keep the woodland elf from fulfilling his desire to kill him and his pet. What he didn’t realize yet was that the elder wood elf had decided that the standoff was going to end right then.

When Mordraug finally did realize that Thranduil’s patience, never lengthy at the best of times, had run out completely, he quickly made up his mind that he would sacrifice the snake to spare himself. What else could he do? While Thranduil was engaged in killing the snake, the dark elf would have a few seconds of inattention from everyone around him. They would be watching with gleeful pleasure as Thranduil killed the snake. Mordraug would then make his getaway. He knew this forest better than anyone, so he believed that even a wood elf such as Thranduil could not find him, when he wished not to be found. Arrogantly Mordraug said, “Go ahead. Kill it. In time, I will find another such as he to aid me.”

So dismissive had his attitude become, that the dark elf didn't even spare a glance at the serpent. If he had, he would have seen the dangerous look residing in the small yellow eyes. This was no mindless reptile capable only of being directed by another. It was a sentient being. Though its awareness was on a primitive level, it understood exactly what Mordraug was doing. Mordraug’s intentions infuriated the creature.

The serpent slowly turned its head from Thranduil and swung it back to look at Mordraug. It hissed menacingly, flicking its tongue in and out. The dark elf, whose attention was fully on Thranduil, so he would be able to react as soon as the king did, still refused to glance at the snake. He acted as if the black creature now meant no more to him than dirt under his boots.

In the lightning fast move common to all venomous snakes, it sank its fangs into the back of Mordraug’s left hand. The dark elf let out his own scream of pain and shock and quickly put his right hand over the wound in a reflexive move of protection. The snake promptly bit the back of that hand, too, this time hitting a vein and injecting venom directly into the Avari’s blood stream.

So startled was Thranduil, that the took a step back, releasing the pressure of his blade on the snake, who quickly uncurled is body from around Mordraug’s arm and slipped to the ground. It could have gone after any of the elves or the human that surrounded it. However, at that moment, it was not interested in revenge. It wanted freedom.

As soon as they had recovered, the twins raised their still-loaded bows and fired at the fleeing snake, who was slithering rapidly through the grass. It was just a little too fast, and the arrows landed short, both slamming into the earth barely two inches from the tapered tip of the black tail. The snake was soon lost to sight.

They started after it, but Glorfindel called them back. “Stay here in case you are needed. I will find that creature.” It was a vow he intended on keeping. In seconds, the elder elf had disappeared into the trees, bow in hand.

After being bitten, Mordraug looked down at the back of both of his hands, staring in stunned horror at the twin puncture marks that decorated each one. His mind reeled. He had been bitten by his own pet, the creature he had freed from the amber stone, the creature he had given a home to. This could not be happening. He was supposed to destroy Thranduil and Elrond. How could they be unscathed while he was now being infused with the deadly venom? He had never even thought to enquire of the creature, if he would be as susceptible to the poison as all the other elves. He never dreamed that information would be needed. *There is no antidote!* his horrified mind wailed.

Thranduil came close to using his dagger to slit the dark elf’s throat while he stood transfixed by what had just happened. It would have given the Mirkwood king a great deal of satisfaction to end the dark elf’s life. But, just before he could accomplish the feat, he pulled his hand back. Why end his miserable life so easily? His evil heart was now pumping poisoned blood through his body. Let him die the same way he had condemned his son to die.

A wrenching scream from Legolas caught the king’s attention. He pointed to the twins. “Make sure this filth...”

Before he could finish the sentence, Mordraug turned around and began running. His mind had finally shattered completely, throwing it into total chaos. All rational thought ceased, as he ran blindly into the forest, screaming.

Thranduil knew that Mordraug would be dead soon, suffering the way he was making Legolas suffer. Had he possessed the ability, Thranduil would have greatly prolonged that suffering. The main thing now was that he would no longer be a threat. “Forget it,” the king told the twins. “He will get the end he deserves.” With that he turned and hurried toward his son.

The King of Mirkwood knew exactly what he would see. The accuracy of that knowledge tore at his heart. Legolas was deathly pale, a tinge of blue infusing his skin. He was barely able to get air into his freezing lungs. Thranduil knelt down and reached for him.

Elrond started to hold his arms out to block Thranduil from touching Legolas. His first thought was that holding the twisting muscles and tortured bones would cause more harm to the young elf. It was the healer in Elrond, who held that belief. He shook his head almost imperceptibly. For Thranduil to hold his son would do more good for them both emotionally than it would cause any further physical distress to Legolas.

Thranduil picked Legolas up and held him close. He could feel the chill of death in the slender body. He wrapped his arms around Legolas, giving him his love and whatever bit of warmth his own body could provide. He felt the movement of the contorting muscles that lay against him.

There was a loud crack, as Legolas’s left ankle broke, and then his body suddenly stopped its abnormal twisting.

It was not clear to Elrond why the contortions had ceased. In all the previous attacks, only death had ended them. Though the young elf’s breath had now retreated to the barest minimum for keeping his body alive, he was still alive.

Elrond noticed that the contortions were not as pronounced in Legolas as they had been in the elves of long ago. There was no way to know why that had happened, but it was a relief, though much physical damage had already been done.

Thranduil hugged Legolas to his chest, the young elf‘s golden hair spilling down over the king’s arm. He closed his eyes and put his chin down against the side of his son’s head.

The body he held was gradually beginning to still. But, Thranduil’s mind tried hard to push that thought away. If he gave it no credence, it may not come to pass.

Aragorn, still on his knees, reached out and put a trembling hand on Legolas’s shoulder. He sighed as he, too, felt the chill that greeted his fingers. He had believed so strongly that his friend not only could be but would be saved. It was inconceivable to the man that he could not. That was a realization that was like glass shards ripping into his heart.

Legolas was dying. To the ranger, those three words should not be allowed to exist, in Sindarin, in Westron, in any language known in Middle-earth. He sat unmoving. His head was bowed, eyes closed in grief, but he did not move his hand. He would not lose physical contact with his best friend until death parted them.

The twins had moved up close. They knelt between Thranduil and Estel. Their eyes, which mirrored each other’s in so many of their shared emotions, stared sadly at their friend. They were each as unbelieving as Estel. Even having heard their father and Glorfindel tell them about the horror of what the venom could do to an elf’s body, they still could not believe what they were seeing. They couldn’t begin to imagine the pain it must have caused, even though the memory of the agonized cries of the archer still rang in their ears.

Unnoticed by anyone except Elrond, Glorfindel returned to the clearing. In his left hand he carried his bow. In his right hand he carried an arrow. Impaled on that arrow was the black snake. It hung limply, its body swinging loosely, as a result of the blond elf’s movements.

The scene he came upon was as dreadful as his thoughts told him it would be while on his way back. He dropped bow, arrow and snake and went to kneel beside Elrond. He knew he wouldn’t be able to give any real comfort to anyone, at this point, but he would be there should any turn to him for aid, verbal or physical.

The solemn silence was suddenly broken by distant screams, filtering through the trees. There was no doubt in anyone’s mind that Mordraug was now enduring the hideous death that he had inflicted on many of the Firstborn, including Legolas, his last victim. The small group that heard the dark elf’s death throes were too disheartened about Legolas to find any joy in Mordraug’s death. Thranduil didn’t appear to register the sounds at all. Everyone else’s sole attention was also on the young woodland elf, who lay wrapped lovingly in his father‘s embrace.

Legolas had stopped his convulsive shaking, no longer having the strength to try and keep warm. The frozen fingers of ice were winning the battle for the elf’s life.

Thranduil had not opened his eyes, spoken or made any other outward sign. He simply held Legolas close, desperately trying to cling to the belief that each of his son’s dwindling breaths and slowed heartbeats meant his child was still with him.

***

Just as in Rivendell, a small part of Legolas’s mind was still able to function. However, unlike in Rivendell, this time his mind was completely detached from his body, not able to feel or register the pain. Only the cold seemed to leap the distance between mind and body.

Legolas knew his body was shutting down. There was no way it could survive much longer in the gripping cold that had engulfed it, invading every inch of him, inside and out. One vital organ after another was succumbing to the icy invasion. This last vestige of his mind would go soon and lastly his heart would cease. Or, perhaps he would be aware of its last beat, its last attempt to remain viable. He knew not, nor, he realized, did it really matter. It would all end soon enough, and he would then begin a journey toward his eternal destiny.

The searing heat had been awful enough with its sensation of flames and burning flesh. He had writhed then, rolling from side to side and moaning to try and combat it. But, somehow this helkh was worse. The cold drove him inward, forcing him to curl around himself, seeking what warmth he could. Even his twisting muscles had pulled his body into a ball.

He then became aware of voices nearby but couldn’t make out what was being said. He concentrated the best he could and soon recognized that one voice belonged to his father. The other must belong to Mordraug. Fear entered his heart. *Please, Ada, do not let him ensnare you. Not for my sake. I am already lost.*

The next thing he became aware of were arms, strong and soothing, as they enveloped his crumpled body in a cocoon of warmth. The faint smell of his father came to him. Legolas inwardly smiled. He would die in his father’s arms. The thought comforted him. He hoped it would offer comfort to his father, as well.

The elf also felt a firm pressure on his shoulder and knew it was Estel, his brother in spirit. He knew from the feel of the ranger’s hand that he was attempting to give the elf strength and let him know he was there.

Legolas had been right. Estel held no grudge at what the elf had done to him before he left Rivendell. He would miss his human friend.

Despite his current condition, Legolas sighed in contentment. He would pass beyond this firmament in the company of those who loved him and whom he loved in return.

Legolas felt the tickle of guilt for wanting them there as witnesses to his death, because he knew it would be hard on them. But, he did not know if he could have faced it with any dignity, if he had been alone. He almost laughed. Having his body twisted and tortured into a shape he could not begin to imagine was hardly dignified. He pushed that useless thought away, instead thinking only that his head, though forced backward by unyielding muscles, now rested against his father’s shoulder.

Unable to move or make a sound, Legolas’s now drifting mind managed two thoughts. *Be well, Estel.* *I love you, Ada.*

***

The king spoke. “Please, Little One, you must come back to me. I cannot imagine my life without you in it.” He shuddered to think that he would spend the rest of his immortal life never again to see or be with his youngest child. It was then that the unshed tears of both a last desperate hope and a crushing hopelessness slipped down Thranduil’s cheeks.

Legolas’s body jerked once and then went still.

TBC

Chapter Twenty Seven

Legolas’s spirit was soaring. He smiled broadly, feeling like an eagle must feel when winging its way through the endless sky. In truth, he was flying like an eagle. The clouds slipped past him, and then he broke free of their cottony essence. The sky was a darker, richer blue than he had ever seen from the ground. The sun shone down on his upturned face, warming his skin. The warmth felt glorious after the freezing cold that had claimed his life.

He tried hard not to think of the last sight he had seen, after his spirit had first left his body. The group around him were solemn and grief-stricken, his father and Estel in tears. He wanted so much to tell them that all would be well. That he would be well, and they would recover from the loss they were experiencing. But, of course, he wasn’t able to communicate with them so he could ease their sorrow. And, his spirit could not linger, no matter how much he desired it.

He had glimpsed his tortured body, as he sped upwards away from the scene in the forest clearing. He regretted that such a cruel form would be left behind to be mourned. It would have to be shrouded completely while lying in state, as his people offered their final respects to their fallen prince and his family to their lost kin. He cared not for himself how he looked. He cared only how his family would react to what they would see. Legolas sighed. There was no use dwelling on such things, since they could not be changed. What had happened had happened. That life and that death he had to leave behind, as he was leaving Middle-earth behind.

Now that Legolas was looking forward to the future, it surprised him that he had the same sensations that a real body had, able to feel the cool, crisp air, as it rushed past him, and the sunshine on his face. He glanced down and saw the shape of his body as it had been before Mordraug. It was vaguely transparent, not at all solid, but it was definitely recognizable. His thought processes were unfettered, and his emotions as real as ever they were in life.

He turned his head slightly and stared fully into the golden sun, as he made his way through the pristine air. He smiled when he realized that it did not hurt his eyes to look directly into the blazing orb above him. He was beginning to realize that there would be no more pain in his future. Yes, all would be well with him.

Legolas was so enthralled with the flight of his spirit that he lost all track of the time that was passing during this journey. Had it been hours or mere seconds? Time seemed not to matter in this after-life existence. In truth, he had never worried much about time. He had been born into a race of immortals. Eternity had always stretched out before him into infinity. The fact that his immortal life could be taken had always been a possibility, especially since he was a warrior, but he had never contemplated that fact in any great depth. The elf had always taken precautions, however, they had been more because of those that he was protecting rather than for himself. He certainly never worried about his own death. Now, here he was making his way to the Halls of Mandos.

Another smile spread across his face. He was now thinking that this journey would end in a great adventure, and he was looking forward to experiencing it.

Though he had left most of his family and friends behind, before long he would see his beautiful Naneth. Her loving arms would soon enfold him the way they had when he was an elfling. Perhaps, that was the reason he had perished, so that he could be the one child of hers, who would spend the remaining length of Ilúvatar’s Song with her. That thought brought joy to his heart. *Naneth, I am coming,* he sighed happily.

~*~*~

Thranduil knew the instant his son’s spirit left his body. It felt as if someone had reached a cruel fist into his own chest and wrenched his heart from his body. The weight of such a loss almost crushed him. He held Legolas as tightly as his arms would allow. The tears continued unabated.

Estel did not have the same connection with Legolas that his father had, but all the same, he knew the moment that death claimed his friend. He didn’t even try to hold back the tears that freely fell from his eyes. Death had now parted the two friends, but still Estel could not take his hand from Legolas’s shoulder. Instead, he squeezed it harder. Everything around him, and every thought in his mind was swept away. All that existed for him was that Legolas was dead. Those three words were so much worse than the three he had thought earlier. But, this wasn’t just words. This was reality.

The Rivendell twins were mired in their own grief. They had known Legolas since he was a small elfling and had always thought of him like a little brother. It had gladdened their hearts after Estel had come to live with them, and they had watched as gradually the two, elf and human, had bonded. Now, their grief not only weighed heavily upon their own hearts but also extended to Estel.

Elrond felt as if he had lost an adopted son. Beside his grief lay the burden of failure. He absently twisted Vilya, as the Ring of Air rested upon his finger. He had used his healing abilities to help countless others of all races through the long years. Why could he not have helped this young elf, who meant so much to him?

His thoughts drifted back to Celebrian, his beloved wife. She had sailed West after the tortures she had suffered at the hands of orcs, but he had been able to save her to make that journey possible. He held dear the surety that he would be with her one day. His heart reached out to Thranduil, who would now have neither his wife nor his youngest child with him in Valinor. Elrond could barely imagine such heartache.

Glorfindel’s face reflected his sorrow. He then thought of the snake and was glad that he had been the one to kill it. If only doing so could have saved Legolas’s life. He hoped that, in time, the fact that the serpent had been slain would help ease the devastated hearts around him. His own heart ached, but he forced himself to think of the others. He wanted to be able to help them during the hard days that stretched out before them.

Arda continued to turn. No death, no matter how deeply mourned, could stop time from moving forward. So finally, after many moments of quiet sorrow in the clearing, Glorfindel roused himself and said softly, “We should prepare to leave.”

No one else stirred.

Thranduil, his face still laying against Legolas’s hair, murmured something. No one could understand what he said until a strangled cry escaped his throat, and the words “Little One” tore through the air and settled like a pall around them all. He did not want to physically let go of his child. Deep inside his shattered heart, he knew he must, yet he could not make himself do so. Not yet.

~*~*~

Something was happening. At first, Legolas could not figure out what it was. All seemed as it had been, yet something different was occurring. At first, he thought it had to do with the flight of his spirit. This was all new to him, of course. Perhaps, there was some sort of shift in perception that had to take place before he reached the Halls of Mandos. He took note of the fact that he was now headed away from the sun toward the West. That was expected, so he did not believe that was what was disturbing him.

Then, Legolas suddenly realized what was different. A sound was floating on the air, faint and far away, but there. He was sure of it. The elf turned his head so that his left ear was aimed downward to try and discern what that sound could be. He wondered if maybe it was something he needed to know before he could continue the journey.

He heard the sound again. It was a voice. He turned his head this way and that but still was not able to understand the words that were being spoken nor who it was who uttered them.

Then, on the very periphery of his keen elven hearing, he heard what the voice was saying. “Little One.” He heard it clearly now. His father’s pet name for him. The mournful sound of those two words spoken, he now knew, by his broken-hearted father, tore at his heart. How could his spirit, now on its way to the Halls of Mandos, still feel such sorrow at words that he should not even have been able to hear? It made no sense to him, and he frowned in bewilderment.

Again the words swirled around the elf like a soft echo. “Little One.” “Little One.” “Little One.” Each time they were repeated, they seemed to become more somber, more hopeless. There were desperate tears in those words and a grief beyond measure.

Suddenly, Legolas realized he was no longer soaring. He was no longer moving at all. His heart lurched. He was hanging suspended in the air. It was a most disconcerting feeling.

With a wisdom that he could not identify, Legolas knew that he was being given a choice: To continue his journey to the Halls of Mandos or to return to the only world he had ever known. That same wisdom told him that he had to make up his mind quickly, or the choice would be made for him, and he would continue onward.

He tried to think of what would occur with each choice. If he continued, he would enter an existence of peace and happiness with his Naneth. If he went back... What? Would he be condemned to spend the rest of his immortal life in a twisted body that could never accomplish anything but to cause him endless pain? Would that not burden his family and bring more enduring emotional pain than his death would do? Would he return to the life he had before being bitten by the snake? Unfortunately, he had no idea what the answers to any of those questions were. And, there was no time left to speculate.

Again, he heard the words “Little One” spoken in a tone of pleading and heartache. His choice was made. “Goodbye, Naneth,” he whispered, believing she would understand.

With no warning, he found himself not just falling but plummeting backwards. The clouds soon surrounded him and then flew upward away from him. Instantly, he found himself heading face first toward the earth. An odd thought came to him: Is this the way a falcon feels when it lays his wings along its body and dives at an incredible speed straight down toward its unsuspecting prey? It was both exhilarating and frightening. He stared mesmerized as the earth below moved up to meet him with terrifying speed.

He saw the forest spread before him in various shades of green. Then, the clearing came sharply into view. He didn’t even have time to think about the people that were gathered there before his spirit crashed into his deformed body.

Bitter cold swallowed him, and all awareness fled.

TBC

Chapter Twenty Eight

The jolt that went through Legolas’s body, as his spirit slammed back into it, startled everyone, to say the least. They all stared at the young elf. Was this a final death throe, one last convulsion before death made its final claim on the prince’s earthly remains? Or, could it be the unimaginable, life renewing itself in the elven body?

No one knew for sure what the answers to those questions were. Each one literally held their breath, waiting to see if there would be another such movement. For what seemed like an eternity, there was none. Hope was on the fringes of being abandoned.

Elrohir, still stunned and staring, found his voice first. “I know we did not imagine that.”

Elladan shook his head. “No, we did not,” he confirmed. He couldn’t see Legolas’s face from his vantage point, but what he could see told him there had been no change in the wood elf’s features. He looked to his father, but the Lord of Rivendell’s face was an unreadable mask.

Thranduil’s heart skipped a beat and then began pounding so hard it filled his ears with the sound of it. He wanted so badly to believe that life was truly stirring within his son, yet he was afraid to, afraid that if he did, and he was wrong, his heart would be shattered beyond all hope of repair. When Legolas gave a great gasp, followed by another, as his oxygen-starved body tried to force air into his lungs, Thranduil knew the truth of his hope. He raised his head slightly, so he could see his son’s face. He looked at it in wonder. “He lives,” the king said, his voice almost breaking. “My Little One has returned to me.” He then began to stoke Legolas‘s cheek, his forehead, his hair. Right then, no one else existed.

If anything, more tears began to follow each other down Aragorn’s face. His hand opened and closed continually, squeezing Legolas’s shoulder in sheer overwhelming elation. He offered a silent thank you to Eru for bringing his friend back. How and even why it had happened could be explored later. At this point, he was too overcome to try and figure anything out. Legolas was alive! Those were the three words that meant more to him than his own life. They brought boundless joy back into his grief-stricken heart.

The twins were simply grinning ear to ear, unable to say another word. It had taken a miracle to accomplish that feat.

Glorfindel knew more than anyone what coming back to life felt like, though the circumstances of his return to the land of the living had been quite different. A smile played about his lips. Could this kind of incredible event really be happening again? He happily answered his own question, as his smile broadened.

After the first convulsive movement, Elrond had been about to make the comment that none of them should get their hopes up. He knew how devastating it would be for everyone to think Legolas was reviving only to find out that he was not. Thranduil, he knew, would never fully recover from such a cruel blow. But, when Legolas gasped and then began to breathe, Elrond’s doubts were swept away. His own eyes confirmed the miracle. The essence of the young elf was indeed back among them.

Elrond had to temper his own joy with caution. He reached across Legolas and put his hand on Thranduil’s shoulder. “Thranduil, Legolas may be alive, which is a wondrous and joyful miracle, but that does not necessarily mean all is well.” The elf lord hated to utter those words. Yet, he knew they needed to be heard.

Thranduil looked up and stared evenly into Elrond’s eyes. At first, there was a puzzled look on his fair face. His youngest child was alive, back with those that loved him, back to resume his life. Why was Elrond casting such doubts about Legolas’s future? Then, it suddenly dawned on the elf king what Elrond meant. He looked down at Legolas again, taking in his cold twisted body.

Elrond continued softly. “Legolas’s spirit has returned, but you see the cruelty his body is still enduring. There is no guarantee that the poison that took his life just moments ago, will not force this condition to remain as you see it.” When Thranduil opened his mouth, and it looked like he was going to protest, Elrond held his hand up. “I think I know what it is you wish to say, Thranduil. I, too, have hope that all will be well, yet we must all be aware that whatever recovery Legolas attains will be won only after a long, hard road.” He was making it clear that there may not be a full recovery.

Aragorn, like Thranduil, wanted desperately to believe that a full recovery was the only outcome that could possibly take place. He decided not to voice his thoughts, not wanting to hear his father’s arguments on the matter. He knew Elrond was just being the practical healer he was. Instead, he asked, “Ada, what can we do to change what the venom has done to him?” His voice was husky from the intense range of emotions he had just experienced.

The Lord of Rivendell did not want to admit that he was not sure what, if anything, could be done for Legolas, at this point. He was not worried about appearing fallible. He had already demonstrated that shortcoming all too well. He was determined that from now on, any negative thoughts he may have would be kept to himself. Those around him had suffered enough. Also, not knowing for sure if Legolas could hear what was being said, he decided that only positive thoughts should reach the young elf‘s mind. Total honesty could be sidestepped for the time being.

It was Aragorn that first saw a change in Legolas. Anyone taking in the elf’s total appearance would probably not have noticed it. The ranger had been staring at the elf’s hands, more as just a place to look, while his emotions swirled, rather than as an actual observation. The elf’s hands were still painfully twisted around each other, yet the man was suddenly sure that Legolas’s fingers were not quite as clawed as they had been before. Was it just wishful thinking, or had there been some kind of movement? He saw it then. The fingers were definitely moving. It was very subtle, but it was real. “Ada, Legolas’s fingers are straightening out.”

Elrond’s first thought was that Estel was just seeing what he wanted to see. However, he was not going to dismiss his son’s words out of hand. The elf lord frowned in concentration, as he, too, stared at the archer’s fingers. “You are right, Estel. Legolas’s muscles appear to be trying to move back into their original positions.” Since this was the first time anyone had not only survived the venom but was trying to reverse its effects, Elrond found himself in totally unknown territory.

Six pairs of eyes were now staring intently at Legolas’s fingers.

“Elrohir,” Elrond said. “Go get two blankets. No,” he corrected looking at Legolas, who had now begun to shiver. “Get three of them.”

Elrohir jumped up and ran toward where they had left their horses grazing on the sparse grass that existed on the dark forest floor. He reached into the travel pack on his horse and pulled out his blanket. He then turned to Elladan’s horse and retrieved his brother’s blanket. He started to get the one belonging to Estel but hesitated, knowing that the human, who was more susceptible to a chill, may be in need of it later on. He then chose the blanket belonging to Glorfindel, sure the elder elf would not mind. It had taken Elrohir only a moment to complete the task. With all three blankets in hand, he ran back to the clearing.

He handed one blanket to Elrond, who spread it out between himself and the two wood elves. “Thranduil,” Elrond said, “we must put Legolas down on the blanket.”

The elven king was reluctant to let go of his son, but he trusted Elrond in this. Knowing what he did about Mordraug, he held no grudge against the healer for not being able to stop what had happened. All he cared about now was getting his son back the way he had been. That was an idea that Thranduil would not let go of. He refused to believe that there may be permanent damage done to his son in body or spirit. Legolas would recover to full health. His father’s heart would accept nothing less for his child.

Because of Legolas’s physical condition, especially the way his head had been forced backward, it was impossible to lay him on his back. “We must put him on his side,” Elrond informed Thranduil.

The two elves gently rolled Legolas onto his right side, facing Elrond and Estel. The elf lord then covered the archer with the two remaining blankets that he took from Elrohir’s hands. “Do not touch him,” Elrond instructed, his voice tinged with a note of sternness that was aimed at both Thranduil and Estel. “Even the slightest touch could cause him both harm and more pain.” He had decided to err on the side of caution.

The bitter cold that had gripped Legolas’s body was slowly being replaced with a warmth that was spreading throughout his body. It took several moments before the young elf stopped shivering. However, movement did not stop. There was a continual jerking and twitching that was relatively mild yet easy to observe through the two blankets.

Estel asked his father, “How long will it take?”

“It will take much longer for the muscles to reposition themselves than it did to get into this position to begin with. We must wait several hours, I would assume.” He didn’t really know, because, as he had noted earlier, no one had ever recovered from the venom’s poison before. The elf lord was still amazed at that stunning occurrence.

Legolas began to moan and occasionally cry out. No one doubted the pain that wracked the elven body, as the muscles twisted back the other way.

The one thing that Elrond feared more than anything was that both of Legolas’s wrists, his left ankle and possibly some of his ribs, that had been broken by being wrenched one way, could now result in more severe damage while twisting back to where they belonged. How ironic that the very act of recovery may bring about more harm.

Aragorn, who had been on his knees this whole time, sat down cross-legged, determined not to move until Legolas woke up. He still held the belief that once the elf’s body had returned to its natural form, he would awaken and have no more wrong with him than a few broken bones, which Elrond, aided by Legolas’s elven healing ability, would quickly and easily take care of. Legolas had already faced up to his fears of Mordraug and the snake after the dream that had revealed the horror of what had been done to him, so the ranger did not believe the elf would have lingering fears about that. Besides, Mordraug was now dead and could never hurt anyone again.

Aragorn sighed and a small smile touched his lips. He firmly believed that by the time they got back to Rivendell, Legolas would be fully back to himself. The ranger refused to let any other possibility enter his mind. He didn’t know then how wrong that thought would prove to be.

TBC

Chapter Twenty Nine

Elrond had waited for almost an hour before taking one of the blankets off of Legolas. He wanted to be sure that all the cold had truly left the young elf’s body. He was sorely tempted to put his hand on Legolas’s forehead to confirm that fact, but he knew he had to heed his own earlier instructions not to touch him.

By the time the sun started to drop low in the sky, verified only by the encroaching darkness that had begun to spread under the thick canopy of trees, Legolas’s muscles had almost completely reversed themselves. Another hour, Elrond judged, and he could begin tending to the broken bones.

The archer had stopped moaning, which was encouraging to all that were keeping vigil. Both Thranduil and Aragorn had kept their hands from straying toward Legolas, although it had been an incredibly hard thing for each of them to do. Elrond couldn’t help but silently commend both of them for their restraint, when he was sure their hearts were aching to give comforting touches to Legolas, as the pain wracked his lithe frame.

The raven-haired elf lord had sent his twin sons out into the forest to gather wood. Glorfindel had volunteered to get the packs from the horses and see what he could prepare for the evening meal. He knew he would never win any contests with his cooking, but he didn’t really think anyone would be complaining---too much.

Elrond unfastened Legolas’s tunic and silk shirt and examined his chest and ribcage. There didn’t seem to be any broken ribs, much to Elrond’s surprise and relief.

By the time Elrond had refastened Legolas‘s shirt and tunic, the twins had returned, each with a load of small branches in their arms and twigs and bits of dried grass in their hands. They both put their burdens down and began to lay the grass in a pile on a spot devoid of grass. A few sparks from a flint and the dead grass began smoking. Elrohir bent down and blew on the pile until a tiny flame appeared. The twigs were added, and the flame began to rise a little higher. More and larger twigs were added until the crackling fire required the branches to sustain itself.

Several of the branches were broken and laid on the blaze that was now licking upward, spreading its warmth among the little group. Sparks flew upward and then winked out only to be replaced with more. So practiced were the twins that the whole task had taken less than three minutes to complete.

Elrond gave the pile of remaining branches a critical appraisal. He pointed to several. “Hand me those four,” he said, pointing to the ones he wanted, which consisted of two long and two shorter ones. When Elladan handed them to his father, Elrond held them up in front of him and nodded. “Cut each of these in half across and then split them lengthwise. I want to use them as splints for Legolas’s wrists and ankle.”

While Elrohir cut the two smaller branches in half and began splitting them, Elladan did the same with the longer ones. When they finished, they handed all the pieces to their father. He set them down on the ground beside him.

The elf lord looked up at Glorfindel, who had returned earlier with the packs, and then inclined his head toward Thranduil. The blond elf nodded in understanding. He bent down near the woodland king’s right ear. “Thranduil, let us take a walk. I am sure that your body could use a good stretch.” When Thranduil shook his head, Glorfindel became more insistent. “Elrond needs to tend to Legolas’s broken bones. We should leave him in peace to accomplish that task. You know it needs to be done.” He gripped the other blond elf’s shoulder.

Thranduil hesitated for only a moment. He knew the wisdom of Glorfindel’s words. With a resigned nod, he stood up and the two walked across the clearing. From the back, both elves looked very similar, though Thranduil was slightly taller.

Thranduil found that his muscles did indeed need stretching. He flexed his arms and arched backwards to get the kinks out of his back. He had to admit to himself that Glorfindel had been right.

“Do you feel better now?” the Rivendell elf asked, as much to distract the Mirkwood king as to gain any knowledge of his current condition.

“Yes,” Thranduil replied. Changing the subject, he said, “It is a true miracle that my son has returned,” There was no small measure of awe in his voice. “I never would have believed that such a wonderful thing was possible.”

The elven king had completely forgotten who it was he was talking to until Glorfindel said, “I know how that feels, although I cannot say my experience was anything close to what Legolas’s return may have been like.”

“Of course.” Thranduil nodded. “I had forgotten you also came back from the dead.”

A small smile touched Glorfindel’s lips. “Legolas and I will have to compare notes, when he recovers.” His tone became more serious. “And, he will recover, Thranduil.” Glorfindel did not think Elrond would approve of his giving such assurances, when the outcome was still so far from certain. But, he decided that sharing his own feeling of hope was the kinder thing to do. Right now, Thranduil needed to believe his son would be all right. Time enough later to face a harsher truth, if that proved to be the case.

Thranduil nodded. “Thank you for your encouragement.” He looked at the other blond-haired elf. “You and I have not been the best of friends for most of the centuries that we have known each other.”

“No, we have not,” Glorfindel laughed lightly. “Things change. So do people.” He laughed a little harder. “Even elves.”

A smile graced the wood elf’s face, but he made no further comment. The two stood in silence, as both looked out into the darkening forest.

Elrond had thought to have Elladan aid him in his application of the splints and bandages. However, when he saw the look in Estel’s eyes, as he looked at Legolas, he knew his foster son wanted desperately to do something to help his friend. Elrond knew that Estel was experienced enough as a healer to be able to do what he must and not be distracted by the fact that it was Legolas he was tending. He had certainly done it often enough during some of their adventures.

Making up his mind, the elf lord touched the man on the shoulder. “Estel, will you aid me?”

The young man looked at Elrond and almost smiled. “Yes, Ada. I want to help Legolas any way I can.”

*How well I know,* Elrond thought to himself. Out loud, he said, “Go around to Legolas’s left side.” Aragorn did so, kneeling down. He knew the procedure well, having done it many times with his father, but he respectfully waited for Elrond‘s instructions.

The elf lord searched in the small pack containing his healing herbs and an assortment of bandages that lay beside him, having been placed there by Elrohir, who had returned to the horses earlier to retrieve it. Elrond pulled out a large piece of white cloth that was folded over several times. He measured by sight the size of the pieces he would require and then began to tear the cloth.

Elrond motioned for Aragorn to lift Legolas’s left arm by putting his hands, palms up, one under the elf‘s hand and the other a little above his wrist and raise it several inches above the elf’s chest.

Elrond gently probed the wrist, locating the site of the break and making sure it was the simple fracture he believed it to be. Satisfied, he wrapped one of the smaller pieces of cloth around Legolas‘s hand, so the wood would neither chafe nor embed splinters in the archer’s flesh. He then placed one of the smaller pieces of split wood against the cloth on the back of his hand from the base of his fingers to several inches above his wrist. He placed the second small piece of wood on the palm side of the elf’s hand.

While Aragorn held the wood pieces in place, Elrond gathered a long strip of cloth and tore a piece from it. He began to wind it around Legolas’s hand from the middle of his thumb up to the other end of the splint and back down again. As he came near the end of the cloth, he tore it in two, tying a knot at the base of the two pieces. He wound the remaining lengths in opposite directions and then tied them together in another snug knot. He carefully flexed the elf’s fingers to make sure that they were all that would move. He was pleased to see that Legolas‘s hand remained immobile within the splint and lightly wrapped bandage.

Elrond and Aragorn went through the exact same procedure for Legolas’s right hand. Both arms were then laid across his stomach rather than down by his sides, so that there would be no way anyone could accidentally hit them. They were secure but no use taking unnecessary chances.

“Now, the more difficult task.” Elrond said softly, as he moved down toward the archer’s feet, pulling the blanket all the way off of the elf’s body and setting it aside for the time being. Aragorn also moved and settled opposite his father.

Aragorn didn’t know if Elrond had been referring to a more severe break or the fact that Legolas’s boot would have to be removed first. So, he asked, “Do you think the break is worse in his ankle?”

“I fear that it may be, but removing his boot and binding the ankle securely will, in themselves, be more difficult.”

Elrond placed his palms along each side of the archer’s lower leg and slowly and gently slid them down into the boot. It made for a very snug fit but finally Elrond had the tips of his long fingers curled under the bottom of Legolas’s foot. “Estel, slowly pull his boot off.”

Aragorn nodded and began to pull firmly but as gently as he could. He had to make the move in a smooth continuous motion, because rocking the boot back and forth to loosen it would bring much more pain and possibly increase the severity of the break. He stopped when Legolas moaned, but Elrond nodded for him to continue. There was just no way to make this maneuver painless.

Another moan, louder this time, escaped Legolas, as the boot came free. His leg jerked in reaction, but Elrond’s grip held firm. He lifted the elf’s foot and held it toward Aragorn, who took it and held it in the palms of his hands.

Elrond’s gentle fingers now probed around the site of the break the same way he had done with the elf’s wrists. He found what he feared he would find and sighed. “The bone has separated across the break line.” He paused. “Due I’m sure, to the wrenching of the muscles,” he added hastily before Estel had the chance to feel guilty that pulling the boot off had caused the separation. “I must put the bone together, and it will cause further hurt.”

Elrond motioned for Elrohir to kneel at Legolas’s head. The elf came immediately and knelt down. He had been through many of these types of care and knew what to do. He leaned over Legolas with his forearms resting across both of the younger elf’s shoulders.

Elladan moved over beside the archer, reached out and held both of his arms, so he could not do harm to the recently splinted wrists. When the twins had the young elf secure, they nodded to their father.

Elrond placed one of his own knees over Legolas’s right leg to secure it. Then, he took the archer’s foot from Aragorn, who then wrapped his arms firmly around Legolas’s left knee and straightening the leg out. He knew it had to be kept as immobile as possible.

Elrond began to both twist and push, realigning the ends of the bone back against each other. He stopped only long enough to feel if the bone had been realigned. He felt that it needed a bit more maneuvering.

Legolas jerked his leg and cried out. Aragorn, however, was prepared for the movement and held fast to his friend’s leg. The elf tried to rise up and when he was unable to do so, he turned to roll onto his side. Both movements were blocked by Elrohir holding his shoulders fast to the ground. His struggles finally stopped when Elrond completed putting the bone together. However, the moans continued for several more moments.

Thranduil started to run toward his son when his cries first began, but Glorfindel grabbed his arm and stayed him. “Let them work.” He felt the elf king trembling. “Whatever they are doing is necessary. You can return to him, when they are finished.”

Thranduil nodded but did not remark on Glorfindel’s words. His eyes never left his son and the group that were working on him.

When Elrond was satisfied that both sections of the bone were in their proper place, he once again placed the foot in Aragorn’s hands. After wrapping the largest piece of cloth around the foot, Elrond took up the four longer pieces of wood and placed one on each side of the ankle bone on the left side and the same on the right side.

Elladan held all four pieces of the splint in place, as Elrond took the longest strip of cloth and began winding it first around the insole of Legolas’s foot and then up his leg to the end of the wooden pieces. He wound the cloth back down, back up and down once again, tearing the end in two and knotting it to match what he had done with the elf’s wrists.

The elf lord turned the leg so that the foot would rest mostly on its side and laid it down gently on the blanket. He then sat back on his heels and sighed. He surveyed all his handiwork to make sure he had not missed anything. He nodded in satisfaction. Looking at all three of his sons, he said, “Thank you, my sons, for your help. I think that we have done all that we can do for now.”

Elrohir asked, “What about his muscles? Surely they are stretched and torn.” Just saying the words was painful to the younger twin. He consciously pushed the visual memory from his mind.

“Yes, I am sure most of them are. But, I am afraid there is nothing we can do to remedy that. The muscles and the bones, as well, will now have to heal on their own. I pray that the venom did not harm his natural elven healing ability.”

Aragorn’s eyes went wide. That idea had never occurred to him. “Do you think that might have happened?”

Elrond shook his head. “I do not know. The poison’s continued effects are as new to me as they are to you. As I have said before, no one else has ever survived it, so whatever happens now is new territory to us all.” He reached for the blanket to put back over Legolas.

When Thranduil saw Elrond pull the blanket back over his son, he could wait no longer. He rushed to Legolas’s side and sat down. Unable to hold him, the elf king placed his hand on his son’s shoulder and just sat and stared at his less than peaceful face. Legolas’s eyes were still closed, but still he hopefully asked, “Does he sleep?”

“It is not a true sleep. I can only assume that his mind and body are attempting to heal themselves.” Thranduil had apparently not heard the remarks about Legolas’s healing ability possibly being damaged by the venom, so he did not want to mention it again. Time enough to discuss such matters later.

Elrond looked up at Glorfindel, who was just retuning to the group from the campfire several feet away. “I imagine we are all hungry.” He didn’t really believe that, but maybe it would serve to take everyone’s mind off of recent events.

Glorfindel nodded. “I will get the meal started.” With that statement, he turned toward the packs sitting near the fire. *Time to cook,* he told himself, as he bent down and began to pull the food supplies out into the light of the fire.

Silence descended over the group, as each was occupied with their own thoughts.

Finally, Elrohir broke that silence. “When do we leave for Rivendell?” he asked.

“Tomorrow,” Elrond replied without explanation.

While everyone was contemplating that, Glorfindel announced that the meal was ready. It took a bit of persuasion on Elrond’s part to get Thranduil to leave Legolas long enough to get something to eat. The wood elf was reluctant, saying he needed nothing, but the elf lord convinced him that he needed to keep his strength up, because the journey back to Rivendell would likely be a difficult one.

TBC

Chapter Thirty

It took some persuading from Elrond, but everyone in the group surrounding Legolas ate at least a little food. Glorfindel had been right, no one complained about the meal. Of course, that may have had something to do with the fact that it consisted of dried meat and dried fruit, reconstituted with some water and lightly seasoned with a couple of non-medicinal herbs. Even Glorfindel knew he couldn’t have messed that up too badly.

The group sat around in the flickering light of the campfire, silently contemplating everything that had happened since they arrived at the valley forest. The overriding emotion for them all was boundless joy that Legolas had somehow survived the venomous poison of the snake, though it had been a harrowing thing to witness. They had begged Eru to spare the young elf’s life, and now that stunning event had taken place.

Elladan had spread everyone’s blankets out in a circle around the fire. However, no one was using them for anything more than something to sit on. No one wanted to sleep. If forced to admit it, no one could be sure that Legolas would not suffer some form of setback during the night. Or worse, if he died while they slept, this time never to return, the guilt would have been staggering. It was not something that could be ignored, but no one wanted to dwell on it, either.

Elrohir had volunteered to keep watch. Elladan, laughing and using the excuse that he had no blanket, said he would keep his brother company. Both Mordraug and the snake were dead, but there were other things in the forest that could pose a danger to the group. Aragorn had not forgotten that Legolas had told him that he had been held in front of Mordraug by two orcs. It was doubtful that suddenly leaderless orcs would attack, even had there been more of them under Mordraug’s command. But, it was always prudent to be on guard.

The twins left to take up their position on one side of the clearing where they would remain before working their way around the clearing just inside the edge of the trees. Whenever the two stood guard, they sometimes went together and sometimes separately, moving in opposite directions, as they patrolled whatever area they were responsible for at the time. Whichever they chose, they were always determined that nothing would get past their notice. This night was no different.

Before either twin could say anything to the other, they both heard neighing through the trees to their left. Elrohir frowned. He had been the one to go and tend the horses earlier, and he didn’t think that any of them had gone running off through the forest, yet the sound was not only much farther away than it should have been but coming from the wrong direction.

Elladan saw the confused look on his brother’s face and laughed. “That must be Elenblaith. You forgot about him, did you not? He is reminding you of that fact, I think.”

“I forgot?” Elrohir said, raising his eyebrows much the way he had seen his father do so many times in the past. “You mean we forgot.”

Elladan shook his head. “Nay, brother. You tended the horses. That made him your responsibility.” He grinned broadly. “You had better go find him before he comes after you first. Like his master, he is very headstrong.”

Elrohir gave an exasperated sigh and trotted off into the trees. Fifteen minutes later, he returned. “He snapped at me,” the younger twin declared incredulously, holding out his right hand to indicate which member of his anatomy had been in peril.

All Elladan could do was laugh. He knew Elenblaith would never actually bite an elf, but if Elrohir wanted to believe the horse really tried to take a chunk out of him, as payment for being neglected, Elladan wasn’t going to destroy his illusion. The picture Elladan had in his mind of what must have happened made him laugh all the harder.

Elrohir only scowled at the lack of sympathy he was getting from his twin. He rubbed his hand, as if it actually had been bitten.

Elrond had heard the gray stallion’s discontented attempts to get attention and had chuckled to himself when Elrohir had run off to round up the forgotten animal. Legolas would have been very unhappy to learn his horse had not been tended to, though the stallion was certainly capable of taking care of himself. The elf lord continued to chuckle at the twins’ conversation, when Elrohir retuned. He shook his head. His sons never ceased to amuse and often confound him, even after all these years.

Elrond’s eyes then swept around the campsite. Glorfindel was rearranging the contents of the food packs. Aragorn and Thranduil were still sitting beside Legolas, who was still in a deep healing sleep. At least, that is what Elrond hoped. He still could not be sure that the elf’s inborn healing ability had not been damaged by the venom. It had all happened too recently. Time seemed to be the only thing that would reveal the answer.

All became quiet and settled, so now, it was time for the elf lord to ponder just how they were going to get Legolas back to Rivendell as quickly and distress-free as possible. He had already dismissed the idea of lashing Legolas to a makeshift litter and pulling it behind one of the horses. To go slow enough to keep from jostling the archer unmercifully would mean their horses would have to walk all the way back to Rivendell. That would mean they would be on the road for several weeks. Unacceptable.

That left the two ways he was now trying to decide between. One was to simply remain where they were. That may have been by far the easiest thing to do but not the best thing. They needed to return to Rivendell without delay. Therefore, it didn’t take the elf lord long to also dismiss this second choice.

There was but one possibility open to them. Legolas would have to be put on a horse with someone holding him. Elrond shook his head, knowing that Thranduil would allow no one else to do that particular task but him. Riding this way would be much quicker, but then again, it would be much more painful for the young prince. Elrond did not fear for his broken bones, which were now securely splinted. However, his muscles would be so tender, a mere touch could bring spasms of agony, so holding him on a horse would most certainly prove to be almost as unbearable for him as what he had just gone through with the poison.

Elrond lowered his eyes and spotted his healing pack, which still sat next to his right leg. With a sigh, he knew the only thing to do was to drug Legolas into a near coma that would be so deep he could feel no pain no matter what was done to him. It was not Elrond’s first choice of something to do. Considering his current condition, there was always the chance that the young elf could not be brought back to full consciousness. It was only a remote chance, but one that did exist. He decided that getting Legolas to Rivendell as soon as possible was worth the risk. A travel pack with only a limited amount of healing herbs was not going to be enough. The elf lord needed the availability of his extensive collection of herbs and potions that could be found only in Imladris.

Making up his mind, Elrond sighed. He looked up and saw that Thranduil had laid down as close as he dared next to Legolas. The elven king was lying on his side, and his eyes were focused on his son. Elrond didn’t believe Thranduil would be getting any sleep this night.

Elrond then leaned toward Estel. and whispered into the man’s ear that he should lie down also. He thought that perhaps, once Estel had put his head down, he would drift off to sleep. His voice was soft and soothing, almost hypnotic. It was a trick he had used years ago to get an overly energetic human child to find the sleep he needed. Estel may be an adult, but he hoped it would work now, as well.

Aragorn reached out and lay his hand on a portion of Legolas’s silky hair that was partly fanned out around the elf’s head. It was the only part of his friend the ranger could touch and know he would not cause further suffering.

Elrond watched as Estel’s emotionally exhausted mind and weary body then gave in to their demands for rest. His eye lids were fighting to remain open, but they were losing the battle. It took all of two minutes for the man to surrender to the darkness. Elrond smiled.

~*~*~

The night passed uneventfully. Just as Elrond had thought, Thranduil never entered the realm of elven dreams. His eyes remained focused. He was determined that he would be the first one to become aware of any change in Legolas’s condition. There had been none. The young wood elf had remained unconscious and quiet through the night.

Glorfindel, who had managed a few hours of sleep, had relieved the twins on watch, so that they could also get some rest. He was as aware as anyone that the trip back to Rivendell could turn out to be an ordeal.

Elrond, himself, had gone to sleep right after the twins.

~*~*~

With a jerk, the Lord of Imladris came awake. He lay still, listening. No unnatural sounds reached his keen ears. He frowned, not knowing what had awakened him so suddenly. Then, it came to him. It had been a dream---a very disturbing dream about Mordraug.

Elrond sat up and shivered, remembering the dream and the cold hatred in Mordraug’s eyes, as the dark elf had laughed manically, repeating over and over that Leoglas was doomed by the poison, never to break free of its horrific grip, never to find peace from the pain that would wrack his body, the hopelessness that would plague his mind or the darkness that would inhabit his soul.

Elrond knew the power of dreams. Some made no sense and never amounted to anything. Some were very accurate portents of things to come. Which would this prove to be? For real, Mordraug had told them all that the effects of the poison in Legolas’s body could never be reversed. That had proven to be untrue. Could the fact that Mordraug had also said the poison could not be removed be a lie, as well? Or, could that be the one thing that turned out to be accurate?

Surely, Legolas had not gone through so much and survived an evil that no one else ever had only to continue to suffer and then perhaps to succumb later on from the lingering effects of the venom. However, Elrond knew all too well that life, be it moral or immortal, was not always just. The innocent sometimes suffered, and the guilty sometimes went unpunished. He could only hope that Legolas’s ordeal would soon end, and the young elf would recover fully. The guilty, in this case Mordraug, certainly was punished for what he had done, though the ending of his one miserable life could never make up for all the elven deaths that his evil had caused.

Elrond closed his eyes and put his head in his hands.

“Ada, what is wrong?” came a voice from the ground. It was Aragorn’s voice. The ranger couldn’t understand what was causing his father to display such despair. When the man had awakened just a moment ago, he eyes had gone straight to Legolas. The steady rise and fall of the elf’s chest told him his friend was still alive and resting peacefully. Why, then, was his father seemingly distraught?

“Estel, I did not know you were awake.” He saw the concern on his son’s face, as he sat up and faced his father. “It was just a dream.” He hoped the man would not question him further. He really didn’t want to explain the dream, knowing how it would upset the young man. Fortunately, Aragorn just accepted Elrond’s word and nodded. He knew if his father did not want to discuss something, he became inscrutable, and then nothing and no one could get information from him.

The dense forest, nestled as it was down between high cliffs, would take longer to show signs of the coming day than the outside world would. Yet, Elrond could sense that the dawn was fast approaching.

He looked up when he saw Elladan sit up and rub his eyes. The young elf smiled, when he spotted his father looking at him. Rising, he said, “I will go for more wood to stoke up the fire.”

Elrond nodded. “That would be much appreciated,” the elf lord replied, returning the smile. He noticed that Elrohir was just rousing himself.

The brief conversation had not gone unnoticed by Thranduil, who now sat up. Pulling his eyes from Legolas, he inquired of the dard-haired elf lord, “Are we still leaving for Rivendell today?”

“Yes.” Elrond now adopted a small frown. “Thranduil, there is something I must tell you.”

Thranduil almost panicked, his eyes turning toward Legolas, afraid that he had somehow missed something that had happened to his son during the night.

Seeing the look, Elrond quickly said, “No. Nothing more has happened to Legolas. What I need to tell you is that the fastest way we can get Legolas to Rivendell is by someone holding him on a horse.”

Thranduil nodded, fully understanding the logic of what Elrond was saying. He declared firmly, “He will ride with me.”

“I expected nothing else. However, the problem is that his muscles will be extremely tender and holding him will be very painful for him. To prevent such suffering, I will need to give him something that will put him into a near coma.” Elrond stopped, knowing Thranduil would interrupt, if he tried to continue. He waited for the wood elf’s reaction.

“You cannot mean that,” Thranduil said in total disbelief. “He was in a coma for over two weeks, and did you and your sons not work tirelessly to bring him out of it? You cannot seriously want to put him back...” He stopped, unable to adequately express his astonishment.

With a sigh, Elrond continued. “Want to, no. I do not want to, but I believe it must be done. I know it does not sound logical, but it is the best course of action we can take. Otherwise, Legolas will be in constant agony. You saw yourself his reaction, when I realigned the bone in his ankle. He is unconscious but not deeply enough to avoid feeling the kind of pain he would, as we travel. We must put him into a state of unconsciousness so deep that he cannot feel any discomfort. Only then, will he make the journey untroubled.”

Thranduil reached down and came very close to touching Legolas’s face. He pulled his hand back and shook his head, wanting only to make physical contact with his child.

There was no point in forbidding the touch. They would soon be touching him much more firmly. Elrond gave the elder blond elf a sympathetic smile. “You may touch him, Thranduil.” He watched as the Mirkwood king gently stroked his son’s cheek, both love and heartache in his blue-gray eyes.

Aragorn had not been surprised, when Elrond had explained about drugging the archer. As a healer himself, he had both seen and been a part of such a procedure. He was aware of the possible risk of being unable to wake Legolas, once they reached Rivendell. He didn’t think that Thranduil knew of this, but decided it was not his place to tell him. He would leave that decision up to his father.

Oddly enough, Elrond was thinking along the same lines. He was fighting his desire to be honest with Thranduil and at the same time, spare him more anxiety, especially since the course of action was set. Elrond close not to say anything about the risk. He only hoped he would not regret that decision later.

Elladan returned and built the fire up into a strong, steady flame. He had told Glorfindel, when passing him with the fire wood, that he would fix the morning meal. Glorfindel had thanked him and let out a sigh of relief. He was sure a good meal was in the offing.

After the meal was eaten, the blankets, except for the one under Legolas were folded and repacked. All the gear that they had used was taken to the horses and tied on. Only Elrond’s pack containing his healing herbs was left.

Water had been poured into a small cup that Elrond carried in the pack. Into it the elf lord put three dried leaves, one dark and two light green in color. Elrond set the cup at the edge of the fire and waited until he heard the water begin to hiss. Picking the cup up with the edge of his tunic to prevent the hot metal from burning his fingers, he stirred the contents with a smooth piece of wood, whose length had been shaved clean of bark.

Elrond had made the mixture stronger than needed, so that he could add water to cool it down but not dilute it too much. He handed the cup to Aragorn, who had replaced Thranduil on the other side of Legolas.

The elf lord sighed. Now, to wake Legolas so he could be given the herbs that would put the young wood elf back to into unconsciousness. If it hadn’t been such a serious situation, Elrond would have laughed at the very idea of doing something that appeared to be so ridiculously illogical.

TBC

Chapter Thirty One

Just as Elrond was about to reach down and lift Legolas, so that he could wake the young elf up to administer the drug he had brewed, the elf lord hesitated. He looked up and saw the apprehension in Thranduil’s eyes and the anxious look on his face. Elrond sighed. He realized the mistake he was making in not informing Thranduil about the risk involved in administering the drug. “A moment, Estel,” he said, as he stood up.

Aragorn frowned in confusion at his father. He couldn’t imagine why Elrond had suddenly stopped, because he didn’t think his father had changed his mind about what they needed to do. When Elrond approached Thranduil and took the blond elf by the arm and turned him around and away from where Legolas lay, Aragorn suddenly understood. He nodded to himself, feeling that it was the right thing to do under the circumstances.

“Thranduil,” Elrond began, “there is something else I should have told you. And, I need to do it before I give Legolas the drug.”

The level of apprehension on the elf king’s face increased tenfold. “What is it?” he asked fearfully.

Without hesitation, Elrond plunged ahead, “There is a small chance that we may not be able to reverse the drug‘s effect on Legolas, once we reach Rivendell.”

“What are you saying, Elrond?” A knot was beginning to form in Thranduil’s stomach, as he looked into Elrond’s eyes.

Elrond replied as calmly as he could. “I explained to you the need to put Legolas into a much deeper level of unconsciousness. I still believe that is the course of action that should be taken. However, there is a small chance that we will no be able to bring Legolas back to a full level of consciousness.”

“I do not understand,” the elf king admitted. Though as a warrior in his younger days, Thranduil knew the basics of healing. All warriors were required to tend wounds on the battlefield, as well as injuries that were the result of accidents. This, however, was a situation that went far beyond his knowledge or understanding. “Why would he not wake up once you no longer give him the drug?”

“Each dose of the drug only lasts for a few hours. In order to keep him drugged during the whole journey, I will need to administer a number of doses. It will build up in his system. Just discontinuing it will not allow him to awaken on his own. Legolas must be given an antidote, if you will, to reverse the drug’s effects, and it may not work,” he added reluctantly. “Or, he may reach only a partial level of consciousness, a twilight state, so to speak.”

That revelation hit the Mirkwood elf like a physical blow. He came close to taking a step back in shock. With wide eyes, he continued. "You are going to do something that may take Legolas away from me after all that he has been through to return from...the dead?" Fear and foreboding had been replaced with anger. “You had no right not to tell me, Elrond. I am Legolas’s father. I have a right to know all the ramifications of what you do to him. He cannot make decisions for himself right now, so I must make those decisions for him. I cannot make the best decision for him, if I do not have all the facts.”

“You are absolutely right,” Elrond conceded. It was rare that the Lord of Imladris regretted a decision he had made, but right now, he was deeply regretting not having told Thranduil all that he needed to know concerning Legolas. He knew how he would feel in his place.

“The chances of the drug affecting Legolas adversely are very small. But, there is one other thing you need to consider.” He took a breath and then resumed. “Legolas has already endured more pain than most of us could begin to imagine. If we do not give him the drug, he would have to endure more pain on the ride back to Rivendell, and his mind could retreat so far inward to get away from it that the result would be the same, as if the drug could not be reversed. Only, we might not be able to reach him to bring him back. The drug, at least, can be countered. As I said, the chances are small that such counter measures would not work.”

Elrond watched as several emotions played across Thranduil’s face. He was obviously torn about what to do. Finally, Elrond asked, “Do you wish me to administer the drug?” He refrained from adding “or not”, so he would not sound like he was being impatient. It was a tremendously hard decision to make that could affect the rest of Legolas‘s life.

It was a simple question but one that Thranduil wasn’t sure he could answer. He knew without having to ponder it that riding with Legolas would be extremely painful to bear for both of them, physically for Legolas and emotionally for himself because of it. And, it would last for days. Yet, was avoiding that worth the risk of possibly losing Legolas in the only way that counted---his son being able to function properly in his own life? No, he decided. It was not worth the risk. However, what of Elrond’s assertion that Legolas’s mind might retreat from the intense pain and not be able to be reached? That was an entirely different matter.

Thranduil closed his eyes for a moment. What should he do? What would Legolas want him to do? Then, he looked at Elrond, who did not flinch under the woodland king’s gaze. “If it were one of your sons, what would you do?”

Elrond was not expecting that question, but he realized he shouldn’t have been surprised. In this, though, both his healer instincts and his father’s heart were in accord. “I would risk the drug,” he answered simply, then added, “However, you must make the decision that you feel comfortable with. I would not have you feel blame toward me or yourself, if the worst should happen.” It was a blunt statement but an honest one.

The elf king turned to look over to where Legolas lay on the blanket. Seeing his son’s eyes closed and his splinted wrists and ankle made Thranduil’s heart lurch. With a sigh and a nod, he said, “Do what you believe is best for my son. I will trust your judgment in this.”

“Are you sure?” Elrond asked, giving Thranduil one last chance to change his mind. He wanted the king to be at peace with his decision.

“Yes. Whatever happens is in the hands of Eru. He brought Legolas back, so I must believe that he will take care of him.”

Elrond put a hand on Thranduil’s shoulder and squeezed it gently. “I will not keep anything from you again,“ he assured, realizing what a mistake he had almost made.

Then, without another word, he turned and walked back to where Aragorn sat beside Legolas. He knelt down and looked at the man, who he knew had heard every word uttered between the two elven lords. The expression on his son’s face told him the ranger agreed with the decision to tell Thranduil and let him make the choice of what to do.

The dark-haired elf lord resumed what he had started to do before his conscience bade him to talk to Thranduil. He again reached down and this time slid his left arm under Legolas’s shoulders and tenderly lifted him part way up . He secured the elf’s head in the crook of his arm and began gently shaking him and calling his name.

Legolas moaned, at first, but then he began to cry out in reaction to his tortured muscles being pressed no matter how gently the movements were made.

Thranduil knew right then that he had made the right decision. Just those small gentle moves by Elrond had caused Legolas pain intense enough to make him cry out, when he wasn‘t even fully awake. How much worse would the trip on horseback, being held tightly, have been? The woodland king did not even want to think about it.

Elrond was inwardly wincing at Legolas’s reaction but did not stop what he was doing. The elf had to be awakened in order to drink the drug. The procedure that Aragorn had gone through while feeding the comatose elf back in Rivendell would not work here. This drug had to be administered quickly and not in small increments over a period of time, as Aragorn had done.

Aragorn also began to call to Legolas, hoping his voice would help to bring his friend back to consciousness. “Legolas. Legolas, mellon nin, you must wake up now.”

Legolas’s eyelids fluttered, trying to open. His moans increased, and his head moved from side to side, though not violently. He attempted to struggle, but that proved only to increase his pain. He soon clamed down, still moaning softly.

The elf lord and the ranger continued to coax him to awaken.

After several minutes, Legolas’s eyes slowly opened, much to everyone’s relief. No one else had approached, but all had been watching intently, willing the young elf to respond to the two who called to him.

The blond archer stared up at Elrond first and then at Aragorn. There was light in his now focused eyes but no sign of recognition. Neither of the two beside him believed he knew who they were, and Aragorn had to push aside a feeling of fear.

Elrond then called Legolas’s name. When he saw that the elf’s attention had retuned to him, he said, “It is Elrond. Can you hear me?”

Legolas opened his mouth but no sound was forthcoming. It struck Elrond that what he saw in the archer was similar to a very young baby, who could not grasp and interpret what he was seeing but who innately trusted those around him. There was no fear in his eyes. The young elf blinked several times, but there was still no sign he understood what he was looking at.

In a soft voice, Elrond spoke as though Legolas could understand every word. “Legolas, I need for you to drink something. It will keep any pain from reaching you. Will you do that for me?”

There was no reaction, so Elrond lifted Legolas into a full sitting position, securing him around the shoulders with his left arm. Aragorn held the elf’s head upright and steady. Then, with his free hand, Elrond held the cup to Legolas’s lips. “Slowly now,” he instructed, though he thought that probably Legolas would drink purely from instinct.

Legolas drank the warm liquid, as Elrond tipped the cup and allowed him a small sip before taking the cup away while Legolas swallowed what he had taken into his mouth. Legolas was staring straight ahead rather than down at the cup, reinforcing Elrond’s idea that the young elf drank from instinct.

Once, Legolas had turned his head away, indicating he wanted no more, but Elrond kept putting the cup to his lips. Finally, the cup was empty, and the elf lord nodded, handing the cup to Aragorn.

A minute after finishing the liquid, Legolas’s head fell against Elrond‘s chest, and his eyes closed. It was clear that he was unconscious once again, so Elrond gently lowered Legolas back down on the blanket. “We must wait a little while to make sure he reaches the deep level of unconsciousness we need him to be in.” He turned to Aragorn, “Estel, stay with him and let me know when he is ready.”

Aragorn nodded. He had no plans to leave his friend’s side until forced to do so.

Elrond motioned for Glorfindel to follow him, as he walked several yards from Legolas, Aragorn and Thranduil, who had taken Elrond’s spot beside his son.

As Glorfindel made his way toward Elrond, he watched as the Lord of Imladris picked up the arrow, which still had the body of the snake impaled upon it.

Elrond smiled at his long time friend. “Nice shot. The arrow went straight in. How did you manage that?” He knew that if Glorfindel had shot the snake while chasing it on the ground, the arrow would have gone in at an angle.

Glorfindel retuned the smile. “The snake made a bad decision. It was in the process of climbing a tree. I guess it thought that once it got up into the leaves, it could go undetected. Truth be told, that’s exactly what would have happened. I was lucky to catch movement against the bark about twenty yards ahead of me and...” He made a motion, as though he held a bow, pulling back on the imaginary string and letting it go. “Another couple of seconds, and it would have alluded me.” This last was spoken with a serious undertone.

“Thanks to your keen elven eyes and quick reflexes, not to mention your excellent aim.”

“I do what I can,” Glorfindel shrugged, a bit of amusement now entering his voice.

“That has always been good enough for me,“ the Lord of Imladris remarked.

Elrond slid the snake’s body from the wooden shaft. He handed his friend the arrow. He gripped the snake’s body firmly in his left hand and then began winding it around into a tight coil.

Glorfindel knew exactly what Elrond was planning. “You are taking it back to Rivendell to study, are you not?”

“All the research we all did never shed any light on this snake. I thought before, and still think, it is unique in the world. I intend on learning as much about it as I am able. That may sound strange, if in fact, it is unique. Why learn the secrets of a snake we will never encounter again?”

Glorfindel laughed. “I, for one, have never questioned anything that you do, mellon nin. Well, not seriously, anyway.”

Elrond smiled, but his words were serious. “We may be able to find out something that could help us in other areas. It is too good an opportunity to pass up.”

“You have always been curious, and you love to investigate things, especially if they are unusual.”

Elrond smiled again. “That is how I obtained a good deal of my knowledge.” He looked down at the coils of the snake’s slender black body. “Do you have a small cloth sack I can put this in?”

“I have just the thing.” Glorfindel turned and headed across the clearing toward the horses.

While waiting, Elrond looked around the clearing. He had not had the time or inclination to really study it before. The sun had not yet cleared the tops of the cliffs surrounding them, but the light was growing brighter.

Now, his eyes roamed over the trees and the ground near the edge of the tress. As he turned his head, something shiny caught his eye. He walked forward and reached under a small bush. As soon as he grasped the object, he knew exactly what it was: one of Legolas’s long knives.

With a sigh, he held the elven knife in the palm of his hand, noting the engravings along the blade. Elrond turned it over his hand. There was no blood to be seen anywhere on it. *Legolas must have thrown the knife at Mordraug---and missed,* Elrond mused.

Elrond called Elrohir over to him and handed the knife to his eldest son. “Take this and get the other one,” he pointed over to the spot where Legolas had dropped the mate to this one. After seeing the distraught look on Elrohir’s face, he said confidently, “Keep them safe until we can give them back to Legolas.”

Elrohir nodded and took the knife. He knew the twin blades had been a gift from Thranduil on the day Legolas had become a warrior. He remembered how excited Legolas had been, when he had visited Rivendell with his father shortly after, and how proud the young wood elf was of them. He had practiced endlessly until he had become almost as proficient with the two blades as he was with his bow. The younger twin remembered fondly of the many sparring sessions he and Elladan had engaged in with Legolas. Yes, Elrohir would, indeed, keep the knives safe until he could return them to his friend.

Glorfindel retuned to Elrond and handed him the sack that he had retrieved from the pack on his horse. The blond elf took the sack back after Elrond put the snake’s body into it and pulled the string tight. A small smile passed between the two friends, both knowing how Elrond was going to relish his investigation of the black, scaly creature.

Just then, Elladan called everyone to the fire to eat the morning meal. Aragorn and Thranduil were served theirs where they sat beside Legolas. Both ate what was given them without paying much attention.

A few minutes later, Elrond heard his foster son calling him. He rose from his place on the other side of the fire and hurried over to the man. Aragorn looked up. “Ada, Legolas has reached the level of unconsciousness he needs to make the journey to Rivendell.”

Elrond trusted Aragorn’s abilities and did not find the need to kneel down to verify what his son had said was accurate. He merely nodded, then said, “Thranduil, go to your horse and mount. Estel will bring Legolas to you.” He had further instructions for Thranduil, but he would give those once the elven king and his son were in place.

Once Thranduil had settled himself on his white stallion’s back, Aragorn handed Legolas up to him and Elrond approached. “Put your arm around him, holding his arms in place, so that his splinted hands will not be bounced around.”

When Thranduil did as he was told, Elrond nodded. There was just one more thing left to do. He went around to the left side of the horse and carefully placed Legolas’s splinted left foot on top of his father’s boot. He then bound them together with a long strip of soft leather he had taken from one of his pockets. “This is to keep your feet moving together, so they will not bang into each other.”

While that was going on, the twins were taking the camp apart, dousing the fire, scattering the wet ashes and rounding up the eating utensils, Elrond’s pack of herbs and the blanket Legolas had been lying on. Elrohir had already picked up Legolas’s second long knife.

With those tasks done, the six elves and one human started down the trail that would take them out of the valley. Elrond and Glorfindel rode in front, then Thranduil, Legolas and Aragorn. The twins came next and a riderless and very unhappy Elenblaith brought up the rear.

The little caravan made their way through the forest. Forced to go single file through the narrow passageway in the cliff wall at the northern end of the valley.

Once out into the open land, they began to gallop, again grouping into two’s. Elenblaith sped up and passed the twins, making his way up beside Thranduil’s horse. He galloped with his head next to Legolas, occasionally putting his nose against the elf’s leg, as if to assure himself that his master was alive. Thranduil’s presence next to Legolas also gave a measure of comfort to the animal.

Aragorn sighed. He knew not what would happen on the road, but at least, they were now on their way back to Rivendell.

TBC

Chapter Thirty Two

With each hoof beat, the group was getting closer and closer to Rivendell, though each of them knew there would still be several days of hard travel ahead. The all-out run they had engaged in during most of the journey south toward the valley forest had eaten up the ground faster than the gait at which they were now forced to move. Slower it might be, but it would also be easier on elf, man and horse. All in all, if no obstacles presented themselves, they would reach Rivendell in about four more days.

Ir wasn’t until the evening of the second day that Elrond finally suggested they stop long enough to have a hot meal and get some rest. The horses, even the riderless Elenblaith, were reaching the limit of their endurance. Everyone thankfully agreed. There was not much in the way of shelter anywhere near, but the weather was clear and warm, so shelter was not a necessity.

Aragorn dismounted and pulled his blanket from his pack, handing it to Elrohir to spread out near where Elrond had indicated the campfire would be. The man then untied Legolas’s foot from his father’s boot and reached up to take his friend from Thranduil, carrying him over to the blanket and laying him gently upon it. He was glad that Legolas had not reacted to the pain that had surely enveloped his body, as they had ridden north. Thankfully, the drug was working.

Before the twins had dismantled the camp in the forest, they had received instructions from Elrond to mix up enough of the drug to last for a day and a half. After that had been done, they had combined the water in their own water skins and put the drug mixture into the empty one.

Several times since they had left the valley, they had stopped only long enough for Elrond and Thranduil to give a dose of the drug to Legolas. It had not been easy, since the young elf could not be awakened. The original dose had to be given while Legolas was awake, so it could be ingested quickly. However, since the drug was already circulating in the elf’s system, succeeding doses could be given at a much slower rate, determined by Elrond’s and Thranduil’s ability to coax Legolas’s swallowing reflexes. It worked.

Each stop also served to rest the horses a little.

Elladan volunteered to take care of both Thranduil’s horse and Elenblaith. The elf snickered to himself, as he looked at Elrohir. He mumbled something about “fingers and horse’s teeth“, but no one caught the entire statement. He was sure, though, that his brother understood the precise meaning behind the muttered remark. Elladan couldn’t stifle a wide grin at Elrohir‘s frown.

The woodland king expressed his thanks to the dark-haired elf for his offer and then made his way to his son’s side.

Thranduil looked down at Legolas, as he sat down beside him. There was a peaceful look on the young elf’s face, which eased his mind and heart. Elrond had been right about the drug, and the elf king was grateful.

That concern alleviated, he noted that his son’s hair was, quite frankly, a mess. Everything that had happened to him had caused much of it to come loose. The large braid at the back of his head was almost completely undone. Thranduil reached down and began to work out the tangles with strong, yet gentle, fingers.

The small warrior braids on each side of Legolas’s head had partially unraveled, though they were still more tight than not. Thranduil took both of them apart and started to mix those strands in with the rest of Legolas‘s hair.

His hands hesitated, as his thoughts suddenly turned back to a very young Legolas, who had often played with his father’s warrior braids, saying that one day he would have them, too. It had been a goal that Legolas had never lost sight of.

A memory of long ago came back to Thranduil. It was the day that Legolas had graduated from years of training to become a full-fledged warrior in the service of his woodland home. There had been thirteen other elves, who were graduating with their youngest prince.

During the graduation ceremony, the young elves had stood in a straight line in front of their king, listening to speeches from their various training masters. They had then taken up their bows and quivers, which were lying at their feet, and fastened them to their backs. As they faced their king, they had given the Warrior Oath, vowing to defend their homes, families, and all those who lived in the forest with their lives.

Thranduil, as he had been doing for centuries, had given a short speech welcoming the young warriors into their new life as defenders of Mirkwood. He had surveyed all of the young elves as he spoke, but it had been hard to keep his eyes off of Legolas.

The ceremony, as always, had been a serious one, but in all the times he had officiated, Thranduil had rarely seen an elf’s face reflect total seriousness, though he was sure none of them took what was taking place lightly. In truth, he found it a good sign that the new warriors were happy and eager to begin protecting their forest home. An unhappy or reluctant warrior was a dangerous one---to himself and to those who fought at his side.

The last part of the ceremony was always the one that the young ones were waiting for. The Oath had officially made them warriors of Mirkwood, but there was one more thing they had to do to make their new status complete in their own eyes. They had been instructed to weave the small warrior braids into their hair. Once that was done, everyone in attendance clapped, and the warriors, who held their clenched fists high in the air, whooped with joy. Thranduil’s heart had almost burst with pride.

Legolas had finally accomplished his life-long dream, following in the footsteps of his father, his grandfather and his two older brothers.

Legolas had worked very hard, excelling in all phases of training, above all distinguishing himself in archery. One thing Thranduil had taught all of his children was that goals would be reached and dreams fulfilled only after determination was applied to hard work. Talent was secondary, in his opinion. However, Thranduil couldn’t deny that all three of his sons were born to be gifted warriors and able leaders.

Each new warrior had been given a few moments to congratulate each other and then had gone to be with their gathered families and friends. It was at this time that Thranduil gave Legolas his twin long knives. Legolas’s brothers, and his two sisters, none of whom were married at the time, had been almost as excited as he was. There had been hugs and kisses all around. Following that a huge feast under the trees near the palace stronghold was held for everyone.

The memory was a good one for the elven king, and a smile touched his lips. However, the smile soon faded, and a small shadow crossed his face. It had been after the feast, while watching Legolas reach up and proudly touch his new braids, that it had hit Thranduil that his last child would soon be going out to confront the evil that had caused Greenwood the Great to now be referred to as Mirkwood.

Legolas had suffered at the hands of Mordraug, not to save his own life, but to try and fulfill the obligation he had made in the Warrior Oath to protect the people he held dear. Thranduil sighed. He could not leave the symbol of his son’s warrior status, his braids, undone, as if they no longer mattered. It may have seemed like a small thing and one that, under the current circumstances, was of little importance, but to Thranduil it was no minor detail.

Aragorn watched as the wood elf’s deft fingers divided the section of Legolas’s golden hair in front of his ears and plaited the strands into the familiar small braids. He had seen Legolas do it countless times and knew how much those braids meant to his friend.

When Thranduil finished, he looked up and saw the ranger smile and nod at him in understanding. With only a second‘s hesitation, the king said, “I want to thank you for all that you have done for Legolas, not just now but through the years that you have known each other. You have been a true friend to him. I cannot tell you the number of times he tried to convince me of that fact, but my ill feelings toward humans kept my mind closed to what he was saying. Not trusting your race, I believed that there was no sincerity on your part, and that one day his friendship with you would bring him heartache. It has proven to be the opposite.”

Aragorn couldn’t hide his surprise, as he blinked and stared. He knew it wasn’t easy for the stubborn and opinionated Thranduil to make that admission. Finally, the man found his voice. “I appreciate you saying that. Legolas has always given of himself, and that made it very easy to want to be his friend. There is no deceit in him, and his loyalty to those he loves is fierce. I thank the Valar every day that he considers me his friend. You have raised a wonderful son, Lord Thranduil. I would never knowingly hurt him.”

“That has now become very obvious to me. You believed he would be saved, even when I, his father, had given up hope.” There was a large measure of shame in Thranduil’s voice, accompanied by a slight lowering of his head.

“You mustn’t blame yourself for that. You had witnessed the result of Mordraug’s evil, including the death of your wife. I saw none of that. Even hearing the descriptions of what Mordraug and that snake had done didn’t allow me to understand the full horror of it. I didn‘t know enough not to be naive.”

“You were right, as it turns out,” Thranduil conceded with a small smile. “You did not give up on Legolas, and he came back to us.”

Though to Aragorn, it truly mattered not who was responsible for his friend‘s miraculous return, he still couldn’t stop a touch of sadness from making its way across his features. He tried in vain to push the guilt away. “I was not the one to save him.”

“You do not know that,” Thranduil said. “None of us know what really brought him back, though I believe that it was Eru that performed the actual miracle, I also believe that the love of us all surely played a part. Still, I cannot help but ask why? I, of course, believe that my son deserves to live a full life here in this land until it is his time to sail West. Yet, there are many others who deserve it also, and they do not return.”

“Perhaps, Legolas can tell us when we get to Rivendell, and he wakes up.”

“Perhaps,” Thranduil mused almost to himself. “If he knows.”

Silence enveloped the ranger and the elf king, both now turning their full attention from each other to the young elf lying between them.

Elrond, who was only a few feet away and was currently brewing more of the drug, heard the conversation between Estel and Thranduil. It gladdened his heart, because he knew how unhappy Estel had always been whenever he visited Mirkwood and was treated rather coolly by the elf king. He knew it also pained Legolas to have his father barely civil to his best friend. Thranduil had mellowed toward the human over the years, but there had never been any real acceptance of Estel---until now. It was sad that such an understanding between them had come after so much pain and heartache.

The only food that had been consumed from the time the group had left the forest until now had been lembas, and that had been eaten either while on the move or during one of the stops to give Legolas a dose of the drug. While Elladan tended the horses and built the fire, Elrohir, after glaring at his twin for the muttered remark about his fingers and Elenblaith‘s teeth, had gone off on foot to try and find something fresh that they could prepare for a good, hot meal.

It was taking a long time, so Elladan thought that perhaps his brother had not been able to find anything suitable. He dismissed the idea that Elrohir was off sulking. The elder twin knew Elrohir would be reluctant to return empty handed. So, it was with first a smile and then a frown of confusion that he watched as the younger dark-haired twin walked into their camp with two small ducks in hand.

“Ducks?” Elladan asked completely bewildered. “How in Arda did you find ducks in this place?” He looked around at the dried grass of the semi-arid land around them. Leave it to his brother to come up with creatures that lived nowhere near such a landscape. “A flock of them must have been flying north for the summer.” He said it more as a joke than any real suggestion of what the ducks were doing there.

“I think so,” Elrohir answered, thinking his brother was trying to solve the puzzle. “Believe it or not, there is a small lake on the other side of that ridge.” Without turning, he pointed over his shoulder behind him. “They must have stopped for a breather and a bite to eat, just as we are now doing.”

The two identical beings set about separating feather from bird to begin the preparation before putting the two creatures in the pot. Before long the ducks were stewing, and the smell was starting to make everyone’s mouth water.

When Elrond had finished brewing the drug, he set it aside. There was one dose left in the water skin, and he was going to give that to Legolas just before they left. He would then put the fresh mixture into the empty water skin for use in the next couple of days.

~*~*~

After a most welcome and tasty dinner prepared by Elladan, Glorfindel set about carefully cutting up the remaining duck meat, wrapping it up and storing it in one of the food packs. The amount of meat left would probably last them two more meals. By late morning of the next day, they would be entering a much greener landscape, so he would keep his eye out for any kind of wild vegetables that could be spotted while moving on horseback. He couldn’t have survived for thousands of years without knowing how to obtain whatever edibles the land provided. He just could not figure out how the skill of good cooking had alluded him for so many years.

Elrond stood up and made the announcement that everyone dreaded. “It is time for us to be leaving.” No one was surprised when Aragorn groaned, but the twins’ groans brought a shake of the head to their father. “You would think the two of you had not rested for weeks. Elves do not tire so easily.”

Elrohir muttered, under his breath, “But, we are only three quarters elven.” When he was very young, he had made that remark to his father in a similar situation, thinking himself very clever for his humor. Elrond had not been amused and had launched into one of his patented lectures. Such lectures could be excruciatingly boring, especially to young elflings, when they are receiving correction of some kind. Elrohir was never sure if Elladan, who had not said a word at the time, had ever forgiven him for having to endure the same sermon.

It wasn’t until they were adults that the twins realized how truly wise their father was and how they had let much wisdom slip by them, because they shut their minds to Elrond’s words.

Thinking it would be admonishment rather than wisdom that would be imparted in this case, the brothers avoided their father’s eye, as they rose without another sound and began the preparation to leave.

The night was clear and the stars were sparkling brilliantly, so it was actually having to forgo lying on their backs and staring up at the stars that had elicited the groans to begin with, not the idea of traveling again. Elrohir was smart enough not to try to explain that.

Aragorn had also been staring at the heavens. He had glanced at Legolas occasionally, seeing his closed eyes, and wishing the elf were awake to watch the stars with him. He knew how much they meant to all elves, but he had never known any elf that felt so connected to them as Legolas was. The most contented he had ever seen his friend was when he lay on a forest floor and looked up through the trees to see the stars twinkling above him. Aragorn amended that scene. Perhaps, Legolas actually being in a tree was better than being under one. Either way, the elf was in his true element then.

Before rising, Aragorn reached over and put his hand on Legolas‘s arm. *You will find joy in the stars again, mellon nin. I promise you.*

TBC

Chapter Thirty Three

A smile crossed Aragorn‘s face, when he finally saw the valley that protected Imladris, his home, come into view. He looked across toward the Last Homely House nestled among the waterfalls roaring down the mountain side. He sighed, taking a quick glance at Legolas, who was firmly in his fathers’ embrace. *Soon, mellon nin. Soon.*

The horses belonging to the Rivendell elves and the lone human increased their pace without urging, as they realized that they were also headed home. The two Mirkwood stallions followed suit. All of their riders were no less anxious to reach the elven haven.

It didn’t take long for the road-weary travelers to enter the courtyard and clatter across the cobblestones to a halt in front of the stone steps. Several elves seemed to materialize out of nowhere to take the reins and steady the animals.

Aragorn was the first to dismount and, as he had been doing since leaving the valley forest, approached Thranduil’s horse and untied the bound left feet of father and son. Then, he reached up to pull Legolas’s limp form down into his arms. This time, however, he was sure that Thranduil would be eager to take his son back, so he could be the one to carry Legolas up to his room. He stood a few feet away and waited for Thranduil to dismount and come forward to take Legolas from him.

The elf king believed he knew what Aragorn was thinking by the look on the man’s face . Aragorn was dismayed that his friend would be taken from him. It was only a simple task of carrying Legolas up to his room, but the ranger wanted to feel useful in doing so. Thranduil didn’t want to be selfish. So, it was with only the tiniest feeling of reluctance that he nodded to Aragorn, and said, “Take Legolas to his room. I will follow.”

The man nodded in return, his gratitude evident in his eyes, as he turned and began to carry Legolas up the stairs exactly as he had done several weeks before. This time, however, he knew what plagued his elven friend. It had been something more horrific than he could ever have imagined in his worst nightmare. But, it had finally been defined. It would be treated, and it would be vanquished.

He had convinced himself that now that they were back in Rivendell, Elrond would awaken Legolas, brew up some draught or other that would banish the poison, and after a period of recuperation, the elf would be fine again. Aragorn had to believe that. The man refused to consider any other outcome, just as he had refused to believe that Legolas would not survive this last encounter with Mordraug. That had worked out the way he wanted, hadn’t it? So, would this. It would break his heart to know Legolas was somehow permanently damaged by the venom’s poison. He couldn’t know right then what would lay ahead for his friend.

Elrond insisted that everyone bathe, eat and rest. Not surprising, there were objections all around. He held his hands up and shook his head. “I must brew the draught that will counteract the drug to bring Legolas back to consciousness. That process will take a while, not to mention the time it will take Legolas to respond. You will all want to be with him when he awakens, so now is the time to ease your bodies and quiet your minds.”

It finally took Elrohir, after receiving a tilt of Elrond’s head in Aragorn’s direction, to physically pull the human out of the room. Elladan came close to having to do the same with Thranduil. In deference to the king’s person, he lay his hand lightly on Thranduil’s arm and then used his powers of persuasion to coax him into leaving. With one exception, everyone had finally accepted Elrond’s wisdom and reluctantly left the room. Only Glorfindel remained behind with Elrond.

Once everyone else had gone, the two elven lords undressed and cleaned Legolas. They then put him under the bedcovers with his arms laid gently across his stomach and his left foot propped up on a small pillow. Elrond examined the young elf’s foot and was pleased that the color of his skin was normal, indicating good circulation. No additional damage had occurred during the journey back to Rivendell. A quick examination of his hands and lower forearms showed the same thing. Now, for the more difficult part.

Elrond left the room and headed down the corridor on his way to begin brewing the draught that would reverse the drug holding Legolas in its confining grip.

Left alone, Glorfindel settled in a chair next to the bed to watch over the Mirkwood prince. He was tired, but he could not think of rest until Elrond returned and needed him no more.

Elrond made his way to the room where he stored all of the paraphernalia that he used for the diverse treatments he was called upon to administer. The overriding odor in the room was of plant life, both living in pots and dried, these last consisting of a wide assortment of grasses, leaves, stems, roots, flower petals, mosses and fungi. There was also the woodsy smell of various types of tree bark and wood shavings.

All together, the room exuded a smell that was soothingly pleasant and thus always served to calm the elven healer. No matter how many times he entered this room, and it had been untold thousands, Elrond could never avoid standing with his eyes closed and breathing deeply, whenever he opened the door. This time was no different.

In addition to the plant life, there were several rows of jars, containing liquids in various colors. Most of these were on shelves placed across the lone window in the room, giving an appearance closely resembling stained glass. Only a few that could not be exposed to strong light were kept in dark cabinets.

The elf lord began sorting though his stores, pulling out the ingredients that he needed.

Before long, arrayed before him on his work table, were several herbs, a thumbnail-sized piece of dark brown bark, broken off of a larger piece, and a cup containing a carefully measured amount of amber liquid.

Elrond mixed all the ingredients together, but this time he did not boil or even heat the concoction. He left it on the table to cold steep. He knew without thinking that this particular mixture, if exposed to heat, could prove detrimental to the young wood elf. He had found that out the hard way many centuries ago, though the elf he had treated then had not died. Still, it had proven to be a near thing.

Elrond left and went to his own room. It would be a while before he could find true rest, but there was time now to bathe and get a bite to eat. As he set about disrobing, he chuckled to himself, thinking back to his remark a few days ago about elves not tiring so easily. He was more weary than he cared to admit, even to himself. Perhaps, he was beginning to feel his age. Over 6400 was it now? Amazing. He shook his head and continued with his task.

After an hour, in which he had had a refreshing bath and an equally refreshing meal, Elrond retrieved the draught and went back to Legolas’s room. Between him and Glorfindel, they managed to get the liquid down the prince’s throat.

“How long before he awakens?” the elder blond elf asked. He was tempted to add, “if he awakens,” but decided that he was not even going to think that way. Like Aragorn, he would hold only positive thoughts.

Understanding the uncertainties involved, Elrond replied, “About three or four hours, perhaps. Of course, we are dealing with an unknown poison and cannot be sure, at this point, how the poison has affected him or his body’s ability to process the draught. It is only a guess.”

“Your guesses are better than most others’ assurances” came a voice from the doorway.

Elrond and Glorfindel turned to see Aragorn walking into the room. The ranger had changed his clothes and run a brush through his damp hair, indicating he had washed it. However, he didn’t look particularly refreshed.

“Estel, I told you to rest,” Elrond admonished, though his voice was far more gentle than scolding.

“There is a chair right there that I can sit in,” the man answered, pointing to the one that Glorfindel had recently vacated. His face took on that of a child apologetic for something he had done wrong. “I’m sorry, Ada. I just could not stay away. Besides, I would only fret and probably pace all over my room, if I had to stay there. I have to be with Legolas.”

Elrond knew there was no point in trying to argue. Estel would not change his mind. Instead, he asked, “Have you eaten?”

“Yes, I ate. Quite a lot, actually,” the ranger admitted, remembering how acute his hunger had been once he had seen and smelled the tray of food that had been brought to his room.

Elrond sighed. “Then, you may remain. But, only if you stay seated and do not pace.”

Aragorn looked at his father, not sure how much humor there was present in the elf lord’s words. Elrond’s face was unreadable, but Aragorn was sure he saw a slight twinkle in his father’s eyes. He knew better than to do anything but nod his acquiescence, which he did.

Just then, Thranduil came into the room. He had also changed clothes, and his slightly damp hair indicated that he had bathed, as well. “When will Legolas awaken?” he asked without preamble. He was determined to get a direct answer.

“Three or four hours,” Elrond responded for the second time to that question. “There is no certainty on the time. We must all be patient. Legolas will awaken in his own time.” Like Glorfindel, he was not going to mention that there was a chance that might not happen. He knew no one had forgotten such a possibility existed so reminding them would be pointless.

Elrond was not in the least surprised when both of the twins entered the room carrying two chairs. Elrohir just shrugged as he set his chair down on the opposite side of the bed where Estel and Thranduil sat. Elladan left and returned with yet another chair. Elrond just sighed. “You might as well bring one for Glorfindel. I am sure he will show up, as well.” Twenty minutes later, he did.

And so, another vigil for the youngest prince of Mirkwood began.

~*~*~

Legolas knew he was drifting up toward consciousness. It was always different from simply waking up from normal sleep. He felt as if he was looking up through murky water at sunlight dancing on the surface. The closer he got to the top, the brighter his surroundings became. Sometimes it took longer than at other times, but the feeling was always the same: *I’ve been unconscious, not asleep.*

It suddenly occurred to him that he didn’t know why he had been unconscious. He tried to remember what had happened to him to cause this all too familiar state. Had he been fighting orcs? Wargs? Had he been involved in some kind of accident? He couldn’t answer those questions. One thing he did know, however, was that the closer to the light he came, the more his body began to hurt.

Just before he broke the surface of consciousness, the pain became intense. He heard a moan and knew that it was his own. His memory seemed determined to remain faulty, so the only way to find the answers he sought was to break the surface into the light and open his eyes, which he realized were closed.

Legolas did open his eyes---very slowly. He blinked several times and was dismayed at the fog that surrounded him. This, too, was familiar, so he continued to blink rapidly. Suddenly objects, colors, figures came into focus, hitting him all at once with intensive clarity.

Vague shapes surrounding him had come into sharp focus. He looked from face to face, recognizing each in turn. He spotted his father first and then Estel. Elrond, the twins and Glorfindel all came into his line of vision, as he turned his head. He tried to smile but was only partially successful.

Thranduil got up from the chair he was sitting in and sat on the side of the bed. He leaned down and stoked Legolas’s cheek. “Welcome back, ion nin. How do you feel?”

Legolas looked at Thranduil, and his smile broadened slightly. He wasn’t going to say anything about the pain he was in. It had not yet risen to an unmanageable level, and he fervently hoped it wouldn‘t. Despite his earlier determination to find out what was wrong, he now decided he wasn’t quite ready to know. He was sure he wouldn’t like it. There would be time for that later. He also didn’t want to worry his father, or anyone else in the room, by admitting how much his whole body ached. He somehow felt that they all already knew what had happened to him.

The archer opened his mouth to answer his father’s question, but no sound came out. Realizing how thirsty Legolas must be, Aragorn quickly poured him a cup of water from the pitcher by the bed and while Thranduil lifted Legolas up, the man titled the cup to the elf’s lips.

Legolas’s throat was parched, and he drank every drop. When he finished, he looked at his friend and said, “Gluber ray.”

Aragorn frowned. “What did you say, Legolas?”

“Timble thas.”

The faces in the room, including Legolas’s own, reflected their owners’ complete bewilderment, to say the least. “I don‘t understand what you’re saying.” Aragorn said.

Legolas had heard the words that had come out of his mouth, but they made no sense. He had been trying to say “hannon le” in order to thank Estel for his help in givng him water. He didn’t understand the strange sounds that he had uttered. He tried again. “Sorme hab.”

“Elrond, what is wrong with my son?” Thranduil demanded unhappily. There was also anger in his tone. He instinctively knew that whatever was wrong went deeper than just strange words coming from a recently comatose elf just waking up. At no time had Elrond indicated this garbled speech could be a complication of either the poison or the drug. He glared at Elrond and saw the confused look on the elf lord’s face. Elrond had obviously not been keeping this from the king, which did not ease his mind any.

Legolas stared at Elrond. His mind was clear, his thinking processes intact, so why could he not speak properly? He knew what he was trying to say, yet the right words were not coming out. As his father had asked, what was wrong with him?

TBC

Chapter Thirty Four

A dead silence fell over the room. There was not even the sound of a breath being drawn. All eyes were fastened on Legolas, except his eyes, of course, which were staring intently at Elrond.

The Lord of Rivendell was the first one to recover. He sat down beside Legolas on the bed. He was greatly affected by the desperate pleading in the young archer’s eyes. He took a deep breath, but before he could say a single word, Thranduil’s voice broke the silence, again demanding, “What is wrong with my son?”

Elrond knew the elven king was using his assertive personality and aggressive tone to hide his fear and sympathized with him, but a confrontation now would not be good. Elrond looked up at Thranduil and gave him a warning look. His desire to keep from upsetting Legolas any more than he already was far outweighed assuaging Thranduil at that moment.

By the look on elf king’s face, he understood and clamped his mouth shut. It was a big concession for the normally forceful king to make, but he realized that harsh words exchanged between himself and Elrond could be detrimental to the very one he wanted most to protect.

Elrond looked back at the confused face of the younger wood elf. “Legolas, I do not know what exactly is causing this problem. I suspect it is a result of the venom and all that you have suffered because of it.” He started to add the fact that he had just awakened from a drug-induced coma, but Legolas would only be further confused as to why that had been done to him. He suspected that Legolas probably did not remember what had happened after the final tortured attack had been carried out against him. Instead, Elrond simply said, “So. you must give your body time to heal itself.” He also stopped short of offering assurances. He didn’t know if all would be well, and he wasn’t going to offer any false hope. It was reality that would have to be dealt with. Whether that reality was just temporary or proved to be permanent, only time would tell.

Legolas didn’t like having a discussion being held about him while lying flat on his back. He began struggling to sit up.

Elrond started to protest, but Legolas shook his head rapidly to ward off the elf lord before he could start up with sternly expressed reasons why it was best he stay where he was. Elrond was an excellent strategist and knew that giving in on this one point now may well lead to victory in something more important later, so the dark-haired elf lifted Legolas up while Aragorn fluffed the large pillows and propped them against the carved oak headboard. Elrond eased Legolas back into the plush softness, though it did little to relax the young elf.

It was then that Legolas pulled his arms out from under the bedcovers, intending to rest them on top. He stared at his splinted wrists in complete shock. He turned them over, as if looking at the other side would confirm that what he was seeing wasn’t real. That didn’t happen. He had the expression of one who was staring at two strange things that did not belong to him.

He shifted slightly and felt a twinge of pain in his left foot. Looking down toward his feet, he saw that his left foot was at a slightly higher elevation than the right one. He slid his arms under the covers and lifted them up, revealing the fact that his left foot was also splinted and rested on a small pillow.

Elrond had been right. By the surprised look on Legolas’s face, he did not know what had taken place when Mordraug, using the snake, had tried to kill the Mirkwood prince. Elrond felt for him, but he did not want to overburden the young elf’s mind with the truth until he was stronger and could better handle it.

Legolas pulled his arms back out, letting the covers settle once again. The shock of finding three of his extremities obviously broken and now splinted and bound had momentarily driven the fact he couldn’t speak properly from his mind. In his head, he was asking, *What happened to me?* However, “Shilb orfintal bet cheen?” is what came out. He moaned in frustration and would have slammed his hands down in frustration had he not caught himself in time.

Tears suddenly came to Legolas’s eyes, as he shook his head angrily. He wanted desperately to ask and keep on asking until someone told him what he wanted to know, but he was now well aware that continuing the attempt to speak would result in only babble coming out. That would most definitely lead to an emotional outburst, which was very near the surface, as it was.

Legolas once again looked at Elrond, fear now growing in the blue-gray depths. Had the snake’s venom damaged his ability to speak the words that he formed in his head? Was this a permanent condition? His eyes grew wider, especially at this last thought. The fear came close to turning into panic.

Elrond reached out and put his hand on Legolas’s right shoulder. “You must be patient, Legolas.”

*That is easy for you to say!* Legolas thought sarcastically. He felt that he was being patronized, and his face reflected that emotion perfectly.

Almost immediately, his demeanor softened, as he looked at the elder elf’s face. Elrond was obviously upset, as well. None of this was his fault. *I am sorry,* Legolas silently apologized. *I know you would give me the answers, if you had them.* He shook his head and lowered his eyes, adopting a rueful expression then lightly touching Elrond’s arm. It was the only way he knew to get his feelings across.

Elrond understood the silent message and nodded.

Legolas’s fears were not eased, however, since the most knowledgeable healer in Middle-earth did not know what was truly wrong and that the venom, as the cause, was only a guess, though it seemed a logical one. Legolas tried to keep himself from trembling.

It occurred to the young elf that he had no way of communicating with anyone. As far as he knew, no one was even aware that he could not remember what had happened to him. Speaking was a waste of time and any attempts to continue would result in that emotional outburst he was trying so hard to suppress. With his hands splinted and bound, he could not write. How was he to ask the questions he needed the answers to? He lay his head back farther into the cushioning pillows and closed his eyes. *Ai, Elbereth, what am I to do now?*

In addition to the frustration and fear, his body was really starting to force its presence into his awareness. It had been hurting since he first woke up, but now the pain was pushing itself to the forefront. He still could not remember what had happened to him after Mordraug...what? What had that evil elf done to him after they had fought in the forest clearing? Legolas knew it had to be something terrible to put him in the state he was in. Three broken bones and a body, whose every inch was painful, suggested a long fall. But, there had been no place in that forest to fall from. He immediately dismissed the idea that he had somehow ended up on the face of one of the cliffs surrounding the valley forest and then fallen.

Memory loss, a frustrating speech problem, rising fear and pain were all getting to be too much, overwhelming the elf’s fragile hold on consciousness. The emotional turmoil and the physical pain had drained him of every ounce of his energy. Both mind and body lacked the strength to deal with anything right now. He found himself longing for the peaceful nothingness of oblivion. Not to have to think and not to be able to feel would be a glorious blessing.

Knowing Legolas was probably hurting and thinking the young wood elf wanted to sleep or, at the least, rest, Elrond stood up and motioned for Glorfindel and the twins to leave the room, for the time being anyway. He knew better than to try and get Estel to leave. The human would not budge. There was also no question that Thranduil would leave Legolas, either.

Elrond pulled both Estel and Thranduil over to the balcony doorway with his back to the bed, so he could talk without Legolas overhearing, even with his keen elven ears. Softly, he said, “I will look in on him later. I regret that I cannot give him anything for the pain. He has been drugged enough, and even a simple pain killer right now might cause an adverse reaction. Just let him rest quietly, and hope he can fall asleep before the pain gets to be to much for him.

“I will search my texts and see if there is anything I can find regarding his speech difficulty, Do not try to push him into anything.“ He stopped short of saying “into remembering anything”. Now was not the time to worry Thranduil and Estel, when he was not absolutely sure his idea in that regard was correct. He raised his eyebrows, asking if they understood.

Aragorn nodded.

“Just find something that will help my son,” Thranduil said, though he didn’t sound as stern as the words alone would have indicated.

Without waiting to see if Elrond intended to answer, the king turned and went back to where Legolas still lay propped against the headboard of the large bed. One look at him, and Thranduil knew his son was asleep. His eyes were only about half closed, which made Thranduil’s heart lift a little. He decided to leave Legolas leaning back against the pillows rather than risk waking him by moving him down flat on the bed.

Elrond quietly left the room while Thranduil and Aragorn sat in chairs on opposite sides of the bed and prepared to wait.

TBC

Chapter Thirty Five

Elrond walked into his study, and the first thing that caught his eye was a cloth sack sitting in the middle of his desk. *Ah, yes. I had forgotten. Glorfindel must have left it here for me.*

The blond-haired elf often took care of details for Elrond, especially when he was focused on a problem. And, what had happened and was continuing to happen to Legolas was definitely a problem; one which would take a great deal of effort to correct. Of course, there was always the possibility that nothing need be done at all. The trouble Legolas was having could well right itself without intervention. Elrond, however, was not willing to just sit around and do nothing, hoping that that would happen. If his efforts proved unnecessary, then so be it, but the attempt would be made and the research done.

The elf lord walked around and sat in his chair, not taking his eyes off of the sack. With a heavy sigh, he reached out and lifted the object. He untied the draw-string and put the fingers of both hands down into the small opening, pulling the mouth of the sack as wide as it would go. He gripped the bottom of the sack and turned it upside down, dropping the contents onto the desk top.

With a feeling of dismay, he looked at the black snake. It had been a week since the serpent had been killed, and its body was now dried and withered, locked into hard, stiff coils. Elrond almost laughed. *At least it didn't decompose.* Although, he wasn't sure that mattered, at this point. He knew a lot of what he might have been able to find out, might instead, be lost. Unique as this snake was, its secrets could remain hidden forever.

He then held a mental debate with himself. He knew he could reconstitute the creature’s body. However, that presented two problems. If he used plain water, it would take a long time, and would surely cause the snake to begin the decomposition process. There would then be no answers forthcoming that might help Legolas, an idea that he had had in the back of his mind, when he had brought the snake back with him from the valley forest. If he used a combination of fluids that he already had on hand, the reconstitution process would be greatly speeded up, and the body would be preserved, but there was no way to know whether the preservative itself might damage the snake internally. Such damage might destroy the very findings he was trying to obtain.

Elrond sighed. No one ever said being a healer was easy. It was most rewarding, when all went well, when elves, and occasionally others, were able to walk out of the Houses of Healing on their own two feet. But, it could also be very frustrating at best and despairing at worst, when things didn’t go well, when injuries could not be righted and mostly when patients died despite the best he could give them. Right now, for Legolas, Elrond still held a large measure of optimism.

With another sigh, Elrond picked up the snake and carried it to his work room, located behind the library. The main door that he had used earlier was off the corridor, but there was also a small convenient door at the rear of the library.

He set the stiffened black body down on the table and reached up for one of the myriad of jars on the highest shelf that ran across in front of the window. He poured half the contents in a bowl and carefully set the snake down into it. He added more liquid until the serpent was completely covered by a couple of inches. He knew it would take a good four hours, if not longer, to reconstitute the snake.

Elrond then returned to his study and began the research on Legolas’s unusual speech problem. It was going to be a long afternoon and most likely an even longer night.

~*~*~

The sun had long dropped below the horizon, when Legolas’s half opened eyes opened fully. As lucid thought began to take hold of his mind, a feeling of peace came over him. It was so good to be home again. He dearly loved being in Rivendell and being with Estel, the twins and Elrond. But, there was nothing like being in his own bed in his father's palace stronghold in Mirkwood.

His thoughts of home began to waver. He frowned, not understanding why his joy was fading into fear. It made no sense. He lay very still, trying to figure out why his mind was forcing such an emotion on him. The elf was confused. The rational part of his mind recognized that fact, but he wanted to know why.

Turning his head, he saw his father sitting by his bed. Thranduil’s eyes were not fully focused, but the tension in his body clearly showed that he was not asleep. From long years of seeing it, Legolas knew that his father was deep in thought. Sitting as he was by the bed, he appeared to be keeping some sort of vigil. Yet again, Legolas asked himself why.

He turned his head to the right and saw Estel sitting in another chair. A soft snore was coming from the man. Estel was asleep, his head hanging down near his chest. When did Estel arrive in Mirkwood? Legolas saw that there was no one else in the room. He would have thought that, if he were somehow injured, one of this brothers or sisters, if not all of them, would be there. His frown of confusion deepened.

Legolas tried to clear his thoughts. Then, the memories began to creep in. He and Estel had been in a forest, one he had never seen before. They had disagreed on which path to take. He had felt a foreboding in the forest, but Estel had been there before, so they had gone down the path the ranger had said was the way they should go. At camp, he had gone out to hunt for dinner. What had happened then? Legolas shook his head. He remembered following a rabbit. Then...Mordraug!

It all came back to Legolas then. The presence of the Avari and his snake, being bitten, waking up...here! This was Rivendell, he suddenly realized, closely inspecting the room to confirm that fact. He continued to remember, and those memories were not pleasant ones. He had learned that his Naneth had died at the hands of Mordraug, as had many other elves centuries ago. He, himself, had been poisoned, and when he had gone after Mordraug, he had suffered an attack of agony like none other he could ever have imagined. Then, he had died. Legolas paused. *I did die!* He clearly remembered his spirit flying upward toward the heavens. *And, I came back. I actually came back.* The next memory was of him waking up with broken bones. *And, I could not speak right.* Legolas forced himself to pause again. The memories had all come flooding in so fast, hitting one after the other, that he could only recognize them but had no time to analyze each one.

The memories were beginning to swamp his fragile mind. That had happened the last time he had been conscious. He had given in to it then. The elf shook his head. *No! I will not give in this time. I will remain conscious and deal with whatever I have to deal with.*

Legolas’s determination was strong. Now, he only had to make sure that the part of his mind that craved oblivion did not get its way. His body ached, but that, too, would be pushed aside.

*Ada?* Legolas frowned again, as he heard himself say, “Pantu?”

Thranduil jerked his instantly-focused eyes toward his son. It was the sound of Legolas’s voice as much as what he said that had commanded his attention. He forced a smile, hiding his dismay that his son’s sleep had not corrected or even improved the speech problem.

The king got up from his chair and sat down on the side of the bed. Putting his hand on Legolas‘s cheek, he said, “I love you, ion nin. And, I have to believe that Elrond is going to find out what is causing your speech to be...erratic.” That was not exactly the right word, but it was the first thing that came into his mind. “And, he will then find the cure.” He moved his hand down and squeezed Legolas’s shoulder, giving him a reassuring smile.

Legolas smiled back. He wanted so much to believe that Elrond would, indeed, find out what was wrong with him and cure it. If anyone could do it, the Lord of Imladris could. But, some things were beyond even the elf lord’s power to correct. What if this is one of those times? What if he was doomed to spend the rest of eternity unable to speak so that he could be understood? Fear continued to well up inside of him from the pit of his stomach.

The two wood elves looked intently into each other’s eyes. For Thranduil there was the pain of helplessness to aid his child, and for Legolas there was the naked fear he wanted to spare his father from seeing. Unfortunately, Legolas’s feelings could not be hidden from his father, who knew him better than anyone. Thranduil would have given his right arm to take that look out of his son‘s eyes.

Aragorn had awakened, when Thranduil had first spoken, but he had not given any indication that he was no longer asleep. He hadn’t wanted to intrude on the intimate moment between father and son. He would have left the room had not that action done as much to interrupt them as speaking would have.

Despite his decision to remain quiet, Aragorn was dismayed when, out of nowhere, a sneeze erupted. Both elves looked his way. *Damn,* Aragorn said angrily to himself.

Legolas started to make a teasing remark about humans and their peace-shattering noises, when he remembered that no one would be able to understand him. Frustration was building to match his fear, and any attempt at humor was driven away.

Aragorn, for his part, did not let on that he had not just awoken. He was not trying to be deceitful, but he did not want to make his friend or Thranduil uncomfortable by letting them know their moment together had been witnessed, or at least, overheard.

“Please forgive my rather loud announcement that I am now awake.” Aragorn was trying to add a bit of humor of his own. He sighed, when he saw that it was not working.

Like Legolas, he had forgotten, for a moment, that Legolas could not answer, when he asked, “How do you feel?” The look of dismay on his face at his goof made Legolas offer a genuine smile. The circumstances were grave in the elf’s mind, but he was not so far into self-pity that he couldn’t try to ease his friend’s guilt.

Apologizing all over the place would only make matters worse, so Aragorn just shrugged instead, offering a sheepish grin. He glanced quickly at Thranduil, fully expecting the king to be giving him a stern frown of disapproval. He was surprised to see a look of amusement on the elder elf’s face. He decided that Thranduil was happy for anything that brought a smile to Legolas’s face.

Aragorn was further surprised, when Thranduil stood up and said, “I think I will go and find Elrond. I want to know what he has found out.” The last sentence was spoken with a touch of the usual no-nonsense Thranduil that Aragorn had always known. He didn’t have any fear for his father, though, knowing the Lord of Rivendell could well hold his own against anyone, even the King of Mirkwood in his foulest mood, which was not the case here...so far, at least.

With a smile for his son and a nod to Aragorn, Thranduil left the room, closing he door quietly behind him.

Now, the two friends were alone in the candle-lit room.

Aragorn stifled a brief moment of discomfort. He didn’t want to ramble on, talking about things that were obviously just meant to fill an awkward silence, something Legolas would recognize immediately. He also didn’t want to make Legolas feel ill at ease about not being able to conduct a two-way conversation.

The last time Aragorn had felt this way in Legolas’s presence was the day they had met. He was a somewhat gawky human child of ten in awe of meeting this warrior prince from the mysterious realm of Mirkwood on the far side of the Misty Mountains.

His twin brothers had knocked that awe right out of him by teasing him about the fierceness of the wood elves and their fearsome behavior toward all races not elven. Humans were considered less than dirt under their feet, Elladan and Elrohir had told him, and they particularly hated human children.

Estel had been warned that he must lower his eyes and not ever look directly at the prince‘s face. If Legolas reached toward him, he was to back up, and if Legolas stepped toward him, Estel was to run for his life. The gullible child, trusting his brothers, had believed all of it.

Consequently, little Estel had been unnaturally quiet with eyes constantly downcast, whenever he found himself in the elf prince’s presence. He laughed now to remember the confused look Legolas had given him on the few occasions he had lifted his eyes for a few seconds to watch the prince.

Legolas had tried very hard to make friends, but the young human had believed the elf was trying to get him close enough to grab. Matters were not helped by the twins in the background, whispering words of warning to Estel before each encounter with Legolas.

One morning, three days after the Mirkwood elves had arrived in Rivendell, Estel had found himself alone in the garden, when Legolas, who had been enjoying the comfort of a tree, had dropped down several feet in front of the boy. Estel had screamed, thinking Legolas was going to kill him. An irrational idea, for sure, but for a frightened child, who had been fed such lies by his mischievous older brothers, not too farfetched.

Instead of letting the child run away in fear, Legolas grabbed him and put his hand over the boy’s mouth. Estel was positive then the elf was going to drag him into the flower bushes and kill and then eat him, another idea the twins had whispered in Estel‘s ear. He almost passed out from sheer fright. And, then he began to struggle with all his might. He, of course, was no match for the strength of the elf, who held him firmly.

“I will not hurt you, Estel,” Legolas said softly.

It was the soothing way the elf spoke and the use of the boy’s name that caused him to stop struggling.

“If you promise not to scream again, I will remove my hand.”

The boy nodded, though his wide eyes betrayed his fear.

True to his word, Legolas moved his hand away from Estel’s mouth and gently turned him around, so that they were facing each other. “I only want to talk to you.” To remove the perception of a threat, Legolas released his other hand and backed off a couple of feet.

To his own amazement, Estel did not run or even back away. There had been a gentle kindness in the elf’s blue-gray eyes that Estel had not had the opportunity to see before. With a tremor in his voice, he said, “My brothers say wood elves hate human children so much that they will kill and eat them, if given the chance.”

“So, that is why you have shown such fear of me. Your brothers are incorrigible.” At the confused look on Estel’s face, Legolas realized that the boy probably didn’t understand the word he had used, so he smiled and rephrased his statement. “They are persistent and incurable in their mischief-making. I think what they told you was meant as a prank at you and me both. I have known them many years, and they never change.”

Estel narrowed his eyes. “What they said is not true, is it?“

“No, it is most definitely not true.”

“They wanted me to be afraid of you.”

“Apparently. And, they wanted me to be confused as to why. Shall we play a prank on them instead?”

The boy nodded eagerly. “What shall we do?” The thought of a conspiracy against the twins turned his fear to great joy.

Before Legolas could answer, however, he heard his father call him. It seemed that Thranduil and Elrond had argued, and the Mirkwood elves were leaving Rivendell immediately. Legolas sighed, not at all surprised. “We will meet again, Estel, and then your brothers will feel our sting.” He winked at the boy before turning around and leaving the garden.

That next meeting had not occurred for another seven years. Many pranks had been exchanged between Estel, Legolas and the twins after that, yet elf and man had never found the exact right time or prank to pay Elladan and Elrohir back for that specific joke they had played.

Aragorn now chuckled at the memory.

Legolas wanted to ask what the man was laughing about but could not. He forced the frustration away and just looked at his friend, a raised eyebrow and the tilt of his head his way of questioning.

“Memories,” Aragorn answered, chuckling again. “Funny memories." He proceeded to remind his friend of that first meeting.

~*~*~

Elrond was deep into reading one of his books, when loud and insistent knocking sounded on the wooden door to his study.

“Come in, Thranduil,” Elrond said with a shake of his head. He was expecting the king, and he didn’t think it was going to be a particularly pleasant visit.

TBC

Chapter Thirty Six

Thranduil strode into Elrond’s library. His blue-gray eyes burned with fire, and his handsome face held the stern look of determination. The king obviously intended on getting some answers regarding Legolas’s condition, and it was clearly apparent that he was not going to settle for anything less. He was trying hard to force down his rising anger.

Elrond had been fully prepared for this encounter. Even if he had not, the elf lord would not have been intimidated by Thranduil’s presence in front of him nor the look of barely suppressed anger on his face. Their personalities and often their views differed so much that they had clashed many times in the past. One thing they did share, however, was a deep love for their children. Elrond kept that thought in the forefront of his mind, as he watched the woodland king walk toward him.

Elrond decided to let Thranduil have his say and get his feelings out in the open. It would be a far more productive conversation, if Thranduil could speak rationally instead of ranting. The dark-haired elf closed the book he had been reading, regarded the king steadily and waited.

When Thranduil reached the large oak desk, Elrond indicated the chair that always sat in front and a little to one side.

Thranduil shook his head. “I see you were reading one of your books. I would think after many millennia of reading them, you would have memorized all there is to know in every one of them.” Was that a touch of sarcasm in the royal voice?

Elrond was slightly taken aback. He wasn’t expecting such a comment. He would have been less surprised, if Thranduil had slammed his hand down on the desk and demanded answers. Elrond, recovering quickly, raised his hand and swept it around the room. “There are none here that I have not looked at, but there is still much I do not know. I would have had to spend every moment of my time during those millennia to learn it all, much less memorize it.”

Elrond’s gaze never wavered, and neither did Thranduil’s.

“So, you have never come across the problem that afflicts my son regarding his speech?” With that Thranduil did sit down, pulling the chair squarely in front of the desk before doing so. He leaned forward slightly, waiting intently for Elrond’s answer.

“I have come across many speech difficulties in my time, but none exactly like this.”

“I want to know what is wrong with Legolas.” Thranduil spoke as if Elrond had not said anything and was, instead, holding information back.

The elf lord held his tongue for a brief moment. He had to remind himself that Thranduil did not possess the patience he, himself, did. He also had to remind himself again that this was a father concerned for his child. He would also have been anxious to have some answers were one of his own sons plagued with the same, or any other, unknown malady.

“I have never seen this affliction before. I know that is not what you want to hear.” His sympathy rose for the elf king. “I think the cause may be the snake’s venom. I have come to the conclusion that this particular snake is unique in all of Middle-earth. If so, there is little chance that knowledge of it is in any book here. I think I would have come across it at one time or another.”

At those words, Thranduil’s face crumpled. All the fire in him seemed to extinguish, and he slumped back into the chair. He looked at Elrond with near hopelessness in his eyes. “Are you saying that, because there is no knowledge of this snake, there is no way to obtain a cure? My son’s garbled speech is permanent?”

“No, Thranduil, that is not what I am saying.”

“Then, please explain to me how you can find a cure for something that no one knows anything about?” Some of the fire was back in the king‘s raised voice, though it was born of frustration, not anger.

The dark-haired elf made a quick decision. He stood up and motioned for Thranduil to do the same. “Let me show you something.”

Elrond turned and approached the small door, almost hidden among the shelves to the left of the desk. He again motioned to the elven king, this time to follow him.

The two elves entered Elrond’s work room. It was a concession that the elf lord rarely made, regarding this as a most private place. Thranduil had never been told this, although he suspected that this was not a place to which many “outsiders” gained entrance.

Elrond went straight to his work table while Thranduil stood just inside the door and stared around him. He took in the sights and smells of the room. Whenever he was in Rivendell, he had wondered what the place looked like where Elrond worked his healing “magic“. Considering their less than friendly association, he hadn’t thought he would ever see it. “Most impressive,” he conceded, still somewhat mesmerized.

Elrond smiled at Thranduil’s wonder, though he carefully hid it from the wood elf. “This is what I wish to show you,” Elrond said, as he pulled a bowl forward, bringing it to a stop in front of Thranduil, who had now joined him at the table.

He removed the cloth that covered the bowl and watched Thranduil’s reaction. It was as he expected.

Thranduil stared down into the bowl of liquid containing the black snake. Its body had reconstituted and looked almost normal. If it weren’t for the dead, milky-colored eyes, the woodland elf would have thought it alive, so much so, that he almost stepped back in shock.

“You brought it back with you?” The answer was obvious, since the snake was right there in front of him, but he couldn’t avoid asking the question out loud.

“I had hoped to study it and find some answers. If there are answers to be found, that is. It had withered and dried out during the journey back here from the forest, but as you can see, it is back to its normal consistency.” *Outwardly, at any rate,* he added to himself.

He reached down into the liquid and pulled the snake out, easily uncoiling the now flexible body. He took a cloth and ran it down the snakes’ body, drying the excess fluid from the slender, three-foot length. He stretched the snake out flat on the table.

Thranduil couldn’t take his eyes off of the black serpent. Even lying here dead, it looked menacing, but the elf king still could not believe that such a small creature as this could have caused so much anguish and death. He knew, of course, that it was Mordraug, who had been behind the whole thing. Yet, it was still this creature, who had actually inflicted the poison that had killed his wife and was now causing his son so much suffering.

Thranduil had a fleeting, yet almost overpowering, compulsion to grab the serpent and rip it to pieces with his bare hands. It was only the idea that Elrond had brought this “thing” back for a purpose that may help Legolas that he stayed his hands. If he, in a fit of anger, destroyed the only chance Legolas had of... The king quickly slammed the door on that thought.

After gaining control over his feelings of fury, Thranduil asked, “What are you going to do with it now?”

“My plan is to extract the venom still in its body. Hopefully, there will be enough to make an antidote for the poison.”

Thranduil had no idea how that was done, but he was intrigued to find out. He watched, as Elrond opened a cabinet and pulled out two small clear glass dishes, resembling container lids. They were barely an inch across and perhaps half that high. He then picked the snake up behind its head with his left hand and with his right hand he took a small metal rod no bigger than a toothpick. He carefully pushed it under the retracted fangs and pulled them down as far as they would go. Holding the snake’s head so that one fang was over the edge of one dish and the other fang was over the second dish. Elrond put a thumb and forefinger behind the serpent’s head along the side and began to pull his fingers forward, pressing firmly.

At first, nothing happened. Elrond knew that any venom that might be present might have dried up to the point that it had not reconstituted. He tried again.

“What are you doing?” Thranduil asked. He had tried to be patient, but he couldn’t stand not knowing.

“I am pressing on the glands that hold the venom and force it out through the fangs. I need it to make the antidote.”

Thranduil knew his own Mirkwood healers had made antidotes for snake poison many times, though he had never seen it done nor even understood how it was accomplished. He decided he would keep further questions to himself until Elrond was finished with his current task.

Elrond had squeezed the snake’s head several more times, when finally a tiny drop of light amber-colored liquid came out of each fang. It was thicker than it should have been. *It is only partially reconstituted,* Elrond thought with dismay. However he didn‘t think that soaking the snake’s body any longer would help.

After several more attempts, Elrond knew there was no more venom to be had. Two tiny drops. That was all. He didn’t know if that would be enough. He had first to experiment to find the right combination of ingredients that would interact with the venom to produce the desired result. Then, he had to wait as each attempt did or did not generate an effective antidote.

On top of those problems was the fact that he had no idea how powerful the venom really was and thus had no way of knowing how much to dilute it or how much to give to Legolas. The young elf should not be used as a test subject for this experiment, yet there was a distinct possibility that that is exactly what would happen.

Unable to hold his tongue any longer, Thranduil remarked, “I know nothing about how all of this works, but to me, that does not look like enough venom to do anything with.”

Elrond looked Thranduil in the eye. He had told the king before that he would not keep the truth from him, so he said, “It may not be enough. However, I am unwilling to give up until all possibilities are exhausted. I will do all I can to find something that will help Legolas.” He offered Thranduil a small smile of encouragement.

The elf lord reached into a drawer and pulled out a small square of oil cloth and put it on top of one of the little glass dishes. He wrapped it tightly with a piece of cord and set it in the same drawer. He knew the answers would not be found before the sun came up, and he didn’t want the venom exposed to the light that would be coming through the east-facing window.

Elrond retrieved several more of the little glass dishes and set them on the table. Taking the tiny metal rod he had used to extend the snake’s fangs, he dipped one end in one of the drops of venom he had obtained. He put it down into the center of one dish, repeating the procedure until he had reduced the drop of venom into what amounted to equal-sized dots. He was disappointed to see that there were only five of them, including the original dish.

Thranduil stared at the little containers. “The venom is barely visible.” His voice betrayed his dismay.

“I know. But, there are a number of combinations of ingredients I need to try, so I have to get as many dishes as possible.”

“How will you know which is the right one?”

That was a question Elrond didn’t really want to answer. But, answer it, he did. “I do not know, if I can be sure,” he admitted. “The poison from each different type of snake gives a different reaction. Judging by the color of this venom, and comparing it to others of similar color, I think the liquid I add should turn red, or at least, have a reddish tint to it. Of course, as I have stated before, this snake is unique, so I cannot be sure. I can only try.”

There had always seemed to be a widely-held idea that Elrond was virtually infallible, both as a leader and as a healer. It was due as much to the elf lord’s imposing persona as it was to his knowledge and wisdom. As for himself, Elrond had never had a problem admitting to anything that he did not know or could not do.

“Do what you think is right,” Thranduil said. “I just want my son to be healed, and, as far as I can see, you are his only hope.” It was a concession that he would not have made, when the furious king had first arrived in Rivendell almost two weeks ago.

Fully understanding, Elrond nodded and began to add different liquids in varying combinations to the five dishes, filling one almost full, two half full, one a third full, and to the last one, he added barely enough of just one liquid to cover the bottom of the dish. He stood back and regarded his handiwork.

“Now, what?” Thranduil inquired.

“Now, we wait.”

“How long?”

“Until we see a reaction that reaches a certain point and then does not change for a while, indicating the reaction is complete.”

“What about the larger drop of venom you put in the drawer?”

“With any luck we will not need that one at all. If so, we continue. I did not want to use it just yet. Should anything happen to these, there will be a drop left. It is always wise to hold back some of what is being experimented upon as a reserve. I learned that long ago.”

Thranduil stared once again at the little dishes, seeming to be trying to will some kind of change to begin taking place.

Elrond watched the king closely. He knew exactly what Thranduil was thinking. He was sure the wood elf was expecting the whole procedure to take only a few moments. It was time to inform him of the truth of the matter. “Thranduil, it will take several hours for a reaction even to begin.”

“Several hours?” Thranduil voice rose in a tone of incredulity. “I thought...” He stopped, as Elrond held his hand up.

“I am sorry, if I gave you the wrong impression. It takes time for the venom to react with the fluids I have mixed in with it.” He quickly added, “It cannot be rushed.” He was sure Thranduil was about to start trying to insist he do something to speed things along. He wished he could have done just that.

Elrond put his hand on Thranduil’s shoulder. “Let us go and check on Legolas, shall we?” He hoped the mention of seeing his son would entice the king to be willing to leave here. It worked.

Thranduil, though eager to see what would happen with the venom, understood that nothing would be happening here for a while. And, he certainly did not need more than one suggestion to go and see his son. Even if Legolas was asleep, he would stay with him until Elrond had found the cure. And, finding the cure he was sure would be the result of all this experimenting.

Elrond felt another pang of sympathy for the woodland king. What would his reaction be, if no cure could be found to help his child? How would the elf react to that? For that matter, how would Legolas react? Elrond had the feeling that the young archer would handle it better than his father would. Hopefully, no one would have to find out.

With a shake of his head, Elrond led Thranduil out of the work room. He closed the door, and the two elves began making their way toward Legolas’s room in the residential quarters of Elrond’s house.

TBC

Chapter Thirty Seven

When the two elven lords approached Legolas’s room, they stopped and listened. No sounds could be heard on the other side of the oak door. Elrond knocked softly, knowing that if Legolas was awake, he would hear and alert Aragorn to answer. The very idea of the woodland elf having to do that still caused a clinch in Elrond’s heart.

He put his ear near the door, but there was no response, so Elrond opened the door and peered inside. He turned and nodded to Thranduil, putting his finger over his lips. The two elves quietly entered, and Thranduil closed the door behind them.

Aragorn was again asleep in one of the chairs by the bed. His head was resting to the side against the back of the chair, instead of leaning forward, so this time, he was not snoring. There was a slight upward curve to his lips. Many times in the past, Elrond had seen that very look on a much younger Estel’s face. He could only imagine what humorous event his foster son could be dreaming about now. The elf lord couldn’t avoid a small smile of his own.

Thranduil’s gaze went straight to Legolas. The young elf was no longer propped up against the headboard. He was lying down flat in the bed, the covers pulled up to his shoulders. His head was turned toward Aragorn, as if he had been listening to his friend when he, too, had fallen asleep. His loose hair was splayed out across the pillow his head rested on. However, the one thing that Thranduil noted, with continued dismay, was the fact that Legolas was still sleeping with his eyes only half open. He knew he should not have expected more, since he was well aware that his son was far from healed, but each time he saw him sleeping this way, it jolted him.

Thranduil went over to the side of the bed opposite Aragorn and sat down on it as gently as he could. He reached out to touch Legolas’s cheek but then pulled back. He did not want to risk waking his son. Looking at his face now, the king could see no evidence of the horror that Legolas had so recently gone through. But, he knew better. What ailed his son, besides the splinted bones and the problem with his speech, was deep inside---running through his veins to be exact. And, there was no way to know for sure how badly his spirit had been damaged. How could it not have been? Legolas had died a torturous, agonizing death and then been returned to this life. To Thranduil’s way of thinking, there was nothing a being could endure that could be more traumatic.

Something then occurred to the king. Had Legolas’s immortality been somehow compromised? Was he now as mortal as his human friend? Thranduil couldn’t suppress a shudder at the thought. He would make a point of asking Elrond in private at a later time.

The king laid his hand on the top of the covers that lay over his son’s chest. *May your spirit be well, ion nin. Your family needs you back. And, the people of the realm need their youngest Prince.*

Thranduil looked over at Elrond and saw the Rivendell elf looking at him. There was a kindred spirit evident in his eyes. As Elrond had noted before, they were both fathers, who loved their children dearly. Elrond smiled and nodded his understanding.

Thranduil knew that this elf, who he had argued with, more often than not, over the centuries, would do all he could to help. He had proven that, when the two were in Elrond’s work room. He still believed that the Lord of Imladris was his son’s only hope.

~*~*~

Several hours later, the eastern sky began to lighten, causing the stars in that part of the sky to fade. It would be dawn soon. With luck, there would be a favorable reaction to the snake’s venom, and an antidote would have been born. Unknown to each other, both elven lords were thinking the same thing.

Elrond, who had taken up residence in the other chair next to Aragorn, stood up. He suppressed the urge to stretch and yawn. Instead, he said, “I will go and check to see if we have created an antidote.” He was generous in using the word ‘we’, since all Thranduil had done was watch and ask questions. Elrond spoke softly, not wanting to wake either of the young ones. He held his breath, as Aragorn stirred but did not wake.

The woodland king was tempted to follow Elrond out of the room, anxious to know if the dark-haired elf lord had succeeded with the antidote that would heal his son. He decided to forgo that and stay with Legolas, wanting to be there in case he woke up. However, all the while Elrond was gone, the wood elf couldn’t help but continually glance toward the door in anticipation.

~*~*~

When Elrond entered his work room and approached the table, he was dismayed to see that the little glass dishes contained only clear fluids, an unmistakable indication that no reaction had occurred. He started to discard them all in frustration, until he noticed that the one on the right end of the line had a slightly reddish tint to it. He held it up to the light and, bringing his eyes up close to it, stared into the liquid. It was so pale he had very nearly missed seeing the color change. But, he easily saw now that the content was definitely red. He smiled.

His next thought was that it needed more time to develop a stronger color. However, it had been several hours, and so, on second thought, he didn’t believe more time would help. Still, he wasn’t willing to risk an antidote that was too weak to do any good, just because he was overanxious to help the young Mirkwood prince.

Elrond set the little dish aside and decided to wait. Thinking that more than one dose of the antidote might be needed, he opened the drawer and retrieved the second drop of venom. He proceeded to put a bit of the venom into two more little dishes. Into each of them he added the same combination of liquids he had put in the one he was now convinced had given the correct reaction. The remaining dish with venom he resealed with the oil cloth and put it back into the drawer. He may or may not need it later.

Elrond did not want to go back to Legolas’s room until he had what he needed ready to administer to the young elf. So, the next hour was spent working on other things in his work room.

With a feeling of anxiousness the long-time healer didn’t usually feel, he pulled the dish out of the shadows and held it up, so that light from the window in front of him would again reflect the color inside the dish. It looked the same. His earlier suspicion had been correct. The red wasn’t going to deepen in color. What he held in his hand had already changed as much as it was going to. He was glad, though, that he had waited to be sure. There would be enough guessing, as it was.

Now, came the difficult part of the whole endeavor. How much to give Legolas. Did he give him just the tiny amount in the dish? Or, did he add a fluid that would not react with the antidote but only dilute it? He knew the poison was powerful. Common sense told him that the tiny amount of the antidote he was looking at was probably too strong.

The antidote to a venom had to be made from real venom, therefore giving too concentrated a dose could bring about more harm. Yet, he knew that if he diluted it too much, the antidote would not be strong enough to neutralize the poison.

The creation of the antidote had changed the venom itself but not enough to make it totally inert. Despite the unknown particulars of this venom, Elrond had no choice but to rely on his vast experience. It would all come down to his best guess. That was not an overly confident way to go about this, but what else could he do?

Staring at the small dish of red tinted fluid, Elrond made his decision. It was better to err on the side of caution. Not enough antidote would probably leave Legolas no worse off than he already was, whereas too much could well cause irreparable damage. Added to what was already in his system, it could bring about the young archer’s death. And, Elrond was sure the wood elf would not return to them this time. Eru had saved him for a purpose, and Elrond did not intend on being the one to ruin that plan.

~*~*~

Bright golden sunlight streaming in through the balcony doorway and hitting Aragorn full in the face woke him up. Unlike his father, he had no urge to stifle a yawn. He displayed the yawn to the limits his mouth would accommodate it. He then sat forward in the chair and, slumping forward, he raised his arms over his head, pulling his arm and back muscles as far as he could. Arching backward, he then did the same with the muscles in his chest. Extending his legs and tightening and then loosening those muscles completed the task. He sat up straight and grinned, as if thoroughly satisfied with his accomplishment.

Thranduil watched the amusing contortions but said nothing. Elves also stretched their muscles but among the Firstborn, it was a graceful flow of motion that was far removed from these crude, awkward movements. It was the first time the king had ever witnessed this or any other human’s attempts to stretch.

Legolas, who had just awakened, was grinning at Aragorn and shaking his head slowly side to side. He had witnessed the ranger doing all this stretching quite often during their many times together. He felt about the same way his father was just now feeling. Most ungraceful, almost like a bear just coming out of hibernation. In fact, Legolas had once made that same comment to the ranger, who had simply snorted and turned his back on the elf. The snorting hadn’t done anything but reinforce the idea Legolas had of watching a bear. They had been on a hunting trip for several weeks at the time, and being downwind of the human hadn’t helped that impression one bit.

Legolas opened his mouth to make a disparaging remark and then clamped it shut. He did not want to be reminded, yet again, that only babbled words, making no sense even to himself, would be the result. Knowing it would happen was bad enough without him having to actually hear the ridiculous sounds. All humor fled from the elf, as he struggled to keep his despair and frustration at bay.

Aragorn read the look immediately. He gave his friend an encouraging smile. “I know it’s frustrating for you, Legolas, but father will come up with the cure. Just you wait and see.”

As if he had been waiting patiently for just such a cue, Elrond entered the room without knocking. All eyes turned to him, trying to read in his expression, if he had found the answer.

Elrond, for his part, did not give anything away in the set of his features, which was an unreadable mask. He wished he could smile broadly and announce that he had, indeed, found the cure to what the venom had done to Legolas, but things were more complicated than that. He had to make sure everyone, especially Legolas, understood the risks involved before he would proceed.

Right behind Elrond came the twins and Glorfindel. They were all as anxious as anyone else in the room to find out what would happen now that a possible cure was in sight. They all came to stand at the foot of the bed, each giving Legolas a smile and, in Elrohir’s case, a small wave.

Legolas held his right hand up and waggled his unsplinted fingers in greeting. A smile lit up his face. It was good to be reminded that these people that he cared so deeply for, also cared deeply for him.

“Ada?” Aragorn questioned his father, as the elf lord approached the bed. It was then that he saw the small vial in Elrond’s hand. “Is that the antidote?”

At the question, Thranduil came up off of the chair and Legolas tried to lift himself onto his right elbow, so he would have a better look at the contents of the vial Aragorn had mentioned.

Elrond did not want to risk the vial falling over, so he set it down inside an empty cup sitting on the bedside table nearest him. “That is my hope.”

He turned to Legolas, and seeing him struggling to lift himself, the elf lord leaned down and aided him to sit up. After he and Thranduil pilled up the pillows and fluffed them, Legolas was laid back against them the same way he had been the night before.

Elrond sat on the side of the bed. He noticed that Legolas was staring at the vial. Elrond took his hand and put it under the young elf’s chin and turned his head, so that the two were face to face. “Legolas, what I am about to tell you is very important. You must listen to everything I have to say. Then, you must think about the answer to the question I will ask you. Do you understand?”

Legolas nodded. To show he would do as Elrond asked, he did not let his eyes stray from the elf lord’s.

“I have done my best to find the antidote to the venom that the black snake injected into you. I do not know anything about this snake, where it came from or how its poison works. I do know it is very powerful. I cannot even be sure if a cure can be found.

“Having said that, I have done all that I know to do to secure what I believe is the antidote. I have had to guess at the dosage to give you. There is no way to know what that does should be, how strong or how weak. I have used all the knowledge I possess regarding poisonous snake bites, venoms and antidotes to them.

“There is a chance that it may not work. There is a chance that it could do more harm to you, possibly even ending in your death. I am leaving the choice of whether to take what I have formulated entirely up to you. Do you have any questions?” Elrond felt a pang of guilt at asking that, since he knew Legolas could not speak correctly. He also knew that this was important enough to give the young elf a chance to make himself understood.

Legolas thought for a moment. *I could end up the same. I could end up worse. I could end up dead. Or, I could be cured.*

He knew if he ended up the same as he was now, it would greatly affect his future. A warrior who could not give orders, relay signals or cry out warnings would be all but useless to his fellow warriors. Yet, once his wrists completely healed, he could write. It would not be the way of a warrior, and that part of his life would be over, a painful thought he pushed aside, hoping it would not have to be considered later. However, writing would be something he could manage in his daily life, whatever that life turned out to hold for him.

He didn’t like having to think about ending up worse. The burning question would be worse how? Would he suffer further physical damage? Would he lose the ability to walk or the ability to think? That alone would cause him great despair. But, if he became little more a thinking, reasoning being than a flower in the garden, would he even know it? His family would have to take total care of him and would be the ones to suffer in that case. Could he risk doing that to them? Perhaps, he would end up with some horrid affliction that he couldn’t begin to imagine. What then?

Death not only held no fear for him, it now held no mystery. He had already died once. He clearly remembered the joy and wonder of his spirit, as it soared toward the Halls of Mandos. Legolas knew that the thought of death would not deter his decision to take the antidote that Elrond had produced.

Legolas then grasped and held onto the one remaining possibility. That little vial Elrond had brought in with him could be a cure. He could walk out of this room exactly the same person with all the same abilities, physically, mentally and emotionally that he had always possessed.

With an intense look at Elrond he lifted his right hand and pointed first to Aragorn, then to Elladan and then to Elrohir. Legolas pointed to the vial and then to Elrond and raised his eyebrows in question.

Elrond watched the young elf and understood what he was asking. “You want to know if I would give it to one of my sons, if they were in your place.”

Legolas nodded once.

“If it were left to me alone to decide, then yes, I would risk it. But, you must decide for yourself, Legolas. Those around you, who love you, will be affected by whatever happens. There is no doubt about that. But, you are the one who has to live with it. You are the one who will not be able to escape the consequences, be they good or ill, that results.”

Again, Legolas nodded. Elrond was a healer of great knowledge and great talent, honed through thousands of years of experience. If this great elf lord believed in what he had created, shouldn’t he, a young woodland warrior prince, do the same? Practicality was a solid way to go about living your life, but life also involved luck and faith. It seemed to be faith that was called for now.

Legolas pointed to the vial and then himself and nodded again.

“Legolas, are you sure?” It was Thranduil asking. He was apprehensive, but he did not disagree with his son’s choice. He would have done the same for himself or any of his children. He just wanted to be sure Legolas was both clear and comfortable in his own mind about the risks he was about to take.

Legolas put his right hand over his father’s, which was on Legolas’s left forearm. He nodded and smiled at Thranduil, who saw no doubts and no fear in his son’s eyes. The king, nay, the father smiled back.

“Very well,” Elrond said. He picked up the vial and held it in front of the young archer. “I do not know the reaction it will produce. Nothing noticeable may happen. Or, you may simply go into a healing sleep. You may suffer some kind of physical tremors or even more pain.”

Legolas could not imagine the antidote causing more pain than that he had already suffered from the poison itself. Without hesitation, he reached out and curled his long fingers around the vial, pulling it gently from Elrond’s hand. *I will do this myself for myself*, he thought.

With another reassuring smile to all present, he put the vial to his lips and tilted his head back, letting the reddish liquid pour into his mouth. It had a slightly bitter taste, but Legolas didn’t care. With one swallow, the antidote was gone, hopefully on its way to combat the poisonous venom that infused his body.

TBC

Chapter Thirty Eight

Every other eye in the room was on Legolas’s face. His own eyes were staring down at his splinted wrists. He wasn’t sure how he should be feeling after drinking the contents of the vial Elrond had brought to him. He was apprehensive, of course. No matter how confident he was in Elrond’s abilities, he knew that the Lord of Rivendell himself had doubts. Such a thought was not a strong confidence builder, but he had wanted honesty from the elf lord, and that is exactly what he got.

The risks Elrond had explained were daunting. Underlying the fear, Legolas also felt a small thrill in the pit of his stomach. There was a good chance that, in a short while, he would be cured, completely free of the poison and its effects. His normal life would resume. Legolas held on to that hope.

The elf resisted the urge to twist his fingers together, as he waited for his body to tell him that something was happening. He clearly remembered the finger-twisting, usually with his hands behind his back, whenever, as an elfling, he had been called to stand before his father to answer for some misdeed he had committed. Unknown to him, Thranduil had often been more amused than angry. Legolas was a very precocious child and a clever one. He rarely committed the same mischief twice. To Thranduil’s consternation, the elfling had usually found new and inventive ways to exasperate him.

Before a smile could appear on Legolas’s face at the memory, the current situation pulled his attention to the present and demanded all of his thoughts. He waited somewhat impatiently, though he was trying hard to calm his nerves. *Steady, Greenleaf. Do not let anyone see your fear,* he warned himself, taking note that everyone, including Elrond, looked as anxious as he felt. He knew that all of them wanted nothing more than to see him cured. Such knowledge warmed his heart.

Elrond put his hand on Legolas’s arm and smiled. “If there was no immediate reaction to the antidote by the venom in your system, then it will probably take a while for one to display itself, if there is to be one at all.”

Legolas looked slightly disappointed. He certainly wasn’t looking forward to possibly experiencing any more pain, but it was almost preferable to this waiting, which was beginning to unsettle the nerves he had just worked so hard to rein in. It also made him feel that the antidote might not be working. He took a deep breath and let it out very slowly, his eyes not leaving his hands.

“Give it time,” Elrond said softly, reading the young elf‘s slight frown. It was much too early for Elrond to be thinking that the antidote wasn’t the right one after all. He had been blessed with infinite patience, so he was prepared to wait as long as it took.

Thranduil was not. He stared at Elrond with a stern expression on his fair features. “Well?“

Elrond didn‘t flinch. “I told Legolas that there might not be a visible reaction. You heard that as clearly as he did.” His voice had hardened somewhat. He would be as gentle as need be with Legolas, but Thranduil’s tone would be matched, if the elven king tried to push him.

Thranduil sighed. He did not want to upset his son by getting into a confrontation with Elrond. “I am sorry,” he said, tilting his head slightly in Elrond’s direction. “I am merely concerned for my son.”

Elrond nodded. “I understand your feelings, Thranduil. I know you sometimes lack patience, but you must...” That was as far as he got.

Right then, Legolas began shaking. At first, it wasn’t too bad. But, before anyone could react, the trembling became worse. His body jerked, the tremors quickly increasing in intensity until they became full-fledged convulsions.

Thranduil grabbed Legolas by the shoulders, intending to pull his son against his chest. Elrond reached out and pulled his hands away before he could lift Legolas off the bed. “No, Thranduil, you cannot hold him. As painful as it may be to watch, the convulsions must be allowed to run their course with no interference.”

That was the second time Elrond had denied Thranduil the chance to hold his son. The first time having been when Legolas’s body was tortured to death in the forest. The elf lord frowned at the helpless look on the elder wood elf’s face.

Elrond made only one concession to his words. He slipped one arm under Legolas’s shoulders and one under his lower back, nodding to Thranduil to do the same to his son’s legs. The two of them gently pulled Legolas down flat on the bed, so his thrashing would not cause him to bang his head on the wooden headboard despite the pillows.

“Ada, how long will this continue?” Elrohir asked. His handsome face reflected his anguish at watching his friend go through yet more suffering. Just standing around and doing nothing was extremely hard for him---for all of them. So focused was Elrohir’s attention that he hardly noticed, when Elladan put his hand on his brother’s arm and squeezed it.

Elrond shook his head but did not answer his son‘s question. He put one hand behind Legolas’s head, lifting it up several inches. With his free hand, he pulled the pillows from their place and tossed them to the foot of the bed. Lowering the elf’s head down onto the mattress, Elrond watched carefully to make sure Legolas’s hands and left foot were not in danger of being further harmed by the intense spasms of his body.

The one good thing about the situation was that Elrond now knew he had the correct remedy. Only time would tell if the dosage the young elf had taken was also the correct one. But, he had more hope now that he had when he entered the room moments ago.

The antidote had been slowly making its way into every fiber of Legolas’s body. Now, it seemed that all at once enough of the anti-venom was clashing with the original venom to cause the violent, spasmodic reaction that racked the elf‘s entire system.

The battle raged, as both venom and anti-venom tried to gain the upper hand. Unfortunately, Legolas was being forced to suffer the effects of that battle. But slowly, very slowly, the tide was turning in the anti-venom’s favor, as more and more of the poison was being neutralized.

The merciless convulsions lasted only a few moments, but the trembling that controlled the elf’s movements lasted almost half an hour. The poison was not going easily, which was a testament to its power.

During that whole time, no one touched Legolas. Not being able to give comfort was a hard thing for them all to do. But, each one was heeding Elrond’s words. Understanding that here he was the expert and knew that he was right in his instructions didn‘t make the watching any easier.

Finally, the tremors eased until at last they stopped. Thranduil looked at Elrond with pleading eyes. When Elrond nodded, Thranduil sat on the bed and leaned over, lifting Legolas into his arms and holding him close. Stroking his hair, the elven king said, “Take heart, ion nin. You will be well now.” He couldn’t be sure if that was true, but he thought giving his son reassurance was more important right then than the absolute truth regarding the doubts he still held.

Legolas’s eyes were closed, so everyone thought that his ordeal had caused him to pass out. He hadn’t. However, the ordeal had rendered him too weak and exhausted to make that fact known. It was comforting to him to be in his father‘s embrace.

He thought about trying to speak, to see if the antidote had worked, but strangely enough he found he was content to wait. The elf didn’t want to admit, even to himself, that he was also afraid the antidote might not have done its job, and his speech would be as mangled as ever. If he could hold that horrible thought at bay for just a little while longer, then he decided he would do it.

Legolas heard Elladan ask, “If the antidote really worked, will Legolas be able to talk normally?”

“That is the hope,” Elrond replied noncommittally. “It is also hoped that his healing ability will be restored.” Elrond had been worried that after a week, Legolas’s broken bones were not completely mended, which they should have been by now.

Legolas lay quietly, eyes still closed, as his father’s arms encircled him. He felt Thranduil kiss the top of his head, and the young elf couldn’t stop a smile from lifting the corners of his mouth. With his face almost buried in Thranduil’s tunic and partially covered by his own loose hair, no one saw the smile.

Knowing he couldn‘t remain where he was forever, Legolas stirred and slowly opened his eyes. He didn’t want to continue to worry his father or his friends by having them think he was unconscious. His body was tired, and his movements were sluggish, making him feel as if he was trying to maneuver through thick mud. With effort, he forced himself to release his own hold on his father and lean back away from him.

When Elrond had finished replacing the pillows next to the headboard, Thranduil lowered Legolas back against them, smiling at him, as the blue-gray eyes of his youngest child found his own. “Ion nin, how do you feel?” The elf king was well aware that his question would likely force his son to try to answer him. Thranduil didn’t think there was any point in waiting to see what changes had been wrought by the antidote.

Legolas opened his mouth. “I ammm f...f...fine.” He frowned, the effort to make himself understood obviously difficult. The sounds that came out were relatively normal, however, the young elf’s manner of speaking was anything but. To his own ears, he sounded like a tiny elfling just learning to speak and stumbling over words he was not entirely sure of. Legolas was dismayed, despite his assertion that he was fine.

The frown on Legolas’s face slowly transformed into a smile. He aimed it at his father, trying to reassure him. “Do...not....w...worry, Ad...a. It...will...im...im...prove.” He looked to Elrond for the confirmation of those words with a desperate hope reflected in his bright eyes.

Elrond smiled at him. “Time,“ he reminded the archer. Then, he added, “We can work with you to bring your speech back to normal, if need be, Legolas.”

“Why can he not speak normally now?” Thranduil demanded. “You saw what the antidote did to him. It was obviously a positive reaction between the venom and the antidote, was it not? He should be all right now.”

Elrond, exhibiting more patience with the elven king than he felt, tried to explain. “Thranduil, I agree that the antidote has neutralized the poison. That is all it was meant to do. Legolas’s ability to transfer the thoughts in his mind into speech has been damaged by the poison. It is the same principle as a cut or a bruise. What caused them may be gone, but the damage that was done simply needs time to repair itself. As I just told him, we will work with him to speed the process. Please, try not to be so impatient. Rushing will do your son no good.”

Legolas reached out and put his left hand on Thranduil’s arm and nodded. He was smiling, happy that the words he was thinking had basically come out correctly, even if somewhat hesitant. “I will....work...h...hard...to fix...it, Ada. I...can comm...uni...cate.” His smile broadened.

Not caring if Thranduil became angry with him or not, Aragorn said happily, “I think it’s wonderful.” He smiled at his friend. “You will be talking like your old self in no time, Legolas. You can be sure we will all do whatever we can to help you.”

“Hannon le.” Legolas was pleased at Aragorn’s remarks and also pleased that the simple ‘thank you’ had come out perfectly. Then, he adopted a mock scowl. “You...al...ways...c...call me...old.”

Laughing, the ranger said, “Well, compared to me, you are very old.”

“And, what does that make us?” Glorfindel said, arching his eyebrows first at Elrond and then at Thranduil.

“Very, very old,” Elrond replied with a laugh.

The elder wood elf couldn’t help but smile. “Do not include me in your little group,“ he replied. “I am far younger than either of you two elders.” Thranduil was not pleased that Legolas could not talk normally right then and there, but as Legolas had just said, he was communicating, so he thought participating in a bit of humor was not out of order. Perhaps, Elrond was right. It would take a little time and aid, but his son’s speech would be back to the way it should be. He leaned over and kissed Legolas on the forehead.

“Is anyone hungry?” Elrohir asked, his face one huge smile, as he blithely changed the subject.

“Yes.” Legolas told him. “I...h...have not ea...ten...much l...lately.”

“No, you have not,” Elladan agreed. “And, much too thin you are, too. How would everyone feel about Elrohir and I bringing us all some food?” He knew that none of them had really eaten properly during Legolas’s entire ordeal.

Neither twin waited for an answer. They both turned and walked hurriedly out of the room. As soon as they reached the hall, they began running. Once one started, the other just naturally had to try and beat him. A race through the house always ensued.

The sound of eleven feet pelting down the corridor reached Elrond’s keen ears, and he shook his head. How many times had he heard that sound over the years? And, how many times had his admonition to stop running in the house been ignored? Just as many, he concluded ruefully.

It didn’t take long for the twins to return with a cart laden with several trays full of roasted rabbit, fruits of various kinds, vegetables, cheese, biscuits, honey and butter, along with plates, goblets, and two large carafes of red wine. There wasn’t a single elf, or human, in the bunch who didn’t load their plate with the savory repast.

Thranduil offered to feed Legolas, but the young elf shook his head and waggled the fingers on both of his hands. His attempts to eat may prove to be a little awkward, but he was sure he would be able to manage. With a little help from Aragorn to get the food on the elf’s plate to begin with, Legolas was able to feed himself. He didn’t miss his mouth a single time. It took both hands to hold his goblet as he drank his wine, but he was happy that none spilled.

“No one can say that the House of Elrond does not provide the best fare in all of elfdom,” Glorfindel remarked, as he settled down on the chair at the desk and began to eat.

Thranduil laughed. “Maybe, we should get the cooks of Imladris and the cooks of Mirkwood together and test that observation.” There was a teasing challenge in his voice.

“Would I just love to be the judge of that contest,” Elrohir said, as he popped a large piece of cheese into his mouth.

“You would love to do anything that involved shoving food into your mouth,” Elladan said dryly, not the least self-conscious that he was also stuffing a sizeable chunk of rabbit into his own mouth.

“And, you would not?” the younger twin retorted.

“Quiet, my sons. May we for once have a peaceful meal while guests are present?” He favored his elven sons with a stern look of reproof.

“G...guests?” Legolas asked.

Aragorn laughed. “He’s right. This is his very own permanent room that we are in. That doesn’t sound like a guest to me---more like a sometimes absent brother.”

Legolas smiled at the ranger’s words and nodded. That was just the way he felt. Elrond’s house was most certainly his second home, and the people who lived here were definitely family in all ways but blood.

The elf then tuned his attention back to his food. He took a large bite out of a honey-covered biscuit, frowning slightly as a large drop of the sticky substance fell onto the sheet that was folded up around his waist. He quickly put a finger in his mouth to wet it and then rubbed it on the spot.

Having failed to eradicate the blob, he looked away, adopting a totally innocent expression, as he chewed, swallowed and then, carefully took another bite. Like a guilty child, he took his free hand and folded one edge of the sheet over the amber-colored stain. No one saw the incident, except Elrond, who just smiled to himself. Legolas almost laughed. It seemed there was at least one benefit to having suffered so much---he was allowed to get away with trying to hide a miscue.

Suffer. That word suddenly ploughed into Legolas’s mind like a runaway wagon on a steep hill. Could nothing keep those thoughts from crowding his consciousness? Agony beyond imagining had plagued his body, but since the tremors had ceased a short time ago, it no longer pained him. Could not his mind also be at peace for just a while?

He knew that he was getting better and would get better still. He was here enjoying not only good food but also the good company of his father and his friends. A lighthearted atmosphere prevailed. He refused to let dark thoughts ruin his mood---or anyone else’s. With determination, the young elf pushed the darkness away. This was one of the precious moments of his life, and he needed to grab and hold on to it. He was not going to let anything spoil it.

With a wide grin, reflecting a truly appreciative heart, Legolas ate everything on his plate.

TBC

Chapter Thirty Nine

It was shortly after the noon meal, when the courier arrived. He was a small, dark-haired elf, bearing a message from Balardoron, Crown Prince of Mirkwood, to his father, King Thranduil. Without delay, the courier, Cúran by name, was directed to the third floor residents’ rooms and told to wait in the hall outside of Legolas’s room while Thranduil was informed of his arrival.

At first, the king thought that it was merely a message from his family, inquiring about Legolas’s condition and sending good wishes for his complete recovery. Thranduil had notified them the day before everyone had followed the youngest prince to the forest to confront Mordraug. The king had not mentioned Mordraug’s involvement in the whole affair. That was the one thing that Thranduil thought should be handled in person, especially since Mordraug had been the one who had killed his children's mother.

The message, however, proved to be something quite different.

Thranduil read the piece of parchment with growing concern. By the time he finished, he was upset. He held the paper in his left hand and then angrily crumpled it up, tempted to throw it on the floor. Prudence made him shove it into one of his pockets instead.

The courier stood by impassively. He had dealt with delivering messages to the king far too often to be rattled by his sovereign’s reactions, whatever they may be. He had only rumors to go on, regarding what may be in the message he had just delivered, so he waited patiently to see if there would be a reply that needed to be returned to Prince Balardoron.

Thranduil, despite his anger, was not discourteous enough to just ignore the elf, who had ridden practically nonstop, to bring the message. The elf had served him in this capacity for many years. Thranduil turned to Elrond, who had been standing near the doorway and discreetly observing the situation. “I wish for Cúran to eat and then find rest with my guard.”

“Of course. Greetings, Cúran.“ Elrond had been the recipient of the courier’s deliveries many times. The elf lord noticed that the servant, who had evidently led the messenger up to Legolas’s room, was himself waiting down the hall, in case he was needed. He came forward quickly, when Elrond motioned for him, and then instructed, “Take Cúran to the dining hall for some refreshment and then take him to where the other Mirkwood elves are housed.”

The servant nodded. It wasn’t the first time he had been required to see to the comfort of a courier, who had arrived in Rivendell.

Thranduil looked at Cúran. “I will send word to you, when I have decided what I will do.”

Cúran, who had known Legolas since the prince was a small elfling, couldn’t leave without asking, “My lord, how fares Prince Legolas?” There was deep concern in his gray eyes.

Thranduil, despite his recent reaction to the news he had just received, smiled. “He is recovering.”

“That is good news, my lord.” With his own smile firmly in place, Cúran bowed to his king before turning to Elrond’s servant. The two then headed down the hallway.

Elrond saw that Thranduil was plainly distraught, a frown having quickly replaced the smile on the royal wood elf‘s face. Not wanting to intrude on something that may be private, he hesitated a moment before deciding that the king may have need of someone to confide in, if nothing else, “Is there anything I can do?”

For a moment it looked as if Thranduil was too lost in his thoughts to answer. But, slowly he turned to look at the Rivendell elf. Visibly forcing his distress down to a manageable level, he said, “It is a message from Balardoron.” He didn’t continue with the explanation.

“Bad news,” Elrond stated rather than asked, coming to the only conclusion he could.

Thranduil nodded. “There is a crisis in Greenwood that demands my immediate attention.” Thranduil didn’t even notice that he had used the old name for his woodland realm. Middle-earth now knew that great forest as Mirkwood, so he usually called it by that name, but it was never a totally comfortable thing for him to do. “I do not want to leave Legolas until he is well, but I cannot ignore what is happening in my kingdom. It could escalate into a dangerous situation.”

“Can you tell me what the trouble is?” Elrond asked.

The woodland king sighed. “A man from Lake-town has been killed, and one of my people has been accused of the responsibility for his death. The problem lies in the fact that the man was killed just inside our borders, and a delegation from Lake-town is at my palace this very moment, demanding my presence to handle the situation.” He paused, sighing again.

“It has already been almost a week since the man‘s death, so even if I left right now more days will be added, and who knows what may happen before I arrive. Balardoron is smart and well-trained in being a leader. I know he can handle those volatile humans, but...” his voice trailed off, as his mind continued to contemplate the events that were taking place in his absence.

“The men want only you, the king himself, to address their concerns,” Elrond guessed.

“Yes.“ Thranduil looked toward Legolas’s open door. He saw that his son was engaged in a conversation with Aragorn and the twins. Glorfindel had left earlier to attend to several errands. “How can I tell Legolas about the trouble without worrying him, which he does not need? He will be troubled and will insist on going home with me. He is not ready to travel.”

Thranduil shook his head. “I must be truthful with my son. Though I would wish to keep ill news from upsetting him until he is recovered, I learned my lesson about trying to keep a secret from him.” He thought back with dismay to the reaction Legolas had had regarding the truth about his mother’s death. That was not going to happen again. “He does not need to be upset while he is trying to mend. Yet, I cannot keep this from him, especially since it is obviously something important enough to send me back home.”

Elrond nodded. “I agree you must be honest. Thranduil, I know you are torn about leaving. But, you are well aware that Legolas will be in good hands here. By the time the matter is settled in your kingdom, Legolas will be much recovered, if not fully so.”

“I do not doubt that,” Thranduil said honestly. “I only wish to stay with him until he recovers enough for me to take him home.”

Elrond merely nodded.

The elf king was not one to stall once he had made up his mind to do something. Now, that the decision had been made to return home, he went straight into Legolas’s room and sat down on the edge of his son’s bed.

Legolas saw immediately that something had happened. “What...is...w...wrong, Ada?”

“Cúran has arrived with a message from home. A problem has arisen there.”

Legolas’s heart skipped a beat, not sure what could have happened but fearing that it may be bad news involving one of his family members. With his heart in his throat, he asked, “What...has...happ...ened?” Legolas was still frustrated with his mode of speaking, but it was so much better than before Elrond had given him the antidote that he was trying very hard not to let it get to him. His annoyance was pushed aside, as his fears mounted.

Seeing the look of alarm on Legolas‘s face, Thranduil hastily said, “A man from Lake-town, who was trespassing on our land, was killed---and not by an animal. An angry delegation of men arrived at the palace making demands that I deal with the situation myself. I trust your brother to handle the problem in my stead, but the humans do not. I must go, ion nin. I am sorry.”

Legolas let out a big sigh of relief that his fears were unfounded. However, he frowned at the news of the crisis developing back in Mirkwood. He also believed that his oldest brother could well handle the problem, but he knew how insistent humans could be, when they felt they were not being given the proper respect. And, in this case, that meant being dealt with by someone they considered an underling, Crown Prince though he may be, rather than by the real ruler of the realm.

It was obvious that Thranduil was reluctant to leave and feeling guilty about having to do so. Legolas didn’t want to stress him any further by plaguing him with questions, particularly since Legolas wasn’t sure how detailed the message had been, yet he knew he couldn‘t rest until he knew all that his father did. “Do the...men...th...think one...of our...p...people...did it?”

“I am afraid so,” Thranduil answered without hesitation. “It is a forester, who lives in the far northwest corner of the wood. I do not believe you know him. He rarely leaves that area. I have no details on what the two sides say happened. I must go and find that out and try to sort through it all without allowing the problem to escalate further.”

Legolas nodded. “You...h...have to go...now,” he stated, fighting hard not to sound so disappointed that it would add to his father‘s unhappiness at having to leave.

“Yes, ion nin. I must leave as soon as the Royal Guard is ready. It will not take them long.”

Legolas was aware that when the king wanted to depart from wherever he was, it took very little time to get the guard ready to depart. The king moved fast, and none of them wanted to keep him waiting. They wouldn’t have lasted long as a royal escort, if they had. Ready to go at a moment’s notice was what they lived by.

The Royal Guard consisted of twenty highly trained warriors, whose sole purpose was to protect members of the royal family. Thranduil had brought five of them with him to Rivendell. “I will leave three of the guard to stay until you have recovered enough to come home.”

Legolas shook his head. “I...will come...with...y...you.”

“No, Legolas. You are not well enough to travel. Your body needs rest to mend properly.” As Legolas opened his mouth to stubbornly protest, Thranduil continued. “I will brook no argument in this, Little One.” He used that particular name just then to reinforce the fact that he was the father, and his word was final, no matter what age his son may be. “I will leave three guards for your escort,” Thranduil said again.

“No, Ada. You...are the...k..king. You...can...not...go back,,,w...with only...two...guards. It is...too...d...danger...ous.” On this point Legolas was determined to argue.

“Lord Thranduil, my brothers and I will accompany Legolas back to Mirkwood when he is ready to go,” Aragorn said, smiling at his friend. He glanced at the twins, since he had just volunteered them to go on that journey.

They both nodded their agreement. “Certainly we will,” Elrohir confirmed aloud.

“Thank you,” was all Thranduil said, but the gratitude shining in his eyes said far more than those two words could impart.

Elrond said, “I will instruct one of my servants to pack your things, Thranduil. I will also have your guard and Cúran notified that you will be ready in...“ He raised his eyebrows in question.

“Half an hour. It will not take close to that long to be ready, but I wish to spend a few more moments with Legolas before I have to leave.”

“Of course.” The Lord of Rivendell said, as he motioned for his own sons to exit the room, leaving the two wood elves alone.

Thranduil smiled at Legolas. “You will be well soon, ion nin, and able to return to your home and family. I have no doubts regarding your recovery.”

“I will...try...hard, Ada. You...will not be...dis...appoin...ted...in me.”

“I never have been, Legolas. Eru has seen to it that I have been blessed with five children, who have all made me very proud.” A touch of mist entered the elf king’s eyes, as he remembered the letter Legolas had left for him with the reference to the young elf‘s desire to please his father.

Father and son continued to talk until, with reluctance, Thranduil sighed and said, “I fear a half hour has almost passed. I should leave now, but there is one thing that I must say to you before I go.” Thranduil hesitated, then said, “I want to apologize to you for giving up hope that you would survive Mordraug.”

Legolas was surprised by his father‘s words. “Ada, you...had seen what...that evil...elf did. You saw...Naneth...” here Legolas hesitated. It was not due to his halting speech but to the burning ache in his heart. With an effort he continued. “and...all...th...those other...elves...die. I... be...lieved I...would die. How could...you...th...think...any...d...diff...erent...ly?”

“It is one thing to lose hope in one’s own survival. It is something else again to lose hope in one’s child.”

“Do...not...blame your...self. Please, Ada. It...is...p...past. I did...survive. I amm...here.”

Thranduil could find no words to reply. His own heart was too full of love and joy that his son was here. He didn’t know how long it would take him to get over his feeling of self-recrimination, but right then, it mattered little. He leaned down and hugged Legolas tightly. The younger elf returned the embrace, and the two sat and held each other for several more moments before the king pulled back. “I will see you soon, ion nin. Do not worry about what is happening at home. It will be resolved soon.”

Knowing his father well, Legolas said, “I...have...no d...doubt. Let me...know...the out...come.”

Thranduil nodded. “I will send Cúran with word of the satisfactory resolution that I am sure will be forthcoming. Send a message to me before you leave Rivendell. I would know when to expect you home.”

“I will.”

Thranduil kissed Legolas’s forehead, as was his custom, and turned to go. He did not look back, knowing a stab of pain would surely enter his heart, if he had to see Legolas left in his bed, as he himself departed without him.

Five minutes later, the king, Cúran and the Mirkwood Royal Guard were riding down the road toward the pass that would take them over the mountains to their woodland home.

Back in his room, Legolas sighed. It had been good to have Thranduil with him during the worst ordeal of his life. He already missed the strong, comforting arms and encouraging words of his father.

The young archer had understood Thranduil’s need to safeguard Mirkwood during his encounter with Mordraug. Answering this call to handle the current crisis was all part of the need to protect, because Mirkwood was more than just the forest. It was also the elves that lived within its borders. Protecting one protected the other.

Legolas leaned back against his pillows. He looked around the room, taking note that no one else was there. It was the first time since Aragorn had found him in the valley forest, that he had been alone. That situation didn’t take long to change.

A soft knock on the door sounded. Legolas came close to pretending that he was asleep, just so whoever it was would leave, and be could be by himself for a while. However, he knew the knock belonged to either Elrond or his friends, and he did not want to try and fool them. They had done far too much for him. They had saved his life. Tired though he was, he would spend time with whomever was at the door.

“Come...in,” he called, not happy at the weakness he heard in his voice. He was no healer, but common sense told him that such an occurrence was completely to be expected, especially since it had not been long ago that he had taken the antidote. Time, Lord Elrond had told him. He had to be patient. Still, the condition of his speech did not sit well with him, as no weakness, or perceived weakness, ever did.

Legolas was not surprised in the least, to see Aragorn enter the room and close the door. “Do you feel like company, or would you prefer to be alone?”

Legolas smiled. “I amm...sur..prised...you would...allow...me to be...all...by...my...self.”

Aragorn grimaced. “Are you implying that I am a hovering mother hen?”

“It would...not...be...the first...t...time, w...would it?”

“No,” the man admitted, as he sat down in one of the chairs that had been placed next to the bed. “I guess not.” Changing the subject, Aragorn said, “I’m sorry your father had to leave. I hope all will be well in Mirkwood. I wish the whole matter could be settled before he arrives there, but that didn’t sound like what was going to happen.”

“I...just hope that...no...one...else...gets...h...hurt.” Legolas closed his eyes. His manner of speaking was becoming an unpleasant annoyance, no matter how much he understood its origins or what it would take to overcome.

Aragorn misunderstood the look on Legolas’s face, thinking his words had revealed the source of his upset. “Do not worry, Legolas. Balardoron will hold things together until Thranduil can reach Mirkwood. And then, your father’s force of will alone will probably solve the problem, especially if none of those men have ever dealt with him before.”

Legolas couldn’t help but laugh at that. It was so easy to believe that might be the case. His father was an imposing figure, both physically, and far more importantly, in his force of will, as Aragorn had just pointed out. More than once, Legolas had seen people---and not just humans---wilt under Thranduil’s intense gaze and stern tone of voice. Most dared not cross him, and that included some in the king’s own household.

As for himself, Legolas did not fear his father. However, he was not foolhardy and consequently was wary of Thranduil’s more volatile moods, whenever they arose. In all but the most unavoidable circumstances, Legolas simply stayed out of his father’s way, during those times. He couldn’t help thinking that the men of Lake-town would be in for a rough time for demanding the king’s presence. He never took kindly to demands, particularly from humans, and he would have several days of travel to allow his ire to rise accordingly. Legolas actually found himself feeling sorry for those men. “By...the time my...f...father reaches...Mirk...wood, he...will...be...fur...furious.”

“I feel sorry for whoever has to face him.”

‘My...th...thought...exactly.”

A silence fell between the friends. In their early years adventuring together, Aragorn had felt the need to be constantly talking, thinking if he let the conversation die out, Legolas would think him a dull, unsuitable companion, who was unable to hold up his end of a discussion. It had taken Legolas saying, “Estel, can you just hush for a while? I would like a moment to think in peace.” Legolas had spoken gently, but the ranger had been embarrassed and had said not a word for almost a full day. Once they had talked the situation through, Estel had realized that not talking and simply being together could be as pleasurable a way to spend time with each other as was exchanging thoughts or relaying tales.

Now, Aragorn looked at Legolas and realized that his friend was very tired. “You need your rest, Legolas. Try to get some sleep.” He then settled back into the chair.

“No.”

Aragorn sat up straight. “What do you mean, no? You’re exhausted.”

Legolas shook his head. “Not me. You...h...have...to go to...your own...r...room.”

“I’m quite comfortable here.” Aragorn was about to get an argument, he could tell.

“No, Estel. You...need to...s...sleep in your...own...bed...for a change. I will...be...fine alone. I ammm...not...in any...danger.” Before Aragorn could continue with his protests, Legolas said, “Please, you...m...must go.” The elf’s soft voice took out any sting that may have been assumed by the words themselves, as they urged the human to leave.

The ranger stood up, realizing that the elf was not only concerned for his friend’s comfort but that he most likely wanted some solitude, something that he had not been able to have in a long time. Judging by the weariness on the elf’s face, Legolas would be asleep too soon to enjoy that solitude. However, Aragorn would grant him his wish. Legolas didn’t need to be agitated by any further argument. He needed sleep.

“Thank...you, Estel. I...did...not want to...have to throw...a...temper tan...tantrum.” He smiled innocently.

If Legolas had only known what lay ahead, he most certainly would not have made that statement.

TBC

Chapter Forty

After Aragorn walked out of the room, Legolas held his hands up in front of him. They no longer ached, not even after he had eaten, held a glass to drink from several times and held his father in a tight embrace before he left. To Legolas that meant his wrists must be healed. It was time to find out.

He looked toward the door to his room, as if checking to see that no one was watching. Truth be told, that was exactly what he was doing---checking to make sure no one was going to catch him doing something he knew he really shouldn’t be doing.

Legolas’s elven ears picked up no sounds from out in the hall. In fact, the only sound he heard at all came from the wind outside. It had picked up in intensity in the last few minutes. Glancing through the open balcony doors, he noted that clouds were beginning to move in over Rivendell, driven by the wind. A storm was brewing, though Legolas thought it was at least an hour away. He grimaced as the thought of his father, Cúran and the Royal Guard having to face bad weather. Hopefully, they would at least out distance the worst of it.

As he thought of his father, he thought of the problem that was unfolding in Mirkwood. The elf shook his head. It wouldn’t do to worry over it. There was certainly nothing he could do to help the situation. He must push it from his mind and let Thranduil and Balardoron handle it. He calmed in the knowledge that he would be notified of the outcome, whenever the matter was settled.

Legolas smiled, thinking of Aragorn’s words about his father’s force of will. Again he spared a sympathetic thought for the humans, who would probably soon be ruing their haste in insisting on the king’s presence, not that Balardoron was much less an imposing figure to deal with. His oldest brother took after Thranduil in temperament more than any of his siblings. He took after him physically, as well, except that he had raven hair like his mother. Only Legolas and his oldest sister had inherited the golden tresses of their father.

Legolas sighed, as he turned his attention back to his hands. With the dexterity of the long elven fingers on his right hand, he began to work out the knot that held the cloth wrapping in place on his left hand.

Lord Elrond would not be happy with what he was about to do. The archer felt a pang of guilt, hoping that the elf lord would not feel that Legolas thought he knew better than the ancient healer when the splints should come off.

It took him a while, but gradually the knot began to loosen. Soon he was unwinding the cloth strip. The small pieces of wood that had been placed on either side of his hand fell onto the bed. He pulled the last piece of cloth from that hand and then began to undo the wrapping on his right hand. In a matter of a couple of minutes, the other hand was unbound and the wood pieces fell down beside the others.

Legolas held both of his hands up in front of him and examined his wrists, turning his hands front to back. He knew that just looking at them wasn’t telling him much about their condition, so he bent both hands slightly and turned them in slow circles, increasing the angle of the bend with each revolution until his hands were bent as far as they would go. He felt no discomfort. Then taking his right wrist in the fingers of his left hand, he pinched down in several places---hard. No pain. He did the same with his opposite wrist. No pain there, either. He smiled to himself and silently declared the broken bones completely mended. Surely, if they weren’t, they would have protested his maneuvers.

He almost laughed wondering how in the world he would have gotten the splints back on his wrists had they proven to need more mending. One thing he would surely have received was a stern lecture from Elrond, along the lines of a patient playing at being a healer with possible dire consequences. The thought of being on the receiving end of such a lecture made him cringe. He sighed, knowing he may yet be reprimanded for his actions in removing the splints.

After setting the pieces of wood and the cloth strips on the bedside table, he lifted the bedcovers and observed his left foot. He was dismayed to discover that now that he was thinking about it, it hurt. Funny, he hadn’t noticed the ache before looking at it. He decided that the pain wasn’t bad enough to demand his attention unless he was concentrating on his foot.

Unfortunately, the fact there was pain at all meant the bone in his ankle was not completely healed. It had evidently sustained a more serious fracture. He would have to leave it alone and let Elrond make the final decision on when it was healed enough to take the splint off. Legolas was not happy, but he wasn’t going to risk further damage and thus incur a longer healing period just to rid himself of the splint.

Legolas had remained awake a lot longer than Aragorn had thought he would. Of course, the ranger hadn’t known that the elf would be engaged in a project that would keep his mind fully occupied. However, now that his mind had nothing more to concentrate on and with only the wind to keep him company, it didn’t take long for Legolas to lose the battle to stay awake. Just before drifting off, the elf scooted himself down in the bed, adjusted his pillows and pulled the bedcovers up around his shoulders. He was asleep with his next breath, eyes fully open.

Just before time for the evening meal, Elladan stuck his head in the door to see if Legolas wanted anything to eat. When he saw that the younger elf was asleep, he quietly withdrew and closed the door.

“He is asleep,” he told his twin, who had been waiting right outside the door. “Believe it or not, Estel is not with him.”

Elrohir chuckled. “Legolas must have kicked him out, which means Estel is probably in his own room.”

“Pouting most likely.“ Elladan grinned and led the way to their younger brother’s room.

Elladan stopped to knock on Aragorn’s door, but Elrohir opened it without waiting for an invitation. “We have come to get you for evening meal,” he said cheerily. “Come.”

“I need to check on Legolas first,” the ranger said.

“I just did,” Elladan informed him. “He is asleep and does not need to be disturbed by his mother hen.”

“I am not a mother hen,” Aragorn protested. He narrowed his eyes and glared at both of his brothers, knowing that whatever one said to someone, the other was sure to be in full agreement, unless of course, they were bickering between themselves. In that case, they never agreed with each other. “He accuses me of that all the time,” the ranger added, still obviously peeved at the accusation of being a mother hen.

“Then, it must be true,” Elrohir said with perfectly logical reasoning. “Now come.”

Before the young man could protest, both of his brothers grabbed his arms from either side and began propelling him toward the door.

The two elves pulled their human brother down the corridor and then down the three flights of stairs toward the dining hall and didn’t let go of him until they reached it.

~*~*~

Legolas begin to dream.

He found himself in a brightly-lit room approximately fifteen feet square. There were no doors and no windows nor was there any evident light source. He gave only a moment’s thought to that puzzle before redirecting his attention.

Turning slowly around, he spotted a figure in one corner of the room. It was clearly a dark-haired elf, thought his back was to the archer. There was something very familiar about this elf, but Legolas couldn’t quite figure out who the being was. He knew it wasn’t Elrond or one of the twins. It most certainly was not either of his brothers. He searched his mind, trying to go through all the dark-haired friends that he had, but there seemed to be a wall of fog between his conscious thought and his memories. He shook his head rapidly, trying to dislodge the answer to this dilemma.

Legolas stared at the elf’s back. It wasn’t until the other being turned around that the blond elf’s eyes went wide in surprise and horror. The creature was Mordraug! “It cannot be. You are dead.” The fog in his mind suddenly cleared, as he remembered being told that the dark elf had been killed.

“Yes, I am dead, courtesy of Thranduil.” There was a tone of infinite bitterness in his voice.

“My father did not kill you. Your pet snake bit you after you betrayed it, thinking that by doing so, you could save yourself.”

“I see that someone has been telling you tales, since, at the time, you were busy dying in the same manner that I died.”

“I retuned,” Legolas told the dark elf somewhat smugly, though he knew he had Eru to thank for that. “I am not a ghost.”

“So you think that I am a ghost.” Mordraug laughed. “I will not argue that point. Think of me as you wish. It matters naught to me. I have more important points to make.” Mordraug moved forward a few steps, forcing Legolas backwards in an effort to keep the same distance between them. Mordraug laughed again. “Are you afraid of me, little prince?”

“Why should I fear a ghost?” Legolas had glanced at Mordraug’s left arm to make sure that there was no snake residing there. He wasn’t surprised to see that there wasn’t one. That meant that the dark elf was all he had to deal with. That, he was sure, would be formidable enough.

“Why have you invaded my dream?” Legolas asked, not sure he wanted to hear the answer to that question. At the dark elf’s next remarks, he was sure of it.

Staring evenly at the younger elf, Mordraug, in a very measured tone, said, “You think that all of your troubles are behind you. You are quite mistaken.”

Legolas blanched. He didn’t like feeling fear in this elf’s presence, but he couldn’t help it. “What do you mean?”

“Well, your broken bones have mended, your speech is on it’s way to becoming normal again, thanks to that meddling half-elven healer, Elrond. It would appear that soon you will be as you were. How wrong that assumption would be.” A smirk had crept across Mordraug’s face, as he spoke that last sentence.

As soon as Legolas had recognized Mordraug, he had been prepared to dismiss every word that came out of the dark elf’s mouth, sure they would be nothing but lies. Yet, Legolas could not deny that a feeling of dread began to built in the pit of his stomach.

He didn’t understand how Mordraug could be in his dream or how he could know what was to come, but he began to fear that Mordraug’s words of foreboding could not easily be set aside.

“Why would that be a wrong assumption?” Legolas pressed, determined to find out as much as he could. “What is to happen?” The young archer tried to hide the mounting trepidation in is voice.

The dark elf had given no details. Therefore, Legolas was trying to believe that Mordraug was simply attempting to turn this dream into a nightmare by frightening him. The tactic was working better than Legolas wanted to admit. The dark elf was obviously upset that Legolas hadn’t died, or rather, hadn’t stayed dead.

Mordraug confirmed that idea quickly. “You were brought back from the dead while I, who is much more worthy of such a redemption, was not. I think you should pay dearly for that miscarriage of justice. I wanted your father to pay dearly, as well. But, somehow you saved him.”

Legolas just stared at Mordraug. How could this elf have gotten everything so wrong? Legolas was not the one to bring himself back from death. Nor, had he had anything to do with saving his father from Mordraug’s clutches. The dark elf was every bit as insane as Thranduil had said he was. Like most of those who‘s minds become twisted, he was blaming everyone but himself for what happened. “You have all your facts wrong, Mordraug. It was your betrayal of your own snake that caused it to kill you. No one but you is responsible for your fate.”

“Lies! All lies!” Mordraug screamed, stepping forward and startling the young elf.

Just as suddenly, the outburst ended and a calmness settled on the dark elf. In a quiet voice, he said, “You and your father have thwarted my plans to obtain Greenwood, which is rightfully mine. You will pay, and so will he.”

Legolas was aware that he had done nothing himself to rid Middle-earth of this evil being. The snake had killed Mordraug, and Glorfindel had killed the snake. It was only Legolas’s journey to the valley forest to confront the evil elf, prompting his father and his friends to follow, that had led to Mordraug’s downfall.

Legolas didn’t understand how a ghost in a dream could continue his evil, especially since he no longer had his pet snake. It made no sense.

Mordraug saw the puzzled look on Legolas’s face and laughed. “I see you are confused, little prince. It is not me but your own mind that will turn against you and make you pay for what you have done to me. I need not do a thing. That is the beauty of it. When you awaken, you will begin to understand.”

With those words, the dark elf vanished. Legolas spun all around, searching to make sure Mordraug was not lurking behind him. There was no one else in the room. He stood stock still, contemplating all that Mordraug had told him. It still made no sense to him. Why would his own mind turn against him? He was not guilty of any transgression. He was mending, his father was safely on his way to Mirkwood. *Mordraug’s evil spirit is trying to do what he could not do while alive. I will not allow it.*

The light in the room promptly vanished as quickly as Mordraug had. Legolas stood in pitch blackness. Since he had already noted there were no doors or windows, the young elf knew there was no way for him to get himself out of the room.

Thoroughly shaken by the encounter, Legolas sat down cross-legged on the floor, wrapped his arms around himself, and waited to wake up. That was the only way he could free himself from the dark room. Would the light of day free him from his dark fears?

TBC

Chapter Forty One

The deep rumble of thunder sounded loudly in Legolas’s ears. At first, he couldn’t understand how there could be thunder in the dark room where he was. Only seconds before, right after Mordraug left, there had been nothing but a deathly silence. It took him a moment to realize that he was lying down---in a bed?---not sitting cross-legged on a cold floor.

A flash of lightning illuminated the room. He saw cushioned chairs, book shelves, a desk with a small wooden chair pulled up to it, as well as other familiar furnishings. It all combined to reveal the error of where he thought he was. Instead of the plain closed-in room, the elf recognized his Rivendell bedroom.

Realization struck. A dream. *It was just a dream.* The comforting words he spoke to himself brought a feeling of relief. It was not the first time in his life that he had awakened from a bad dream only to realize that that’s all it was, and that he was safe where he lay. However, it had been a long time since such a disturbing dream had occurred. His father had been there then to comfort him. With a touch of dismay, Legolas remembered that Thranduil had returned to Mirkwood.

Legolas had completely forgotten the foggy nightmare when he had no body and when he had seen the huge serpent. Such were the elusive fabric of dreams, even intense ones.

Legolas lay still and thought about the dream he had just awoken from. He wasn’t anxious to think about it, but if it had this kind of unnerving effect on him, it had to be important, and he needed to work through it.

He clearly remembered that Mordraug had been in the dark room of his dream, telling him his mind would turn against him and that, upon waking, he would begin to understand. Understand what exactly? Mordraug had been a ghost in a dream. Nothing more. How could he possibly cause the kind of trouble he had hinted at? Maybe, he couldn’t. Maybe, the Avari was powerless to do anything further to the young wood elf, and he was just trying to make Legolas create enough doubts to bring that trouble upon himself. That had to be it. *I am stronger than that,* the warior elf declared to himself. “He...will not...win.” It wasn’t until it dawned on Legolas that he had spoken those last words haltingly that he realized he had spoken out loud.

The elf frowned. What if he was wrong, and Mordraug did have the power, ghost or not, to exact his revenge in the way he had described? What if Mordraug could indeed bring to pass all that he had predicted? What if the dream had been real? It did not occur to Legolas that it was those very questions that were leading him toward the slippery slope of doubt. And, the elf never saw it coming.

Thunder continued to rumble ominously and lightning continued to flash. But, since there was still no rain, Legolas thought that he had been asleep for less than the hour he had believed it would take for the storm to hit. The thought had barely registered, when rain began to fall and fall hard.

Legolas stared out toward the balcony and gave a small sigh of relief. Though the curtains just inside the doorway were flapping in the strong air current, the wind itself was driving the rain right to left, assuring that the torrent would not be blowing into his room. The elf really did not relish the idea of attempting to close the doors while hopping on one foot, fighting the wind and then getting wet, since the doors were laid back against the outer walls.

Legolas had never feared the weather, no matter how bad it became. He had often, in his life as a warrior, functioned in storms just as violent as this one looked to be with no decrease in skills. Yet, he couldn’t help but feel a tingle creep up his spine, as he stared out at this storm that was venting its fury against Rivendell and the valley beyond. Did the feeling have anything to do with Mordraug’s appearance in his dream? He didn’t see how the two could be connected in any way, but then, why did this storm make him feel so---uncertain.

Just then the door to the elf’s room opened, and Aragorn came in carrying a candle. His free hand was cupped around the small flame, which was flickering crazily. Without a word or more than a quick glance at the elf staring at him from the bed, the man walked over to the bedside, and turning his back to the balcony, he took the crystal globe from the candle holder and used his candle to light the one sitting on the small silver pedestal. The new flame sprang to life. He quickly replaced the globe before the swirling air could extinguish it. The candle he still held was blown out immediately, and he set it down on the table.

Triumphantly, Aragorn turned a wide smile on his friend. “There, isn’t that better?”

Legolas sat up. “You... look pleased with...yourself,” he observed.

Aragorn‘s smile broadened. “You sound better. As for being pleased, I didn’t think I was going to get all the way over here without the flame being blown out. So. yes, I’m pleased I made it.”

“You...could have brought...the candle...in a...g...globe.” It seemed like a perfectly logical idea to Legolas, not to mention a very simple one.

“You sure know how to squelch my sense of accomplishment,” Aragorn said, feigning hurt feelings.

Legolas merely smiled.

Continuing, Aragorn said, “I knew your doors would be open, and since you only have one good foot at the moment, I didn’t want you trying to close them yourself should the wind shift and the rain start coming in. Do you want me to close them?”

Despite the feeling of uncertainty the storm seemed to be generating inside the elf, Legolas shook his head. “Thank...you, Estel, but no. I...like...to see the...v...various sides...of Nature.”

“So do I, as long as they don’t cause me inconveniences or discomfort.”

“Some ranger,” was all the elf said, but the two words were spoken with a measure of humorous sarcasm, and he knew his friend understood exactly the point he was making.

The human merely shrugged. He pulled one of the chairs up a little closer to Legolas and looked at his friend. Legolas chose that moment to rub an itch on his chin. The ranger’s eyes went wide. “Legolas!”

“What?” the elf asked reflexively, startled at the sudden and loud bark of his name.

“Your hands.” Aragorn jumped up and leaned over the archer, grabbing both of his arms above the wrists before Legolas could pull them away. “Why did you take the splints off?”

“I do not...need...them.”

The healer in Aragorn came to the forefront. “Let me see.” He pulled the elf’s hands closer to him, so it would be easier for him to make his examination. He gently turned Legolas’s hands around in circles and then pressed the site of the breaks with increasing force.

Legolas simply endured the human’s exam, knowing how seriously Aragorn took his healing skills, and also knowing that he wasn‘t going to talk the man out of doing what he was determined to do.

Estel was going so slow, trying to be careful, that the elf finally sighed quite loudly. “Estel, I...have done that...al...ready. My wrists...are fine.”

“Let me be the judge of that,” the man said in a no-nonsense tone.

“Do you...find my...wrists mm...mended?” Legolas challenged, knowing all too well the answer to that.

“Yes, they appear to be. Do they hurt at all?”

“No. That...is why...I...r...removed...the splints.” The look he gave the man was one that reflected pure logic.

“That may be, but I do not think my father will be pleased that the patient made the decision to remove the splints instead of letting the healer make that decision.”

The elf thought again of the lecture he was likely to receive from the elf lord. There was no point in dwelling on it. It would happen or it wouldn’t, though he was pretty sure which it would end up being.

“And, your foot?” Aragorn asked.

Legolas frowned. “Not mended...yet. But...soon.”

A sudden booming crash of thunder made Legolas’s whole body jerk. He immediately chided himself for acting like a frightened elfling. This storm was making him nervous, and he couldn’t figure out why.

Aragorn had seen the elf jump at the sound of the thunder. That was not a normal reaction for his friend. In fact, Legolas rarely reacted to thunder or lightning at all, except to embrace it as a part of the natural world he loved. The ranger deliberately held back a frown, reminding himself what his friend had recently endured. The elf was bound to be a little jumpy. In similar circumstances, Aragorn figured he probably would have made a dive under the bed, or at the least, pulled the covers over his head. And, that was without experiencing anything like the dream his friend had just had, which he, as yet, knew nothing about.

In an attempt to be encouraging, Aragorn said, “I think that between the antidote and the sleep you got, your elven healing ability has come back strong. I think you are right; your foot will be healed in no time.” His smile reinforced his words.

“I hope...so.”

“Are you hungry?” the man asked, smoothly changing the subject.

Legolas shook his head, just as another clap of thunder hit, rattling the globe on the lit candle holder beside the bed. He closed his eyes. Why did he feel so... His mind searched for the right word. Scared? No, he was not scared! He tried to banish that notion. Yet, the tingling feeling running down his back was as close to it as he cared to get.

Aragorn saw the elf’s hands shaking ever so slightly. He could no longer keep his concern to himself. “Legolas, I know that all you have been through is nerve-wracking, and it’s understandable that you would be jumpy during a loud, raging storm...” He got no further.

“I am not jumpy!” the elf declared loudly and with more than a touch of anger. “Do not say that.” He was afraid that hearing the words would make it true, and that was one admission he was not willing to make. He hadn’t noticed that the emotional outburst had overridden his halting speech.

The ranger was taken aback by the vehemence of Legolas’s words. “I was only...”

“It does not matter...what you were trying to do, Estel. You do not...know what I have been...through, not really. So, please do not...attempt to offer me your...human platitudes.”

Aragorn had to clench his fist to keep from responding in kind to the elf’s sudden, and in his opinion, totally uncalled for outburst. It was so unlike the elf to become angry like this over nothing. However, getting into an argument with his obviously stressed-out friend was not going to do anything but risk upsetting them both. Aragorn took a deep breath and let it out very slowly.

Thunder again intruded upon the two friends, and this time Legolas closed his eyes and put both of his hands over his ears. “Go away,” he yelled to the offending noise overhead.

Aragorn, of course, thought that Legolas was speaking to him. The ranger sighed and stood up. He did not want to remain, if doing so was going to upset his friend further. “I will give you some time to find the peace you seek.” Without another word, he left the room.

When Legolas opened his eyes, he saw that he was alone. It confused him. Why would Estel just get up and leave him without saying anything? He hadn’t heard the ranger’s last words to him nor did he remember the tone of voice he himself had used toward the human. *What made Estel leave so suddenly?* Was his friend angry with him for some reason? Had he done something wrong?

Then, a horrible thought slammed into his mind. Was Estel getting tired of tending to him? Was he wishing that the elf had simply left Rivendell with his father, taking his infirmities and his neediness with him?

At those questions, Legolas’s nervousness increased. Why was he thinking those thoughts? Estel was his best friend. He would never begrudge his time or attention in helping the elf. He had demonstrated that many times over. But perhaps now, he was just getting tired of doing it.

Legolas cocked his head, thinking that he had heard the very faint sound of...laughter? No, it could not have been anyone laughing. He was alone. It must have been the storm. There was so much thunder, lightning, wind and rain that something in the tempest must have made a similar sound. He listened intently, but did not hear it again. His head was beginning to hurt, so he eased himself back down in the bed, refusing to think about anything.

The dream, and Mordraug’s appearance in it, that had so disturbed the elf had now completely faded from his mind. By the time he had found a comfortable position for his foot and settled himself, he no longer remembered any of it. However, the tingling Legolas felt was still in evidence.

He was eager to go back to sleep. Perhaps, when he woke up again, the storm and the feeling of nervousness it gave him would all have passed.

~*~*~

Out in the hall, Aragorn stood looking at the door to Legolas’s room. He was confused, but he didn‘t know how to help his friend. *He needs time,* the man thought, echoing Elrond’s words. *Time is all.*

He walked down the hall to his own room, determined to leave the elf alone for now. He had no idea what was behind what had just happened with Legolas. It was as if some fit of anger had taken possession of the elf. Aragorn had no intention of backing off for more than a short while.

In times past, he had managed to force Legolas to speak about whatever was bothering him purely as the result of his own persistence and the fact that Legolas trusted him implicitly. If he had to endure the elf’s anger to get to the bottom of whatever was going on, then that is what he would do. Not knowing the real problem involved, the man was sure his tactic of sheer doggedness would work this time, as well.

Hopefully, Legolas would soon come around on his own.

TBC

Chapter Forty Two

Aragorn sat down on the side of his bed, listening to the raging storm outside. He had just come from making sure his balcony doors were securely fastened, as the wind seemed to be increasing. He couldn’t remember a storm this bad, not in Rivendell, anyway. The lightning flashes were so frequent that he almost didn’t need the candles that combined to cast a solft golden glow around the room. However, even the torrential rain and booming thunder couldn’t keep his mind from thinking about Legolas.

Legolas. His best friend. What was happening with him? The ranger had gone into the elf’s room to light a candle, close his balcony doors, if needed and most of all, to keep the elf company. Instead, after an ordinary friendly exchange of words, Legolas had seemingly turned on him and yelled at him to go away.

The man found himself trying to make excuses for Legolas. The archer had certainly been through more in the last few weeks than most people could manage in a lifetime. It was true Aragorn could never really understand it all on a personal level. Legolas has been right about that. But, he knew the elf inside and out, and he was sure he could offer no small amount of moral support. If nothing else, he could just be a comforting presence while Legolas tried to deal with the after-effects of his ordeal.

The ranger thought that the elf’s current behavior was just a delayed reaction to all he had been through. Still, it worried him. In fact, it worried him so much, he decided that, whether Legolas liked it or not, he was going back to be with his friend. If he had to crouch down in a dark corner to stay out of Leoglas’s way, then that is what he would do. It would be a bit hard to offer any kind of support doing that, but be with the elf he would.

That decision made, the young man stood up and walked out of his room. He made his way down to Legolas’s room and softly knocked on the oak door. Even with the elf’s superior hearing, Aragorn wasn’t sure the knock could be heard above the thunder and howling wind. It wasn’t until he had that thought that Aragorn wondered why the torrential rain wasn’t muffling the sound of the wind. This was a very strange storm. However, all thoughts of its unusual nature were pushed as far back into his mind as the storm’s considerable and insistent sounds would allow.

There was no answer from within the room. Aragorn knocked again. After there was still no answer, he opened the door and peeked in. He saw Legolas lying in the bed on his left side, his back to the ranger.

He then noticed that the single candle he had lit earlier was sputtering, having burned down near the end of the wick. He frowned, thinking it should have lasted longer than it obviously did.

He closed the door and quickly went over to the candle. He hesitated a moment, trying to decide if the candle was really necessary. Legolas was asleep and not in need of its light. However, Aragorn decided that he needed it. Even the frequent flashes of lightning were not enough to make him completely comfortable. He hated to admit it, but if something was to happen and Legolas needed him, he didn’t want to have to fumble around in the dark or just as bad, take the time to try to light a candle during a possible crisis.

Aragorn walked over to the desk near the balcony doorway. Just as he reached for the candle holder on top of the desk, a shower of wet spray hit him full force. He looked up and saw that the wind had now shifted and was blowing the rain into the room. The edge of the carpet was already wet and getting wetter.

With a sigh, Aragorn quickly made his way out onto the balcony, pulled one door away from the outside wall and closed it. He did the same with the other door. He slipped the silver latch on one door over the metal catch in the other door. He pulled on the handles. Since the doors opened outward, the wind could not blow them inward, however, they could be buffeted enough to jerk them free of each other.

Satisfied the doors were properly secure, he turned back toward the desk to get the candle holder sitting there and took it over to the other side of the bed. Removing the globes from both candles, he quickly used the sputtering flame to ignite the wick on the larger stick of wax. Once the new flame was burning brightly, he went back around to the side of the bed that Legolas was facing.

One of the large chairs was sitting next to the bed on that side, so he sat down in it, prepared to wait until Legolas woke up.

Several flashes of lightning revealed a pleased smile on the face of the elf. Aragorn was happy to see that whatever the dream was about, his friend was enjoying it. The man’s heart eased a great deal, as he settled deeper into the soft chair to wait.

~*~*~

Legolas had been in the midst of elven dreams. The one his mind was currently replaying was another of the pleasant memories from his childhood.

This dream-memory was of a day, when he was an elfling of seven, by human standards. He had been taken on a fishing trip by his oldest brother, Balardoron. The two had gone far down the Forest River to a special fishing hole that the elder elf and his friends had long ago claimed as their own.

Balardoron was the Crown Prince of Mirkwood and Thranduil‘s second-in-command, both politically and militarily. He was also married with two sons and a daughter, all older than Legolas. As a result, he had less and less time to spend alone with his youngest brother. It had been far too long, since they had been able to engage in such a completely carefree activity together. Balardoron felt very guilty about that.

Legolas had been fishing before, of course, though he was soon to learn that what he called fishing was primitive compared to the way his brother practiced the sport. His own endeavor consisted of putting a worm on a hook tied to a line that was in turn tied to a pole made from a sapling and then throwing the hooked worm in the water and then waiting. He had caught fish doing it this way, but he had always envied the large string of fish Balardoron usually retuned home with.

Legolas attributed the difference in location rather than the difference in technique combined with knowledge of the fish for the huge discrepancy in the amount of fish caught by each brother. It also seemed to the elfling that experience due to Balardoron’s age had something to do with it, as well. Unfortunately, that‘s one thing he could do nothing about.

Balardoron had promised Legolas that he would take him fishing one day when he was older and show him the finer points of how to secure a haul to be proud of. Legolas was growing. The time to go never seemed to arrive, however, as family and duty claimed more and more of his time. The Crown Prince’s fishing forays slowed to a few treasured trips now and then.

He was not all work, by any means. He made the time to get out of the palace for picnics and horseback rides with his wife and children, and he also spent time with his friends. Thranduil insisted on that. He knew that to be a good ruler, husband and father, his son needed to have a well-balanced life, as a whole. In fact, the king insisted that all of his children balance work for the realm, studious education and family obligations with the pursuit of hobbies and activities totally outside the confines of the palace and having nothing to do with it. For Balardoron that was fishing, as often as he could manage it.

The two brothers were so far apart in age, Balardoron being 852 years old, as mortals count. Yet, the two were close, as were all of Thranduil’s children.

Balardoron’s wife and children were visiting some of her relatives in Lorien for a while. With obligations for his immediate family at a standstill, and matters involving the realm also at a rare momentary lull, Balardoron thought of fishing. He was about to contact some of his friends for a day at the river, when he spotted Legolas in the hallway and decided that now was the perfect time to take his little brother with him instead. They would leave in the morning.

The elder prince did not find it the least bit strange that on one of his coveted days of freedom, he would want to spend it with a small, inquisitive and very energetic sibling.

Legolas was so excited, he hardly slept at all that night. His anticipation was growing with each passing moment.

The elfling was dressed and knocking on Balardoron’s door before the sun rose. The elder prince, used to the excitement of his own children, when they were looking forward to some special activity, was not the least surprised. He would have been amazed, if he had needed to go and fetch Legolas.

As he dressed, Balardoron found himself anxious to be taking his little brother to his special fishing spot. He fervently hoped that none of his friends would take that day to go there, as well. He wanted it to be just him and Legolas enjoying the secret place together.

The oldest and youngest of Mirkwood’s princes stopped by the kitchen on their way out and obtained some fruit and bread to go with the fish they would catch for their mid-day meal.

The brothers walked, rather than rode, to the river and then made their way downstream, enjoying the beauty of the sparkling water, as it flowed beside them. The sky was cloudless, and the bright sunshine kissed the land with its golden warmth. Being wood elves, they loved the natural world in all its forms and moods. However, this day was so glorious that neither could imagine Eru creating one any more perfect.

It took almost an hour for the brothers to arrive at Balardoron‘s special spot. Legolas was happily impressed, when they finally arrived. He stood and stared, as the wind played with his silken hair that fell just below his shoulders.

A pool had been formed by large rocks at the edge of the river, catching and gently holding the water outside of the main current. The fact the water in the pool moved slowly in and out allowed fish to come in and eat, rest or hide before moving back out into the main body of flowing water. At least, that is what Balardoron explained to his curious little brother, who had wanted to know why fish traveling out in the river would come to this small sheltered pool that led nowhere.

Balardoron had pointed out that the overhanging branches of several trees kept the pool shaded and relatively cool even on the hottest of days. The rocks provided shelter, as well as places for the kind of creatures that the fish ate to flourish. The fish loved that, the older elf explained.

Balardoron had brought two poles much more sophisticated than the simple sapling pole Legolas normally used. So, after Legolas had dug up a number of worms and put them in a small container of dirt, Balardoron patiently showed his young brother the correct way to put a worm on the hook and how to use the pole properly.

Sitting side by side on the bank, watching the water intently, the two brothers spoke quietly with each other. The conversation started with a lesson on the nature of fish and how to outsmart them. Balardoron told Legolas how to anticipate and then exploit their natural tendencies. “Think like a fish,” he told the raptly attentive elfling.

Legolas sat with his face screwed up in an expression that Balardoron could only guess was an attempt to follow that advice. He held back a laugh, not wanting to discourage his brother or to make it appear he was making fun of him. He wasn’t. It was just that the look on Legolas’s face was so funny. The Crown Prince smiled, thoroughly enjoying the moment. Legolas was basically a happy child, and despite the growing Shadow in the woodland realm, Balardoron found much happiness in his own life.

Just as he had not found it a strange idea to spend time with a young child, he was happy to note that this child did not find it strange to spend time with him, a much older adult sibling.

After a few moments of Legolas’s attempt to think like a fish, he frowned. “I do not think I am doing this right. They do not seem to understand me, and I certainly do not understand them.”

Balardoron couldn’t hold back a laugh at that. Using his pet name for Legolas, he said, “Keep trying, little Greenleaf. Think about being a fish, who has come to this pool. What would you want to do here? Answer that, and you will know what they are thinking.”

Legolas continued to scrunch his face up in total concentration. Then, a few moments later, he smiled and moved his pole. There was a large rock that itself hung over a smaller one, forming a small hollow beneath it. Legolas dangled the line, so that the worm hung right beside the dark hollow. But, to his consternation doing that did not seem to be working. The worm just hung there untouched.

Then, it dawned on the young elf that worms wiggled. So, he jerked the line up and down several times. It took only a few seconds before the elfling felt a pull on his pole. “I have one!” he shouted in glee, turning a huge grin on his brother.

Balardoron’s smile matched that of Legolas’s. He reached out and gently pulled the fish up out of the water. Noting that the scaly creature was securely on the hook, he pulled it toward him, grasping the line firmly.

The fish dangled quietly for a moment, as if in shock at finding itself out of the water, and then it began to flip its tail back and forth franticly, sending sprays of water over both elves.

Legolas giggled and then grabbed the fish, holding tight to it while it tried to get loose. Once the fish’s movements slowed, Legolas carefully took the hook out of its mouth. With one hand holding the fish’s head and the other holding its tail, he held it up to see for himself and also to show his brother exactly what he had caught. The silver-blue fish was almost ten inches long. Seeing the huge smile on Leoglas’s face from this one small achievement alone was worth the trip to Balardoron. “It is the largest fish I have ever caught!” Legolas declared triumphantly. “Ada will be proud of me.”

“Yes, he will. Just as I am.”

Legolas set the fish down in a bucket that Balardoron had brought and filled with river water. He had explained that they would need to keep the fish they caught alive until they returned home, insuring they would be the freshest they could be.

The young wood elf turned to his oldest brother, sitting on the grassy bank, and hugged his neck. “Thank you, Bal.” Legolas had not been able to pronounce the name Balardoron, when he was much younger, and so just shortened it to Bal. He used that term less and less, as he grew and wanted to use his brother‘s proper name. However, there were times, like this very private one and times when he got excited, that the abbreviated version slipped out.

The Crown Prince returned the hug, squeezing his brother affectionately. “You are quite welcome, little Greenleaf.”

“I did just as you said and thought just like that fish did. I knew that it would want something to eat, and I thought it would want to keep my worm a secret from the other fish, so I put the worm close to the bottom of the rock for just that fish to see. And, when I wiggled it up and down, the fish did see it and grabbed it.”

“You are a very smart elfling, Legolas. Not everyone would have thought of that.”

Balardoron’s praise was worth more to Legolas than a whole river full of fish. He was smiling broadly, as he hugged his brother again and then sat back down to put another worm on his hook just the way Balardoron had taught him.

Both of these sons of Thranduil continued to fish.

When the sun rode high overhead, Balardoron pulled his pole out of the water and set it down beside him. By that time, Legolas had caught three more fish. “Would you like for us to prepare one of your fish for our mid-day meal?”

Legolas looked horrified. “Oh no! I have to take all of my fish home to show Ada.”

Balardoron smiled. “Then, we can cook one of mine.”

“No,” Legolas wailed again. “I want to show Ada that I caught the most fish. We must take them all back.” He knew exactly which fish were his and which were his brother’s.

The elder elf smirked. “Oh, so you think the student can catch more fish than the teacher, do you?”

“I do,” Legolas replied smugly. “You taught me very well.”

“All right then. Let us eat the fruit and bread we brought, and then we will see who can catch the most fish,” Balardoron suggested, accepting the challenge.

The young elfling nodded, and the brothers happily shared their small but delicious meal.

By the time the sun was dropping low in the sky, the two princes together had caught fourteen fish. Only two of them were not large enough to keep and eat and were thus released back into the river to continue their journey toward the Anduin.

Both of the small fish had been Legolas’s, so it was that he ended up with only five in the bucket while Balardoron had seven. However, the elder elf quickly pointed out that Legolas had really caught the same number of fish as he had. That notion pleased the elfling, because no matter where the fish ended up, bucket or river, he had actually caught seven fish on his hook.

As Legolas had thought, his father had been extremely proud of his youngest child for becoming such an ‘expert‘ fisherman so quickly. He also took a moment to thank his eldest son for what he had done for Legolas. “He will not soon forget this day.”

“Nor will I. I loved every moment of it,” Balardoron admitted. “He is an amazing child, Adar, and I truly believe that one day he will do great things.”

The evening meal that night had consisted of both fried and baked fish, and Legolas, sampling both, thought it was the best meal he had ever eaten in all his life.

The young elf was grinning broadly, when he went off to bed an hour later, his family‘s praise still ringing in his ears.

~*~*~

Aragorn was smiling at the look of joy on Legolas’s face. It was obvious that whatever dream his friend was having, it was a happy one.

Much relieved, the man closed his eyes and rested his head back against the soft chair.

Legolas moaned and turned over on his back.

The ranger jerked awake, not realizing he had dozed off. He stood up and bent over his friend. The look of joy on the elf’s face had changed. He now looked decidedly troubled.

TBC

Chapter Forty Three

Morning arrived late. At least, the light of morning did. The storm was still raging in Imladris, and the low, dark clouds kept the light of the new day to a minimum. Between the clouds and the rain, the world was draped in a cloak of flat gray. The word gloomy hardly did justice to the world that surrounded the elven realm.

Life was stirring inside the Last Homely House. Sunshine or rain, the inhabitants had their duties to perform. The kitchen especially was starting to move into full swing, getting ready for the morning meal. The laundry, too, was gearing up for the day’s needs. Barring an emergency, no one was going to be riding on a day like this. yet in the stables, the horses had to be fed, watered and curried. Life, indeed, was continuing as normal. For some in Rivendell, however, life was far from normal.

~*~*~

After knocking on Elrohir’s door, more to announce his arrival than to obtain permission to enter, Elladan walked into his twin brother’s room. He stopped and stared, as he saw Elrohir sitting on the floor amid an array of objects. “What in Arda are you doing?”

Elrohir looked up and grinned. “Can you not tell, brother?”

The elder elf shook his head. “If I could tell, I would not have asked.”

“Since you seem to be so dense, at the moment, I will tell you. I am making crutches for Legolas.” He smiled. “You know the prince will not stay in that bed for long, broken bones or not.”

“Crutches are a great idea, Elrohir, except for one tiny detail.” Elladan sat down on the floor across from his younger twin.

Elrohir looked at his brother in confusion. He then surveyed the pieces of wood he had spread out around him. “There are two long poles, which I measured against myself. I took an inch off of the length, because I am an inch taller than he is. There are the two cross pieces that go under his arms, which I will wrap with this cloth.” He indicated some soft material that was piled up to his right. “And, I have the two little pieces for his hands to grip, so he can hold onto the crutches. I have the mallet and nails to put it all together. I even have two pieces of thick leather to put on the bottom tips as pads.” He pointed to his left. Everything seemed to be there. He looked at Elladan again. “What is the detail I have missed?”

“You just said it a moment ago.”

Elrohir was becoming a bit annoyed that his brother would not just come out and say what he was talking about. He could be so exasperating at times. “Said what?” he asked in irritation.

“Broken bones. Honestly, Elrohir, sometimes I wonder about your clarity of thought. How is Legolas supposed to hold onto the crutches, never mind putting pressure on his hands, if he has two broken wrists?”

The younger brother burst out laughing. “You idiot. Did you really think I had forgotten that? It is logical to assume that his wrists will be healed much quicker than his ankle. As soon as Ada takes the splints off of Legolas’s hands, which could be today, his wrists will be mended, so he can use the crutches until his ankle also heals. They will be ready for him, when that time comes.”

Elladan eyed his twin suspiciously. He wondered if Elrohir had really thought of that on his own, or if he was just too embarrassed by his brother’s reminder that he pretended it had occurred to him already. Elladan knew how innocent his brother could appear to be, when it was to his advantage to do so, but in this case, he believed Elrohir’s claims. “Of course.” He smiled to take the edge off of the seemingly sarcastic words.

“Would you like to help?” Elrohir asked, as he handed Elladan one of the wooden cross pieces and two pieces of fabric, one folded up to be used as padding and one to wrap around it.

Taking the offered items, Elladan replied, “I would like very much to help.”

Thunder rumbled, and a flash of lightning hit very close to the Last Homely House. The twins looked out through the balcony doors, which were closed, and then stared at each other.

“I have not seen a storm this bad in many, many years,” Elrohir said, holding back the urge to shiver.

“Nor have I,” Elladan agreed, also holding back a shiver. The elf was not afraid of lightning, but he had a very healthy respect for it, knowing how powerful and potentially dangerous it was. He knew that Elrohir shared his view.

The twins then turned their attention back to the making of the crutches for their inured friend.

~*~*~

The rain was coming down so hard that anyone looking out at the garden could see only a blur of dark green. It seemed as if someone high overhead was pouring water out of a bucket onto Rivendell.

Elrond and Glorfindel were two elves, who were staring out at the torrent. “You seem unsettled, mellon nin,” Glorfindel said.

Elrond sighed. “This storm is a strange one,” the dark-haired elf lord replied thoughtfully. “I have not seen its like in many centuries.”

Glorfindel watched, as Elrond seemed to unconsciously rub Vilya. “Do you think that there is some dark magic at work here?”

“I cannot say for sure, but I do not believe that it is magic of any kind causing the storm.” Elrond continued to rub the Ring of Air. “However, I do sense a foreboding that I cannot put my finger on. It may just be that the storm is intensifying that feeling. It’s arrival may be purely coincidental. If so, I do not know the origin of my unease.” Elrond shook his head. The cause of the apprehension seemed to be just out of his reach. He hated the feeling of frustration that not knowing brought. With all that had happened lately, he was beginning to fear that this foreboding would grow within his mind. Had not they all, especially Legolas, been through enough already?

Glorfindel continued to question. “Do you think it has anything to do with Legolas?”

Elrond looked at his friend and arched am eyebrow. “You must feel something, as well, for you to think along the same lines that I am.”

“Perhaps, I have spent too much time in your company.” Glorfindel did not look at Elrond, but his lips curved into a small smile. It was a comment he often made.

“Perhaps,” was Elrond’s usual reply. After a brief pause, he continued. “Yes, I do think it has to do with our prince. If not for the fact that Mordraug is dead, in a way he richly deserved I might add, I would say he was somehow involved.”

“We do indeed think along the same lines. Mordraug came to my mind, as well. That pathetic excuse for an elf cannot still have a hold over Legolas, surely. The poison was neutralized. You did that yourself.”

“Did I?” Elrond questioned.

“Of course, you did.” Glorfindel was adamant in defending his friend and brushing aside his doubt.

“Can we be so sure?”

“Elrond, we all saw what happened, when you administered the antidote.” Glorfindel winced slightly at the memory of the convulsions that wracked Legolas’s slender body, as it became the battleground between the venom and the anti-venom.

Elrond‘s eyes moved down to his hands, which were resting on the window sill in front of him. “Yes,” he replied softly, “His body is seemingly free from the venom. But, what lingering effects there may be to his mind or his spirit, none of us can know.”

Glorfindel considered Elrond‘s answer just as a very loud clap of thunder rattled the window pane. “Can the storm be controlled with Vilya?” The blond elf lord was becoming concerned over the storm’s ferocity.

“I am reluctant to invoke Vilya’s power on a natural occurrence. Yet, despite the fact that Imladris is built on solid mountain granite, I would not risk the foundations of our buildings being weakened by such a downpour. If it continues in this manner beyond this morning, I will use Vilya’s power.”

Glorfindel said nothing, as the two friends exchanged concerned expressions. They then turned their attention to the torrent of water that was continuing to beat against the window they were looking through.

~*~*~

Aragorn had watched Legolas closely, trying to discern if his friend was in any pain. The troubled look on the elf’s face had not lessened but neither had it intensified. Once on his back, though, Legolas had not stirred nor made any displays of discomfort. The man relaxed. He was not going to wake Legolas just to ask, if he was all right. The elf hated that question, no matter what the circumstances. Had he known what was going on in the elf’s mind, he would have had his friend awake in an instant.

~*~*~

Legolas found himself back in the same enclosed room that he had been in an earlier dream. All was as it had been then, except that this time he could clearly hear thunder rumbling, as well as the sound of rain hitting the roof overhead.

The elf stood and stared at the ceiling.

It then occurred to him that if Mordraug had been in this room in the other dream, he would most likely show up in this one, as well. As if on cue, the dark elf did just that.

Before, Legolas had been shocked to find Mordraug facing him. This time was different, so instead of just keeping still and reacting to whatever Mordraug had to say, Legolas rounded on the elder elf. “Why do you come here? I will not let you intimidate me. You must realize that.”

Mordraug laughed. “Poor little prince. You really do not understand, do you?”

“You said I would begin to, when I woke up. I think that there is nothing to understand. You are a liar, who is just trying to make me doubt myself.” Legolas was angry, and he had no qualms about insulting this evil creature.

There was a look of pity in Mordraug’s eyes, though it was a cold pity totally devoid of sympathy. “You are so pathetic,” Mordraug retuned with an insult of his own. “Is it my fault that you are unable to comprehend the peril you are in?”

Legolas narrowed his eyes and demanded, “What peril?”

Mordraug closed his eyes for a moment, shaking his head in exasperation. “Very well. I will tell you what you have failed to grasp on your own. You are becoming a burden to those who are trying to help you. All of this you have gone through has been going on for almost a month now. How long do you think they will put up with your neediness? Even your father has left you.”

“My father did not want to leave. He had business to take care of at home.”

“Did he now? Are you so sure? Perhaps, he arranged for the messenger to come and pretend he was needed in Greenwood to give him an excuse to leave?”

“That is not true!”

“You put him through a lot. Perhaps, he wanted to get away. He even left knowing he may have to face this raging storm. Does that not tell you how much he wished to be free of you? Admit it. He has abandoned you.”

The dark elf was enjoying the angry reaction he was watching play across Legolas’s fair features. He had to be cautious, though, because it may not be so easy to convince this young archer that he had alienated everyone, who cared for him. But, the end result was going to be most enjoyable to witness.

“You continue to lie. My father would never abandon me, nor would any of my friends.”

“Do you really think they would not tire of taking care of an elf so physically weak he cannot take care of himself? Ask yourself why they would wish to constantly care for someone who can no longer function as a normal elf? You may be healing physically, but inside, you have grown into a mental cripple. They cared for you once, but you have become a tedious burden to them.”

With no warning, Legolas lunged at Mordraug with both hands outstretched, fully intending to choke the dark elf.

Mordraug stood his ground, knowing that the attempt would be futile. Legolas knew it too, as soon as his body moved completely though that of the Avari, and he found himself facing nothing and no one.

Mordraug’s laughter errupted behind him, and Legolas whirled around to face the evil one once more. The expression on the younger elf’s face had suddenly lost much of its fierceness. He was beginning to realize that there was really nothing he could do to get rid of the ghostly spirit he faced. He literally began to shake from the effort of trying to keep control of his emotions.

Mordraug saw the effort and laughed harder. “I can see that you truly are beginning to understand---finally.” It seemed that Legolas’s attempt to choke him had done more to convince the prince than any words Mordraug had uttered. He pressed the advantage. “You cannot get rid of me nor can you honestly deny the truth of my words. Think about it, princeling.” With that he vanished, as completely as he had the first time.

Legolas stood still for a moment, trying to calm down. He forced his mind to push thoughts of Mordraug away. He didn’t want to think about what the dark elf had said. Giving thought to his words would somehow give them credence.

Then once again, he sat down cross-legged on the floor and waited to wake up. He turned his concentration on reaching out to the conscious world. Nothing happened. He wasn’t waking up. Thunder continued to rumble all around him, and he couldn’t help but wonder if the storm had anything to do with his inability to waken. That made no sense, but then none of what was happening did.

Totally without his effort or permission, Mordraug’s taunts came back to him. Could his father really have fled to Mirkwood to get away from him? Were his friends here in Rivendell tired of taking care of him? He seemed to remember thinking that Estel felt that way. Had that been real? If so, did that mean that all of what Mordraug said was really true? And, the most frightening thing of all: Had he truly become a mental cripple?

Legolas jumped up and held his fists in the air above his head. “No!” he screamed out loud. It was not true! It could not be true! Abruptly the doubt came. But, why couldn’t it be true? No matter how much he denied it, he kept coming back to the questions that reinforced the doubts.

Laughter announced the arrival of Mordraug once more. “Have you given my words some thought?”

“I do not believe anything that you say,” Legolas declared defiantly.

“No? Well then, I guess I will have to alter my approach.”

“What do you mean?” Legolas was very sure that that was the one question he didn’t want to know the answer to.

“It seems that you have doubts here in your dreams. Then, when you awaken, those doubts begin to fade. You completely forgot the other dream I was in after spending time with that human friend of yours. And, I know that you are a very stubborn elf. You will stay awake for a long time to keep me away.”

A very bad feeling was forming in the pit of Legolas’s stomach. He was quite certain he wasn’t going to like the next thing Mordraug was going to say. Unfortunately, there was no place he could go to get away from this maddening elf.

Mordraug smiled. “I have decided that I will stay with you, awake or asleep. No matter where you go, even into the deepest recesses of your mind, I will be there, doing my best to convince you of the truth.”

The archer just stood and stared at Mordraug. This whole thing was becoming too surreal. “You are a ghost. You cannot follow me into my waking mind.”

“Are you so sure that I cannot? Besides, it is you who have labeled me a ghost. I never told you that is what I am.”

That statement was true enough. Mordraug had told Legolas that he could call the dark elf a ghost if he chose. But, he never did admit to it. “You were but an ordinary elf in life. The real power of what you did came from your snake, and it is dead.”

“I used my pet to carry out my wishes expediently, it is true, but that does not mean that I have no powers of my own.” Mordraug let the thought hang for a moment before saying, “I am here in your dream, am I not? You must admit that you are not in control. I am.”

That declaration had the desired effect, as Legolas’s eyes grew large in shock. Did this evil being have the power to do what he said and follow Legolas into wakefulness and reside in his mind? The whole idea of such a thing was terrifying.

“Think about it, little prince. I will give you time to consider what I have told you, not that it will make much difference.” He inclined his head and smiled once again. “I will see you, or rather talk to you, on the other side of consciousness.”

As Mordraug’s form vanished into nothingness, Legolas’s legs buckled under him. He sat down heavily on the stone floor. His mind was too stunned to get a single coherent thought to come forward.

Thunder split the air, as the elf just sat and stated at the far wall. One thought finally did detach itself from the jumble. *What am I to do now?*

TBC

Chapter Forty Four

By mid morning, the storm had passed. The sky was still overcast, and the predominant sound that permeated Rivendell was that of the engorged waterfalls roaring down the mountainside. No part of Imladris was ever completely free of that sound, yet today, instead of background noise, the roar seemed tenfold in intensity, testifying to the power of the water, as it made its way down to the valley below. Closer to the buildings were the small but insistent sounds of dripping water. Rivulets, themselves tiny waterfalls, poured from the edges of roof and balcony.

Elrond had been very glad he had not found the need to use Vilya’s power to quell the storm’s fury. He never used the ring indiscriminately and preferred not to use it at all, except in the defense of this elven realm he loved so much. Solemn had been his vow to Gil-galad, when the High King had given him the Ring of Air, in the middle of the Second Age, when Elrond had founded Rivendell. Protecting his home from the Shadow was a necessity. Only needing to save his home from storm damage would have forced him to use it now.

Not long after he and Glorfindel had spoken in the early hours of the morning, the worst of the storm had passed, winding down to a gentle rain that had now stopped completely. Only the wind continued unabated.

As the storm had lessened, Elrond had made his way to Legolas’s room. He had been most dismayed to find out that the young archer had taken the splints off of his hands of his own accord. Estel had told his father that Legolas’s wrists were healed properly, assuring the elf lord that he would have put the splints right back on, if he had suspected the bones were still unmended. That had alleviated Elrond’s concerns for the broken bones themselves, but he was not pleased that Legolas had chosen to be his own healer and make that decision himself. Since Legolas had not awakened during the exam, Elrond decided to speak to the young elf, when he woke up on his own.

Elrond had turned to Estel to say something to him, when Legolas opened his eyes. It was the moan he made, as he realized that he was no longer in the room of his dream, that alerted the man and the elf lord.

“Good morning, mellon nin,” Aragorn said cheerfully. He reinforced his words with a smile. He held that smile despite the fact that Legolas just stared at him with no reaction. The man knew that Legolas usually woke to full awareness in an instant. It was a trait employed by all elven warriors and had saved his life, as well as Estel’s, many times over the years. Aragorn had to remind himself that the elf was hardly living under ordinary circumstances, at the moment.

“Estel,” Legolas said softly. He turned his head slightly and took in the stern countenance of the Lord of Imladris. “Lord Elrond.”

The fact that Legolas had called him ‘Lord‘, which he only did on formal occasions or when he knew he had displeased the elder elf, was not lost on Elrond. “I should scold you for taking the splints off without my say so.”

Legolas looked down at his hands. “They felt healed,” was his contrite reply. Legolas hated to disappoint Elrond, who had always treated him as one of his own.

“But, that does not mean that they were, does it?”

“No.” Legolas looked up at Elrond. “I am sorry. I was just...” His voice trailed off to nothing. Stumbling around for an excuse was not going to help the situation any.

Elrond sighed. “I will forgive you this time, young prince. But, you must let me make the decisions on your health from now on. I know what is best.” He said it as if he knew there would be many more times in the future that this wood elf would need tending. That had certainly been true in the past. “At least you did not try to remove the splint on your foot.” He stared, his expression asking if that was really true.

“I did not.”

*How commendable. You did not lie to Elrond. So, do you intend on telling him that I am here?* The voice of Mordraug sounded in Legolas’s head and startled him. Even knowing that the dark elf had said he would be present there, the blond elf had not believed him, or rather had not wanted to believe him. But, here he was, as taunting and sarcastic as ever. Legolas’s expression changed to one of distress.

The look was impossible to miss. Aragorn did not think it was shame for his actions regarding the splints. He leaned toward the elf. “Legolas, what is wrong? Is your foot hurting you?”

*Will you lie to your friend, or will you tell him the truth and watch as he looks at you with pity? He already thinks you weak, do you want him to think you insane, as well?* the insidious voice challenged.

Legolas closed his eyes. What could he say to Estel? He decided he would tell him the truth. At least, as far as his question was concerned. “My foot does hurt a little.”

*There now. Lying isn’t so bad, is it?*

“But, it does hurt!” Legolas blurted out, in answer to Mordraug’s comment, defending the fact that he hadn’t lied.

Aragorn jerked his head back and then tilted it slightly and looked at his friend. “It must really hurt a lot for that kind of reaction.” It wasn’t clear if he was talking to Legolas, Elrond or himself. He then turned and looked at Elrond. “Ada, I think he needs something for the pain.”

Elrond frowned. There was no reason that Legolas’s foot should be hurting as bad as his reaction indicated. Had the prince really tried to take the splint off and then hurt his foot to the point that he had re-applied the splint himself? He had just said he had not, and Elrond did not want to believe that Legolas had lied to him. It was a different matter, when the young elf usually said he was fine, when he was not. That was a standard reaction from him and Estel, when they returned to Rivendell injured. Elrond never counted that as a true lie, just stubborn pride.

Legolas saw the look on Elrond’s face and knew exactly what he was thinking. “I promise I did not try to take the splint off of my foot,” he reiterated firmly.

“We were not accusing you of it, Legolas,” Aragorn said gently, hoping to calm his friend before the situation got heated.

“No, of course not,” Elrond added. He hadn’t intended on making any accusation. He only wondered what was truly going on, because he knew something was happening, and he had a good idea that it had nothing to do with Legolas’s foot.

Aragorn suddenly smiled again. “Legolas. Your speech. I just realized you are speaking normally again. Your voice has healed.”

Legolas knew that he had spoken normally in his dreams and had not given it any thought now that he was awake. He latched onto that happy event with all his might. He would talk about anything else, while pushing Mordraug away. He returned the ranger’s smile. “Yes. It has healed. It is a great relief to speak the way I should.” His hadn’t wanted to admit to himself how worried he had been that he would forever speak with a halting stutter. His father would be relieved, as well.

“You see?” Aragorn said. “I knew you would be fine. Now, when your ankle heals and Ada takes the splint off,” he purposely looked at Elrond, “you will be fully back to normal.”

*Yes, little prince, back to normal. But, what normal will be for you from now on not even you can imagine.”

Legolas opened his mouth to refute Mordraug’s insinuation and then realized that talking to someone no one else knew was even there, would make him appear as crazy as Mordraug wanted him to think he was. His friends really would abandon him then. *Leave me alone,* Legolas said forcefully in his mind.

There was no answering voice, no taunt, no attempt to bring about more doubts. *Do you hear me, Mordraug?*

Nothing.

*Answer me!*

Still nothing.

Legolas was confused. If Mordraug was in his mind, he could surely hear the young elf’s thoughts. Why would he not answer? Then, the archer realized how stupid what he was doing was. He wanted Mordraug to leave him alone, yet here he was yelling for the elf to answer him. *How ridiculous can I get?*

The continued silence soon brought elation to the elf. *Good. You stay silent. You must realize that you do not possess the power to hurt me. I will no longer communicate with you.* Legolas almost laughed. Why should he do that, in any case. Mordraug was evil and anything he would be merely lies and do naught but cause trouble.

“Legolas?” Aragorn called his name, and the elf looked at him.

“You looked a little lost just then. Are you sure you’re all right?”

Forcing all thoughts of the dark elf away by sheer force of will, Legolas said, “Nothing is wrong, Estel. I am fine.”

*So now you see how easy it is to lie. It will now become second nature to you.*

*Never!* Legolas screamed inwardly. The need to refute Mordraug’s words caused him to forget his pledge of only a moment ago not to communicate with the Avari.

It was at that instant that Mordraug knew he had this young wood elf exactly where he wanted him. Legolas, as yet, had not realized that fact. But, he would. All Mordraug had to do was continue his mental assault, and soon Legolas would descend into madness. Mordraug laughed. Lucky for him that while he could hear Legolas’s thoughts, Legolas could not hear his. His plans could be formed with no chance to be thwarted, and that would make the struggle so much easier.

A frown crossed Legolas’s face, as he heard Mordraug’s laughter echo around in his head. He couldn’t help but sigh and put his hands over his eyes.

Legolas then felt a hand on his arm. “Legolas, please let Ada give you something for the pain.” Aragorn now believed that his friend was being distracted by discomfort in his ankle.

Legolas knew he could not tell Estel that it was not pain that was troubling him. How could he tell the man that he had the spirit of Mordraug in his head, and that the dark elf was taunting him, trying to drive him insane? For that was what Legolas had come to believe. Just saying that would make him sound insane.

Pulling his hands away from his face, Legolas snapped, “I am not in need of a pain killer.”

Aragorn started to say something, but Elrond’s look warned him off, and the ranger kept silent.

Just then, there was a knock at the door. Both Elrond and Aragorn looked to Legolas. It was his room, and he should be the one to decide, if he wanted more company.

“Come in,” Legolas called out. He was determined to ignore whatever Mordraug said to him. He would treat the dark elf’s taunting voice as no more than a buzz in the background.

The twins came in carrying the crutches that they had spent the morning putting together for their friend.

“What have we here?” Aragorn asked, although the answer was plain to see.

“Crutches, of course,” Elrohir replied, rolling his eyes at his human brother’s apparent ignorance.

“It was Elrohir’s idea. He acquired all the materials, and we put them together for you, Legolas. We knew you would not want to stay in that bed very long.” Elladan knew the prince well.

A genuine smile graced the youngest elf’s face. He carefully inspected the one that Elladan handed him. It was well-crafted and sturdy.

*Now, look at that. Your dear friends think you a cripple, and they have made you something to hobble around on, no doubt making you something to ridicule. They are famous for that, are they not?*

Even thought Legolas was tempted to defend his friends, he ignored the taunt. “They are very well made and will aid me very nicely.” He looked at each twin in turn. “Thank you both. It was a thoughtful gift.”

*Yes, thoughtful indeed. They want you to get out of this bed, so they don’t have to keep coming in here to tend to your many needs. I told you so, did I not?*

Legolas forced himself to keep his expression of gratitude in place. But inwardly, he couldn’t help feeling that Mordraug’s voice was becoming more insistent, working its way deeper into his mind. It seemed that way, at any rate.

The twins beamed that their gift was appreciated. It also pleased them that the crutches were practical, allowing the prince to move around without risking his still injured ankle.

Elrohir smiled, when he saw the splints were gone from Legolas’s hands. He just assumed that his father had removed them. Not having the slightest idea that Legolas would do that himself, he saw no need to comment on it. He was happy, though, because it meant that Legolas could use the crutches, as soon as so desired.

“Have you ever used crutches before?” Elladan asked.

“Once, a long time ago, when I was very young, and I broke my other foot in a fall.” Legolas grimaced at the painful memory.

“Well, now you will have a matching pair of mended bones in both of your feet, as well as in both of your hands,” Elrohir remarked. It almost sounded like something Legolas should be proud of.

Elladan took a swipe at his twin, smacking the back of Elrohir’s head with his open palm. He turned back to Legolas, as if nothing had happened. “Crutches can be tricky. It takes a bit of coordination to get them working with your good foot, so that you move smoothly.” He grinned. “If you need a refresher lesson, ask Elrohir. He may have an impudent mouth, but he is well acquainted with their use. He managed to break his leg a couple of years ago. ” The elder twin leaned down and whispered. “Ask him how he did it.” There was pure malice in his tone, humorous though it was.

“I will not discuss that,” Elrohir warned firmly, as he gave his brother a narrow-eyed glare. Turning his attention to Legolas, he said, “I will, however, help you with these, if you wish.” Elrohir turned another hard stare on his elder twin.

Elladan only laughed. “You are entirely too sensitive.”

“And, you are entirely too evil.” Elrohir took the crutch Legolas had inspected and the one he still held and propped them against the wall beside the bedside table. They were out of Legolas’s reach, but that was done deliberately. “Be sure someone is with you the first time you try to get up on them.”

*Of course, he would say that. He does not think you are capable of doing it by yourself. How little faith he has in you. I am not surprised.*

*Shut up!* Legolas shouted, unable to stop himself from responding. The dark elf’s voice was so snide and insistent that he just couldn’t avoid a comment. He was glad that he had enough self-control not to have spoken aloud. How would he have explained that remark?

Elrond had watched the exchange that had gone on since the twins entered the room, with a mixture of amusement and concern. Despite the long years of witnessing, as the twins played against each other, he never got tired of it. Well, almost never. There were times when their foolery became annoying, but he would rather they be the way they were, pranks and all, than to have them at odds for real. They truly loved and respected each other and for that he was very grateful.

The concern he felt was purely for Legolas. The young prince was hiding something. The more the elf lord watched Legolas, the more he became convinced of it. No one else seemed to find anything amiss. Estel had thought the elf’s distracted behavior was just the result of a painful foot. The twins had apparently not seen anything out of the ordinary. Legolas, for his part, had hidden his true feelings very well. But, Elrond hadn’t lived as long as he had without being extremely observant.

The elf lord stood up. “All right, everyone. For now, you all should leave Legolas in peace until mid-day meal. By then he may be ready to try those crutches.” He looked at the young archer to get either a confirmation or a denial.

Legolas nodded, but there was no smile of anticipation on his face. The blond’s lack of eagerness to be getting the means to leave his bed added to Elrond’s concern. He held his arms out wide and swung them back and forth. He looked like he was shooing a flock of birds away. The ‘flock‘, consisting of two elves and one human, reluctantly headed for the door.

When Aragorn saw that Elrond was not following, he asked, “Ada, aren’t you coming, too?”

“I will be along shortly.”

Aragorn shrugged and followed his brothers out of the room. Just before closing the door, he gave Legolas a sympathetic look. He thought that perhaps his friend was in for a lecture from Elrond possibly about limiting his use of the crutches and not trying to push himself too hard too soon, something Legolas was also well known for doing.

When he was sure his sons had left, Elrond turned back to Legolas and sat down on the side of the bed. He looked the prince in the eye. “We are alone now, Legolas, so you can tell me what the real problem is.”

TBC

Chapter Forty Five

Elrond’s question surprised Legolas, although he quickly realized it shouldn’t have. He knew how astute the elf lord was. He debated for a moment about whether to lay bare all that was going on within him. Surely, Elrond would not consider him weak or crazy, if he explained about Mordraug.

*Of course, you must tell him everything, little prince. Simply say that you have the voice of a dead elf in your head. Doesn’t everyone? Elrond will believe you. Then, he will ...what? Slap you beside the head and knock me free? No, he will probably drug you unconscious again. Admit it. That would be for the best. It would put you out of everyone‘s misery. After all, what good are you the way you are?* Mordraug’s laughter rang out again in the archer’s head.

Legolas wanted so much to dispute what the dark elf was saying. He knew it wasn’t true. Why was he even listening to these lies? Elrond was wise and caring. He would find a way to banish Mordraug.

*Just like he found a way to wake you from your venom-induced coma all the while you were here in Rivendell. You did that yourself, or have you forgotten? No one can help you, not Elrond or either of those elven whelps of his, not that human you insist on calling your friend, not that Balrog-slayer. NO ONE else can help you now. Only this time, you are too weak to help yourself. There is only me.*

“You do not want to help me,” Legolas spit out bitterly. He didn’t realize he was speaking out loud to Mordraug. Elrond naturally thought the young elf was talking to him.

The elf lord was startled, not only by the words themselves but by the vehemence with which they were spoken. Legolas must be stressed much more than Elrond had at first thought. So, he decided that, for now, he wouldn‘t comment on what Legolas had just said. Gently, Elrond said, “I will try to help you, Legolas, if you will just confide in me.”

*Yes, confide in him. The more he knows, the more knowledge he will have to use against you. Do you really think he will not look upon you as anything but a pathetic little elf, who hears a voice in his head? Do you think he would---or could---ever again trust someone like that?*

Confusion reigned, and Legolas did not know what to do. He could not see how all that had happened to him was causing a delayed emotional reaction. He tried not to think about all of those things, but they crowded into his mind: being bitten by the snake, the venom that had coursed through his veins, finding out the truth about his mother‘s death, himself dying an agonizing death, returning to life, being drugged into a coma, reaction to the antidote, trouble speaking correctly, three broken bones, discovering Mordraug was in first his dreams and then his mind. The emotional reactions to those things hit him anew in rapid succession. each one a crushing weight that drove him deeper into an emotional whirlpool. He was terribly vulnerable and could not see the effect that Mordraug‘s words were working in his mind. So, it was that he thought, *He is right. Elrond will think me mad and want to keep me drugged. I know he cares, but he will do what he thinks he must. I cannot tell him.*

Mordraug smiled. This was too easy. Even he was surprised. Of course, he reminded himself, he was dealing with a mind that had been severely battered, due in large part to him, he noted with glee. He knew that Legolas, without all of the recent events, would have been a formidable opponent in the mental game he was playing. Mordraug almost wished for such a strong mind to pit himself against. Considering the circumstances, he decided that manipulating a weakened mind to his own will was really much more enjoyable.

Perhaps, it wouldn’t be a bad idea to give the princeling a small break. If he was driven mad too soon, all the fun would be taken out of the game, and he was loving it far too much to allow that to happen. He would have to keep a close watch on things, however. It wouldn’t do to let this youngest son of Thranduil gain too much strength and confidence. Let him think he is gaining complete control again, and then he would reappear and let this princeling know he was far from being in control. The devastation that realization would bring about would be most delicious, and he intended on savoring it.

Now was the time to withdraw. So, as a parting shot, Mordraug said, *I am going to go, little prince, to fumble around on your own. There will be no one to help you now, but since that is your wish, I will leave you.*

“You are leaving me?” The young archer seemed to be talking to the air.

The elf lord frowned. *What is Legolas talking about? Why would he think I am leaving him?* To the younger elf, he said, “Legolas, I do not understand.”

That statement explained everything to Legolas. Elrond did not understand and most likely never would. If Mordraug was truly leaving, Elrond’s comprehension would not matter, and there would be no need to say anything, no need to give the elf lord a chance to have reservations about his sanity. The question was: Could it be true that Mordraug was going to leave him alone? Did he dare to believe it?

*Have you truly left me, Mordraug?* There was no answer. Legolas smiled. He had no idea why Mordraug would just cease his taunting and leave. Perhaps, the dark elf had finally realized Legolas was too strong, and he could not destroy the wood elf’s belief in himself. Whatever the reason, Legolas was not going to probe it too closely.

So, with the Avari no longer in his head, Legolas did not see the need to confess to Elrond or anyone else what had been going on. He looked at Elrond, “I am fine, Elrond. And, please do no think I am deluding myself or trying to convince myself that an untruth is true.” He grinned, thinking, as he was sure Elrond did, of the many times he had said something very similar. “I am just...very tired.” To Legolas’s chagrin, he really was wearier than he wanted to admit.

There was a look in Legolas’s eyes that radiated an earnest honesty. Legolas truly believed his own prognosis about being fine. Elrond, however, did not. The prince really was deluding himself. Yet, the elven healer knew there was nothing to be gained by continuing to question him. Legolas saw no problem and therefore, would never admit to one.

With a deep sigh, Elrond smiled and put a hand on Legolas’s arm. “Then, I will not add to your weariness. Rest now. Mid-day meal will be served in a couple of hours. I will see that a tray is brought up to you.”

Legolas nodded. “Thank you.”

Elrond stood up and started for the door, when Legolas stopped him by calling his name. He turned around and looked at the figure on the bed. He got the distinct feeling that Legolas’s emotions were still in turmoil, though the young elf‘s face was placid enough. Controlling his own emotions, Elrond said, “Yes?”

“Would you please open my balcony doors? The storm has passed, and I wish to feel the fresh air.”

The Lord of Imladris moved to the doors and opened them, puahing each one back against the outside wall. The wind rushed into the room, so strong that it lifted Legolas’s loose hair from his shoulders and whipped it around his head. A broad smile crossed his face and remained there, as he closed his eyes and turned his face to the cool, bracing air. “That feels so good,” he remarked.

Elrond’s face broke into a smile, as well, as he watched this child of nature delight in the strong caress of the wind. Practicality soon intervened, however. “One last thing, Legolas: Do not try to go out onto the balcony by yourself...just yet. You need to have someone with you, when you first try the crutches. Also, the balcony is very wet. It would not do for you to slip in the water and do yourself further damage.” He looked sternly at the often willful prince. “Promise me.”

Legolas opened his eyes. “I promise.”

With a nod, Elrond left the archer to himself. In his heart, he felt that he had just let a perfect opportunity to aid this young one slip by unfulfilled. Logic, though, told him that there had been no way to force Legolas to speak of what was troubling him short of badgering him until he lost control and blurted out the answers Elrond sought. The elf lord could not bring himself to do that. The answers might have been forthcoming, but the result may have proven to be far more damaging. And, working with Legolas after that to solve the problem would have been close to impossible. For the moment, and just for the moment, all he could do was hope that Legolas would open up to him on his own. If not, then other tactics would have to be employed.

As Legolas closed his eyes again, once more enjoying the feel of the wind on his face, he felt more at peace than he had since before first seeing the valley forest with its foreboding of the horrors to come.

The smile remained on his face, and he breathed deeply of the fresh air that swirled around him. Nothing else existed.

~*~*~

Elrond was just passing by Aragorn’s room, when the man called to him through the open door. “Ada, please come in. We wish to talk to you.”

The ‘we’ was soon revealed, when Elrond entered and saw Elladan and Elrohir sitting on Estel’s bed. The ranger was standing in the middle of the room and looked for all the world like he might have been pacing, something he often did when worried or deep in thought.

Elrond noted that all three of his sons were wearing concerned expressions. “What do you wish to speak to me about?” He knew the answer was Legolas, of course, but he wasn’t sure just what particular part of their friends’ life was worrying them.

Aragorn did not waste any time in answering. “Did Legolas tell you what was troubling him? None of us think it has to do with his broken ankle.”

Elrond raised his eyebrows and then shook his head. “I did not think any of you were aware there was another problem.”

“We may not have acted like it, preferring not to upset Legolas, but we all saw that he was acting strangely,” Elladan said.

“Did he tell you what was bothering him?” Elrohir asked.

“No,” Elrond sighed. “He would not discuss it. He must think he is able to handle it himself or...”

“Or, he doesn’t think there is a problem,” Aragorn finished.

“This time I think he does. However, I could not get him to even acknowledge that fact.”

“He does not want to worry us,” Elrohir offered, as a possible explanation.

“Legolas is always considerate of his friends in that way, but I have the feeling that there is more to it than that.” Aragorn added his thoughts to the conversation.

Elrond agreed. He then said, “I have begun to believe that he has talked himself into thinking all is well. The last time he denied it, he seemed to sincerely believe it.”

Aragorn paced a few steps and then turned around to face his father. “I can get him to talk.” He started for the door.

“Not now, Estel. I told him to get some rest, and I would send a food tray up later. He had me open his balcony doors, but promised me he would not try to use the crutches or go onto the balcony by himself. I think he should be left alone for now.”

“And, you believed him,“ Elladan said, not asked.

“Legolas does not break promises,” Elrohir reminded his brother. “That is one thing you can count on.”

“True enough,” Elladan conceded.

Aragorn sighed. “Then, I will be the one to take him his food tray, and I will be the one to help him with his crutches.”

“And, you will then be the one to talk to him.” Elrohir smiled. That was hardly a wild guess on his part.

“Exactly,” Aragorn said with a grin.

~*~*~

After a few moments, Legolas opened his eyes, which glinted mischievously, as a thought came to his mind. There was one way to make sure Mordraug was gone. He spoke aloud, directing his words to the evil elf. “You are a coward, Mordraug. You are leaving, because you know you cannot defeat me. You are as weak as you accuse me of being.” If the dark elf was still there, Legolas believed his ego would not allow him to resist answering those taunts.

There was no response, not even a whisper of Mordraug‘s presence. *He is truly gone,* Legolas thought happily. He was so totally focused on that joyful idea that he did not hear the echo of laughter deep inside his mind.

TBC

Chapter Forty Six

The rest of that day and the next was a happy one for the close-knit elves and one human in Elrond’s household. Aragorn had had his talk with Legolas the day before, when he had brought the elf his mid-day meal. It had taken some doing, but the prince had convinced the man that he wasn’t hiding anything or being prideful. All was well with him---for real. He was cheerful and eager to use his crutches, being very careful to keep from hurting himself further.

Aragorn had not known about Mordraug taking up residence in Legolas‘s mind, of course, so he did not know it was the dark elf’s perceived absence that had buoyed his friend’s spirits. He only knew that the elf was not faking his joy, and that in itself brought joy to the ranger’s heart. They had laughed together the way they had done before Mordraug had come into their lives in the valley forest. It felt so good for them, as well as the twins, to recapture the lighter side of their personalities. There was no reason for any of them to think things weren’t going to continue that way.

Elrond became convinced, as well, that the young wood elf was not trying to fool him. His disposition was too sunny, and his laughter too musical to be an act. Legolas was good at hiding his true feelings, but Elrond was even better at detecting such subterfuge. He felt no deception on the prince’s part, and it warmed his heart.

So it was that everyone had come to the happy conclusion that whatever had been troubling the young elf was now in the past.

Legolas became adept at using the crutches, but even so Elrond would not let him leave the hourse. Legolas was anxious to go to the stable and see Elenblaith. He knew from previous experiences of separation that the horse would be anxious to see him, as well.

Legolas also wanted to go into the garden, but Elrond elicited another promise that he would wait until the splint came off of his foot before going to either place, mainly because there had been more rain, causing the stone paths to be slippery and the few dirt ones to be muddy. The promise had been given reluctantly, but it had been given nonetheless, and that eased Elrond’s mind. It did the opposite for Legolas, since he knew he would not break the promise he had given and thus would have to wait before going outside.

On this the third day, right after mid-day meal, Elrond had pulled Legolas aside and told him that there was a good possibility the splint could be taken off of his foot. He stressed the word possibility, but Legolas was so excited that Elrond prayed the prince’s ankle bone had completely healed. It certainly should have, since the wood elf’s healing ability had been restored after the banishment of the venom by the antidote.

Elrond sent Legolas to his room to wait while the elf lord attended to an errand. He would meet the young elf there in an hour. Aragorn and the twins had errands of their own to attend to and would not be present, so Legolas asked that Elrond not tell them or Glorfindel about the splint possibly coming off. If it did, he wanted it to be a surprise to his friends. The elf lord readily agreed.

Legolas waited impatiently in his room, trying to occupy his time until Elrond showed up. He found himself looking at the splinted extremity. He himself was sure that it was mended, however, he had learned his lesson about waiting for Elrond to make that pronouncement.

He was unable to contain his eagerness to put the crutches away, despite the fact the twins had made them especially for him. He knew they were as anxious as he was for him to be rid of them. With that in mind, and more than a touch of guilt, he had tested his ankle in his room late last night by standing up without the crutches and then tentatively putting weight on his foot. He had started to take a few steps but held himself in check. *I will not ruin my chance to be free of the crutches by being too hasty in wanting to walk.*

He had felt like a misbehaving elfling, but that hadn’t stopped him. There had been the momentary discomfort in his whole leg after long disuse, but it soon passed, and his foot held his weight with no trouble. He was sure Elrond would pronounce his ankle healed, and he would be able to walk on both feet to the stable and the garden. Happy just knowing that his ankle appeared to be fine, he did not dare even touch the splint.

Legolas was sitting on his bed, when he decided to give the foot one last check. He didn’t want to go into Elrond’s exam cold and have a cramp cause him to wince, or even worse, have his leg give out on him. No amount of arguing or declaration of well-being after that would have made Elrond remove the splint, this day at least, and more likely for several more. As expected, though, there was no pain, and no real weakness, just a bit of stiffness, which Elrond certainly would be expecting anyway.

The blond elf had just sat back down on the side of his bed, when there was a knock at the door. His heart leapt, sure that Elrond was going to come in, examine his ankle and then set him free. He was also extremely happy he was sitting down. Any delay in answering the door might have alerted Elrond to what he was doing.

“Come in,” Legolas called, toning down the excitement that he felt from coming through in his voice.

Elrond entered with a smile on his face. He walked over to the younger elf and sat down in one of the chairs, pulling it up to within a couple of feet of the bed. He reached down and carefully lifted Legolas’s left leg up and set the prince’s foot in his lap. “Well now, let us see what there is to see.”

The elf lord carefully cut the cloth strips with a tiny knife that looked as if it was made for just that purpose. Pulling the material away, he removed the wooden pieces and then unwrapped the last piece of cloth. Each of these he had handed to Legolas, who set them down beside him on the bed. Gently Elrond ran the sensitive fingers of both hands over Legolas’s ankle. His eyes were closed, as he concentrated on the feel of the bone under the young elf’s skin.

Legolas watched the elf lord’s face intently, looking for the slightest hint of either a smile or a frown. He wasn’t surprised to see that the elder elf’s face was totally unreadable. The neutral look was one he had seen many times.

Legolas’s heart sank, when Elrond asked, “When did you test your foot?”

Elrond knew, and there was no point in even trying to deny it. With a sigh, Legolas said, “Last night.” Trying to defend himself as best he could, he hastened to add, “But, I did not walk on it. I only put my weight down on it---carefully. There was no pain at all, but still I did not touch the splint.”

“And, you stood on it again just before I came in. Correct?“

Legolas nodded sheepishly. “Yes. But, I did not walk on it.” He wasn’t sure if that would make any difference to Elrond, but he hoped.

The dark-haired elf lord suppressed a smile at Legolas’s attempt to wiggle out of being scolded. Elrond then gave a sigh of his own. “You are too headstrong for your own good, Legolas.”

The wood elf then lowered his head. It was far from the first time that had been said to him. He usually heard it from his father and Estel.

Returning to the previous subject, the archer asked somewhat mournfully, “Did I do damage to it?” He felt, right then, that disappointing Elrond would hurt him more than being told he had to have the splint put back on for several more days. “I am sorry.”

Elrond shook his head. Legolas was simply anxious to be back on his own two feet. Elrond understood completely. “One night would not make that much difference. However...” He let the word hang in the air for several moments, sure that it would make as much of an impression as scolding would have. Then, he said again, “Much too headstrong. You are truly your father’s son. Yet, I know it is that exact trait has brought you back from the brink of death more than once.”

Becoming anxious again, Legolas asked, “Do you believe my ankle is healed?”

With a laugh, Elrond nodded. “Yes, young prince, your ankle is headed. It must now be tested properly.” He stood up and moved the chair back a few feet. “Walk to the door and back. Do not think about it. Just walk naturally, as if your mind was on something else.”

Legolas did so, purposely keeping his thoughts away from his foot. He arrived back in front of Elrond with a big grin on his face. He wisely did not say, “I knew it was healed.” It would have sounded as if he was trying to reinforce the wisdom of his diagnosis before the foot was ever even examined by the experienced healer. Legolas had too much respect for the elf lord to do that.

“Your walk is normal, Legolas. I am very glad for that.” But, before Legolas could say a word, Elrond held his finger up. “You must make me another promise.”

Legolas was pretty sure he knew what Elrond would ask of him, but he waited silently for the elf lord to voice his request.

“No climbing trees for a couple of days.”

Legolas frowned. “Why not, if my ankle is healed? I have been wanting to go up into the trees for so long.” The blond elf was obviously confused.

“The bone is mended, but the ankle is still a little weak. You must only walk for a while to strengthen the muscles that support the bone. Putting more weight on your foot than just that of your body right now would not harm the bone, but it may cause a muscle strain, and you would end up right back on your crutches.”

It was that last statement that struck home to the woodland warrior.

“You may commune with the trees in the garden all you wish, you just should not climb them. And, I would prefer you not ride for a few days, at least. I know you do not use stirrups. You would need them to support your leg until it strengthens. At the same time, though, using stirrups would put too much pressure on the muscles in your foot. Either way could prove detrimental to your complete recovery just now. Do we agree?”

Legolas’s was disappointed, but the young elf’s expression quickly changed, and Elrond knew a promise was forthcoming. “I promise I will not climb any trees or go riding until you tell me I may.”

A broad smile crossed Elrond’s face. “Then, there is no reason you cannot go to see your horse and your trees. It is a lovely day.”

Legolas grinned. “Will you tell Estel and the twins to join me in the garden, when they finish whatever it is they are doing?”

“Estel should be free in an hour or so, and I know I could not hold him back from going to meet you, even if I tried. However, Elladan and Elrohir will be gone until evening meal. They will all be happy to see that you can walk on your own.” As one last warning, Elrond said, “Of course, you realize you must not do any running, either.”

Legolas nodded his understanding that running, riding, and climbing trees were equally forbidden. As disappointed as he was, he still knew that Elrond was trying to protect him. The effort was appreciated.

Elrond knew that he was being a little over-cautious on the activities that Legolas was anxious to engage in. His thinking, of course, was that, considering all that the young elf had been through lately, it could only be a benefit for him to take it easy at first, building up to the complete freedom to do whatever he wished to do.

Elrond stood, picking up the discarded cloth and the pieces of wood that had stabilized Legolas’s foot until the bone had reached its current condition. He smiled at Legolas as the younger elf stood up.

“Thank you, Elrond, for all you have done for me.” There was so much strong emotion in his voice, he didn‘t dare try to say more. Instead, he wrapped his arms around the elder elf in a tight hug.

With his hands full, Elrond was only able to return the hug with one arm, which he used to encircle Legolas‘s shoulders. When they parted, he nodded and smiled. “It has been my pleasure to help you, Legolas. I thank the Valar that I was able to.” He then turned and left the room.

Legolas was grinning, as he walked out onto the balcony. He was a little surprised that he found himself heading in that direction, since he had planned on going straight to the stable. He placed his hands on the balcony railing and looked out over the garden, breathing in the fresh air deeply. “I will be there shortly, my friends,” he whispered to the trees. He never was sure if the gentle wave of the branches was in response to his words or merely a reaction to the light breeze that was blowing across the garden. He chose to believe the former.

The elf then turned to the flower box on his left. He was dismayed to see that his beloved blue flowers were bent over, the petals resting against the damp dirt that filled the box. The storm had beaten them down, and so far, they had not lifted their heads to the sun that shone down on them.

Legolas walked over to them and bent down. He touched each one in turn and spoke softly to it. Releasing the last one, he said, “You will all be mended just as I have been.” The word mended was not completely accurate in this case, since they were not broken, but to Legolas, if they were not standing tall and straight and seeking the golden rays of the sun, then they were in need of help. He looked up at the brilliant orb hanging in the clear blue sky. He knew that all they needed was the sunshine and more time spent in it.

Turning away from the flower box, he left his room and headed down to the stable. He felt a slight stiffness in his left leg, but was happy to note there was still no discomfort in his foot. If there was to be any, he felt sure it would have made itself known after coming down three flights of stairs to the ground floor.

As he walked along the pathway that led toward the stable, he smiled and hummed a tune. It struck him that feeling so good after so dark a time in his life, made this happy time all the sweeter. He believed he was mended---body, mind and spirit. He had survived not only the snake’s venom but Mordraug’s appearance in his head. He now felt as sunny as the day.

When Legolas arrived in the stable building, he whistled and was rewarded with the anxious sound of a happy and impatient whinny. By the time that Legolas reached the stall that housed his gray stallion, Elenblaith, both horse and elf were excited to see each other.

Legolas opened the stall door and walked inside. He was immediately greeted by the soft nose of Elenblaith pushing against his chest. The elf reached up with his left hand and rubbed between the horses’ eyes and with his right he rubbed under Elenblaith’s jaw.

Before long Legolas was rubbing his hands over the stallion’s entire body. He knew that the elves that worked here took very good care of all the horses in their care, but he couldn’t help the need to check for himself. As he expected, Elenblaith was perfectly sound.

When Legolas returned to the horse’s head, Elenblaith began to nibble at the elf’s long hair. It was something he had been doing since he was a young colt tall enough to reach it. That was the one bad habit that Legolas had never been able to break the stallion from doing. The elf had finally interpreted the gesture to mean the animal wanted his elf to mount up, so they could go riding. Running through the forest of Mirkwood was something that brought joy to both of their hearts. Even on the occasions when they had been running for their lives, there had been undeniable exhilaration.

Legolas frowned. “I am sorry, my friend. I made a promise, and I cannot go riding with you this day.” He was sure Elenblaith understood the sad timbre of his master’s voice. “We will go soon. I promise.” Another promise made, and another promise that he intended to keep, though right now, his heart longed to do otherwise.

Elenblaith shook his head and snorted his displeasure at being put off. He grabbed another chink of Legolas’s hair and pulled a little harder on it.

“Ouch.” Legolas frowned. “You are as stubborn as everyone says I am.” The prince had to use both of his hands to pry his hair free of the stallion‘s teeth. “I will not break my promise to Elrond,” he declared firmly. Then, he brightened. “We can go walking together, though. Elrond wants me to strengthen my leg muscles.” With that, he turned and walked out of the stall. Elenblaith followed, nickering happily, when he realized that his elf was not gong to close the stall door and leave him behind.

For almost an hour, elf and horse walked the pathways on the outskirts of Rivendell. Eventually, Legolas led the horse back around to the stable. Upon seeing the building, Elenblaith again snorted his displeasure, this time over the end of the walk, but he dutifully followed Legolas inside.

The elf brushed the stallion, told him he would return the next day and then left the stable, heading for the garden.

As he walked, he purposely avoided thinking about the fact that both of his legs, especially the left one, was causing him more than a small twinge. He knew that was to be expected and since there was no real pain involved, he ignored it.

The elf smiled as he walked under the archway that led into the largest of the lush Rivendell gardens, the one his room overlooked. Legolas found his spirits lifting as high as they had been for a long time. He breathed in the fresh scents of plant, tree and flower. It was good to be alive.

He walked down the stone path and stopping at the very first tree he came to, He stood beneath the tree’s thick brances, eyes closed and smiling to himself. Just before he reached out to touch the rough bark, he heard a step behind him.

“Now, that‘s what I expect to see from a wood elf,” came a human voice.

Legolas turned his head to see Estel standing a few feet away. There was a big grin on the man’s face. The elf matched it with a big grin of his own.

TBC

Juas a quick note to tell everyone that I will be on vacation for a week, so this will be the last update until April 24.  I'll respond to reviews that weekend.  See you all then!

Chapter Forty Seven

Legolas moved away from the tree and walked toward his long-time friend, the grin still on his face. He abruptly stopped, when he saw the worried look on the man’s face. The elf was confused. If there was something amiss, why had Estel been smiling at him just now? His own smile quickly faded. “Estel? What is wrong?”

“Legolas, you’re walking without your crutches. Ada will lecture you senseless, if he catches you like this.” He looked around quickly, thinking to grab the crutches and push them under Legolas‘s arms before someone saw him and told Elrond. He did not see them lying nearby. “Where did you put them?”

Legolas watched the ranger’s near frantic effort to locate the two wooden supports and couldn’t help but laugh. He put his hand on the man‘s shoulder and turned him so that they were facing each other. “Estel, ever my protector. Thank you, mellon nin, but this time your worry is unfounded.” With that he stepped back and lifted his left leg straight out in front of him for the ranger to inspect.

When Aragorn looked down, his frown turned to a smile. “The splint is gone.” He narrowed his eyes in mock suspicion, then said, “Ada removed it, I trust?”

“Oh yes. I would never try to do that myself. As you just stated so eloquently, I do not wish to be lectured senseless. My ankle is quite mended.”

“Does it bother you at all to walk on it?” Both the healer and the concerned friend merged in Aragorn at that moment.

“Not really. Elrond will not let me ride just yet, so Elenblaith and I have been walking for the last hour. There is a bit of discomfort---very mild discomfort---from working muscles that have not been used much lately. But, Elrond said that walking would soon correct that. My foot does not bother me at all.”

Aragorn nodded. “Ada is a very wise healer.”

“It is good for me that he is.” Legolas’s countenance took on a more serious look. “I can never thank him enough for what he has done for me, not just now but all the times in the past, when he had to put me back together.”

Aragorn nodded again. “You and me both. He has done more for me than I can ever repay him for, starting with taking me in to raise, when I was a child. As a father, he neither expects nor wants any kind of thanks, of course.”

“But, the thought is always there in your mind just the same,” Legolas stated, understanding completely. “Since he never wants anything in return, I will always try to honor my debt to him by helping others in ways other than that of a healer, which I am not.”

Aragorn tilted his head and seemed to appraise the elf. “I don’t know. You could probably become a very good healer given time and effort. You always put good effort into whatever you do. And, we both know you definitely have the time,” the man added with a laugh, teasing the elf about his immortality for the ten thousandth time, at least.

Legolas couldn‘t deny the truth of that last statement. “However, my skills lie elsewhere, Estel, as you well know. I will use my bow, my knives and my skills as a warrior to provide what assistance I can to whomever may need it.”

Aragorn smiled. “And, they are lucky to get that assistance, mellon nin. It has cerainly saved my own hide often enough.”

The two friends stood and stared into each other’s eyes for several moments. A world of silent communication passed between the two. They understood each other so well. They each were thankful that the other was in their life. Friendships as deep and true as theirs were rare, and they were both thankful that that realization allowed them to fully appreciate it.

As they stood seemingly transfixed, a warm gust of wind blew up around them. When a section of Legolas’s hair blew into his eyes, the spell was broken. He grabbed the wayward hair and tucked it behind his left ear. It was so thick that it didn’t all fit, and the wind soon had it flying loose again. “When I return to my room, I will have to rebraid this mess,” he declared with exasperation. His eyes were following the blowing strands, giving him an almost cross-eyed look.

Aragorn didn’t dare say anything in the way of an insult, because his own unruly hair was blowing in his face. Legolas’s hair was almost always neat and well-groomed. Where the ranger was concerned, however, unruly hair was a normal occurrence.

“Do you feel like walking some more, or would you rather sit for a while?” With a nod, Aragorn indicated a stone bench sitting just off the path in the shade. It looked most inviting, but he would do whatever Legolas had in mind to do.

Legolas didn’t hesitate. “Let us walk. I have been still for much too long recently.”

“Then, walk it is,” Aragorn said.

The two friends left the sunshine and walked toward the heart of the garden. Due to the large trees, the sun was forced to filter through the new green leaves of spring. Dappled patterns were formed on the stone pathways and on the surrounding grass. When the branches waved in the wind, the patterns shifted constantly, forming different designs, as sunlight and shadow chased each other over the ground.

It was the caress of the wind on his skin that brought another smile to the elf’s face. “It is so beautiful here,” he said wistfully, sounding like the words were aimed at no one in particular.

“Yes, it is,” the ranger agreed. “Many of my fondest memories are of this garden.” Aragorn seemed as lost in the beauty and wonder of the Imladris gardens as the elf was.

The man suddenly stopped. After a couple of steps, the elf stopped, as well. He looked back at the man with an inquiring gaze.

“It was right there.” Aragorn pointed to a spot a few feet ahead of where they stood. “Right there under that tree.” There was no mistaking the certainty in the man’s voice.

Legolas stared at the spot and then at the man. “What was right there?”

“Don’t you remember? It was right there that you finally caught a ten year old human child and made him understand that you would not eat him.”

Legolas burst out laughing. “So, it is. You were so young I am surprised you would remember the exact place. And, I am glad you finally believed that I would not do such a thing to you.”

“I never told you this, but after you left, I used to come to this spot and think about when I would see you again.”

“You did?” Legolas was obviously surprised by Aragorn’s confession.

“I did. I had been around elves almost as long as I could remember, but you were different.”

Legolas frowned. “That can be a bad thing,” he mused.

The man smiled at his friend, sincerity shining in his eyes. “Not in this case. You made quite an impression on me.”

“I never knew that,” Legolas said softly. When they had met again, seven years later, Estel had not mentioned his previous impression of the woodland prince. By then he was almost grown and had not wanted to say anything that might point toward any type of veneration.

“I used to think of you, too, Estel. I often wondered if those rapscallion brothers of yours had managed to convince you that I really did want to eat you. After all, I was no longer around to defend myself. I never had observed a human go from a child to an adult, or near adult, and so I was so surprised at how grown up you were, when I saw you again, that I never thought to ask.”

“They did try a few times, but I wouldn’t listen to them. They finally gave up. You know, we never have paid my brothers back for making me think you would eat me, if given half a chance.” He looked at the elf with a mischievous grin. “We should do some thinking about the perfect prank to get them back. They should not get away with what they did to us.”

Aragorn had two reasons for saying what he did. First, he wanted to make the twins pay and pay dearly. Second, he wanted to try and distract Legolas from thinking about all that had befallen him recently. The archer appeared to be his old self right now, but Aragorn knew those horrific memories could never be completely banished. He just hoped that they could be pushed so far into the background that they would never surface again.

Legolas smiled to himself. He knew exactly what the ranger was trying to do, and he appreciated it. Besides, the twins did need to be made to regret what they had done all those years ago. It was something that he and Estel would have to ponder further. Right now, however, the only thing Legolas wanted to do was enjoy the peace and beauty of the garden and the companionship of his best friend.

The elf moved on down the path, and Aragorn was right beside him. Neither spoke for a long time until they came to Legolas’s favorite tree. It was the largest one in the garden, growing very close to the center. It was an ancient oak and the one that the wood elf loved most to climb. He stopped beneath it.

At first, Aragorn couldn’t understand why Legolas just stood and stared up into its broad leafy branches. He opened his mouth to ask, when it dawned on him that if Elrond had told Legolas not to ride, he most assuredly had told him not to climb. The man put his hand on Leoglas’s shoulder. “Do not worry, mellon nin. It will not be long before you will be scampering around up there in those branches.”

Legolas turned his head and looked at the human with a frown on his fair face. “I do not scamper,” he declared with indignation.

“Pardon me, woodland prince,” Aragorn said with a mocking bow of his head. “I should have said---romp, perhaps?”

Legolas’s expression did not change. “I do not romp, either.”

“You...?”

“I simply climb and commune.”

“Yes, of course.” Aragorn laughed. “Well, you will be climbing soon, I‘m sure. As for communing, you can do that from here.” The man smiled encouragingly. “Really. I don’t mind waiting.”

Legolas debated for a moment. With almost anyone else, he would have declined, not wanting to appear rude by going off to be with a tree and leaving that person alone on the path. But with Estel, he felt so comfortable, he knew his actions would not produce any kind of resentment. Still, he said, “For only a moment.”

The ranger nodded and walked to another nearby bench, this one a smooth, carved wooden one, and sat down. He picked up a twig lying on the grass just at the edge of the path. Earlier he had observed mud on his boots from the recent rains, so this would be the perfect opportunity to get rid of the mud before he tracked it into the house. He laughed to himself, thinking he also did not want to be lectured senseless. He well remembered Elrond saying on numerous occasions, “Do not track mud into the house, Estel.“

Chuckling at the memory, the man lifted his right foot and rested it across his left knee and then began digging the mud from around the soul of his boot. He became so engrossed in the task that all else left his mind.

Legolas walked over to the large oak tree and stood beneath its sheltering branches. He longed to leap up and nestle in the comforting foliage, but he was still determined not to break his promise to Elrond. With a sigh he approached the large trunk, closed his eyes and placed the palms of his hands on the rough bark.

The elf was confused when there was no response whatsoever to his touch. He opened his eyes and stared at the bark close to his face. Tilting his head, he again closed his eyes and called to the giant oak. There was still no response.

Legolas then stepped back and let is hands fall to his sides. Looking up into the green and brown expanse soaring above him, he asked softly, “What is wrong, my friend? Why do you not speak to me?” There was a plaintive plea in his voice. He could not remember ever having a living tree refuse to answer his call.

Hoping for an answer, the elf again put his hands on the dark trunk. This time there was a response to his touch, though it was far from what the archer was expecting. The tree shuddered, as if responding to something vile it had encountered.

This time Legolas jumped back in shock. He had felt the tree’s inner cry of fear and loathing. The feeling of revulsion had swept through the elf’s body to his very soul. He didn’t understand the tree’s almost violent reaction to his touch. He stared uncomprehendingly.

After a few moments of bewilderment, Legolas reached out and placed his hands against the tree once more. He tensed up, anticipating yet fearing that he would get the same reaction as before. He did, much to his chagrin.

Backing away slowly, the elf hung his head and said sadly, “I am sorry. I will not touch you again.” He couldn’t bring himself to cause this old giant further distress. Turning, he looked into the other trees surrounding him and felt their fear. It was his turn to shudder.

He stood, trying to work his mind through the puzzle of why the tree would display fear at his touch. With a sudden horror that almost knocked the elf to his knees, Legolas knew the answer.

“Of course, you know the answer, little prince. The tree fears YOU.”

Legolas cried out in shock and horror. He put both of his hands against his ears, trying to block out the sound of the dark elf’s voice. Amid the swirling emotions in his head, he was vaguely aware that it would be a futile gesture.

When Legolas felt a hand on his shoulder, he jumped back and let out a gasp of surprise. He lifted his head and found himself staring into the concerned eyes of his friend.

“Legolas, what’s the matter? Have you hurt yourself?” The ranger had turned his head and looked toward Legolas, when he heard his friend cry out. Seeing the elf in obvious distress had brought the man running.

Aragorn had to bite the inside of his lip to keep his face from reflecting the shock and fear he saw in his friend’s eyes. He took hold of each of Legolas’s arms and pulled them down away from his head. “Talk to me, Legolas. What’s happened?”

The elf did not answer immediately, however Mordraug did. “Go ahead and tell him, princeling. He will certainly believe you when you say I am here in your mind. Your mood swings and the fact the trees fear you are all perfectly reasonable things for a human to understand. So, tell him.” The words were challenging and accompanied by maniacal laughter.

Legolas tried to turn away, but Aragorn still held his arms tightly and did not slacken his grip. “Legolas, talk to me,” he repeated more firmly.

Legolas turned his head aside. He could not bear to let the man see his fear. Yet, he knew it was already too late. So, he turned his head back and looked deep into the eyes of his friend and said, “I am going insane, Estel.”

TBC

Chapter Forty Eight

Aragorn stared at his friend with his mouth open. The words the elf had just uttered were ridiculous. He was about to say that very thing, when the look in Legolas’s eyes stopped him. There was a deep sincerity in those blue-gray eyes, looking back at him. Whatever the truth really was, Legolas believed what he had said. That was evident.

Legolas did not see absolute disbelief in the ranger’s eyes, but he had the feeling that the man was having trouble accepting what he had just heard. How could Legolas expect anything different? The admission was a hard one for the proud elf. Feeling somehow ashamed, he lowered his eyes and turned away.

Aragorn grabbed Legolas’s left arm and tried to pull his friend back around to face him, but the elf would not be turned. The man then stepped around in front of Legolas and grabbed his right arm. Holding on to both of the elf’s arms, Aragorn said, “You are not going insane, Legolas.”

The archer snapped his eyes up and with fire blazing in their depths, he said, “You cannot know that.”

“But, I do know that. We have just spent the last half hour together, and you were not exhibiting any signs of...” he paused, searching for the right word to convey his meaning. He finally decided to just say the word he was thinking. “Insanity. In fact, I was just thinking a few minutes ago that you were back to your old self.”

“You do not know what has been happening,” said Legolas firmly, again averting his eyes from his friend.

“Then, suppose we sit down on that bench right there, and you tell me just exactly what has been happening,” Aragorn said just as firmly. He hated to sound so harsh, but this elf was exceedingly stubborn, and it sometimes took a no-nonsense attitude to get through to him, especially when he was trying to hide his true feelings.

It occurred to the ranger that whatever was wrong may be intensely personal and none of anyone else’s business. There certainly were things in his own life that were for his knowledge only. The idea that maybe he should not press Legolas to expose his troubles lasted for all of half a second. The elf was in great distress, even to the point that he believed he was losing his mind, and as his best friend, Aragorn was determined to help, if it was within his power to do so. And, he believed it was.

After a moment, the elf nodded. He let Aragorn lead him to the wooden bench the ranger had just vacated. All the while, the man held onto Legolas’s left arm in an effort to keep contact with him and perhaps prevent him from changing his mind about revealing his troubles.

They sat facing each other. “Now, tell me what has happened that has you believing you are going insane.”

Legolas looked at the large oak tree sadly and then turned to look at his friend. With only a slight hesitation, he said, “Mordraug is back.”

For the second time in a very short while, Aragorn stared in shock, his mouth dropping open yet again. He closed it and shook his head. “Mordraug is dead, Legolas, killed by his own snake. We told you about that. He cannot be back.” The words were spoken gently, obviously attempting to be reassuring, but Aragorn was well aware that those words were actually saying that Legolas did not know what he was talking about. He winced but did not attempt to try backtracking.

“You do not understand, Estel,” the elf said insistently. “He is not here physically. He has returned in spirit.” Legolas looked at his friend but could not bear to say what he had to say while looking at Estel. He knew that the man would give his life for him. He would fight anyone or anything to protect Legolas from harm. Yet, this situation was so far-fetched, he couldn’t help thinking that Aragorn would simply tell him to go to his room, lie down and rest and then all of his hallucinations would be gone. He couldn’t bear that kind of pity, especially from his best friend. He realized that, more than anything, he needed Estel to believe him. “The dark elf is in my head. His spirit has invaded my mind, worming his way in so deep that I cannot push him out.”

Aragorn struggled to maintain an even expression. It would be so easy to tell Legolas it was just his imagination, considering what he had been through, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. The sincerity was still there in the elf’s eyes. Legolas was so desperate to be believed that Aragorn simply had to go along with it until he could figure out the truth of it all. Otherwise, he knew he could lose the elf’s confidence. That could not be allowed to happen, so he didn‘t ask why Legolas would think that. He replaced the word ‘think‘ with the word ‘know’ and asked, “How do you know this?”

Of all that he had said, this was perhaps the hardest part for Legolas to say. “He talks to me, Estel. I know that sounds crazy, which is why I believe I am going insane. He mocks me and laughs at my attempts to deal with him. Even the trees know he is here.” He pointed to his head and then looked again toward the giant oak. “Just now, when I touched it, the tree shuddered and cried out in fear. It senses the evil within my mind. They all do,” he said, as he swung his hand around to encompass the surrounding trees.

Aragorn frowned and so did Legolas. “Hearing myself say these things makes me realize how implausible it all sounds. Which is worse, thinking I have a dead elf’s spirit in my head or actually having one there?”

The question was a good one. Unfortunately, Aragorn had no answer for it. Instead of offering a possibly lame reply, he asked, “What does he say to you?”

Legolas looked down at his hands, as he twisted his fingers together. He felt so young and vulnerable, not at all like the strong, courageous warrior that he and others believed him to be. The fact he was confessing to someone he knew cared deeply for him was the only saving grace he could find in the current situation. Yet, he still could not be sure that the man fully believed Mordraug was real and not imagined.

“He tried to turn me against my father and all of my friends here in Rivendell. He told me my father had abandoned me, when he left for Mirkwood, and that I am a needy burden to all of you here. He says that you all want to be rid of me.”

Anger flashed in the man’s eyes. “You know that is not true!”

“I know. I tried to argue with him, but what he says is so insidious, he makes me doubt myself. His words crowd out my attempts to fight him. I know that I am still recovering from what he did to me before, so I am weaker, and that makes me susceptible to his words. He constantly calls me little prince or princeling to demean me. He says that and other things he knows will upset me, and I feel powerless to combat him. I also tried to ignore him, but he is very insistent. He will not be ignored.”

“You were so happy here in the garden. You must have done a good job of ignoring him.”

“If only that were true. He told me he was leaving me alone. I challenged him, but he did not respond. When I did not hear from him for a while, I thought he truly had left. I fell for his lies and thought I was rid of him, How gullible does that make me?”

“One thing you have never been, Legolas, is gullible.”

“Until now.”

“Until never,” Aragorn declared.

The elf seemed not to hear his friend’s last declaration and instead continued with his own line of thought. “The splint on my foot was removed, and I thought I was truly free again. First, walking with Elenblaith and now being here with you has been so wonderful and carefree. Then, the tree sensed Mordraug’s evil, and he began talking to me again, and...” He let his words die out.

*Keep going, little prince. You are doing so well. You almost have him convinced I am really here.” The word ‘almost’ seemed to echo through the elf’s mind.

Legolas grabbed his head again. “Shut up! Shut up!”

Aragorn put his hands on Leoglas’s shoulders. “He is talking now.” The elf nodded and the man felt himself flush with anger. It hadn’t occurred to him that he wouldn’t be feeling such a strong sense of anger, if he didn’t believe what Legolas had told him. “What does that bastard want?”

*Tell him I want him to take pity on you. Tell him I want them all to laugh at your weakness. After all, can you think of anyone weaker or more in need of pity than you?*

“Leave me alone!” Legolas became so upset he could no longer sit still and listen to the dark elf’s abusive accusations. He got up and started running, When he came to the end of the pathway he was on, he swung to his right, heading down that path. He had no destination in mind. He just wanted to outrun Mordraug’s voice.

The elf’s sudden departure had taken Aragorn completely by surprise, but he recovered quickly and ran after the elf. “Legolas! Please stop, mellon nin. We can fight this together.”

*You do not trust your friend, do you? You know he will pretend to help you, while mocking you behind your back.*Estel would never do that,* the elf yelled defiantly in his mind, as he moved down yet another path.

*Then, why are you running from him?”

Legolas stopped dead in his tracks. Why was he running from Estel? He knew the ranger wanted only to help him deal with this unbearable situation. The elf screamed out loud in frustration. Mordraug was making it impossible to think clearly. Was this the true nature of insanity?

By then, Aragorn had caught up with him. “Legolas, we can figure this out...together.”

“He will not leave me alone, Estel. He cannot be driven away.”

“He hasn’t come up against the two of us working in tandem, now has he? And, there is my father and my brothers, as well as Glorfindel. That evil creature has no chance against us all.”

A mocking laughter sounded in the elf’s head. Though Mordraug did not speak, the message was clear.

“Listen to me, Legolas. We can overcome Mordraug. He did not physically survive our last encounter; his spirit will not survive this one.”

*Perhaps, you should warn him that if he, or anyone else, tries to get rid of me, I will kill you.* As proof that his threat was very real,a blinding pain shot through the elf’s head. It was so sudden and so agonizing that it drove Legolas to his knees. His head spun with a dizziness like none other he had ever experienced.

Aragorn grabbed the elf just before his knees slammed into the stone pathway. “Legolas! What...?”

“Mordraug,” the elf managed to gasp, as he leaned heavily against his friend, trying to right a world that was swiftly whirling around him. His breathing had increased until he was almost panting. “He has threatened me with death, if you try to help me,” Legolas managed to get out between breaths.

The impact of Legolas’s words stunned the ranger. He had clearly not been expecting that. He had come to accept without doubt that the Avari was indeed speaking to Leoglas’s mind. But, the sudden physical agony that his friend had just experienced told him plainly enough that Mordraug was more than just a disembodied voice. He could inflict pain, though how that was possible, Aragorn had no clue. He just knew that there was a strong possibility the dark elf could make good on his threat to kill Legolas, if anyone tried to get rid of him. It was an incredible and frightening thought but unfortunately, an apparently viable one.

Legolas’s stomach seemed to be whirling as fiercely as his surroundings, and he found it hard to both breathe and swallow back the nausea, at the same time. Despite his aversion to throwing up, he knew that breathing was the priority of the two, and so he continued gulping air into his lungs. If the nausea produced results, then so be it.

Aragorn had wrapped both of his arms around the elf’s shoulders and held him tight. Gradually, as Legolas’s need for air lessened toward a normal level, the ranger eased him down into a sitting position. “Has Mordraug ever done this to you before?” he asked, as he freed one hand long enough to pull Legolas’s hair out of his face and smooth it down his back.

The archer, not quite able to put a voice to the answer, yet not wanting to incur further dizziness, carefully shook his head. He was not sure if his body was going to be forced to give in to the nausea. He sat up straighter, trying to take extra pressure off of his midsection. Just as his breathing slowed down to a relatively normal level, the world also slowed down, and his stomach began to settle. The pain in his head was now just a relentless throbbing but nowhere near what the pain ha d been just moments ago.

Aragorn released his tight hold on the elf but did not let go of him altogether. Noticing Legolas‘s less pained expression, he asked, “Are you feeling better?”

Legolas nodded. “The attack is over.”

*For now, princeling. But, I can make your body betray you any time I choose, just as I did when you had my pet’s venom coursing through your veins.*

Legolas groaned and closed his eyes. He well remembered the attacks he had suffered, first in the hall outside of Thranduil’s room here in Rivendell and again in the valley forest. He did not believe that Mordraug could now inflict the same kind of agony that the venom’s fire and ice had done before, since the poison was gone, but this attack had been more than enough to convince him of the truth of Mordraug‘s words.

Aragorn was beginning to think the same thing. What could he do to help his friend? “We must tell my father, Glorfindel and the twins,” Aragon reasoned. “Together we can find a way to rid you...”

Shaking his head, Legolas opened his eyes and looked at the ranger, affectively stopping him in mid-sentence. “There is no way, Estel. Mordraug will kill me. I know this. His plans were thwarted before, when he could not destroy my father. He will make sure that I pay instead.” The elf looked forlorn. “I must deal with this myself, Estel.” A horrible thought occurred to him, though whether is was his own or Mordraug’s, he knew not. “He might force me to harm one of you, if any of you interfere.”

*Oh, that is very good, little prince. I was just about to make you aware of that particular prospect. No one must interfere!* The last sentence was spoken with a ringing vehemence that could not be denied or doubted.

“You would never allow him to make you do such a thing. Your will is too strong.” Aragorn spoke with the same intensity.

“That is what I would have believed. But, you do not know the power Mordraug has on my mind. He is breaking my will down. I do not know how long I can hold out against him.”

Aragorn started to argue the point further with Legolas, but he realized that anything he said would be rejected, or at least doubted by the elf right now. He also realized that whatever else he said would be heard by the dark elf. The man was determined to talk to his family about all of this. However, anything he and his family might discuss with each other on the matter had to be done without Legolas present. Whatever plan they came up with would have to come as a total surprise to the Avari in order for it to work.

Aragorn didn’t want to say anything that would upset Legolas, but he couldn’t bring himself to just let his friend’s last statement go without a response. “I have faith in you, Legolas.”

Legolas wasn’t sure he had faith in himself, but he was not going to risk upsetting his best friend further by saying that, so he kept silent. He tried to smile but couldn't quite manage it. Instead, he squeezed Estel’s arm to acknowledge his appreciation of the ranger’s words of confidence.

Aragorn asked, “Are you able to stand?”

“Yes,” Legolas replied, and he was helped to his feet. He had no idea how he was going to deal with Mordraug now, but he knew it could not involve any of his friends. If he was killed, because they tried to help him, they would all blame themselves. Estel, he was sure, would be the worst. The man tended to take on the burden of guilt any time he could not accomplish, to his complete satisfaction, any goal he set his mind to. This situation would be no different.

Legolas sighed. He prayed to the Valar that he would be able to conquer this demon elf in his head, though at the moment, he had no idea how that could be accomplished. Otherwise, he knew, there would be no hope for him to have any kind of a normal life. He would just have to suffer alone while he tried to deal with Mordraug.

The elf almost let out a bitter laugh to think that if he truly became insane, he likely would not suffer. After all, wouldn’t he then think that having a voice in his head was perfectly normal?

TBC

Chapter Forty Nine

Not a word was spoken between Legolas and Aragorn, as they walked out of the garden and made their way up to the third floor residential section of the house. The silence was a little awkward but had not yet reached the point of being uncomfortable. Both elf and man understood the reason behind it. And, the way they both chose to deal with it was simply to say nothing at all.

Aragorn saw no constructive purpose in telling Legolas that all would be well. The man had convinced himself that there was no other possibility. He would not---could not---accept any other outcome for his friend. However, as much as he knew Legolas needed to believe that, the elf was obviously not ready to hear any more than what had already been said. Whatever words of reassurance and encouragement Aragorn could offer would have to wait until Legolas was in a receptive mood more conducive to acceptance. When that would be, he knew not.

Again, he reminded himself that the elf needed time to come to terms with what was happening and then more time to sort through it. The other side of the man’s mind reminded him that time was all well and good, but what Legolas really needed was a good old-fashioned, straightforward talking to that would serve best to snap the elf out of his despair, so he could better fight Mordraug‘s incursions into his mind. *Give him the time,* his other self argued back. The man actually shook his head at the back-and- forth debate he was having with himself. In the end, Aragorn decided that whatever was done to alleviate the situation, might have to be done to a possibly uncooperative Legolas, as much as with his direct participation.

The ranger resisted the urge to openly watch Legolas, as they walked, not wanting to make him feel self-conscious. It was impossible, though, not to steal furtive side glances at his friend from time to time. On each occasion that he did, he saw Legolas’s head down, eyes watching the floor. A stab of pain struck the man at the sight. Legolas was an elf and a royal one at that. He should, and always did, carry himself as such, head up and shoulders back. Right now, he looked...deflated. Both sides of Aragon’s mind registered that fact, and both sides were saddened at the sight.

Legolas stared down at the marble tiles beneath his feet, looking neither at the man by his side nor ahead of him. The prince knew the way to his room by heart, so he let that subconscious knowledge guide him there without any conscious effort on his part.

He was well aware of Estel’s frequent glances in his direction. He knew that he should say something to the man. Why could he not speak to his friend, something that had always been such an easy thing to do? Estel was bending over backwards to help him, just as he always did. Legolas knew the answer, of course. Mordraug! He must safeguard those he loved from that maniacal Avari, even if that meant shutting them all out. He was beginning to regret that he had told Estel anything. He knew, though, that the man would not have stopped his badgering, gentle as it surely would have been, until everything had been revealed, which it, of course, had been.

It was perhaps the look of frustration and sadness that he thought he would see on the ranger’s face that kept Leoglas’s eyes downcast. It was also shame. Though Mordraug entering their lives and turning their world upside down was not his fault, he still could not escape the idea that if not for him, Mordraug and his evil would not have descended upon them the way he had. The idea that all of what happened could be traced back to a time when Legolas was but a tiny elfling and not at all to blame for any of it never took hold in his mind. He was aware only that it was him Mordraug had sought out, and that made him responsible, unintentional as it all may have been.

Self-recrimination was not part of Legolas’s general makeup. Yet, like Estel, he sometimes tended to take the burden of guilt upon himself.

Self-sacrifice, on the other hand, was deeply ingrained in him. He knew that that part of him stemmed from being a warrior prince of his realm and as such, a protector of his people. The station to which he had been born and the career that he had chosen for himself called for sacrifices involving more than the physical, though any time he left his father’s palace stronghold to track down and destroy whatever threatened his home, he was often placed in extreme danger. It was the unavoidable consequence of his warrior status. Both of his brothers and one of his brothers-in-law, warriors all, shared those dangers. It was a fact of life in Mirkwood, ever since evil had returned to Dol Guldûr and was relentlessly spreading northward.

Yet, despite all of the dangers his body faced, those that assaulted his emotions were far worse for him, surely for any elf. He was frustrated that the Shadow could not be eradicated, or even stopped in its advance. He felt grief far more often than any elf ever should, as a result of losing friends to the Shadow and its minions. There was also the loss of freedom to roam his homeland without fear.

He knew he could go on and on, but he chose to end this painful reverie. It would do him no favors to dwell on the unhappy things in the life he led in Mirkwood, especially since he would not willingly trade that life for any other. Besides, he knew, on the whole, the good things in his life outweighed the bad. He had always been a being, who enjoyed the bounties of Eru.

When the two friends reached Legolas’s room, the elf stopped but did not reach for the door handle.

“Is there something wrong?” Aragorn asked. He winced, realizing what he had just asked. He was sure that Legolas understood that he was inquiring about why the elf was just standing there and not about the revelations that had been made earlier.

Legolas‘s hesitation was due to the fact he hated to say to his friend what he was feeling. But, say it he must. “I wish to be alone, Estel. I appreciate you wanting to help, but right now, I need to be by myself.”

Aragorn, as usual, didn’t think this was a good time to leave the elf by himself to brood, but arguing would only make the stubborn elf shut down completely. He couldn’t be helped, if he couldn’t be reached. Also, Aragorn wanted to find his father, as quickly as he could. So, he simply nodded. “If you need anything, just call me.”

Legolas was a little surprised the man did not argue with him, considering how much he had been hovering, but the elf was grateful nonetheless and hid his initial reaction. “Thank you, mellon nin,” he replied sincerely. “I will.”

They both stood for a moment, as another awkward silence descended. Each seemed to be waiting for the other to leave first. Despite Legolas’s desire to be alone, and Aragorn’s acceptance of that fact, neither truly wanted to break the connection between them.

Legolas decided that, since he was the one who wanted solitude, he should be the one to make the first move. With a small sigh, the elf opened the door and entered his room. “I will see you later, Estel,“ he said softly, his eyes still averted. The door then closed, leaving Aragorn standing alone.

With a sigh of his own, Aragorn turned and headed down the hallway in search of his father. It was time to find out just exactly what could be done to free the young Mirkwood prince from his mental and emotional prison.

Legolas stood for a moment just inside the door. When he heard the ranger‘s footsteps fade away down the hall, he pushed the bolt firmly into its slot. No matter how well-meaning his friends were, he was determined to be alone. He didn’t think anyone would try to enter without his permission. Yet, he knew they were a determined bunch in the House of Elrond, so he didn’t want to take nay chances. He hoped no one would attempt to break down his door. The elf shook his head at the thought. How ridiculous could he get? Then again, he knew the stubborn determination of his friends.

Turning to face the interior of his room, Legolas tried to decide whether he wanted to lie down on his bed or go out onto the balcony. He always chose the outdoors, when given the choice.

Legolas walked out to the railing and took a deep breath. The same wind that had ruffled his loose hair in the garden did so now. The wood elf did not try to curb it this time. The wind was as natural as any growing thing, and he let the air current play with his hair however it chose.

The archer noted absently that his beautiful blue flowers were almost standing straight up. It would take only a little more sun to stand them up the way they were meant to be. The sun had now moved past the edge of the roof, casting the balcony in shadow, though it was still bright. Only the railing was still bathed in sunshine, which is where the elf now stood.

~*~*~

Elrond heard a knock on his study door. To mark the place where he left off in the book he was reading, he placed a stiffened piece of dark blue linen, embroidered with silver runes, between the pages. Closing the book, he looked up and called out, "Come in."

Aragorn walked in with Elladan, Elrohir and Glorfindel right behind him.

Elrond couldn't imagine what had brought all three of his sons and his long-time friend trooping into his study all at once. He smiled at the twins. "You have come back early. I did not expect you until evening meal."

"We completed our task more quickly than we anticipated," said Elladan. "We were just coming upstairs, when we ran into Estel, hurrying down the hall with Glorfindel in tow." Elladan grinned at the blond elf. Somehow the words ‘in tow' sounded out of place, when referring to the formidable warrior.

A closer look at Estel's face revealed the man's distress. Elrond suddenly remembered that his youngest son had gone down to the garden earlier to talk to Legolas. It didn't take a genius to figure out that something must have gone terribly wrong while they were together.

"Sit down, all of you." Sure that whatever was amiss had to do with the Mirkwood prince, Elrond said, “Now, Estel, suppose you tell me what happened with Legolas."

The man sat down in the chair in front of Elrond’s desk, and the story poured out. Estel left nothing out from the time he first saw Legolas standing by a tree near the entrance to the garden to their parting at the elf's bedroom door.

The longer he talked, the more distressed he became. When he finished, he said in desperation, "We have to help him. Ada. Mordraug is torturing him, and..."

"And, Legolas will not survive intact, if we do not help him," Elrond finished. He stared at a spot on the edge of his desk, but he did not really see it. His mind was working through all that Estel had just related.

The twins and Glorfindel were astounded. They had known that Legolas was still troubled but naturally assumed it was just the residual effects of his recent experiences. To learn that the problem went far beyond that was stunning. So far beyond what they believed, in fact, that it was almost too incredible to accept. But, they did accept what their brother had just told them, and it hurt each one of them.

Elladan did not think he had ever seen his father so unnerved. The news about Legolas and Mordraug had obviously taken him as totally unawares as the rest of them. That, in itself, was cause for worry. However, it was Legolas that occupied the forefront of the elder twin’s thoughts. "What can we do, Ada?"

At first, Elrond did not respond, so Elrohir took that opportunity to ask, “How can Mordraug cause Legolas to have such a physical reaction?” He lowered his head and added rather shamefully, “I thought, while Estel was talking, that Legolas was imagining it all, which is easy to understand.”

Estel looked as shamed as Elrohir. “To be honest, so did I---at first. I couldn’t bring myself to tell him that. He was so distraught. I think in the beginning he himself believed he might be hallucinating. But, I saw what happened to him, the pain and dizziness. He didn’t say, but I think he was sick at his stomach, as well. An hallucination didn’t cause all that.”

“The mind is very powerful, Estel. It can be the source of things we can barely imagine.“

Estel couldn’t help but glare at his father. “You think Legolas has imagined all this?”

“I did not say that, Estel. I merely said you cannot discount the fact the mind is not at fault simply because there is a physical reaction.”

The man asked point blank, “Do you believe that Mordraug has returned and is now tormenting Leoglas’s mind?”

Elrond observed the four faces that were all turned his way. With reluctance, he said, "At present, I cannot explain it, but I do believe it. And, you may rest assured we will find a way so that Mordraug will not be able to claim Legolas." With a determination that was reflected in the set of his jaw, the elf lord added, “Mordraug will not be allowed to continue his reign of terror, nor will he be allowed even to continue his existence---in any form.”

Elrond frowned. He did not doubt his own words. The problem was that he had no idea how much time they would have to solve the problem. A solution needed to be found as soon as possible, but rushing might, at best, prove useless. On the other hand, too much caution may be just as detrimental to the young archer. A middle ground would have to be achieved, or Legolas could well be condemned to descend into madness.

~*~*~

Looking out over the garden he had just left, Legolas watched several playful birds chase each other through the spring foliage that graced the trees. The trees. His heart ached to think that if Mordraug could not be banished, he would never again be able to climb a tree, or commune with one or... He quickly cut off those thoughts. They were too painful to contemplate.

*You do not need the trees, little prince.*

“Stop calling me that,” Legolas said heatedly, not surprised the dark elf was back again.

Mordraug’s answer was to laugh.

Anger rose in the elf. “What do you really want with me, Mordraug? Are you trying to make me pay for your inability to destroy my father?”

With an effort, the Avari ignored the insult. *You do not understand, do you, princeling?*

Legolas realized that he was talking out loud to the voice in his head. He decided he preferred it that way. Hearing the sound of his own words made them seem more forceful somehow. It mattered to him not one bit whether it bothered Mordraug or not, though it didn‘t appear to. “I guess I do not understand,” the younger elf now admitted. “Suppose you tell me.”

*I will be happy to explain it to you, little Greenleaf.*

Legolas cringed at the use of his oldest brother’s pet name for him. Having it spoken in the snide tone of the dark elf galled him, but he refused to acknowledge it out loud.

Mordraug, well aware of Legolas’s feelings and enjoying the irritation it caused the young wood elf, continued. “I killed you, because I wanted to hurt Thranduil before I killed HIM. That did not work out. Killing you right now is no longer in my plans.* The dark elf hesitated, hoping to add a sense of anxiousness and possible foreboding to what he was about to say.

Legolas was apprehensive, just as Mordraug had hoped. He waited unhappily for the Avari’s next words.

*My plan is quite simple really. I will take over your mind to the point that I can command you to do whatever I wish, whenever I wish it, no matter how much it goes against your own wishes. And, what I wish first is to send you back to Mirkwood.” Another pause, which elicited a puzzled look on Legolas‘s face. *..to kill Thranduil.*

Legolas‘s eyes were huge with shock. He held his breath until his emotions, no longer able to be held in check, exploded. “Nothing will ever make me do such a thing! I will NEVER kill my father!” he screamed.

*You think not? Let me show you just how much power I have over you already.*

Legolas stood perfectly still, his heart racing. He was angry with himself for losing control. His body tensed, preparing to endure yet another attack of searing pain, dizziness and nausea. He was not expecting what actually happened next.

*You love those blue flowers over there, do you not?* He waited a moment, but was not surprised, when he received no reply.

At the mention of the flowers, Legolas looked over at them. They waved gently in the wind, and their strong fragrance swirled around him.

*Go to that flower box,* the dark elf commanded.

Legolas shook his head. He wasn’t sure what Mordraug had in mind, but he knew it would be something that would greatly upset him.

*Go to the flower box!* Mordraug said again, more forcefully. *Go, you pitiful elfling. You do not have the necessary will power to defy me. Do as I say.*

The next thing Legolas knew he had walked over to the wooden box and was now standing in front of it. The flower petals seemed to wave to him in imitation of a butterfly’s wings. His mind went back to the dream he had had of the picnic with his parents so very long ago. Mordraug’s voice rudely brought him back to the present.

*Good, little prince. Now, pull them all up.*

The archer could not believe his ears. He just stood and stared into the box. “No,” he whispered.

*PULL THEM ALL UP!* Mordraug screamed so loudly that Legolas put this hands over his ears, as he had done down in the garden earlier. A sharp pain accompanied the dark elf’s angry voice. The pain lasted only a few second but served to re-enforce the command.

To Legolas’s horror he watched as his hands reached down and grabbed the stems of two of the plants and ripped them out of the soil.

*ALL of them. I do not like repeating myself. If you make me say it again, you will pay dearly for your disobedience.*

Pulling up the rest of the plants, Leoglas’s beloved flowers were now in ruins, and he stared down at his hands, as if they were not his at all but were instead some evil things that belonged to someone else. Surely, his hands could not have done such a thing.

*Now think. How long do you believe it will take to convince you to destroy that thieving elf that has stolen Greenwood and kept me from ruling it, when it rightfully belongs to me? Soon, ALL of your pathetic family will be eliminated---by you.*

The horror of Mordruag’s words struck the wood elf like a physical blow. Mordraug was planning on using him as the instrument of his family’s destruction! Legolas’s knees buckled, and he sat down heavily on the stone balcony. He leaned back against the railing and closed his eyes, moaning in emotional agony.

The plants, with their delicate blue flowers, fell from his hands into his lap. He ignored the loose dirt that lay scattered on and around him. Legolas put his head in his hands and wept.

The dark elf just laughed.

TBC

Chapter Fifty

Mordraug was very pleased with himself. Securing his initial power over the prince had proven to be somewhat harder than he had at first thought. More work would need to be done. Upsetting Legolas by talking to him was one thing. Making him do something he didn’t want to do was something else entirely. That had worked wonderfully well. He had just won a decisive victory in the battle for control of the young prince’s mind by making him destroy his beloved flowers.

The flowers themselves were of no importance. It was the act of their destruction that mattered. That idea had come to the dark elf just as Legolas had gone out onto the balcony. To Mordraug, it had been a brilliant stroke of genius. Nothing else he could have come up with would have dome more toward demonstrating to Legolas his ultimate defeat than that simple act. He knew the archer would be horrified at committing such an act of violence against a part of Nature that he loved. It was a smaller and more convenient version of making him chop down a tree. Perhaps, that could come later, Mordraug thought with a malevolent grin.

Now that his power had been solidly established, Mordraug knew that the remainder of Legolas’s fall into his clutches was only a matter of time. He noted with a perverse pleasure that the wood elf was extremely distraught and thus easy prey for the final push to gain complete control of his mind. After that was accomplished, Thranduil’s demise, and that of his entire family, would ensue. Then, his revenge would be complete.

Mordraug listened as Legolas wept, not only at what he had done, but more importantly, at the implications of it. The sound of any weeping elf, no matter who it was, filled the Avari with joy. It was like drinking a fine wine. And, he smiled to himself, because there was much more where that came from.

He considered all elves, other than himself, of course, as worthy only of domination or elimination. It bothered him not at all that immortals died, be it by his hand or another. Not one of them had ever cared for him. He certainly was never blessed with anyone’s love or even their friendship. Even among the Avari, he was an outcast. In none of his thoughts had he ever come to realize that most of his estrangement from other elves was his fault. He considered himself far above them all and had vowed that one day he would get revenge on those who had shunned him. They would either bow to his superiority or die. It was that simple and had become the single-minded objective that had sent him on the road to obsession and madness.

It had been the first time Mordraug had laid eyes on the vast beauty of Greenwood the Great that he vowed to himself that he would have it. At the time, power and jealousy had been his sole reason for wanting the throne of the woodland realm. After a while, he twisted his desire into the belief that he rightfully deserved to be its ruler. In the end, he had convinced himself that Greenwood belonged to him and that the House of Oropher had to be destroyed, for it was that elf, who had originally stolen it from him, and it was his descendents, who were still keeping it from him.

Now, his grand plans lay in shambles. He was dead. He had no body. He would never be able to take his place as the rightful King of Greenwood. As usual, he did not turn any of the blame on himself. The fact that he had angered the snake by betraying it until it killed him was totally overlooked. Mordraug blamed Thranduil for his demise. And, it was Thranduil that would be the ultimate target of his revenge. Being able to use the elven king’s youngest child to exact that revenge was just too sweet.

The dark elf turned his attention back to Legolas. He decided that it was better to leave the younger elf alone, for the moment, to ponder the hopelessness of his situation rather than to continually batter him mentally. So, Mordraug would now move back into the deeper recesses of the prince’s mind and just observe. He felt that whatever happened next might well turn out to be fuel for the fires of madness into which he was attempting to plunge Legolas.

~*~*~

Time for Legolas had blurred. He didn’t know nor particularly care how long he has been sitting on the balcony. He was aware only of the fact that he had finally run out of tears. He had, after a while, pulled his legs up near his chest and was resting his forehead down on his folded arms, which were atop his knees. He sighed deeply. Knowing that Mordraug was privy to every thought he had, Legolas made an effort not to think at all. Try as he might simply to banish his thoughts, he found that he could not shut his mind off. Too much had happened to just stop thinking. Even if he had, it would only have been a temporary reprieve. Thinking of something else wasn’t going to work, either. So, all that was left to him was to figure out his next move.

What was he going to do? What could he do? As he had explained to Estel, he couldn’t argue with Mordraug. That did no good. He couldn’t ignore him, either. That was just as useless. Mordraug talked to him, saying horrible things, whenever he chose. Legolas was content with one thing, however. Mordraug may have been able to cause doubt in his mind, but he had not managed to turn him against his father or his friends. *And he never will*, Legolas thought. Of that he was certain. Yet, the Avari had forced him to destroy his beloved blue flowers. Legolas would never have believed that possible.

The archer lifted his head and looked down at the plants that now lay on the balcony beside him. He had taken them from his lap and tenderly laid them there, when he had drawn his legs up to his chest. He had thought about replanting them, but knew that would have been a futile gesture. The roots were ripped apart, some remaining in the soil. There was not enough time left for the roots to re-establish themselves, because they were flowers that grew and flourished in the cool of spring and spring was now giving way to summer. Even with strong roots, they wouldn’t have been able to take hold in the rapidly warming weather. Knowing they would soon have withered and died a natural death did nothing to assuage Legolas’s guilt and shock at what he had been forced to do to them.

“I am sorry, my little friends,” he whispered, as he gently separated the flowers from their stems. There were a dozen of them, and he held them all in his cupped hands. Their velvety petals caressed his skin, as the breeze that still blew in from the garden swirled around them. He lifted them up to his nose and deeply inhaled their intoxicating fragrance. A sad smile crossed his face.

As he lowered the blossoms, he sighed. “Is this how it will end? Will I be helplessly holding my family in my arms, as they, too...” He violently shook his head. That horrible thought must have come from Mordraug. “It will not happen that way, evil one. You will be the one to die---again and for good!”

Mordraug started to say, *You do not really believe that.* But, he decided not to get into another debate just yet. He had decided to remain hidden, and he would continue that way---for the present. Not knowing when he would show up seemed to upset Legolas even more than constantly talking did. Mordraug would employ both methods to secure and increase his hold on the young wood elf.

~*~*~

With reluctance, Elrond sent all three of his sons out of his study. The discussion had continued in much the same vain as it had. However, no one had expressed any ideas. Elrond knew he wouldn’t be able even to begin thinking about a solution while looking at the faces of his forlorn sons. Their desperate looks ripped at his already torn heart.

He told them to go rest in their rooms, though that had been a suggestion, not a command. He had the feeling that wherever they went, it would be together. The elf lord was not surprised to see that Glorfindel did not follow them out of the room. In fact, the golden-haired elf had now come to sit in the chair in front of the desk recently vacated by Estel. “What are your thoughts, my friend?” Glorfindel asked.

Elrond sat for a moment gathering those very thoughts. Finally, he looked up. “I am thinking that we have a very large problem to solve.”

Glorfindel nodded. A puzzled frown crossed his face. “How can Mordraug be inhabiting the mind of another elf? That does not seem possible for someone, who is not a wizard.”

“I know,” the dark-haired elf lord said almost absently, though his mind was concentrating fully on the words of his friend.

“You mentioned the power of the mind earlier. I know that it can do amazing and even frightening things. I have seen it myself. But, do you think Legolas could be so deep into a psychotic state that he, unknowingly, caused himself the pain and dizziness Estel described?”

Elrond took several moments to respond. “It is possible. It would certainly make more sense than the alternative: that Legolas truly is ‘possessed’ by Mordraug’s spirit.” He shook his head and looked his long-time friend in the eye. “Yet, for some reason that I cannot begin to explain, I believe Legolas is not imagining this, nor causing himself this harm. I think that Mordraug has somehow found a way to return in the way that Legolas described to Estel, chilling as that prospect is.”

Incredible was Glorfindel’s silent reaction. Yet, he was neither surprised nor did he, for one moment, doubt Elrond. He turned the idea over in his mind and not for the first time, either. The fact that Elrond believed it gave a great deal of weight to the idea. How do you reconcile the fantastic with the normal? Does the word ‘normal’ even apply in this case?

Elrond smiled. “We have both lived a very long time, my friend. We have seen a great many things that defy logic. In a world where magic, both light and dark, exist it is often the unusual that becomes the norm.” Elrond looked down at Vilya. “This ring has incredible power. Is that normal, because it is a constant part of our lives here in Imladris, or is it abnormal, because it has the power to do things beyond our own abilities?”

Glorfindel smiled to himself. He could tell that Elrond was about to go off on one of his philosophical bents. They were always informative even entertaining in their own way, but he felt that now was not the time. So, very gently he steered the conversation back to the problem at hand, using something Elrond himself had said. “Do you think Vilya can be used to help Legolas?”

Elrond gave his friend a small smile. He knew exactly what Glorfindel had done. The blond elf lord was very clever and exceedingly diplomatic, though he could be sternly forthright, when the need arose. “I think that may be the only thing that can,” Elrond declared firmly. “What we have to figure out is how best to use its power against that horrible creature.”

Glorfindel hated to ask, but the subject needed to be broached. “Do you think we can destroy Mordraug without destroying Legolas’s mind in the process?”

“I have thought of that. Anything less is not acceptable. We cannot sacrifice the very essence of who Legolas is in order to destroy Mordraug, though knowing our prince, he would rather be sacrificed than let Mordraug continue to exist to harm others. Parting Legolas from Mordraug and sparing Legolas will all depend on the plan we come up with. We will have one shot at this and one shot only. Mordraug must be blindsided.”

“I agree, but Mordraug has to be aware that you know he has returned,” Glorfindel stated.

“Oh yes, I am quite sure that he knows.”

“And, he does not care?” Glorfindel tone reflected his puzzlement. It didn’t seem like a very smart thing for the dark elf not to care. He disliked Elrond intensely, nay despised him, but he was surely aware that the Lord of Imladris was much too formidable an opponent to disregard.

“No,” Elrond said in reply to Glorfindel’s question. “He is so arrogant that he does not think I, or anyone else for that matter, can defeat him. Remember, none of us could stop him all those centuries ago, when he showed up and began killing Thranduil‘s people. Nor did any of us stop him this time in the valley forest. It was his own snake that did him in, physically at least. Despite that setback he still believes himself to be invincible.”

“And, that will be his downfall,” Glorfindel stated, as sure it was true as he was that he was breathing.

“And, that will be his downfall,” Elrond echoed.

Both elf lords smiled at each other. Those smiles soon faded, however. They first had to figure out the exact plan for destroying Mordraug and freeing Legolas. Only when that was implemented successfully, could they even begin to be pleased with themselves.

~*~*~

Aragorn had accompanied his brothers to Elladan’s room, and even before the twins had time to settle down, the ranger had immediately begun pacing.

Elrohir leaned against the door after he had closed it. Only the inflexibility of his body pointed out, to anyone practiced enough to see it, that he was tense.

Elladan sat on the side of his bed. After only a moment, he said, “Estel, will you please sit down. You are making me nervous.”

Aragorn snorted. “You rarely get nervous, Elladan, and even rarer am I the cause.”

Elrohir laughed. “Estel, you are usually the main cause of it.”

The man glared at the younger twin but said nothing further on the subject. Had he not been so worried about Legolas, he most likely would have continued the banter. As it was, his thoughts turned in a darker direction.

Both of this elven brothers sobered, as well. Neither knew what to say first. Finally, Elladan started. “Estel, you were able to observe Legolas while he told you about Mordraug appearing in his mind. How did he seem?”

The ranger cast his mind back to the scene in the garden. He well remembered the archer’s tone of voice, his body language and the look in his eyes. “He was baffled, upset and frightened. I have never seen him like that, not even the time he remembered what Mordraug had done to him with the snake.”

Elladan frowned. “That was physical. I know how horrible it was, but I can tell you that believing someone is trying to take over your mind is worse.” The elder elf shivered, remembering a time, years ago, when a magician had tried to use mind control to turn him into a slave. He took a deep breath and offered his two brothers a smile. They both knew how traumatic that episode had been for Elladan, who never liked to talk about it. They respected those feelings now.

“I know this has been covered before, but are you absolutely positive this is not born from Legolas’s experiences?” Elrohir asked the question, because he wanted to be sure that was the case before proceeding. He felt certain he could trust his human brother to know the difference.

As expected, Aragorn’s head snapped up, and he again glared at Elrohir, in defense of his friend. “You think he is imagining all this?” His voice reflected real anger.

Elrohir held his hands out in front of him in a gesture of surrender, as he moved farther into the room, stopping near the ranger. “Please, Estel, do not take my question wrong. I am, in no way, implying that Legolas is not telling the truth. Except for always saying he is well when he is not, the elf does not know how to lie. I was merely trying to determine how likely it is that Mordraug is really back.”

“You must admit that it all sounds very implausible,” Elladan stated. “However,” he hastened to say before Estel became angry again, “I have seen things in my time far more far-fetched than this.”

“So, do you believe it’s real?”

“Yes, Estel, I do,” Elladan admitted. In his case, the magician had been a man, who had been killed and had remained dead. That was hardly the same situation as this one, so he pushed the memory back where it usually stayed.

Elrohir nodded his agreement, “Yes, I believe it, too.”

“Then, we must find a way to rid Legolas of that monster,” Aragorn said firmly. “He cannot go on like this for much longer. If you had only seen him in the garden.”

Elrohir shook his head, glad that he had not seen Legolas suffer any more at the hands of the dark elf. In an effort to offer hope, he said, “You know that Ada and Glorfindel are discussing everything right this moment, just as we are.” He smiled. “I have the feeling that they will come up with an answer long before we do.”

Aragorn couldn‘t help displaying the beginning of a grin. Knowing his father and Glorfindel, he didn‘t doubt Elrohir‘s words for a minute. “As long as someone does, I will be happy.” With that said, he headed for the door.

“Where are you going?” Elrohir asked, although he knew the answer.

“I’m going to be with Legolas. He’s been alone long enough,” the ranger answered, making it clear by his tone that he would brook no argument. None was forthcoming but only because his brothers agreed with him. Satisfied, he left the room.

The twins nodded at one another, each knowing what the other intended to do. Following their human brother out of the room, they headed in the opposite direction toward their father’s study to find out what the plan of action was going to be.

TBC

Chapter Fifty One

Elrond sighed as both of his elven sons along with Glorfindel left the library. The four of them had discussed what could be done to help Legolas. Elrond had listened to each of his sons and his friend. Unfortunately, nothing had been decided, because each plan had at least one fatal flaw that rendered it useless. Instead of a definite plan of action, what came out of the talk was frustration and a growing feeling of desperation.

The twins had come up with the same idea the two elder elves had: that Vilya would probably have to be used. None of them came to that decision frivolously. It was a most serious thing for the Ring of Air to be used for anything other than the protection of Imladris. However, it had been made quite clear to Elrond when Gil-galad passed the ring to him, that its use was entirely at Elrond’s discretion. The High King would never have given the powerful elven ring to anyone whose judgment he had not trusted implicitly.

In the intervening centuries, the elf lord had been very sparing in the ring’s use. It took a great deal of thought, carefully weighing the pros and cons, before Elrond had called on the ring’s power, and then it had been only for the most dire of reasons. Right now, the dark-haired elf lord was not totally convinced that Legolas couldn’t be pulled out of his current situation by any other means. All possibilities would have to be explored first.

Elladan and Elrohir were not so sure that anything could be done short of using Vilya. The doubt weighed heavily on them. After an intense explanation of both sides of the debate, they had finally came to agree with Elrond’s view for the need to be cautious. They, too, had ultimate faith in their father’s judgment.

Elrond knew he could not wait until he was sure that Mordraug could not be banished from Legolas’s mind another way before coming up with a last-ditch strategy to use Vilya. Doing that could well prove disastrous for the young prince. Elrond had to be ready to implement an alternative plan immediately. It hadn’t taken long for such a plan to begin forming in his mind.

Elrond had decided that he could do nothing until he talked to Legolas. He had to find out for himself the depth of the young elf’s possession and his current state of mind. Then, and only then, could his plan be completely formulated. However, he now had more hope than he had previously held.

As the discussion was beginning in Elrond’s study, Aragorn arrived at Legolas’s door. The man did not get an answer to his knock. He wasn’t really surprised at that, though he was frustrated about it. He knocked again and waited. He didn’t want to enter the elf’s room without his permission, but he was determined Legolas should not be alone any longer with his depressing thoughts, plus he couldn‘t be sure that Mordraug was not battering his friend with his malicious lies at that very moment.

The idea that Legolas would spend more time by himself to deal with Mordraug’s taunts filled the ranger with dread. Also, there was no way of knowing if the elf would suffer another physical attack. The man knew he would not be able to stop one, but he could be there to offer comfort, as well as a voice to counter whatever the dark elf was saying to the archer.

When Aragorn didn’t receive an answer the third time he knocked, he tried the door handle. It moved downward easily but when the man pushed on the door, it didn’t budge. *Bolted,* he thought. That did not bode well.

The last time he had found himself in this same situation, Legolas had let him in. That now seemed so long ago. With renewed hope, he knocked again. “Legolas, it’s me, Estel. Please open the door. I wish to talk with you.” When there was still no response, he added, “I‘m going to sit out here until you open the door.” It was not an idle threat. He was prepared to do just that.

Legolas was still sitting out on the balcony. With his keen elven hearing, he clearly heard both the knocks and the ranger’s threat. *Ah, Estel. You will not let me be, will you?*

With a reluctance that made his body feel as if it was weighted down with lead, he rose to his feet and walked slowly to the door. He hesitated only a second before sliding the bolt back and pulling the door open.

Aragorn stood and looked at the elf. Tears tried to force their way into his eyes at the sight he was looking at, but he stubbornly forced them back. Legolas’s countenance was worse than the man had expected. The elf looked haggard, tired and totally without hope. He wanted to grab his friend in a tight hug and tell him all would be well, but he didn’t dare. There was a look in the elf’s eyes that clearly said he was not ready for that. Perhaps, after they talked he could convince them both that a bright future was ahead of them.

Legolas turned without saying a word and walked out to the balcony again, stopping at the railing and staring once again at the lush, vibrant garden.

Aragorn silently followed him. At first, he kept his eyes on Legolas’s back or rather the long golden hair that cascaded down the elf‘s back. He stepped up beside Legolas, deciding to approach the subject of Mordraug very slowly. “Beautiful, isn’t it?” he said as he, too, admired the largest of Rivendell’s gardens.

It was then that the man felt something under his left foot. When he looked down, he saw the stems and dirt-filled roots of several plants. He looked over at the flower box and saw that it was empty. He knew the flowers were about ready to die off until next spring, yet there was something decidedly amiss in the scene. He couldn’t quite figure it out. Frowning, he tilted his head in thought. Then, he noticed the blue blossoms that were lying scattered around the stems.

It hit him, then. Always before, Legolas pulled the plants up after the flowers had quit blooming and the leaves were beginning to dry out and curl up around the edges. Legolas then carefully removed the plants from the dirt, neatly smoothing it over. Then, he took what remained of the stems and roots and put them in a sack to be discarded. Never had he pulled them up while the flowers still bloomed, and he certainly never ripped them up and lay them, with dirt attached, on the balcony.

Glancing at the elf’s face, Aragorn saw a stricken look on the fair features. Did it have anything to do with the condition of the plants? he wondered. Knowing there was only one way to find out, he asked, “Legolas, what happened to your flowers?”

For what seemed like an hour, Legolas did not say a word. He kept his eyes on the garden below. Finally, with a heavy sigh, he replied. “Mordraug made me tear them up.” Hearing those words spoken aloud pained him all the more.

“What do you mean, Mordraug made you tear them up?” Aragorn had a sinking feeling he knew, but he needed to hear Legolas’s explanation.

“He wanted to demonstrate the power he held over me, so he forced me to rip the plants up.” The elf turned to Aragorn and looked him in the eye. “To my utter horror, I did exactly what he told me to do. And, he did not even have to bring me to my knees with pain. All he had to do was yell at me, and I gave in. I killed my flowers.”

The ranger was astounded. He knew, of course, the taunting that Mordraug had done to Legolas and the physical pain he had inflicted. But to force Legolas to do something so against the elf‘s very nature was shocking, to say the least. Aragorn’s anger rose to the surface. “That bastard is perverted beyond belief.”

In a quiet voice, Legolas said, “You do not yet know the worst of it, Estel.”

The man was afraid to hear the rest of it. He looked at Legolas, who had once again turned his head to look at the trees and flowers that stretched out before him to the far wall. It was as if he was trying to soak up every inch of their beauty just to keep himself going.

“Tell me, Legolas. What else did Mordraug say to you?”

With a hitch in his voice that was so unusual for the normally confident elf, Legolas answered the ranger’s question, “Because Mordraug is dead, he cannot rule Mirkwood the way he envisioned doing. So, as his ultimate revenge, he wants me to go to Mirkwood and kill my family. Then, he will either kill me or, I suspect, force me to kill myself.”

Aragorn was speechless. The horror of Legolas’s words struck the ranger hard. Without thinking, he replied. “You would never do such a thing.”

“Would you have ever believed I would destroy these flowers the way I did?” He looked down at the withering stems and blossoms being blown by the wind around his feet. “He can make me do it, Estel. He can make me kill...” His voice died away to silence.

Taking hold of Legolas’s left shoulder, Aragorn turned the elf to face him. “No, he can’t. There is a big difference between destroying flowers and destroying your family.”

“I know,” Legolas whispered. “But, Mordraug says he will control my mind to the point that I will do whatever he says, no matter how much it goes against my wishes.” There was a growing tone of defeat in Legolas’s voice that said he already believed fighting the dark elf was a waste of time.

Aragorn grabbed Legolas’s other shoulder and squeezed both shoulders tightly. “You are too tough to give in to that kind of control. Your heart is pure, Legolas, and your mind is strong. We will help you fight him. You must not give up.”

Legolas shook his head. “I thank you for what you and your family are trying to do to help me, but it is no use. My mind has been taken over, and there is nothing anyone can do now. Mordraug has won. Please, Estel, do not become involved.”

Anger flashed in the man’s eyes. “Do not become involved? Legolas, I am involved. And, you can be sure that I will remain so until this whole situation is resolved. You are my best friend. Years ago, didn‘t we make solemn promises to always aid and protect each other?”

The archer gave a short, bitter laugh. “We did not know about Mordraug then.”

“And, you think that only the simple things count? You believe something unexpectedly evil should just be allowed to wipe out the promises we made to each other?”

“I would not see you harmed, Estel. Do you not understand? Suppose Mordraug forces me to hurt you? I might not be able to stop myself from doing that any more than I was able to stop myself from killing my flowers. I could not live with myself, if I did harm to you or any of your family.”

Frustrated beyond enduring, Aragorn said, “If I was in your place, would you walk away from trying to help me just because things became difficult, and I asked you not to get involved?” He expected to see a flash of anger in the elf’s blue-gray eyes. There was none. There was no emotion but defeat.

Aragorn was not surprised when Legolas refused to answer that question. However, he was surprised at what he elf did say. “All of your feelings stem from your knowledge of the elf you have known most of your life. I am no longer that elf, Estel. Mordraug has changed me.”

“You are not exactly the same, Legolas. I agree with that. All of us are the sum total of all our life experiences. We constantly change as we live our lives day by day. But, deep inside our nature is set. That does not change. What Mordraug put us through has altered each of us in small ways. But, that does not mean that you are someone completely different. What happened to you was horrendous, as well as being a recent event in your life. You have not recovered mentally or physically. You must not give in, when victory is yet so close.”

The elf offered the human a small smile. “You are ever the optimist, Estel.”

The man returned the smile. “Well, I had a good teacher.”

Just then there was another knock on the door to Legolas’s room. The elf walked to the balcony doorway and called out, “Come in.” He knew there was no way he was going to keep out anyone determined to see him. Estel was not the only stubborn person in the House of Elrond.

Elrond entered the room and closed the door. He turned to face the younger elf. Before he said anything he spotted his youngest son standing out on the balcony. The man’s presence didn’t surprise him at all. His absence would have. “Estel, I would very much like to speak with Legolas alone.”

The ranger nodded. He lightly touched Legolas’s shoulder as he passed. Elrond did the same to his foster son, as the man left the room. “Legolas, may we talk?”

The archer inclined his head. He stepped aside and swept his arm toward the balcony and followed the elf lord outside. He sighed, sure that he would soon be receiving the same words of encouragement he had just heard from Estel. He surprised himself by not feeling irritated over that fact. Instead, a feeling of resignation settled over him.

Elrond, unlike Estel, noticed the flowers immediately. Upon asking about the reason for their condition, he received the same explanation the ranger had listened to earlier. Forcing back a grim expression, Elrond came to stand beside the younger elf.

“It cannot be easy for you having that evil elf in your head.”

Legolas jerked his head around to face Elrond. “You believe me?”

With a look of understanding at Legolas’s surprise, Elrond said, “Yes, I do. We all do.”

“Then, you will believe me when I tell you that Mordraug wants me to kill my family.” He searched the elf lord’s face for a reaction to that piece of information. There was none.

“I would have been worried had he not planned such a thing.” Elrond’s voice was soft.

Legolas was completely puzzled. “You knew he wanted me to do that?”

“No, not specifically. But, I know how much he wants Thranduil dead. He is furious about the destruction of his long-held plans, so such feelings of revenge coming from him is to be expected. He will be stopped in his endeavor to force you to be party to his maniacal plans for revenge.”

*That insufferable elf. Tell him that he cannot stop me.*

Legolas closed his eyes and shook his head. At first, Elrond thought the young archer was disagreeing with what he had just said. That idea was soon dispelled, when Legolas said, “Mordraug says you cannot stop him.”

“So, he has come out to join the discussion.” Elrond was tempted to call Mordraug a cowardly weakling, but he knew that his words would surely anger Mordraug to the point that he would bring pain to Legolas and no amount of pleasure gained from the name-calling was worth that.

*Tell that elf lord that I will not engage in verbal sparring with him. I just want him to know he cannot stop me from fulfilling my plans. Does he intend on safeguarding your family by locking you into a small room somewhere so that you cannot get free to harm them?”

“What did he say?” Elrond asked, sure that Mordraug was continuing to spew his poisoned words to Legolas.

“He wants to know if you intend on locking me away so I cannot harm them.” The very thought of being locked away frightened Legolas. He didn’t want to believe that Elrond would do that to him, but then again, that may be the only recourse. The young wood elf couldn’t help but look at Elrond with a pleading expression on hi face. His fear also shown clearly in his blue-gray eyes.

“No, Legolas. I would never lock you away.” He took Legolas’s face in both of his hands. “That monster seeks only to bend you to his will. Do not listen to his vicious words.”

Mordraug laughed. *Do not listen to me? Does he not realize that you have no choice in the matter? That stupid elf. Is this the one you are looking to for salvation? As for not locking you away, how else can he stop you from following my commands?” Admit it, Lord Elrond. There is no hope for me. You would be forced to lock me away to keep my family safe, and that in itself would eventually kill me.”

“We can figure it out, Legolas. Please, hold to faith.”

*He wants you to put your guard down, so he can take you away. Do not trust him.”*

Legolas did not notice that Mordraug was not using the terms ‘little prince’ or ‘princeling‘. If he had, he would have recognized that Mordraug was no longer trying to taunt or berate him. He was now simply trying to insinuate his will into the elf’s mind in a more cunning way. The Avari was not stupid. He had finally realized that angering Legolas made him more defiant and consequently less pliable. Subtlety was called for now.

Legolas knew he should trust Elrond. It was the right thing to do. But, it was not the best thing to do. The truth suddenly hit the prince like a bolt of lightning. There was only one solution, only one way to save his family and friends, and destroy Mordraug in the process. It was the perfect solution, though the thought filled him with fear. Just as he had always been prepared to give his life as a warrior in battle to save others, he could do no less now, for this definitely was a battle. And, it was a battle he had to win.

Without a warning of any kind, Legolas put his left hand on the top of the railing and vaulted over it. As he fell toward the ground, he heard Elrond call his name. He briefly caught a glimpse of the elf lord leaving over the railing, a look of horror on his face.

Legolas regretted not being able to say goodbye to all those he loved. The way out of the whole mess had been decided and then acted upon in a split second. It was the only way he could keep from alerting both Elrond and Mordraug to what he was going to do far enough in advance for them to be able to stop him.

With Elrond’s desperate voice calling his name and Mordraug’s panicked screams of *NO!* ringing in his ears, Legolas’s body plummeted downward, hitting the solid ground with a bone-jarring impact. The incredible pain that lanced through his entire being lasted barely long enough to register it before the world went black and silent.

TBC

Chapter Fifty Two

As Elrond had realized what was happening, he had reached out to grab Legolas’s hand, as it slipped off the railing. All he managed to do was graze the young elf’s fingers with his own an instant before they were pulled away from him. Legolas had been too fast, the move too sudden and the reaction too slow.

Elrond’s face reflected the horror of watching Legolas’s body fall away from him. When it struck the ground, he winced and drew in his breath. The impact was a hard one, and the healer in him knew that if such a fall did not kill him outright, it would have done serious damage to the wood elf‘s body.

With no thought other than to reach Legolas as soon as possible, the dark-haired elf lord turned and began running out of the room and down the hall. He didn’t notice his youngest son, sitting on a wooden bench that was set against the wall on the other side of the wide corridor.

“Ada?” Aragorn said, completely startled. “What’s wrong?” If his father answered, the man never heard it. He was momentarily puzzled. If anything had happened to Legolas, his father surely wouldn’t have left. Yet, Aragorn had a sinking feeling that something was terribly wrong.

He peered into Legolas’s room, but it looked to be empty. He knew his friend had been out on the balcony earlier, so that was the logical place to look. With only a quick glance back at his rapidly disappearing father, he ran into Legolas’s room.

Rushing out onto the balcony, the ranger was baffled to find himself alone. He stood in the center and looked in both of the back corners, remembering that he had almost missed Legolas sitting in one of them the morning after a dream had revealed what Mordraug had done to him. Legolas was not there.

It made no sense to the ranger. He had been waiting outside of Legolas’s room the whole time his father had talked to the Mirkwood elf. No one but Elrond had left, so where in Arda was Legolas now, and why had his father run out of here so fast?

Aragorn walked over to the railing, a frown on his face. He looked out over the garden, half expecting to see Legolas heading toward it, though how he would have gotten there was a mystery. There were no tree branches or vines near the balcony that he could’ve used to climb down. Even had the elf been in the garden, that still did not explain why Elrond had left in such a hurry.

Mulling this puzzle over, Aragorn idly looked down. What the ranger saw froze his blood, as a knot of panic instantly formed in his stomach. Legolas’s crumpled body lay on the grass almost thirty feet below the balcony. “LEGOLAS! “ the man screamed. Like Elrond moments ago, Aragorn whirled around and ran as fast as he could out of the room, frantic to reach his friend.

Elrond reached the first floor in record time. He was heading for the nearest rear door, when Elladan and Elrohir emerged from the corridor that led down to the dining hall. “Come quickly,” Elrond said urgently. His pace never slowed.

The twins looked at each other, but did not even attempt to question their father. Instead, they simply fell in behind him and ran outside. They continued to follow, as Elrond turned left and ran along the grassy area next to the building. Neither brother saw Legolas until Elrond abruptly stopped and dropped down to his knees.

“By the Valar,” Elladan breathed, when he moved around his father and saw Legolas lying motionless. “What has happened?”

Elrond shook his head, not wanting to take the time to explain. “Later,” was his only reply. He put his fingers against Legolas’s neck. “His heart is beating.” *But, does he breathe?* he wondered to himself.

The young elf’s chest was not moving, so Elrond put his ear next to Legolas’s mouth, which was partly open. Elrond closed his eyes in relief, as he heard a faint whisper of sound and felt the barest touch of air against his ear.

Legolas was lying partly on his right side and partly on his back. Landing that way instead of fully on his back was the only thing that had kept all the air from being forced from his lungs. It also was probably the only thing that saved his life.

Elrond did not have to tell either of his sons not to try and move Legolas even the tiniest bit, which could easily cause more damage. He had to be checked over first, and as Elladan and Elrohir held firm to the younger elf, Elrond wasted no time in doing just that.

“Leoglas!” Aragorn yelled out just then, as he came rushing up and dropped down to his knees by Legolas’s head. “What...?”

Elladan shook his head. “Let Ada examine him first.”

Though anxious to know what had happened, the man just nodded. He would have to wait to find out what he wanted to know. Seeing to Legolas was the most important thing right now.

Elrond ran his hands over Legolas’s entire body, feeling of each area of his anatomy, trying to ascertain the extent of the injuries the young warrior had surely sustained.

“What did you find?” Elladan asked, when it was obvious his father‘s exam had ended.

“He has a broken right shoulder, and several broken ribs on the same side. I believe he probably has a concussion, as well.” He paused and sighed. “But, that is not the worst of it.”

After many years of working with Elrond, both twins and their human brother were able to read their father pretty well. They had seen the same look he had on his face now many times in the past. It frightened them all.

Elrohir frowned. “Ada, what is it?”

“I felt a slight bulge in the back of his neck. It may be broken.”

“No!” came the sound of a strangled cry from Aragorn. “Legolas cannot have a broken neck.” The ring of denial was evident in the young man’s distraught voice.

“I do not know that for sure, Estel. There is obviously some function below his neck, since he is able to breathe on his own, though his breaths are quite shallow. However, there may be partial paralysis...”

Elrond did not get the chance to finish his prognosis. “He is not paralyzed.” If the man’s will alone could make that statement true, it would be so. In fact, if his will alone could dictate the outcome, Legolas would stand up right then and smile at them all.

All three of the elves knew that Estel was not speaking from any kind of healer’s assessment. His declaration was purely from the heart, a result of the fact he would not accept such a fate for his best friend.

This was not the time to argue the fine points of accepting what could be a correct diagnosis. Now, was the time to aid the young archer as best they could. The sooner he was stabilized, the better the outcome might be.

“Elrohir,” said Elrond, “go and get a neck brace and a litter.”

The youngest twin eased his hands away from Legolas, making sure that Aragorn took his place, before he let go completely. He then jumped up and sprinted back into the house.

Elrohir quickly returned with a litter and a preformed brace made of two pieces of polished steel, resembling a cage. The top part of the front piece fit snugly under Leoglas’s chin to the back of his jaws. Several curved bars fit lightly against his neck and were attached to another bar that crossed below his throat. The end of the lower cross piece on each side formed a solid curved bar that fit over the tops of each shoulder and extended down front and back for several inches.

The bars on the back piece of the brace were only slightly curved and reached from the middle of his head down between his shoulder blades and were also attached top and bottom with cross pieces. The two sections of the brace were fastened with leather straps and buckles to hold them together and at the same time, allow the brace to fit various sized people. Elrond was very careful not to move Legolas’s head, as he put the back piece in place and then buckled the straps for the snuggest fit.

Once the brace was securely in place, Elrond was able to relax a little. His main concern had been to try to keep Legolas’s head from moving, when he was transported. There was also the chance he could awaken and would jerk his head before he could be stopped. The result of either possibility could well seal his fate, whether that fate was death or complete, permanent paralysis. Unfortunately, there was no way to know that either of those possibilities might not still occur.

“We will lift him very gently onto the litter and take him to one of the private rooms in the House of Healing.”

Each of the four took hold of Legolas in such as way that there was little chance of him moving. Carefully, they lifted him up and set him on the litter. Each then took a firm hold of one end of the two poles and raised it, as they stood up. They matched steps to keep the litter from bouncing, as they walked slowly into the building.

It took a little less than five minutes to reach the room Elrond had selected to put Legolas in. It was the largest of the private rooms, though as rooms go, it could only be considered on the smallish side.

Elladan used his free hand to pull the pillow from the bed, tossing it onto a chair. Now, Legolas could lie flat.

The first thing that was done was to cut Legolas’s shirt off of him. The back was left in place, so he would not have to be moved to reach it. The front was cut and removed. The parts of the shirt that were under the brace were left as a cushion, so the steel was not against his bare skin.

Once the shirt was gone, the first thing that was revealed was severe bruising all along Legolas’s right side, particularly his hip. Elrond carefully examined the elf’s hip but felt no obvious break. However, swelling there had limited his ability to feel the bone properly. He could not see any deformity in the curve of Legolas’s hip, so perhaps bruising was all that had occurred. He prayed that was so. This possible injury would have to be dealt with later, when the swelling went down.

Elrond next set to work making a closer examination of the archer’s ribs. Two of them were merely cracked. That would be most painful, if the elf had any feeling there at all, but would in no way cause further damage, if Legolas did not exert too much pressure on them. Two other ribs, however, had been snapped in two. It felt to Elrond that one of them was lying against Legolas’s right lung and could easily puncture it, with a twist or jerk of his body. It was a miracle that that had not happened in the fall itself.

All the while, Elrond was telling his sons exactly what he was finding. He did not try to hold anything back from them.

Aragorn accepted everything his father said, except for the part about Legolas maybe not having any feeling in his body. He still steadfastly refused to let the idea of his friend being paralyzed settle into his mind. ‘Don’t acknowledge it, and it won’t be true’ was his thinking on the subject, unrealistic though that thought was.

With deft fingers, Elrond manipulated both ribs back into position. While both Aragorn and Elrohir put their hands under Legolas’s back and kept it straight, Elladan pressed down firmly on the mattress, creating a small hollow space, which was just large enough to allow Elrond to pass the bandage under Legolas’s body. After wrapping the cloth around the elf’s midsection several times, Elrond tied it off.

The curved bar of the brace that went over Legolas’s right shoulder did double duty: to secure the neck brace and to keep the break in his shoulder from separating. Elrond was very happy that the break there was a simple fracture and would not need setting. If it had, he would have had to leave it to possibly mend crookedly. That was not a very pleasant thought, but there was no way he could set a complex break without causing the young elf’s neck tp twist, brace or no brace. If the shoulder was kept immobile, it would heal correctly. Elrond bound Legolas’s right arm to his side to further ensure this.

Everything Elrond had just done was with the assumption that Legolas was not paralyzed. He had to prepare for the possibility that the wood elf might be able to move and further injure himself. Such a prospect had to be eliminated first. When Legolas woke up, they would know the full extend of the damage.

The brunt of the fall had been taken on Legolas’s ribs and shoulder, and probably his head. As a result, there had been no broken bones in his legs or feet. *Thank the Valar for small favors,* Elrond thought. In truth, he was grateful for that. The elven prince had enough problems as it was. He needed no more. And, Elrond had to admit that, considering the fall the young archer had taken, he could have sustained far worse damage. Of course, if he was paralyzed, that would make all the other injuries seem trivial.

When the elf lord finished, he stood up and allowed himself a deep breath. Elrond knew that the elf’s lighter weight had played a large part in him not sustaining more injuries. Legolas was in bad enough shape, as it was. Elrond also knew that if Estel, with his heavier human weight, had been the one to experience such a fall, it would have most likely killed him outright.

“I have done all I can for now. We must wait until Legolas wakes up to know, if he has any feeling below his neck. If he does, he can consider himself extremely lucky.”

“Or blessed.” Elrohir added to his father‘s statement. “Eru would not have brought him back from death only to condemn him to a life as...”

“Don’t say it, Elrohir,” his human brother warned. “He will be all right.” In a much softer voice, he added, “He has to be.”

Elrond regarded his youngest son. “If I have taught you anything, Estel, it is to face facts no matter how painful they may be to you personally.”

“I know that, Ada, but we do not know that paralysis is a fact in this case. I have to believe that Legolas will recover.”

“We all hope so, Estel,” Elladan said, as he put his hand on his brother’s shoulder.

Elrond nodded. “I do not wish to squash your hope---any of you. I hold to hope myself. However, even if Legolas comes out of this perfectly fine physically, there is still the problem of what caused all of this to begin with.”

“Mordraug,” Aragorn spat out bitterly.

It wasn’t until the ranger said that disgusting name that all three of Elrond’s sons remembered they still didn’t know what had actually happened. It had been obvious to them that Legolas had fallen from his balcony, but the exact circumstances were unknown to them.

“You were with Legolas, Ada. What happened?” Aragorn asked simply.

Elrond explained the entire scene between him and the elven prince, culminating in the sudden leap fromt he balcony. “I am sure he felt there was no other recourse for him.” A twinge of guilt had been growing in the elf lord since Legolas had fallen.

His original argument before going to talk to Legolas had been that Mordraug had to be blindisded with whatever plan he had come up with. If he had mentioned the basics of his plan to Legolas, Mordraug would then have been aware of it, too, and would have somehow stopped it. Elrond had felt, at the time, that that would have doomed Legolas and perhaps his family, as well. If Mordraug had taken complete control of Legolas‘s mind, Elrond might have been forced to lock Legolas up, despite the fact that he had told him he wouldn‘t. It was a thought that sent a shudder through the normally confident elf lord.

Yet now, in the aftermath of what Legolas had done and the permanent damage it may have caused, Elrond wondered if he should have told the young elf what he was thinking regarding a plan of action against the dark elf. Perhaps, together they could have still thwarted Mordraug. Revealing the plan certainly would have given Legolas enough hope to keep him from resorting to such a desperate measure as trying to leap to his death. Elrond looked down at the blond elf. *If I did you a disservice, Legolas, I am sorry.*

Elrond shook his head. There was no use worrying about past events. He hadn’t said anything, and Legolas had jumped. Those two things couldn’t be changed, so whatever was done from now on would have to start from this point in time.

TBC

Chapter Fifty Three

Aragorn was holding to the single-minded belief that Legolas was not going to be paralyzed. It was just plain unthinkable for him to even attempt to come terms with the thought of the active, energetic warrior just lying in a bed unable to move even a finger or a toe. Such a visualization caused the ranger a pain he had rarely felt before. The man shuddered at the thought of Legolas being carried onto a ship sailing to Valinor and then being carried off to spend eternity in his current condition.

No, Aragorn resolutely corrected himself. He knew Legolas would not survive such a life. Being a prisoner in his own body would kill the elf as surely as would an arrow to his heart. Horrible as the thought was, it would probably be easier to accept the elf’s death than the alternative. However, Aragorn was not prepared to lose his friend to death or paralysis.

Aragorn couldn’t suppress another shudder at the sight of the neck brace, the bandages around Legolas’s midsection and the horrible bluish-purple bruises that stood out boldly on the elf’s fair skin, The man pulled a light blanket up to his friend’s shoulders. Leaning down, he whispered in the elf’s ear. “You will recover, Legolas. We are all here to see to that.” He stepped back and sat in one of the two chairs beside the bed. Elrond was seated in the other one, while the twins sat cross-legged on the floor.

Five minutes later Glorfindel arrived, having just been informed of Legolas’s fall. Not wanting to burden his sons with another recounting of the awful event, Elrond pulled him aside before telling him the whole story.

Glorfindel was shocked, yet at the same time, not surprised. He knew Legolas was an extremely compassionate elf, and the idea that he would rather die than be the cause of harm to his family was so easy for him to believe, But, no matter the noble reason behind the act, it saddened the elder elf greatly, and he prayed to the Valar that the young prince would recover.

Aragorn got up from his cushioned chair and gave it to Glorfindel, who argued that he did not need it. The man insisted, saying that someone of such great age needed something soft to rest his ‘old bones’ on. It was a joke the two engaged in from time to time. Glorfindel finally accepted the chair with good grace. Thus it was that the fifth member of the vigil was set in place.

Aragorn left the room and returned shortly with a small chair that he had commandeered from a nearby room and set it beside the bed. It was a hard, wooden one with no cushion on it, but it would do.

~*~*~

Night descended and candles were lit in the healing room. The small group was several hours into what they knew was going to be a very long night at Legolas’s bedside. This one was different, though. This time they were all waiting for Legolas not only to wake up but to be the one to tell them how badly he was injured, instead of the other way around.

Food trays were brought into the room by one of the young apprentice healers. None of them were touched, and the full trays were taken away later that night. The only thing that the elves and the ranger partook of was water and in Elrohir‘s case, some fruit juice.

Just before midnight, Aragorn asked, “Ada, do you have any idea when Legolas might wake up?”

“It will depend on how badly his head is injured. I saw him hit the ground. He struck his head hard. Yet, he is an elf with an elf‘s accelerated healing ability, so I hope that he will awaken sometime tomorrow.” It was a guess on Elrond’s part but an educated one. He had certainly tended his share of head injuries before.

Elladan uncrossed his legs and got up from his place on the floor and walked over behind his human brother. “Lean forward a bit, Estel.“

Puzzled, the ranger turned his head to look up at his eldest brother.

The elf was smiling down at him. “Come on, Estel, lean forward.” His words were accompanied by a gentle push against the man’s back.

When the ranger had bent forward slightly, Elladan began to massage the man’s tense shoulders and back. “Considering the state of your nerves, it is no wonder that your muscles are wound as tight as a spring.” Elladan didn’t mention that he was sure the rest of them in the room were in almost the same state.

The man couldn’t suppress a smile and a deep sigh, as he closed his eyes and let a good deal of the tension drain away with the practiced movements of the elder twin’s talented hands. No one, not even Lord Elrond, could knead a knotted muscle the way Elladan could. If only he could ease the aching in the ranger’s heart.

~*~*~

At first Legolas thought that he was being choked. He heard screaming and thought that there was some sort of battle going on ‘out there’, though where that was, he had no idea. He couldn’t remember fighting anyone, but he could think of mo other reason for someone trying to strangle him.

He felt something very tight against his jaws and the back of his head. Was someone holding his head down against a hard surface by putting their hands across his jaws? He tried to raise his hands up to grab whatever was holding him, but they refused to move. Why would they not obey his command? *They must be tied down,* he reasoned, though he could feel no ropes or manacles of any kind.

The pressure on his jaws and head did not decrease, yet he suddenly realized that he was not choking, as he had at first thought. When he swallowed, something hard and cool touched his throat, but it was not squeezing him. He was able to breathe without restriction. He couldn’t quite reconcile the two: something pressing on his throat while still being able to breathe.

He tried to struggle, attempting to wiggle free of the tight grasp but found he couldn’t move any part of his body. Was someone sitting on him? Not likely, since he couldn’t feel that sensation, either. This was a most puzzling situation, one he had never before found himself in. He briefly remembered the dream he had had when he floated without a body, yet he knew this was far different from that experience, even if this was also a dream.

He heard the screaming again and concentrated his keep hearing on trying to recognize who it was and what, if anything, they were saying. He could do neither. All he could make out was a haunting wail of pain and fury that made him shiver. At least, he believed that he had shivered. He couldn’t be sure, since there was only numbness below his neck.

If only he could get this person or thing off of him, he could take an inventory of his body to see what all had been done to it and why it was reacting so strangely.

Legolas was hit by another puzzling question. Why couldn’t he open his eyes? There was nothing impeding them, as far as he could detect anyway. Yet, like his body, they would not obey his command.

“Estel?” The elf called out to his friend, knowing that the man would be quick to help him. “Estel?”

There was no answer. The archer tried to hold down a wave of panic. Surely, if the ranger was all right, he would have come already. That could only mean that something terrible had happened to his friend. But, then he wondered if Estel had even been with him. He couldn’t remember. He might have been alone, attacked by something that still held him in its iron grip. No memory of such an event came to his desperately seeking mind. However, if that meant that Estel was safe somewhere else, then Legolas‘s heart could rest a little easier.

The screaming continued unabated and pushed its way into the forefront of this mind once again. *Is that me screaming?* he asked himself. No, he knew it was not him. His mouth was tightly closed. That he could feel. It was just another thing to add to his growing list of puzzling things to ponder.

Lying where he was, unable to move and unable to dislodge his perceived attacker forced him to turn inward. Since he was evidently in no immediate danger and could evidently do nothing about it anyway, he retreated into his mind.

It was then that he realized who was doing the screaming---and why. It was Mordraug, and he had gone totally mad with rage that Legolas had destroyed his plans for revenge. And, with a horror that seized his heart, Legolas remembered and now knew beyond a doubt what he had done to cause it. *I jumped from my balcony and tried to kill myself.*

Hitting full force in the same instant was the realization of why he couldn’t feel his body. *I am paralyzed!*

~*~*~

Elrond was working over in his mind the plan to deal with Mordraug. When he finally reached the point where he knew how to proceed, he almost laughed. He had been thinking about the problem for what seemed like ages, and yet the final solution had been so simple. Of course, he reminded himself, he had had to go through all the possible consequences of the plan before even considering embarking on it. The idea was to banish Mordraug forever and not do Legolas any harm in the process. Success lay in the details.

~*~*~

It was about three hours after midnight, when Elrond finally decided that any delay in implementing the plan he had finalized would serve no useful purpose. He had worked through all the possibilities. There were unknown variables, he knew, but those had to be dealt with as they came up. It was simply impossible to think of everything.

It seemed logical to Elrond that the dark elf could only be aware of things that Legolas was aware of, since he survived inside the young archer’s mind. Still, Elrond was reluctant to outline the plan to his sons and his friend ahead of time. It would ruin any chance of success, if he was wrong about Mordraug’s awareness of what was going on around Legolas. It wasn’t worth the risk.

Standing up, Elrond turned to his sons and Glorfindel. “I am about to do something that I cannot explain to any of you beforehand.” He took note of the puzzled looks that were turned his way. He truly hated to go into this with no one else aware of what he was about to do. The plan may not work. He could suffer in some way he had not thought of. Legolas... The elf lord sighed. *I must not borrow trouble.*

“Ada, what are you talking about?” Elrohir asked.

“That is what I cannot explain. I must obtain a promise from each of you.” Again, he noted the puzzled lools that were now tinged with concern. “You must promise that no matter what happens, you will not interfere.”

“But, Ada, why…?”

“No questions, Estel. You must trust me. That is all I can say. Just trust me and do not interfere with what you might hear or see.”

They all trusted Elrond implicitly, so even though they hadn’t the faintest idea what the elf lord was planning, they accepted his word. They all gave their promise.

“Estel, kneel down on your side of the bed and put your arm lightly across Legolas’s waist. Put your other hand on the top of his head. This is just a precaution should he try to struggle.” He looked at his eldest son. “Elladan, be ready to hold his legs, if need be. Both of you, do not let him move.”

To Aragorn, these words were an admission of Elrond’s uncertainty regarding the paralysis. Even his father did not necessarily believe that Legolas was paralyzed. This, however, was not the time to comment on it. Instead, Aragorn nodded and did as his father bid him.

Elrond approached the bed and knelt down on the floor opposite Aragorn. He looked down at Vilya. *Please, Eru, let this work.* He carefully leaned forward and placed the palm of his hand against Legolas’s forehead, making sure that the metal of the ring was touching the young elf’s skin. His free hand he placed on his own forehead.

The elf lord closed his eyes and began to hum softly, speaking words in his mind that no one would have been able to understand even had they heard them. As he did so, the sapphire stone in the Ring of Air began to glow and pulse with an inner fire.

Elladan, Elrohir and Estel were convinced that Elrond was tying to use Vilya to heal Legolas. They were very excited by that prospect, sure the power of the ring would not fail. Only Glorfindel, mainly because of his previous conversations with Elrond, had an idea of what his friend was really attempting.

After only a moment, the entire room was bathed in a soft blue glow. The ring itself was no longer visible, being lost to sight from the sparkling brilliance that radiated from it. Even the form of Elrond himself soon wavered in the light of the ring.

Elrond felt himself being sucked into a kind of vortex that stretched and twisted his spiritual body, yet it was not an unpleasant feeling. For some reason he could not fathom, it felt different than any other time he had used the ring’s power. He didn’t have time to contemplate it, however, as he flew down a tunnel of light. He was soaring through a myriad of what appeared to be stars, whipping by him in steaks of light. Everything was in shades of blue, from deep midnight to the color of a robin‘s egg. The light, the colors, the speed he traveled were sensations that hit his senses all at once. It was an awesome experience he wished he could indulge in more often.

One tiny part of his mind, even now, wished the experience would not end. He was on the verge of being mesmerized to the point that he could easily forget what he was there to do. Mentally, he shook himself free of the captivating pull of this tunnel of blue lights.

All too soon, everything came to a sudden stop. The blue lights faded, and he found himself in a room with no windows and no doors. It was a room that he had never seen before. He was alone, but swirling all around him were screams that seemed to rise and fall, as they bounced off the surrounding walls.

“What is this place?” the elf lord asked aloud. It was not where he expected to end up. Had there been some mistake, some miscalculation on his part? Or, had Vilya been unerring, and this was indeed the place where he was supposed to confront the enemy.

TBC

Chapter Fifty Four

Elrond stood and puzzled about the screaming that was assaulting him from all sides. He knew instinctively that it was not aimed at him. It sounded mindless. That was of little comfort, since the high-pitched wailing pained his ears, just the same.

He was startled when the screaming suddenly stopped, followed by a long silence. Then, he had the unsettling feeling that someone was behind him. Even before he turned, Elrond knew exactly who he would see.

The elf lord found himself staring into the dark eyes of Mordraug, standing no more than six feet from him. He did not speak but waited for Mordraug to do so first. The tone of the whole confrontation might be set in these first few minutes.

A look of surprise had appeared on the Avari’s face. He clearly was not expecting to see who it was he was looking at. It didn’t take long for that look to be replaced with a sneer that quickly formed on the dark elf’s face, so wide it bared his teeth like a grinning wolf about to devour its victim. “Elrond, Lord of Imladris. I should have known you would come to fight the princeling’s battle for him. He is too weak to do it on his own. He tried to kill himself just to stop me, as if that would have worked. I cannot be stopped!”

“You seem very sure of yourself, Mordraug.” Elrond’s comment was calm by comparison.

Mordraug ignored the statement and continued with his own chain of thought. “I have waited too long to let you or anyone else interfere with my plans.”

“It seems to me that Legolas has already done just that.” Elrond forced himself to hold back his regret and sadness at the thought of what the young prince had felt driven to do. He refused to let this accursed elf see his pain.

”That youngest whelp of Thranduil’s might think he has saved his family, but there are other ways to get what I deserve and also get revenge on him and all his kin.”

Elrond looked at Mordraug with something akin to pity in his eyes. It angered Mordraug, but with an effort, he managed not to comment. “If you are so convinced that you are unstoppable, why were you screaming in rage just now? I presume it was from what Legolas did.”

The question and the following statement clearly upset Mordraug. He narrowed his eyes. Knowing Elrond would likely detect a lie, he said, “I had a momentary lapse. I did not expect the foolish little prince to cave in the way he did and try something so stupid.”

“You battered him relentlessly, both physically and emotionally. You killed him. Yet, in the end, you were unable to control him, because he found the will, even in his torment, to thwart you.”

“I told you I will not be stopped,” Mordraug growled. “And, I assure you that I will not be caught so unaware again.”

“You know that I am here to hinder you from doing any further damage, whether you think it can be done or not. I have not been emotionally battered the way Legolas has. But, we do have one thing in common: I will fight to save my own family and Legolas’s. You will not kill him,” Elrond added firmly, thinking that that was surely the ultimate goal after the rest of royal family had been destroyed.

“You do not understand any more than that pathetic little elfling. I have no plans to kill him.”

Elrond raised his eyebrows in surprise. Mordraug laughed. “Have you not figured it out yet, great lord?”

Elrond clenched his fists down by his side but uttered not a word.

Mordraug was so proud of his plan, he couldn‘t avoid bragging about it. “My plan all along has been to rule Greenwood, as I rightfully should. I, myself, believed that when I died my plan had died with me. When I discovered my spirit still inhabited this land, I decided that revenge would be my all-consuming ambition. Now, I have discovered that I can indeed fulfill my original dream of claiming Greenwood.” He looked at Elrond, waiting for the way to accomplish this to dawn on the other elf.

When it did, Elrond couldn’t hide it. “You intend on using Legolas.”

Mordraug smiled triumphantly. “Of course. Think about it. Most of the elves of Greenwood would probably not accept me as their king, being corrupted by Thranduil and his ilk. Naturally, I could force them, but that would take time and energy. However,” he said, his grin widening, “when I take over Legolas’s mind completely, I can rule the kingdom, using his body. The silvan elves will certainly welcome their youngest prince as their king with open arms, since he would be the last of the House of Oropher. By the time they figured out the truth, if any of them ever did, it will be far too late. Perfect, is it not?”

Elrond, fists still clenched, did not comment on what Mordraug considered a brilliant plan. The dark elf had become so single-minded in his obsession that he wasn’t even thinking about the fact that Legolas could be paralyzed, and therefore, could not be used to complete his plan. In his heart, however, Elrond knew that if it turned out that Legolas wasn’t paralyzed and Mordraug wasn‘t stopped right here and now, the Avari’s plan could very well work. He held back a shudder at the very thought of it. In defiance, he said, “You will never rule Greenwood or any other realm in Middle-earth, Mordraug. I will see to that.”

Mordraug struggled to hide his rising anger. He would have liked to dismiss Elrond as little more than a pompous elf lord full of himself and claiming a glory throughout Arda that he did not deserve. Yet, despite his madness, there was one tiny part of the Avari’s mind that was till rational enough to recognize the fact that Imladris‘s lord could be a most formidable opponent. Thinking anything less could be a fatal mistake. After all, had he not just found a way to transport his living spirit into Legolas’s mind? Even so, it did not diminish Mordraug’s extreme arrogance. The dark elf had no doubts he would win, just as he had done every time he had gone up against Elrond and the other elven lords in the past. No one had stopped him then, and no one would stop him now.

Mordraug eyed the elf in front of him. He believed that Elrond might just try some other trick he knew nothing about. Rushing in blinding… Well, thinking about that could lead to defeat, and that word wasn’t in the dark elf’s vocabulary. At any rate, it was for that reason that Mordraug decided to proceed with caution, determined to enjoy the upcoming battle and the eventual victory he would win. He would claim two on this day: Elrond‘s life and Legolas‘s mind.

“What do you intend on doing now?” Elrond asked, not completely sure that Mordraug was quite vain and confident enough to actually tell him. Then again...

A grin spread across the Avari’s face. “Let us invite Legolas in to join in on the fun, shall we?”

Elrond could not suppress his anger. “This is now between you and me. Leave him out of it?”

“Surely, you jest. We are in his mind, are we not? He is very much in the thick of this battle.”

Elrond sighed inwardly. It had been worth the try to spare Legolas this confrontation, if he could. In addition, Mordraug would no doubt try to use Legolas against him. He did not fear for himself, but the young archer could be hurt further in the process. Elrond regretted his effort hadn’t worked.

Not having been in such a situation before, Elrond did not know in what condition Legolas would be, if he appeared in this room. Would he be in the same condition as in the outside world? Or, would he appear in his own mind as he always had been? Either way, Elrond had no idea how to prevent the prince’s appearance. This lack of control over the situation had to be corrected and corrected soon.

The elf lord hid his dismay, when Legolas suddenly materialized beside Mordraug. However, he couldn’t hide his joy at seeing Legolas standing tall and straight, with no sign of infirmity.

Legolas was surprised to see Elrond standing in front of him. He smiled broadly and started to rush over to him. He was hindered in the move, when Mordraug reached out and grabbed the archer’s right forearm and jerked him back roughly.

Legolas frowned and looked down at the hand gripping his arm. He tried to pull away, but the grip only tightened. He couldn’t understand how the dark elf could hold him so firmly with only one hand. He seemed to have some sort of extraordinary strength. Legolas looked into Mordraug’s face and scowled.

“You stay with me,” Mordraug growled, pulling Legolas a few inches back until the young elf stood beside him again.

Legolas thought about trying to fight the dark elf, but when he glanced at Elrond, the elf lord was shaking his head every so slightly. It was clear he did not want Legolas to take any risks, at least not yet. He was sure that very high risks would have to be taken before the coming confrontation was over. But, it was not yet the time.

Elrond narrowed his eyes at the dark elf. Tilting his head slightly, he said, “I thought you could not be stopped from gaining what you most desire. Do you fear that Legolas, the weak princeling you scoff at, can do something to harm you?” Elrond knew he was taking a chance that his words would cause Mordraug to hurt Legolas, but he hoped that, if the dark elf became enraged, he would aim it at the one who provoked him.

A quick glance showed him that Legolas was not afraid. His slight frown did reveal that he understood what Elrond was attempting and would not let the elf lord confront Mordraug alone.

It was not a lack of confidence in Elrond’s abilities. It was simply the act of surprise that prompted Legolas to spin around and slam his left fist into the Avari’s mouth, as hard as he could.

Elrond had seen the look in Legolas’s eye just before he moved. He didn’t have time to call the young elf off from what he was planning. All he could do was be ready to react.

The blow shocked Mordraug, but much to the dismay of both Elrond and Legolas, it did not render the dark elf ineffective. His grip on Legolas’s arm only slipped the barest bit, but it was not enough for the archer to pull free. In what seemed like less than a heartbeat, the grip not only tightened but became more painful, threatening to cut off circulation.

Elrond had closed the distance between himself and Mordraug in a flash, but when he saw Legolas wince in pain, he stopped his momentum. Mordraug had been faster.

“Very smart to back off, Elrond. I will twist his arm off. He may be whole here in his mind, but whatever happens to him here will carry over to the outside world. He may not be able to feel the pain of such an injury, but he will not have a right arm, either.”

Elrond did not know if that claim was another of Mordraug‘s lies or not. But, he couldn’t take the chance. That was the one thing that frustrated him the most. This was all so new, he couldn’t be sure how it all worked. Mordraug was a consummate liar, but he told the truth just often enough to cause doubt.

The painful grimace on Legolas’s face was real, however, so Elrond backed off to his original position. He also became furious at the grinning sneer on the Avari’s face. His words did not help Elrond‘s mood any, either.

“I see you finally realize who it is you are facing. I am no ordinary elf. That should have been clear to you before now. Too bad you did not comprehend it sooner. You could have saved yourself a lot of trouble and him,“ he indicated Legolas with the jerk of his head, “a lot of agonizing pain.”

With an increased sense of satisfaction that he knew something that the great Lord Elrond didn’t, Mordraug continued. “Have you never wondered just how I am able to appear in Legolas’s mind, when I am dead?” He paused, waiting for Elrond to ask how he had done it. He was disappointed, when the elf lord just stared at him with an unreadable expression.

“I will explain it to the both of you.” His tone was one of an adult trying to explain something to dull-witted elflings. “You know that my pet snake had special powers concentrated in its venom. The venom was deadly, killing me the same as it did the little prince here and all the others that were bitten. Well, it seems that the powers of the venom were transferred to me, when I was injected with it.” He turned to Legolas. “You might have had the same powers had Elrond not neutralized the venom. Of course, you would have died again.” He shrugged. “No matter. The point is that I have those powers now, and I can do anything I choose to the princeling here.”

“How is it that your spirit survived here, when all the other elves you killed did not?” Elrond asked, unable to hide the bitterness that edged his tone.

Mordraug merely shrugged. “I have no idea, unless it had to do with me working closely with the snake for over a millennium.“ He shrugged again. “However it happened, I accept my good fortune. Perhaps, Eru himself decided that I should have Greenwood after all.”

“Then, why did he not bring you back to life the way he did Legolas?”

Mordraug made a snort of impatience. “No more questions, Elrond. What is---is That is all I know and all I care to know.”

Elrond knew that, unfortunately, Mordraug was probably telling the truth about all of this, especially the part about how he came to be here in Legolas‘s mind. He, himself, had entered the young elf’s mind, using Vilya’s power. To do the same thing, Mordraug would also have had to possess some kind of extraordinary power. That he might have the power of the snake’s venom was not beyond the realm of possibility.

Elrond tried to keep his face a mask. Inside, however, he was having to scramble to reassess the possibilities that were suddenly confronting him---them. He couldn’t ignore Legolas’s part in all this, much as he wanted to.

With this newfound information, Elrond feared that Mordraug’s threat to use Legolas to gain the throne of Greenwood could actually be carried out. Whatever the Avari did to the young archer here could well happen in the outside world. This put a whole different light on what Elrond had been contemplating doing. The stakes had just risen to an almost intolerable level. He had no choice but to proceed from where he now found himself.

With a deep sigh, he knew it was time to start taking chances. No battle was ever won being overly cautious. “Are you too much of a coward to face me alone? Do you feel that you can only win, if you threaten to do Legolas further harm?”

Mordraug smiled. “I know that you are trying to get me to push him away, so you and I can face each other alone. It will not work.” The dark elf squeezed Legolas’s arm, now almost numb from having the nerves compressed, until the young elf was forced to his knees. Mordraug looked down at him. “Do not think that you can knock my legs out from under me while you are down there, little prince. You will pay dearly, if you try.”

Mordraug glanced toward Elrond, making sure the elf lord was not using Mordraug’s averted eyes to make a lightning fast attack. Elrond had not moved. The Avari grinned. He had that insufferable elf right where he wanted him. “You are too soft, Elrond. You let your affection for others weaken you. I would never let such an emotion for this whelp or any others not of my own blood to keep me from doing what I wanted to do.”

“I do not think you would let even a blood relation halt your evil aims,” Elrond scoffed. “Have you ever even felt love for someone besides yourself?

Elrond knew he had struck a nerve, when Mordraug roared in anger. “You do not know anything about who I have or have not loved in my life!”

A snort of derision escaped from Legolas. It earned him a painful twist of his arm, despite the suddenness of the move, he did not cry out. That was one satisfaction he was not going to give Mordraug.

When Legolas raised his head and looked up at Elrond, he saw the determination in the elf lord’s eyes. Just as Elrond had decided to challenge Mordraug, Legolas had decided to offer Elrond the best chance of taking the advantage. His eyes bored into the elf lord’s. As soon as he saw that Elrond understood that he was about to do something, he acted.

Legolas jerked himself backwards, ignoring the incredible pain that lanced through his right arm. It apparently wasn’t as numb as he had thought. As he flipped over onto his back. Mordraug was pulled down toward him, and Legolas took that opportunity to kick out with his legs. Both feet connected with Mordraug’s jaw, and the dark elf’s head snapped back.

Elrond had recognized the look in Legolas’s eyes, but was not able to voice his objection before Legolas made his move. As soon as Mordraug was hit, Elrond lunged forward and hit Mordraug with his shoulder, jerking the Avari’s hand free of Legolas’s arm. Elrond landed on top, as both elder elves crashed to the floor.

Mordraug roared in rage, as he put both hands around Elrond’s neck. It was time for this pompous elf lord to die. He began squeezing, his hatred of Elrond concentrated in his hands.

Elrond tried to pull Mordraug’s hands off of him, but he soon found that the grip would not lessen. The strength that had held Legolas firm with one hand was now brought to bear against the Lord of Imladris. To increase the hold further, Mordraug rolled over until he was on top.

A sudden scream from Mordraug was accompanied by the release of the dark elf’s grip. Elrond spent no time wondering what had happened. He rolled free of Mordraug and came to his feet immediately. He saw Legolas standing on the other side of Mordraug and realized that the young archer had evidently stomped down on Mordraug’s left leg, which was now being held tenderly by the Avari.

When Elrond bent down to grab Mordraug, the dark elf swung his own legs around and kicked upward. Elrond saw it coming and ducked to the side. Before he could do anything more, Mordraug came to his feet and crouched in front of the other two elves. Most of his concentration was on Elrond. However, he knew that Legolas, while not able to actually defeat him, could cause enough trouble to allow Elrond to take the advantage.

With a loud cry and a wave of his hand, Mordraug sent Legolas crashing backwards into the wall behind him. The young elf slid down until he was sitting on the floor. He grabbed his aching head with both hands, unable to keep a moan of pain from escaping him. He was feeling the exact same kind of attack that he had experienced in the garden. The room spun and his stomach lurched on the verge of losing everything in it. His next moan was one of frustration.

Elrond became furious. His healer’s heart urged him to go to the young prince to offer comfort, if nothing else. But, the elf lord was an experienced warrior with centuries of battles and wars behind him. He knew to keep his attention focused on the foe he faced. He also knew not to let anger interfere with what needed to be done.

TBC

Chapter Fifty Five

Elrond stood and faced Mordraug. He forced his mind to ignore the moans that came from Legolas, as the young prince fought off the dark elf’s latest attack.

The elf lord decided that enough was enough. He was not going to let Mordraug hurt Legolas any further, nor was he going to give that evil creature time to plan some form of attack against him. It was time to put Mordraug on the defensive and then end it.

Elrond began to raise the hand that bore Vilya, when Mordraug thrust both of his hands out toward the elven lord. The force of the power that hit him, sent Elrond lying through the air. He landed on his back and slip the remaining few feet into the wall behind him. It was not often that the Lord of Imladris ended up on his back in battle, and the feeling, though not overly painful physically, was painful to accept.

A yell of triumph resounded across the room. Mordraug laughed hardily, as he surveyed Legolas moaning in pain against one wall and Elrond crumpled against the wall adjoining it. The dark elf was exceeding pleased with himself. Both the pathetic little prince and the great elf lord were down and both by his hand.

He couldn’t lay off making comments by way of sarcastic questions. “What is the matter, Elrond? Can you not find the power to fight me? The princeling there is counting on you to save him. How sad for both of you that you have come here so totally unprepared.”

Those words of snide derision inflamed Elrond’s heart, despite the fact he was already furious with this evil creature. He sat up slowly, taking deep breaths to calm himself. Elrond rarely lost this temper and doing so now could well spell disaster for him and for Legolas.

He gave a quick glance toward the blond archer. Legolas no longer had his head in his hands. He was looking at Elrond with shock added to the pain already on his face. Elrond, while not wanting Legolas to suffer, found himself hoping that the young elf would remain incapacitated long enough to keep clear of Mordraug. To ensure that the Avari kept his attention away from the young wood elf, Elrond said, “Is that all you can come up with, Mordraug? I thought you more powerful than that---according to you own boasts, at any rate.” Satisfied he had Mordraug‘s undivided attention, he prepared to take the offensive. After all, he possessed a ring of great power. Was it not time to use it?

Just as Mordraug raised his hands again, Elrond jumped to his feet, jerking his hand up quickly and sending blue light streaking toward the dark elf.

Mordraug saw it coming and was barely able to counter the attack. His own invisible force sprang up in front of him just in time. Both elder elves were surprised, as the two forces crashed together in a blinding flash of light that created a wall of opposing energy. Waves of tingling currents were sent through the air, and a loud sizzling, like rain on hot coals, filled the room.

The wall looked almost liquid in appearance. Different shades of blue, similar to what Elrond had seen in the tunnel of lights he had passed through on his way here, twisted and turned around each other in a mesmerizing dance. It looked like an unseen hand had dipped into force field and was swirling the colors around in little eddies. The scene was beautiful to behold.

Mordraug had no idea what Elrond had done or where the blue energy came from. He, of course, knew nothing of the elf lord’s possession of the Ring of Air. Few people did. Even had he known, Mordraug could not have prevented what was happening.

The Avari was dismayed to note that Elrond was moving toward him, and as he did, the wall of energy began to move with him, staying the same distance from Elrond but moving closer to him. He tried to push the wall back by moving toward Elrond, but it did not work.

Slowly it began to dawn on Mordraug that whatever power Elrond possessed, it was stronger than his own. He looked to his right and then his left to see if there was any avenue of escape. The energy field, however, stretched from side wall to side wall and ceiling to floor. He was trapped.

Legolas heard the sizzle of contact an instant before he felt the crackle in the air. His head shot up, and he saw the two forces straining against each other. He knew immediately that Elrond had called upon the power of Vilya. Mordraug’s force, while holding the other at bay momentarily, began to be pushed back as he watched.

Elrond’s advance was slow and deliberate, his outstretched hand never wavering and his steps never faltering.

Legolas saw the look, first of desperation and then of panic, on Mordraug’s face, as the seemingly ‘living’ wall advanced toward him. As intrigued as he was by the beauty of the swirling energy, Legolas couldn’t help feeling that it wouldn’t be long before he would witness the end of the evil creature that Elrond soon had trapped against the wall.

Legolas, forgetting about his physical discomfort, waited anxiously, anticipating, but not knowing, exactly how the dark elf’s destruction would play out.

He stared in disbelief, when he saw that Elrond had reached Mordraug and came to a stop. The elf lord stood unmoving a couple of feet in front of the dark elf. *Why does Elrond not finish this now?* Legolas wondered. “Destroy him, Elrond,” the archer yelled out. “Destroy him.”

Mordraug wanted to send another attack Legolas’s way to shut him up, as anger rose up in the dark elf. He was furious that the princeling was calling for his destruction. He would have killed the already weakened wood elf, if he could have spared the energy. However, as long as the forces were balanced, diverting any power at all could spell his doom. He needed every bit of it to combat the power that Elrond was holding in front of him. The prince would have to wait his turn.

Elrond was becoming frustrated, because somehow Vilya’s power was not collapsing the force that Mordraug was using. It greatly surprised the elf lord that the Ring of Air was being held at bay. He decided that Mordraug’s own power must be enhanced by his all-out desperation and determination to win this battle. No other possibilities came to the elf lord’s mind, since there was no question which of the two elves held the greatest power.

The frown of bewilderment on Elrond’s face gave Mordraug hope. He had the mistaken idea that Elrond was currentllly expending all his power and yet not able to overcome Mordraug‘s own power.

The Avari again searched for an opening that would allow him to get free of his current situation. He was not about to give up and surrender to this most despised enemy.

With a loud roar, Mordraug surged forward, hoping to catch Elrond off guard. When the wall of energy gave way a few inches, Mordraug pressed his advantage, continuing to move forward in one swift lunge. He almost slammed into the wall, when it suddenly stopped moving away from him. “Damn you, Elrond,” Mordraug raged. If the elf lord had been caught off-guard, he had recovered much too quickly.

Elrond ignored the curse and concentrated, focusing all of his mental strength into his call to Vilya for more power. He had soon intensified the output of energy and was now pushing the wall again in Mordraug’s direction. The swirling increased in speed, and the sizzling grew louder.

The Avari soon felt the wall of the room at his back, as he came up hard against it. As his options shrank, Mordraug decided to make one last desperate move. He had no real idea how solid the forces in front of him were. His was invisible to his eyes, but Elrond’s still looked liquid. Suppose he could push his way through it. Suppose he could reach Elrond before the elf lord could react. This time he would succeed in strangling the elf lord. Ir was worth the try.

Mordraug tried to push himself forward again, but was unable to accomplish the maneuver. As soon as he touched the swirling energy, he had to jerk his hand away. A stinging sensation lanced through his hand and traveled up his arm. He cursed violently. The powerful forces that were engaged in a desperate battle of their own might as well have been a wall of stone.

A sudden thought came to him. He had created this room to hold Legolas as a virtual prisoner, whenever he wanted to confront the young wood elf without fear he would retreat into another part of his mind. He wondered if he could enlarge the room, thus extending the wall behind him. Mordraug realized with dismay that the energy he was expending did not allow for this to happen. And, even if he had managed it, the wall of energy would just advance, pinning him against the room yet again.

The dark elf was truly running out of options now. What if he could divert just enough energy to dissolve the wall he stood against? He might be able to make a run for it, hopefully outdistancing Elrond’s force field before it caught him. There was even a possibility that Elrond’s energy force had a limited distance it could travel or, at least, in which it could be effective. He weighed the possibilities carefully. Was he fast enough to make it? Did he have a choice?

Elrond knew that Mordraug was planning something. He saw the various emotions of his thought patterns play across the Avari’s face. *Weighing his options,* Elrond mused. “Whatever you are planning, Mordraug, it will not work, not this time.” The warning was spoken in a low tone but easily heard, even by Legolas, who was still watching from his position on the floor.

Mordraug stood perfectly still, waiting for just the right moment to act. When he saw Legolas come to his feet somewhat unsteadily, he noticed that Elrond, while not lessening his intense gaze, had tilted his head the tiniest bit to pick up the faint sound of Legolas rising. It was just the distraction he was waiting for.

Suddenly the wall behind Mordraug vanished and the dark elf turned and ran for all he was worth away from the blue wall that now had only a token resistance.

“He’s mine!” Legolas said without turning his head toward Elrond, a vehement determination in his voice.

Elrond had only a heartbeat to lower the energy field before Legolas could crash into it. The young prince dashed past Elrond and headed after Mordraug. He barely registered the gloom that surrounded him.

The Avari was running, as if the hounds of destruction were after him. He knew someone was coming but thought that it must be Elrond. He expected at any moment to be caught by the blue power that the elf lord wielded. The more ground he covered without being caught, the more he became convinced that Elrond’s power could not reach him. He grinned but did not slow his speed any.

Suddenly he was hit from behind and driven to the ground, a weight landing on top of him. He hit with a thud. A moment later, the weight lifted, and he was roughly jerked around to stare up into the face of his captor. It was Legolas.

The dark elf quickly tried to reach the prince’s neck, but Legolas was faster. He leaned out of the way. Grabbing Mordraug’s hair with his left hand and lifting the other elf’s head up, the young archer balled his right hand into a fist and pounded it into the Avari’s face---twice. Only his inborn sense of fair-play at seeing his enemy on his back beneath him, stayed Legolas’s hand from striking more blows. “You will not escape, Mordraug. You will pay for what you have done to my Naneth, to me and to all the others you killed in your pursuit of what does nnt belong to you.”

Mordraug was just about to make the attempt to struggle free of this royal whelp, when Elrond appeared above him, standing and staring down, a look of triumph gracing his face.

“He is right. You will pay dearly for your many sins.”

Mordraug glared up at Elrond. “And, just how do you intend on doing that?” His words and tone were defiant, but his eyes reflected the fear that was spreading throughout his entire being. It was a look that pleased both of the elves, who now held him prisoner.

“Elves do not like deep, dark tunnels,” Legolas said, grinning broadly. “It would be a most fitting punishment to be trapped in one for all eternity, would it not?” He looked first at Mordraug’s horrified face and then at Elrond’s amused one. “Can such a thing be arranged?”

“Quite easily. And, I think it would be most appropriate,” the elf lord agreed.

“NO!” Mordraug screamed, all arrogance and defiance completely deserting him. “You cannot do this to me.”

“Why not?” Legolas asked. “You had no problem doing terrible things to me.”

Mordraug was shaking his head vehemently. “You cannot possibly compare some taunts, a few flowers and a little pain to what you are proposing to do to me.”

“No? Those things seemed very important to you not long ago.’ Legolas’s voice had hardened considerably. Coldly, he continued. “Funny how they diminish in your estimation, when you are the one on the receiving end.” Legolas, while not having a cruel bone in his body, was making an exception in Mordraug’s case. He found he was enjoying the Avari‘s distress, and he did not feel the slightest bit guilty about it, either.

Legolas looked at Elrond and nodded. He didn’t say a word, but the elf lord understood. Both elves backed away from Mordraug, who lay cringing on the ground.

“I will change. I will never again do anything to harm anyone. I promise. I will accept punishment. But please do not do this,” the dark elf begged pathetically.

When no change in plan was forthcoming, Mordraug started screaming, much the way he had done when Legolas had jumped from his balcony.

Neither Elrond nor Legolas were moved and neither spared the Avari even the tiniest bit of pity. There was only retribution in their eyes. If nothing else, the agonizing death of Legolas’s mother was enough to harden both of their hearts against the evil elf‘s cries for mercy.

“Legolas, this is your mind, and you have suffered the most, so I leave it to you to conjure up the prison you want this creature’s immortal spirit sent to.”

The young elf closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He thought about a tunnel that was long, low, narrow and blacker than a stormy night. In only a few seconds, just such a tunnel appeared in front of them. It was no more than three feet in diameter and reached far back out of sight.

Legolas used his thoughts to pull the tunnel closer until it surrounded Mordraug‘s prone body. Before the dark elf could move, stone began to fill in the entrance until there was only a tiny hole left in it.

Unable to stand upright, Mordraug crawled to the small opening. “You are not this cruel. You cannot do this!“ he wailed. His screams rose in volume, and the terror that was evident intensified.

An instant later, the hole filled in. Mordraug fell forward onto the rock wall in front of him, his fingers scratching up and down and his head banging repeatedly against its rough surface. He had finally understood completely that he was doomed to spend the remainder of Iluvatar’s Song alone and crawling on hands and knees through that forbidding, granite-encased darkness.

The tunnel and its only inhabitant shrank in size until they were little more than a speck. Legolas firmly tucked the tiny prison in a very deep recess of his mind, never to be touched upon again.

It was then that both elves looked around them. The gloom had faded, and they found themselves standing in a beautiful, verdant forest. Gone also was the entire room they had so recently occupied.

“This is where you retreat to in your mind to find peace?” Elrond said, as he looked at Legolas. It was both a question and a statement. The trees were so large and loaded with leaves that the sun could only reach the ground in tiny rays of dappled sunshine. “This is Greenwood the Great.”

“Yes,” Legolas re[plied. “It is Greenwood as it was during the rule of my grandfather and my parents. I constructed it in my mind, mostly from the descriptions given to me by my father and those who lived here back then. I never saw it in its full glory. The Shadow was already spreading by the time I was born. Hopefully, it will be like this again one day.”

Elrond smiled. “I believe it will.” He well remembered the great forest, and Legolas’s likeness was perfect. It was good to see it again, even if it only existed in the mind of this young woodland elf.

Neither felt the need to discuss Mordraug or what had just taken place. They knew that the Avari was finally going to pay for all time for his treachery, and that was all that mattered.

Elrond and Legolas embraced each other.

“Thank you,” Legolas whispered into the elf lord‘s ear, suddenly almost too overcome to speak.

Elrond held tight and let Legolas be the one to pull back whenever he was ready. When he finally did, there were tears in his eyes, but none of them fell. Instead, they made his dark lashes look like they had been sprinkled with tiny sparkling diamonds. He wiped them away, though it was not from shame that he did so. Though he and Elrond were always comfortable with each other, the recent events reinforced their bond, taking them far beyond any feelings of embarrassment. Even Elrond’s eyes were misty.

“I can never repay you...”

“Shhh,” the dark-haired elf soothed. “You do not have to repay me. Knowing you are free of that evil creature is all the payment I require. That debt, if you insist on considering it such, is paid in full.” All the time he spoke, he could not resist stroking Legolas’s hair, a lot of which had come loose from his braids.

“Estel and the twins will be so thrilled to see you free, Legolas. Glorfindel will also be delighted, as am I. We will all be happy to have you back with us.”

Legolas turned away from Elrond and lowered his head.

Elrond’s brow furrowed in confusion. “What is wrong, Legolas? Why have you turned away in sadness?” He had glimpsed the expression of sorrow on the young elf’s face just before it was lost to his view.

“I cannot go back with you.”

TBC

Chapter Fifty Six

Elrond stared at Legolas. “What do you mean you cannot go back with me?” he asked, though a dreadful thought had occurred to him. He prayed that he was wrong.

“I cannot live as a helpless paralytic, unable to do anything for myself. I cannot be that kind of burden to my family or my friends.” He turned back and faced Elrond. “I know that my paralysis is a result of my own actions, and I do not regret what I did, only that it was necessary.” He lowered his head yet again, shame evident on his handsome face. “I had wanted to die. Perhaps I am just a coward, but given the choice, I still do. Yet because of what I did, I cannot even accomplish that. My body will not move at my command.”

Legolas took a deep breath. “I will remain here in this forest in the recesses of my mind until my spirit fades and my body dies. It is not as quick and certainly not as noble a death as I would have preferred as a warrior on the battlefield, but my family will be free of the burden of taking care of me soon enough.”

Elrond tilted Legolas’s head up until they were looking directly into each other’s eyes. “Legolas, you do not want to die. I know this, and so do you. Not being a burden is an unselfish desire, but...”

“My death is all that will accomplish that,” Legolas said before Elrond could complete his statement. It was rare that he ever interrupted the Lord of Imladris.

“We love you, Legolas. You are no burden to any of us.” The elf lord shook his head firmly to emphasize his words. “In the first place, you cannot be sure that you are permanently paralyzed. It may be just a temporary condition. You are breathing on your own, so there is some function below your neck. I believe you will recover.”

“But, you do not know for sure, do you?“

Elrond had to be honest and reluctantly made himself shake his head.

“Then, I cannot risk it. If you are wrong, my family will be needlessly burdened. Beyond the physical care they would be obligated to give, there is the emotional sorrow of seeing me endure as a totally useless...” He couldn’t find the word whose very mention would not cause him emotional pain, so he didn’t try searching for one.

“You still have your mind, Legolas. And your heart.”

“They are not enough. I am a warrior, sworn to protect my people. I cannot be less than that.”

“You would not be less. Those are the very essences of who you are.’

Legolas merely shook his head.

Elrond grabbed Legolas firmly by both shoulders and shook him none too gently. “You are not going to risk losing out on the life you were meant to lead, because of an idea that you are hopelessly paralyzed. I do not know that, and I have a bit of experience as a healer.” The words, which would have been quite humorous under different circumstance, were spoken with only a small hint of mirth. “Eru returned you to this world for a purpose, Legolas. You have to have faith that that purpose will not involve being unable to move your body.” He shook the blond prince again. “Remember how upset you were, when you could not speak properly?“

Legolas nodded.

“I said then to give it time, and now you can speak, as you always have done. This might well be the same. Have faith, Legolas. Please. There is too much at stake to give up because of a worry that could prove to be unfounded. ”

Legolas lowered his eyes and stared at one of the gold buttons on Elrond’s burgundy colored shirt. He seemed to be lost in the tiny sparkle it made as Elrond’s chest moved with every breath he took.

After several moments of silence, Elrond said, “Please, Legolas, go back with me. You may not believe this right now, but we all need you in our lives.”

Legolas stood silently for several moments, knowing that Elrond would give him all the time he needed to reach a decision. Finally, he took a deep breath, having made that decision. “All right. I will go back and give it some time.” He looked earnestly at Elrond. “But, know this: If I do not make considerable improvement in a reasonable length of time, I will return and remain here until the Halls of Mandos claim me.”

“We have a deal then.” Elrond smiled, feeling like he was on the winning side of the bargain they had just struck. “Take my hand.” The elf lord was grinning. He knew that he was the only one, who really needed Vilya’s power to return to the outside world. Legolas, since this was his own mind, could return at will. However, Elrond wanted the young wood elf to experience the same glorious trip through the tunnel of lights that had brought Elrond here. “Are you ready?”

“Yes,” Legolas replied, though he was puzzled as to why Elrond wanted them to hold hands. In the next instant he understood. He was flying through streaks of blue lights like nothing he had ever seen before. The lights were all around him. He looked down and saw that he seemed to be suspended in air, as the lights streaked by below him. Even a sky full of shooting stars could not have compared to this.

Elrond received almost as much pleasure watching Legolas’s expression of awe and wonder, as he was at seeing the lights again himself.

~*~*~

One human and three elves sat, stood or kneeled, transfixed by what they were witnessing. None of them were quite sure what to make of it. It was not the first time the elves had seen Elrond use Vilya, but it was by far the most spectacular display they had seen. Aragorn was completely dumbfounded by what he saw.

Only a moment after Elrond had called to the ring‘s power, the brilliance of the blue light of Vilya had driven them all to look away. The elves, in particular, had to turn their heads to avoid their sensitive eyes from actually hurting. A couple of times one or the other of them had tried to look back to see if they could still detect Elrond’s presence among them. None could bear the blinding light. The thought that the intensity of the light probably represented the intensity of the ring’s power was reassuring. How could a broken neck stand up to such power?

Glorfindel was sure he remained the only one who knew what was truly happening. However, now was not the time for him to attempt offering any explanations.

After what seemed like hours, but was in truth only moments, the light suddenly went out. Elrond sagged against the bed, seemingly drained of energy. The hand with Vilya remained on Legolas’s forehead, but the hand on his own head fell limply onto the bed.

Quickly, Glorfindel went to his long-time friend and placed his hands on the other elf’s shoulders. Softly, he said, “Elrond, what assistance do you need?”

With a sigh, Elrond straightened up and shook his head. “I am a little tired, but there is no need for concern.” He smiled at each of his sons to offer them support for his words. “I think a chair is all I need at present.”

Glorfindel helped the dark-haired elf lord stand and then eased him back into the chair he had occupied earlier.

Once Elrond’s sons knew he was unharmed by whatever he had just experienced, their attention turned to Legolas.

“Is his neck healed?” Elrohir asked, unable to hold back the question any longer. “Did Vilya mend it?”

Elrond stared at his youngest elven son and then slowly checked the anxious looks on his other two sons‘ faces. Hope was shining in all their eyes. He suddenly realized what they had thought he had been doing. It pained him to have to tell them the truth. “I did not attempt to heal Legolas’s injuries. That was not the purpose of what I went to do.”

Frowns quickly replaced the hopeful looks. “I do not understand,” Elladan said a fraction before Aragorn said the same thing.

“My sons, I used Vilya to enter Legolas’s mind and help him dispose of Mordraug.”

“And did you?” Aragorn asked. “Is that evil elf gone?”

“Yes. He has been put where he can never harm anyone else again. I will let Legolas tell you what was done, when he awakens.”

Aragorn tried to smile at the answer. He was exceedingly happy that the Avari was gone, never to torture his friend again. “I’m glad.” However, his frown only deepened, when he asked, “Were you not able to heal Legolas?” His voice carried a deep sadness.

“I did not try.”

“You didn’t even try?” Aragorn was shocked at his father’s words. Looking at both of his brothers‘ stunned faces and knowing his looked much the same, he once again said, “I do not understand.”

Wearily, Elrond tried to clear up the obvious confusion. “You all know that I do not use Vilya’s power to heal. I would be forever using it, if I did, and that is not its purpose. It is used to protect Rivendell, not only as a constant ring of grace around it but also to help banish any immediate threat that may appear.”

The ranger understood that, having been told during his training as a healer, but he still could not comprehend his father‘s unwillingness to heal Legolas, someone who had become like a member of the family. He suddenly found himself unable to speak, so upset had he become. He just stared at the dark-haired elf lord, who had raised him.

“But Legolas is like a son to you and a brother to us,” Elladan protested. “Surely, an exception can be made for him.”

“I know it is hard to grasp. I would greatly wish it different myself. I can only tell you that its power is meant for other things. As I said, if I used it to heal, which may or may not even work, I would have to justify its use every time I did.

“I have sat many times by the bedside of each of you, Legolas included, not knowing if I would lose you, and I was forced to employ traditional healing techniques to save you. I cannot use Vilya to help those I love, while refusing its use for others, who come to me to be healed. The responsibility of being entrusted with one of the elven rings of power, is a heavy one. It requires grave and sometimes painful decisions.” The elf lord shrugged. “I can explain it no better.” Elrond felt very inadequate at that moment.

“Did you tell Legolas you could not do it?” Elrohir tried not to sound bitter, but his tone betrayed that intent.

“He did not ask to be healed, Elrohir. I am sure he knew that I would have volunteered to do so, if I could.”

Everyone accepted Elrond’s explanations, but none of his sons truly comprehended the reasons behind them. The power to heal was wrapped around their father’s finger, yet that power would not be used to heal someone they all loved.

Aragorn asked the question that they all had on their minds. “Does that mean that Legolas will be forever paralyzed, as he is now?”

“No,” Elrond answered firmly. “We do not know the extent of the injury to his neck. He could very well make a full recovery. That is what I told him.”

“Then, you did discuss it,” Elladan said.

“Only because Legolas did not want to return here with me.” That statement brought puzzled looks to everyone’s face, including Glorfindel’s, though his soon reflected the dawning of comprehension.

With yet another sigh, Elrond began to explain this statement, too. “Legolas has created a place of refuge in his mind, as I know we all have. It is Greenwood as it once flourished. It is truly beautiful. Legolas wanted to remain there until he died, sure that that would be his end. He does not want to be a burden to his family or his friends, and taking care of an invalid, who is totally helpless, is what he believed would happen, if he returned here.”

Elrohir opened his mouth to say something, but Elrond held his hand up, and the younger twin clamped his lips together and waited for his father to continue.

“We made a deal, Legolas and I. He agreed to come back with me and see what progress he could make, if any. If none is forthcoming in a reasonable time, he will return to his Greenwood to await his death. I do not believe that will happen. As I told him, Eru returned him to Middle-earth for a reason, and I cannot believe living his life as an invalid is it.”

Elrond fell silent and so did everyone else. All their eyes were fastened on the young prince, lying motionless in the bed.

Finally, Aragorn asked, “When will he wake up?” He had asked that question before, but he thought the use of Vilya might have changed the answer he had received then.

“Soon, I think,” Elrond replied, nodding. “Soon.”

~*~*~

Legolas did indeed awaken not long after. As he gradually climbed back into the conscious world, it came to him with a jolt what had happened. He remembered being with Elrond in his mind and then the decisive battle with Mordraug. He could not help smiling to himself, when he remembered the prison he had condemned the Avari to spend eternity in. The young archer was filled with a most joyous feeling of satisfaction that he had avenged his Naneth, as well as stopping Mordraug from using him to destroy the rest of his family. He had also saved his people from a life of domination and cruelty at the hands of the maniacal dark elf.

Legolas tried to hold on to those pleasing thoughts but soon found himself wondering what was going to happen to him now. He was paralyzed, and he found it a difficult thing to accept. Elrond had tried to convince him of the possibility that it could well be a temporary situation. Though Legolas genuinely tried to hold onto the hope Elrond had offered, the fact that the greatest healer in Middle-earth did not know for sure how permanent his injury was did little to encourage the young prince.

Legolas mentally shook his head. The Lord of Imladris was very old and very wise beyond anyone he had had ever known. If Elrond said to hold to faith, he would do it. He had to. The alternative was to return to the Greenwood in his mind until he died. With a sudden realization that surprised him, he knew that Elrond had been right. He really did not want to die.

Without conscious intent, he had opened his eyes and was trying to focus them on his surroundings. Seeing figures that he was sure were his friends, he blinked several times until everything came into sharp focus. His fear that he would be looked upon with sympathy did not materialize. It did not appear that anyone was looking at him at all. It was hard to tell, though, because he could not move his head.

He soon figured out what it was that held his head so tightly in its grip. He was encased in a neck brace. He had once seen another elf warrior back home in Mirkwood, who had to wear one after falling from a cliff. The elf had also been paralyzed---permanently. Legolas quickly turned his thoughts away from that memory. He also pushed his fears aside.

He debated whether to let anyone know he was awake but decided not to disturb those that sat around his bed. He could only see the dark tops of the twins‘ heads, noting that they were seated on the floor. Elrond, leaning back in his chair with his eyes closed, had a look of great weariness about him. Legolas could well imagine that using Vilya the way he had would tire anyone, even a powerful elven lord such as Elrond. Aragorn sat on the other side of the bed and had a worried look on his face. Glorfindel could not be seen, but Legolas heard a small cough and knew it was the blond elf lord.

The archer closed his eyes again. He would wait until he heard someone speak before letting his friends know he was back with them. He felt a pang of guilt that he did not feel up to answering their concerned questions or trying to give them obligatory reassurances right then. All of that would come to pass soon enough, as it was.

TBC

A/N: I hope that I have not offended anyone regarding what I have said about Legolas feeling that his life would be useless, if he remained paralyzed.  I know that htere are a lot of people, who lead very worthwhile lives in that condition.  I have Legolas think otherwise simply for dramatic effect.  Please accept my heartfelt apology, if anyone is hurt by anything that I have said on that subject.

Chapter Fifty Seven

Aragorn had been sitting patiently, waiting for Legolas to wake up. He spent most of that time watching the elf sleep, as he turned over in his mind all that his father had said.

Mordraug was gone, and Legolas was free of him! That evil creature would never be able to hurt anyone again. That fact alone lifted the ranger’s spirits. He was also exceedingly happy that Elrond had talked Legolas into returning from the refuge in his mind. It was not the first time the man had been a witness to Legolas’s retreat there. However, it was the first time he feared that the elf might want to remain there. He tried to put himself in the archer’s place, contemplating any life, much less an immortal one, without movement, but trying to do so was simply too painful. It was also a waste of time, so he pushed the thought aside.

As always, he made himself believe that Legolas would recover. At no time had he truly given up hope that there would be a time in the not too distant future, when he and his elven friend would be in the woods again, hunting and camping, just as they had done so very many times before. ‘Call me an optimist, but Legolas will be his old self again.’

The ranger looked over at his father. Elrond was still sitting with his eyes closed and leaning his head against the chair back. He wished that there was some way to restore the energy that had obviously been expended in his battle with Mordraug. The man knew, though, that only time would bring the elf lord back to full strength.

Aragorn was still upset that Vilya could not be used to restore Legolas. It would have been such a simple thing for the ring’s power to accomplish. Yet, the ranger understood why it would not happen. Since the time a curious human teenager had first asked and been told about the Ring of Air on his father’s finger, he had known what the ring was meant to do, and what it was not meant to do. However, at this moment, that knowledge was of little comfort. It was his heart that yearned for an exception to be made, even if none had ever been made before.

The twins were still sitting on the floor, quietly conversing with each other, their dark heads almost touching. There was both worry and hope on their faces, as they talked. Aragorn was sure that the woodland warrior was the center of their conversation. He thought briefly of joining them but decided against it. He did not want to be away from the bed even a few feet, when Legolas awoke.

The ranger wasn’t surprised to discover that Glorfindel had left the room unnoticed. Like all elves, he was exceedingly stealthy, making no noise, as he moved. The man would not be startled to find the elder golden-haired elf suddenly appear again, when he finished with the task that had taken him away from this room.

Thus Aragorn’s attention came back to his friend. *Please wake up. Legolas.* he found himself saying. He stared hard at the wood elf, willing him to open his eyes. It took him a moment to realize that something had changed. Legolas was lying as still and quiet as he had been, but... Then the man knew. *He’s awake!*

The joy he felt almost compelled him to say something out loud, and then he realized that if Legolas wanted anyone to know he was back with them, he would have made that known already. The man was confused until he thought it over. Would he himself want to face what he knew the elf soon would: the inquiries as to how he felt, the endless words of encouragement, the possible pity? He knew none there would hold out pity, but there would inevitably be sympathy. He wasn’t so sure he wouldn’t have delayed letting everyone know.

Without thinking, Aragorn reached for Legolas’s left hand and squeezed it, in an effort to offer silent support. Then, he almost recoiled in shock, as it hit him that Legolas could not feel the pressure. Aragorn groaned inwardly at what he considered a thoughtless gesture, though it was done out of love. *He cannot feel, you idiot,* the man berated himself. ‘That’s what this is all about.’

Elrond had seen the gesture and the result it brought. “He knows,” he said softly, “even if he cannot physically feel you. Do not feel guilty about what you did.”

Aragorn jumped at the sound and let go of Legolas’s hand. His face took on a look of sadness. “I did not think,” was all Aragorn could say. It didn’t seem to occur to him that no harm had been done. Legolas had not known what he had done and would not now be feeling worse because of it, yet the man’s voice held a note of shame.

It was then that Legolas knew he had to make known the fact that he was awake. He could no longer deceive those that were concerned for him. Whatever awaited him, he had to begin facing it. So with an inward sigh of determination, the young elf opened his eyes, “I am awake.” His voice was slightly distorted due to the brace that encircled his jaws, making it impossible for him to properly open his mouth. He fought to hold back a frown.

Aragorn immediately stood up and leaned over, so Legolas could see him clearly. He smiled broadly at the elf, who tried to smile back. It wasn’t a totally successful attempt but his blue-gray eyes reflected his true feelings. No matter what else was involved, he was happy to see his best friend smiling down at him.

“Welcome back, mellon nin,” the ranger said.

Suddenly, two identical heads came into Legolas’s view. Both faces were smiling, as well. “Yes,” Elladan said, “welcome back.”

“Give him room,” Elrond said, rising and gently pulling each of the twins back. He understood his sons’ need to greet their friend, but he also knew how intimidating it could be to open your eyes and see several people hovering right above you.

Aragorn also raised up, when he saw his father lean forward, so Legolas could see him.

Elrond nodded at the prince. “Your open eyes are a welcome sight.”

“I promised you I would come back, and I am here.”

“I did not doubt that you would join us, when your head had cleared from the fall.”

Legolas wanted to shake his head but knew that trying was not a good idea, even if the brace had allowed it. Instead, he simply said, “I do not think my head is very clear, but I could no longer wait to let you know that I am ready to do whatever I need to do to get my body back.”

Elrond’s frown was not encouraging to anyone in the room, least of all Legolas. “There is nothing you can do to hasten a recovery, Legolas,” the elf lord reluctantly informed the prince.

“What do you mean?” Legolas’s voice denoted his shock at the elf lord’s words. “I came back to try and banish the paralysis and gain movement. You said...”

“I said I believed you would recover. And, I still do. However, that recovery will have to come on its own.”

“I am to just lie here and wait?” the young elf wailed.

“There is swelling in your neck. I believe now that is the bulge I felt, when I first examined you. When the swelling goes down, we will know the extent of the damage that was done and if any of it lingers.”

Legolas stared at Elrond, feeling somewhat betrayed. It was true that Elrond had never said that there was anything he would be required to physically do to participate in his own recovery. That was an assumption on his part, yet it was a logical one. At no time had Elrond told him he would have to just lie on a bed and endure motionlessness until such a time as his body did or did not right itself. The realization that such was the case dismayed him. “There is naught I can do?” he asked, hoping that this time Elrond would have a suggestion for another course of action.

When Aragorn and the twins realized what Legolas had thought would happen, they felt a pang of sympathy for their woodland friend. They, of course, had known what was coming.

With a look of deep disappointment, Legolas said, “I should have stayed in Greenwood.”

“No!” Aragorn almost shouted. “You should not have stayed there. I know you are disappointed, but you must hang on, Legolas. You must wait, as hard as that will be, until your body begins to respond to the decreased swelling. We all believe as Ada does. You will recover the full function of your body. I know it.”

It was Legolas’s turn to bestow a sympathetic look, as he gazed up at his friend. The ranger was so determined that he would be fine. It was at that moment that Legolas knew he could not give in to despair. He felt that doing so would be letting Estel down, never mind himself.

“Have faith, That is what you can do,” Elrohir said.

“I will.”

After a few moments of silence, Elrond broached another subject that he was afraid might prove to be delicate. “We need to send word to your father about this.”

“No!” Legolas said rather loudly. “You cannot tell him.”

“He needs to know, Legolas,” Elrond said calmly. “The last time I kept word of your condition from him,” he paused. “Well, it was unpleasant, to say the very least.”

Legolas wanted to shake his head this time, too. Again he had to settle for words only. “I would not have him know that I tried to kill myself. He would be so ashamed of me, considering such an action as cowardly.”

Aragorn did shake his head. “He would not think that of you, when he knows why you did it. He loves you too much.”

“My father does love me. I know this well. But, he harbors a pride in his children that sometimes exceeds reason. There have been times, when we have done things that brought about a great disappointment in us. It would break his heart, if he knew what I had done. He would believe that there must have been another way to solve the problem. I could not bear to look into his eyes and see the disillusionment there. No matter what I did after this, I could never regain his pride in me. Never.” The very thought of it almost brought tears to the young archer’s eyes.

“I think you underestimate Thranduil,” Elrond said. “I saw him with you, when he was here. He could never be anything but proud of you.”

“What happened to me before was not my fault. What has happened to bring me to this state is entirely of my doing.”

“That is not correct,” Elladan told him firmly. “Mordraug is the only one at fault here. Thranduil, as much as anyone, would understand that, considering what the Avari had done to you now and to the elves of Mirkwood centuries ago.”

“You still do not understand,” Legolas said desperately. “You do not know how fiercely my father believes in fighting the enemy, not giving in to it. That is why the Shadow has been held to a slow advance. My father has tenaciously fought to keep every inch of the forest he can. He would never accept my giving in to Mordraug. He would try to forgive me. But, in the end, he could not. He would love me still. I know that would never change, but it would never be the same between us.”

“Legolas...” Aragorn began.

“No, Estel, I cannot take the chance. He must never learn of this.”

“How do you propose to keep it from him? It will take time before you are fully well,” Aragorn said, still sure that would be the end result. “He expects that you are recovered from the journey back from the valley forest and will be returning home soon. A few more days, I would guess.”

“And, if he has not received word that you are leaving here soon, he will be demanding to know why,” Elrohir added. He looked at Elladan, who nodded his agreement.

“I will think of something to tell him.” Legolas stated, much more sure than he felt. He knew his father. Thranduil had his faults, but being put off when he wanted to know something was not one of them.

“You would have to lie to him, Legolas,” Aragorn said, “and that is not you.”

“This time it is.”

Aragorn tried another argument. “You would be asking all of us to lie to him, too.” The man was trying his hardest to get the elf to see reason. Legolas’s closed eyes told him he wasn’t succeeding in doing more than making the young archer feel guilty.

The mood in the room, which had been a joyous one when Legolas first awoke, had now become tense. The argument had turned into a battle of wills, and this time it did not look as if Elrond and his opinion would come out the victor.

The elf lord narrowed his eyes. What frightened him was that, if Legolas did not get his way, he could easily retreat back into his mind and he would be lost to them. With a sigh, Elrond said, “We have a day or two before Thranduil will be expecting word from us, so there is still time to settle this matter.”

“It will not change anything,” Legolas told him stubbornly, blue-gray eyes now staring directly into Elrond‘s gray ones.

“We will see,” he replied softly. He then turned to the twins, making sure he was out of Legolas’s line of sight. Once he got their attention, he nodded his head toward the door.

Turning back to Legolas, Elladan leaned forward slightly and said, “I think Elrohir and I will leave you for a while. Much has happened, and you need your rest,” he assured, nodding and smiling at the prince. He withdrew quietly.

The younger twin grinned. “We will not be far.“

“I will withdraw, as well,” Elrond said. He looked at Legolas. “Try to rest and do not let your mind become agitated. All will work out as it should.” With those words, the elf lord followed his two elven sons out of the room, leaving his human foster son with the injured wood elf.

After a moment of silence, Aragorn spoke up. “What do you want to talk about?”

Legolas gave the ranger a sad smile. “You do not need to entertain me, Estel. We both know the situation I am in far too well for us to engage in meaningless words.”

“Meaningless?” the man questioned indignantly. “I was not aware that my conversations were thought to be anything but profound.”

Legolas knew, of course, what the man was attempting. He appreciated it, and try as he might, he couldn’t be angry or even exasperated at his friend. “You are hopeless, Estel.”

“So I’ve been told by more than one person.” He sighed.

Continuing the banter would soon become forced, so he decided to level with the elf, hoping the archer would level with him in return. “How do you want me to act around you, Legolas? I do not want us to dance around any issue, no matter how serious. We have never been anything but honest with each other. Just tell me what you expect from me.”

Legolas followed the ranger with his eyes, as the man lowered himself back into the chair and pulled it up as close to the bed as possible. It was rare that the hyman asked such questions. He usually reacted however his instincts demanded. The fact that he had asked at all pointed up the unusual nature of the situation.

“Estel, I may be paralyzed, but I am still myself. At least, I am working on getting back to that point. I do not want you to feel that you cannot be yourself around me. And please, if you should make a reference to anything about my previous ability to run, walk, ride, climb trees, swim or anything else regarding movement, do not feel self-conscious about it. Apologizing for that would make me feel worse than whatever you said to begin with ever could. Have I your word?”

There was a pleading in Legolas’s eyes that called to the ranger’s heart. He knew he could not do anything to cause his friend any more sadness than he must already fee;. “I will treat you the same as I always have,” Aragorn said. He hoped he had kept his voice even and not filled with the sorrow he was determined to hide.

With a smile that was only partially forced, Aragorn asked, “Would you like me to open the window?”

“Please. I would love to feel the fresh air.”

Aragorn stood up and went to the narrow window next to the bed on the same side where he was sitting. He unlatched the small wooden frame and pushed it outward. Immediately, a gentle breeze made its way into the room.

Legolas could only detect a tiny movement of air across his face, but it felt good. He closed his eyes and concentrated on the warm breeze. “That is nice, Estel. Thank you.”

“Can I get you anything? Some water perhaps?”

It wasn’t until the man asked that Legolas realized how dry his mouth and throat were. “That would be nice, as well.”

A quick glance showed Aragorn that the pitcher on the small table in one corner was empty. He grabbed it. “I’ll be right back.” He quickly hurried from the room in search of water.

Legolas sighed. It was the first time he had been alone since waking up. That was not surprising. What was surprising was the fact that he wanted to be alone. He wanted to cry. He wanted to scream. He wanted to move his body.

He again thought back to the elf, who had fallen from the cliff and been paralyzed as he himself now was. That elf had been married with several children. Despite the fact that his family was happy just to have him with them, he could not face life unable to provide for his family or continue his duty as a warrior, something he loved doing. The elf had grieved for his lost life until he passed beyond this world. Legolas had questioned that decision back then. Now, he fully understood why that elf had chosen death.

Death. He had experienced that already. The flight his spirit had taken before being given the choice to return had been phenomenal. He had almost reached the Halls of Mandos where he was sure his Naneth was waiting for him. Would making that journey once more be so hard? Wouldn’t his Naneth be overjoyed to see him again?

Suddenly intruding into these almost pleasant thoughts were the words of Elrond telling him that Eru had saved him for a purpose. He couldn‘t avoid a tinge of bitterness, as he stared upward and asked, “What purpose, Eru? I cannot move, so what did you save me for?”

So many questions. It was maddening, because he didn’t have the answers to any of them.

TBC

Chapter Fifty Eight

Legolas’s mood did not change for the better during the next two and a half days. If anything, it became more morose and beligerant. The elf was paralyzed, so common sense had told him that his friends would have to take care of all his needs. Ir galled him to be so incapacitated that such had to be the case.

Elrond had brought a cup with a long, hollow, slightly curved extension on one side of it that allowed Legolas to drink while lying flat on his back. His food had to be minced up until it was nothing more than a mass of gruel. He desperately longed to chew something. But, chewing could not be managed with the brace still firmly in place around his jaws. He ended up sucking the mashed up food through a cup extension like the one he took his water from. His personal needs were handled with great care so as not to cause more than the barest movement to his neck. Though he knew the necessity of it, it embarrassed him, nonetheless.

Each time something was done for him, he either reacted badly or just lay in silence and smoldered. He was becoming impossible to deal with. Not more than twenty minutes ago, he had sent Aragorn out into the hall to cool down after they had argued---yet again. The woodland warrior was proving to be a lousy patient. It was after the ranger had said just that exact thing, that Legolas lashed out verbally and told the man to leave. Had he been able, Legolas would have thrown something at the wall in misery and frustration.

It wasn’t until Legolas had gathered his temper in and gotten himself under control that he felt shame at his behavior. He was continually making a vow to himself to be patient and then continually breaking that vow by displaying his bad mood. That in itself was cause for self-reproach. He was not ungrateful for what his friends were doing for him. Why then could he not control his emotions?

He called out to Aragorn, who he knew was right outside the door. All thoughts of the recent argument fled as the ranger came running into the room, fearing that something bad had happened.

With a contrite expression on his fair face, Legolas looked at his friend, “I am sorry, Estel. I am just so...” he searched for the right word but couldn’t find it. “I am sorry,” he repeated. “I know I am behaving badly.”

The man shrugged. “I have certainly seen you conduct yourself more in keeping with that of a royal prince,” he said, then added, “Although I imagine you were quite a handful as an elfling.”

“I believe that was the predominant thinking at the time,” the elf admitted. He smiled, though it was lacking in mirth. “I do not mean to take my frustration out on you, Estel. You, Elrond, the twins, Glorfindel, the other healers have all sacrificed to help me, and all I have done is harshly demonstrate my bad temper toward you all.”

“We understand, Legolas. We are simply at a loss as to how to help you beyond the physical care we can give.” He looked at his friend. “I know the pride you have, Legolas. I know you regard this whole situation as a weakness, and you feel shame because of it. No one else thinks of it that way.”

“Lying here being tended to is driving me mad. Nothing has happened to give me hope that I will ever regain movement in my body. I am fast losing whatever hope I once held.”

The elf’s tone filled the ranger with dismay. “It has only been a little over two days, Legolas. You must...”

“Give it time. I know. But, surely in two days enough swelling has gone down to allow some movement alrady. If I am ever to get any of it back, I should know it by now.”

The man did not respond to that. What could he say that he hadn’t already said a hundred times before? He feared that the elf was not going to accept waiting much longer. If only he could wiggle one toe or one finger, even the tiniest bit, it would give him a tremendous lift and the determination to wait it out. However, there had not been even a twitch to hang his hopes on.

Aragorn had to work hard to hold back a sudden surge of pity. That is the one thing that would send Legolas retreating into his mind quicker than anything, and the man was determined that the elf would never see that emotion on his face, especially since he really didn’t feel that way. It was just so hard watching this all take place. Was he losing hope? *No,* he thought firmly. *I will not give up hope.*

In addition to waiting, Aragorn had also pointed out, for the hundredth time, the fact that Legolas was able to breathe on his own. The last time he had made that remark, Legolas had bitterly barked out that if he wasn’t breathing, he’d be happily existing in the Halls of Mandos with his mother.

Those words had caused the ranger to shout back that they were all trying to save the elf, and all he did was rail against them, not appreciating the efforts they were making. Both had reacted badly to that confrontation, silence descending on them until Aragorn had left and sent Elrohir in to keep the prince company. That had happened earlier that morning, before the argument that had caused Legolas to send Aragorn out of the room.

Their apologies to each other after such disagreements were wearing thin. The expressions of regret were always heartfelt, but they had been offered by both parties so often, they were beginning to sound hollow.

The apology Legolas had just offered to the ranger rang harshly in his own ears. He almost gave an apology for that.

A soft knock on the door brought a halt to the overt tension that permeated the room.

“Come,” Legolas said. He wasn’t really in the mood for company, but he decided that whoever it was could serve as a distraction before he and Estel said something neither could take back, no matter the reason behind it.

Elrond entered the room with a smile for a greeting. One look at first his son and then the Mirkwood elf told him that there had been another dispute between the two friends. He sighed. The situation was becoming impossible. Though Legolas had never lost his temper in Elrond’s presence, Elladan and Elrohir had been on the receiving end of such displays. They had commented on it only after Elrond had questioned them at length, promising not to reveal their confessions to him. They hadn’t wanted to make it appear they were telling tales about the woodland elf, but not leveling with their father was not an option.

“Estel, will you leave us?” Elrond asked, an unreadable expression on his face.

“Yes, Ada,” the man said. Uncharacteristically, he left without a word or even a glance at Legolas. That did not go unnoticed by either elf.

“The two of you have argued again,” the elf lord stated flatly.

Legolas sighed. “Yes. I have let my frustration bubble over into fits of temper. Estel has been nothing but generous and giving in his concern and care, but I am afraid I have sometimes come to resent it.” Realizing that what he said sounded terribly ungrateful, he hastened to add, “I appreciate what he does, but he wishes me to be my old cheerful self while I wait to see if I will have any kind of real life after this, and he becomes angry, in turn, when I do not show the joys of lying here immobile while being attended to.” He was not able to keep a note of bitter sarcasm out of his voice.

Elrond sat himself down in the chair that Aragorn usually occupied, since it was already close to the bed. “He only wants the best for you, as we all do.”

“I know that, Elrond. I really do. But, as I told him, I am losing hope that anything will ever come of waiting. I cannot feel any more of my body now than I did when I first awoke. How long must I be expected yo wait?”

The desperation in the young elf’s voice touched the elf lord’s heart. He was fully aware that his next comment would not answer the archer‘s question. “The impatience of youth.”

“It is not my youth that is the problem. I am young, yes, but I would feel this way were I your age.”

Elrond could not argue the point. How much patience would he be able to maintain in similar circumstances? One of the things he had learned in his long life was not to assume you would know how you would feel about anything, if you had not experienced it yourself.

After a few moments of silence, Elrond steeled himself to broach the subject he had come to discuss. “We have not settled the matter of notifying Thranduil of your condition.”

Legolas, whose eyes had previously reflected the contriteness he felt, suddenly flashed with fire. “We have settled it. I will not agree to telling my father what I did. It pains me to keep this secret from him, but I must. I cannot risk losing his respect and pride in me.”

“I know that Thranduil is your father, and you have spent much more time in his company than I, yet I have known him far longer. I do understand the pride he has in you. I have the same kind of pride in my own children. But, I would never condemn any of them for trying to save their family, no matter how they chose to do it.”

“You are not Thranduil.”

“True. We differ in many ways, some very fundamental ones. But he is a father. His love will overpower any other feeling. If you had only seen him while he was with you, before and after Mordraug had killed you, there would be no doubt left in your heart.”

Legolas realized that his entire argument had made it sound as if he didn’t trust his father’s love. That was not the case, but he still held a measure of fear that once Thranduil knew the truth, their relationship would suffer. He dreaded being forced to say to himself afterward, ‘Why did I not listen to my first instincts in this?’ Of course, then it would be too late to take any of it back.

“I had hoped to get you to change your mind before I told you what has transpired.”

“What?” Legolas asked with mounting trepidation.

“Cúran is here.”

The archer closed his eyes and groaned at the mention of the Mirkwood courier’s name. So, Thranduil had sent for word on when he would be returning home. “What have you told him?” Legolas asked, eyes still closed, as if that would prevent him from hearing what he feared to hear.

“I have not seen him as yet. His message was given to me by another, and Cúran was sent to the dining hall for refreshment. He expects me shortly. What do you wish me to tell him?”

It was clear that Elrond had decided to honor Legolas’s wishes. When the archer had been unconscious and in his care, the elf lord felt that he should make the decisions regarding the young prince. Now that Legolas was awake, how he dealt with his father was up to him, whether Elrond agreed with it or not.

Legolas’s first impulse was to say he would speak with Cúran himself. That idea caused a mental flinch. If that meeting occurred, there would have been no way to keep Thranduil from learning exactly what had happened.

Legolas had known a moment like this would come, but so far he had not come up with anything to say that could possibly assuage his father. He returned Elrond‘s gaze. “Will you tell Cúran what has happened to me without letting him know it was of my doing? I would never ask you to lie for me, and I truly do not wish to be deceptive, but he would be duty bound to tell my father everything he learns. This way he cannot tell what he does not know.”

Elrond knew that that was as close as he was going to get to letting the whole truth come out, at least for a while. “Your father will find the truth out eventually, Legolas. It is better to reveal it all now.“

“I cannot.”

With a deep sigh, Elrond nodded. “I will tell Cúran what I can, though I fear he will question me. He is likely to know I am keeping something from him and will probably insist on seeing you himself.”

“I think you are right, but I would not have him look upon this useless body. I think in this case, his imagination of what I look like is better than the fact of it. Tell him I am not up to seeing him, which is true enough.”

Elrond disagreed with this line of reasoning, yet he was not going to press the matter. Nodding, he left the room.

As he did so, Legolas called out, “I wish to be alone for a while.”

“To brood?” the elf lord couldn’t help asking.

“To think,” came the blond elf’s reply.

As the door was pulled shut, Legolas again closed his eyes. Was he doing the right thing? Whether Cúran actually saw him or not, he knew the courier would report his condition as it was, and that would upset not only his father but his whole family. At least, they would not know that he had tried to commit suicide.

Another idea slipped into his thoughts. “I cannot kill them now.’ He was going to have to settle for what comfort that knowledge brought to his troubled mind.

An hour later, Elrond retuned to Legolas’s room. His face was not that of a very satisfied elf.

Legolas was pretty sure what Elrond would say, but he waited respectfully for the elf lord to speak.

“As I predicted, Cúran insisted on seeing you. It took a great deal of talking on my part to convince him you did not want to see him without actually telling him that. He was, also as predicted, full of questions. He obviously cares for you very much.”

“He has always been good to me. More than once, when I was but a child, he let me carry his courier pouch to the edge of the forest around the palace, when he left on one of his trips. I know he is disappointed, not only for himself but also because he wants to accurately describe to my father what has befallen me. It is easier to make a report, when you have seen what you are reporting about.”

“There is time to change your mind about seeing him. He is not leaving until the morning.”

“I will consider it,” Legolas said, not really committing to an answer one way or another.

Elrond nodded, holding out at least a small measure of hope, though he knew that comment was primarily an effort to close the current discussion. “Just let me know.”

Changing the subject, he said, “It is almost time for the evening meal. I will have one of the twins bring you your food.”

‘Food?’ Legolas scoffed to himself. He thought about complaining about the gruel he was being fed but knew it would do no good. As long as he was forced to lie flat on his back and keep the movement of his head to a minimum, he could expect nothing else.

He almost laughed out loud. Here he was wanting so desperately to move some part of his body below his neck and couldn’t, and yet the one part of his body he was able to move, his head, he had to keep as still as possible. The bitter irony of it did not escape him.

As Elrond had hoped, Legolas changed his mind about seeing Cúran before he left for Mirkwood. The young elf stared up at the ceiling in contemplation, wondering if he had made a mistake in reversing his decision. ‘No matter what he asks about how it happened, I just have to refuse to tell him.’

Most communication between realms was done by bird, usually a hawk. The speedy birds cut the time for the delivery of messages tremendously. A most times, Thranduil employed this method, preferring the swifter falcons to the larger hawks. Yet often, his mode of communicating was by elven courier.

The king had found in Cúran an intriguing talent. The brown-haired elf could look at and talk to someone and, using his ability to observe verbal tones, body language, hand gestures, the casual word that seemed innocent, he could usually ascertain the truth behind what was being said. Thus, by trusting in the courier’s instincts, Thranduil gained information that he never would have received from just spoken or written words. As a result, the king often was able to get the upper hand in most dealings he had with others. He was also able to best those who might be attempting to deceive him.

Cúran had trained other elves in the technique of close observation, giving King Thranduil the advantage in understanding differing messages received from more than one realm at the same time. Talented as the couriers of Mirkwood were, none compared with Cúran, so naturally he was the one sent on the most delicate of missions. Finding out about the king’s youngest child certainly qualified in that regard.

All of this ran through Legolas’s head as he waited. He knew going in that nothing would escape the courier’s keen observations and that those observations would go straight to the king‘s ear. ’Have I made a mistake in allowing Cúran to see me?’ he asked himself yet again. Then suddenly there was no further chance to wonder, as a knock sounded on the door.

When Cúran entered Legolas’s room in the House of Healing, he could not avoid a sharp intake of breath. He did manage to keep his face from reflecting the shock he felt, even though he realized that Legolas could not see him where he now stood just inside the door. Seeing this beloved Prince of Mirkwood in such a state stunned him. He had been told what to expect, but his mind had not been prepared for the reality before him.

With a move that felt like he was dragging lead weights, the courier forced himself to step forward. “My lord,” he said, as he inclined his head and held his right fist over his heart, making sure he was close enough for Legolas to see him.

Legolas himself felt a stab of pain at the almost tortured look in Cúran’s eyes, something the courier had not been fast enough to hide. Legolas thought he also saw the beginning of tears forming there.

“Do not fret, Cúran. I will be fine.” He inwardly winced at the ease with which he had just lied to this friend and faithful servant that he had known his entire life. “Lord Elrond holds out great hope for my full recovery.” At least, that was the truth.

In a somewhat hushed voice, Cúran asked, “Lord Elrond told me that you fell from your balcony, and he described your injuries. Yet, I suspect he has deliberately hidden something from me. How did such a thing happen? ”

Legolas almost smiled. How well Elrond had predicted exactly what Cúran would say and do. He guessed it wouldn’t have been too hard a thing to do, especially for someone as wise and experienced as the Lord of Imladris.

“The details are unimportant,” the prince lied again. “You must tell my father that I am being well cared for. When movement returns to my body, I will personally send him a letter.”

“Your father will not wait for a letter.” They both knew the truth in that statement.

“Cúran, you must downplay what has happened. I will be fine, and I would not have the king upset enough to cross the mountains yet again on my behalf.”

The courier stated at his prince. How in all of Middle-earth was he supposed to downplay something like this? “You father will be upset no matter how I tell it. The very mention of you being paralyzed will send him into a frenzy. He will not be able to leave the realm fast enough.”

“Temporarily paralyzed,” Legolas corrected. “I told you what Lord Elrond said.”

“Yes, my lord, you did. Yet, I still say there is no way to tell King Thranduil of this that will not bring him here as fast as he is able to travel.”

“I know you speak true,” Legolas finally conceded, his voice reflecting his resignation of the inevitable.

Legolas noted that in the intervening silence, Cúran was looking at him closely. Legolas smiled. “I know your powers of observation, Cúran. You can see for yourself that except for the brace on my neck, I am well. Lord Elrond tells me that even my broken ribs are close to mending.”

The courier nodded, though he also believed that Legolas, like Lord Elrond, was holding something back. He also believed that neither was going to reveal it, so questioning would gain him no answers.

Legolas then asked a question that effectively changed the subject. “Tell me what became of the problem with the murdered human that required the king‘s personal attention?”

“Ah yes, that little problem,” Cúran sighed. “It turned out that the man had killed himself and did it inside Mirkwood‘s borders to put the blame on us. It seems he had held an old grudge against the elves of our realm from some incident years ago. That revelation embarrassed the men, who had demanded the king’s presence, and you can rest assured they will never do that again. Lord Thranduil had them apologizing all over themselves, and they all but slunk, bowing and scraping, out of the Great Hall, once he revealed what had really happened. They left Mirkwood in record time, I believe.”

“I do not doubt that for a moment.” Legolas couldn’t help but laugh. He had seen his father’s withering gaze, icy comments and firey yet rigid countenance reduce even other elves to masses of quaking terror. Few humans could withstand such a display.

A somewhat awkward silence then fell. Neither elf had forgotten the reason for Cúran’s visit.

Abruptly, Legolas said, “I think it is time that you headed back to Mirkwood, Cúran. My father will be anxiously awaiting your report that I am doing well.”

Cúran recognized that he was being dismissed with another gentle hint that he should not voice his deepest concerns to the king. He knew Legolas would never ask him to lie, something he could never have done anyway. He suspected that Legolas just wanted to save his father, as well as his whole family, more anguish. He also suspected Legolas wanted to keep from revealing whatever it was that he still kept secret.

“Give my love to my family,” Legolas told him, making sure that Cúran would indeed leave without him having to be told directly to do so. Ordering friends around had never been an easy thing for him to do, outside of the orders he gave as the leader of a warrior patrol.

“I will, my lord,” Cúran said, not offended by the dismissal but deeply saddened at not only his prince‘s condition but the fact that he was going to have to leave without finding out the secret Legolas and Lord Elrond were keeping.

“May the Valar speed your recovery.” The courier bowed, turned and left the room. He was glad he had seen Legolas, but the visit had not eased his concerns any. It would be a long, emotionally troubled journey back to Mirkwood.

Legolas sighed. He knew it wouldn’t be too long before Thranduil made another appearance in Rivendell. The archer fervently hoped that by the time his father did arrive, he would be able to move every part of himself that was supposed to move.

TBC

Chapter Fifty Nine

“Do it,” the blond elf said somewhat forcefully.

“No, Legolas. I can’t do that.” The man was just as forceful. “I can’t undo your warrior braids. They mean too much to you.”

“They are the symbol of a warrior, Estel. I am no longer a warrior. I will never be one again.” Both anger and regret flashed in the depths of the blue-gray eyes of the elf.

“I know it has been over a week since you fell...”

“Jumped,” Legolas corrected. “Say it like it is, Estel. I jumped.”

“Since you jumped,” the man said, amending his previous remark “A week is not long enough to decide that your fate is irretrievably sealed, and you will never move again.”

“Is that the healer in you speaking? Because, if it is, you are falling down in your training. You have been taught to be realistic in assessing injuries, have you not?”

Aragorn put both hands behind his back, because he was clenching them into fists, and he did not want the elf to see the results of his anger.

Legolas’s own anger had diminished. He was now speaking in a cold, concise manner that was more upsetting than his previous antagonism had been.

Legolas could see the slight strain on the mans’ face and knew exactly what the ranger was doing. “I know you are upset with me, Estel. I may be paralyzed, but I still have brain function enough to be that perceptive.”

It took the vision of the shiny metal brace around his friend’s neck to keep the ranger from grabbing the obstinate elf and shaking him until some kind of sense rattled free. Instead, he only clenched his fists tighter until his fingernails dug into the skin of his palms.

Before blood could be drawn, he relaxed his hands in defeat. “Very well, Legolas. If you wish me to undo your braids, then I will undo them.” Without another word, he leaned over and picked up the small braid that was lying in front of the elf’s left ear. Holding back the urge to yank stubbornly at the pale gold hair in frustration, Aragorn began unwinding the braid. When he had finished with that one, he walked around the bed and repeated the maneuver on the right side.

As intent on his distasteful task as he was, he still couldn’t help but notice that Legolas’s eyes were closed tightly, as if he was fighting against a physical pain. Also noticed was a tear that made its way from the corner of Legolas’s eye, down across his temple and into the edge of his hair, very close to where Aragorn was working. Seeing that completely disarmed the man of his anger toward the elf, replacing it with the compassion that anger had buried earlier.

With a much calmer demeanor, Aragorn pulled his fingers through the elf’s hair, taking out the tangles the braids had created. Straightening up, the man said, “There. It’s done. Your warrior braids are gone.” He hoped that his stark words would somehow elicit a reaction from the elf. He almost held his breath, hoping that Legolas would change his mind and ask for them to be rebraided. Such a request never came.

Shaking his head, Aragorn sat down heavily in the chair on the right side of the bed. It was farther back from the bed than the chair he usually sat in, which allowed for him to let his emotions play out on his face without being seen by the object of those emotions.

The man suddenly felt very tired. There was no reason for such weariness on a physical level. Between all the others, who tended to Legolas, no one person was allowed to overextend themselves. It was the ranger’s emotions that were draining him. Tending to the injured elf had become a thankless job, although he knew that deep down, the rational part of Legolas appreciated the efforts made on his behalf. However, on the surface, the elf was often either belligerent, sarcastic or downright angry, and, at the worst of times, all three at once. The rest of the time he spent in brooding silence.

It hurt the man that nothing could be done to kindle in Legolas at least the semblance of hope, if nothing else.

Each time he arrived at the elf’s room, Aragorn held his breath, fearing he would find that Legolas had fled into his mind and would be lost to them all forever. When, each time, he found that not to be the case, he felt guilty that he had had such a thought, reasonable as it sometimes was.

Three hours before, on this particular morning, there had been a message, carried by a falcon, from Crown Prince Balardoron of Mirkwood, stating that King Thranduil had left the elven realm before dawn that morning on his way to Imladris No one had told Legolas, fearing it would upset the young prince even more than his circumstances already had.

Aragorn sighed. Perhaps the king could bring Legolas’s hopes back to the fore. Certainly, no one in Rivendell had been able to do it so far.

The man was startled out of his thoughts, when Legolas said, “When is my father arriving?”

“In a few days, I would think,” the ranger replied matter-of-factly. There was no use feigning surprise at the question. His elven friend knew him too well even to make an attempt at pretence.

He was also not surprised, when Legolas asked, “When did the message arrive?”

“A few hours ago.”

The elf made no comment. He knew why that fact had been kept from him. He almost made the remark that now they were keeping things from him, because they did not trust him not to react badly. To his own surprise, he was not angry, and that was in part because he knew they were right.

“I will...” Legolas began and then stopped short. He could not say the words that he was thinking. And they were that he would tell his father goodbye when he arrived.

“You will what?” the ranger asked.

“Nothing.” Legolas replied. He was relieved, when Aragorn didn’t press him for an explanation.

It had been eight days since his neck was broken. Elrond had told him yesterday that the swelling was gone. The elf lord had been filled with sadness that he had to deliver such news. On the surface, it sounded like great news. But because there had been no progress in the young elf being able to feel any part of his body, the news only served to point up that fact. The elven healer could be nothing but completely honest with his young patient, so he had told him the truth.

Elrond no longer expressed his belief that Legolas would gain the use of his body. Deep down the elf lord still clung to that belief, as they all did, but continually saying it only angered Legolas or caused him to shut down and retreat into a morose silence.

Despite the fact that Legolas could not see Aragorn’s face right now, he knew the man was close to the end of his rope, trying so desperately to encourage the elf while taking care of his needs and getting nothing but grief in return. Legolas felt a deep sorrow about that, but he had also found himself powerless to correct it. Try as he might, he had not been able to alter his behavior, which had seemed to go out of control all on its own without his bidding.

A few days ago, even a few hours ago, he would have reacted badly to the idea that a message had come from his brother regarding the immanent arrival of his father. Now, there was no point in making a scene. He had become resigned to his fate. Somehow that fact was not comforting. *It is time to leave,* he told himself.

Just wait. Just wait. The words began echoing in his mind. He knew they referred to him waiting for movement to return. He had a different idea. *I will wait---until my father arrives, and then I will depart to the Greenwood of my own making.*

Legolas thought back to the letter he had written to Thranduil right before he had left for the valley forest to confront Mordraug. There is nothing he could say in person that could possibly express his feelings any better. Yet, he knew he could not leave without telling Thranduil why he was going to do what he had decided he must do. Perhaps, his passing would be easier to accept, if his father did not have to deal with a son, who had tried to take the easy way out of a difficult situation. His only regret was seeing the look of disappointment in his father’s eyes, when he told him why he had fallen from his balcony. He realized now that he could not keep that news from Thranduil.

It looked like the Avari was about to win after all. He was banished to suffer a terrible punishment, but now with Legolas on the very edge of giving in to despair, the dark elf’s relentless assault on him had paid off. At least, he wouldn’t be able to gloat, since he would never know the result of his mind control. It was only a small consolation to Legolas, but it brought a smile to the elf’s lips. However, the smile soon faded.

*Wjy am I giving up?* Legolas demanded to himself. *Why am I letting Mordraug win?* He mentally shook his head. *Because I no longer have anything to offer to my king, my family, my friends, my people or myself. Because I am useless now,* came the logical answer. Legolas could almost hear those words spoken with Mordraug’s voice followed by the evil elf’s taunting laughter. He listened intently to make sure it was just his imagination, though he knew it was.

*Why am I such a coward?* The elf continued with his mental musings. *That has never been true of me before.* He thought back to all the battles he had fought in his long life. He had killed and nearly been killed by the minions of the Dark Lord. During those times, he had faced death with courage. Courage. Such a simple word for such a defining part of a warriors’ character. Courage was not facing death unafraid. Courage was facing death in spite of the fear. *How did I lose it? When did I lose it?*

Legolas knew deep down that he could not blame all of his thoughts of fleeing into his mental refugee on the Avari. He had to put more of the blame than he cared to admit squarely on himself.

His mind came back once again to thoughts of his father‘s reaction to what he had done. He had told Elrond that his father would believe that there had to have been another way to defeat Mordraug without attempting to take his life. Was that true? Had there been another way? Would he have been able to hold out against the dark elf long enough to find it? After the incident with his flowers, he did not believe so. Yet, he had convinced himself that Thranduil would not accept that fact. His father never openly admitted to defeat. There was always another way to get something accomplished. That is why Legolas was so afraid of his father’s reaction to his suicide attempt.

A crazy thought made its way into the questioning mind of the elf prince. Would Thranduil also be disappointed that, once his son had decided on what he would do to try and rid himself of Mordraug’s control, he couldn’t even accomplish that simple course of action? Was that not also a form of failure his father would frown on? How could he doubt his father this way?

As all of those thoughts and questions swirled in Legolas’s mind, a sudden rage swept through the elf that he had never felt before, not even during the times he had seen elves die at the hands of orcs or wargs had he experienced such fury.

The intensity of the emotion was so overwhelming it almost stole his breath. Legolas had become so enraged that he balled his hands into fists and slammed them down on the bed over and over, trying to rid himself of all the raw emotions he had been feeling since his fall, or more accurately, since he first laid eyes on Mordraug.

*NO!’* the elf raged inwardly. *I WILL NOT GIVE UP. MORDRAUG WILL NOT DEFEAT ME!’ I WILL NOT DEFEAT MYSELF!*

The pounding fists were soon accompanied by a strangled cry that quickly built up into a primal scream of pent-up torment, pain and anguish.

Startled nearly to death, Aragorn, his heart lurching in his chest, jumped up to see what the trouble was, thinking something terrible must have happened to the elf. When he realized what actually had happened, he stared in absolute shock. “Legolas, your hand,” was all he managed to get out.

Legolas expected a remark to be made about his scream, but he had no idea why Estel would mention his hand. “What?” the elf asked, still unaware of what he had done.

“You moved your right hand. In fact, you made a fist and hit the bed with it. Didn’t you feel it?” His voice reflected the man’s continued disbelief in what had happened and the fact the elf seemed totally unaware of it.

Legolas stared at the ranger. He knew what he had imagined himself doing, but had it happened for real? If it had all been in his mind, how then would Estel know about it?

He tried to lift his arm to look at the hand in question but couldn’t manage it. His heart sank. “I do not feel my hand, Estel. You must have dozed off and dreamed it.” The disappointment in the archer’s voice was evident.

“I think not. Your fingers were relaxed and straight before. Now, look at them.” Aragorn held up the elf’s right arm, moving it so that Legolas could see the fingers that were still curled into a loose fist.

Legolas’s eyes stared first at the fist Aragorn held up and then at the eyes looking back at him. The biggest smile he had ever seen slowly spread across the ranger’s face.

“I knew it! I knew it! You can move!” So excited was the man that he unceremoniously dropped Legolas’s arm and charged out of the room, saying he was going to find his father.

Legolas concentrated on his right hand, trying to flex his fingers back and forth. He couldn’t see them, but he was sure he felt a tingle. He closed his eyes and let all of the appropriate senses seek out more evidence that he had indeed had a physical reaction to his intense emotional outburst.

There it was again. A definite tingle traveling up his fingers. His heart almost exploded from the sheer joy of that tiny feeling. “I can feel my fingers,” he said aloud. “I can feel my fingers!”

A few seconds later, Aragorn, with Elrond and the twins following, came into the room. “Look, Ada. You can see his fingers are curled up. He did that on his own.”

Elrond approached the bed and lifted Legolas arm, turning it so that the palm of the archer’s hand was facing up. There was a possibility that the muscles had contracted that had nothing to do with function retuning to the nerves controlling them. He gently straightened the young elf’s long, slender fingers. “Do you feel this?”

“I think so,” Legolas replied tentatively. “I am sure I felt a tingle twice while Estel was gone.”

Elrond’s face did not betray any emotion. He would neither offer false hope nor would he express any discouragement until he was sure. “What about this?” he asked, as he lowered Legolas’s arm out of the prince’s line of vision and then pinched his forefinger rather hard.

“I feel pressure,” Legolas informed the healer.

“On which finger?”

“My forefinger. It feels as if it is being pressed onto a hard surface, but,” he added almost sadly, “there is no pain.” He believed that Elrond was doing something to hurt him enough to bring on pain, and he wasn’t feeling it the way he should have. He continued looking at Elrond’s face for some kind of reaction.

“Try to move your fingers,” Elrond instructed in his very familiar healer’s tone of voice.

The effort to make his fingers move showed on Legolas’s face. He had his mouth clamped shut, and his eyes were almost closed with the strain of putting all his strength into making just one of his fingers move. He didn’t think he could take the crushing blow his inability to do that would cause. There was no room for that thought right now, so he firmly pushed it away and continued to will a finger to move.

A noise from Aragorn made Legolas look over toward his friend. The smile on the ranger’s face said it all. “Did I do it?” the wood elf asked anxiously.

“Yes, you most certainly did!” Aragorn happily informed his friend. “You moved all four of them.”

Elrond gripped the elf’s hand in both of his and squeezed. It was not a test this time. It was done simply out of relief and pure happiness.

The twins, standing at the foot of the bed, let out whoops of joy. “I knew that famous Mirkwood stubbornness would end up being good for something besides exasperating the rest of us,” Elladan remarked, his smile matching that of his human brother.

“It is about time, too,” Elrohir said, his own smile softening his words. There was no harshness in his tone. He was too happy to offer up any criticism of the prince’s recent behavior.

Elrond lowered Legolas’s right arm and went around to the other side of the bed and then lifted his left arm. He pinched Legolas’s little finger. “Do you feel this?” he asked calmly.

“No,” the young elf replied rather dejectedly. “I feel nothing in that hand at all.” He was sure that the pounding of his left fist had indeed been entirely in his mind.

Elrond smiled. “Do not be discouraged, Legolas. I never believed that you would suddenly gain feeling in all parts of your body at once. As I have said before, it will take time. However, it is clear that movement has begun to make itself known. And, I believe it will continue to do so.”

As Elrond had passed Elladan, still standing at the foot of the bed, he had nodded his head down toward Legolas’s feet. After the elf lord had tested the young elf’s left hand, Elladan had pinched one of Legolas’s toes, twisting it a bit to insure that, if feeling existed, the gesture would not go unnoticed. There had been no reaction to indicate that the wood elf had felt the pinch.

Elladan had given his father a subtle shake of his head.

Elrond decided not to mention that little test to Legolas. He wanted the young archer to concentrate on what he had been able to feel, not what he was still unable to feel.

Legolas could not keep himself from asking, “How long will it take to get the feeling back in my whole body so that I can move about?”

“There is no way to know, Legolas. It may take days, it may take weeks.” At the look of disappointment on the young archer’s face, Elrond smiled again. “Feeling and movement will come, Legolas. I am sure of it. We certainly have a good beginning.”

“Can you tell me when you will take this brace off of my neck?”

“Legolas, your neck is still broken, though it has healed a great deal already. You must keep the brace on until the healing is very close to complete. Any weakness that remains needs to be supported, or you could sustain another break, even from a move that under ordinary circumstance would cause no harm whatsoever.” He knew he didn’t need to say that if that happened, the most likely result this time would be permanent paralysis.

Legolas had been given another chance at a normal life, and he had no intention of risking it in any way, so he said, “I understand. I will not complain, as long as I know it will come off eventually.” He had hoped, but hadn’t really believed, that the brace could come off before Thranduil arrived. He did not want his father to have to see him with it on.

Elrond officially pronounced the prince on the road to recovery. He never would have said, ‘I told you so.’ but the thought did occurr to Legolas.

“You told me to be patient and that I would eventually be able to move. I will never doubt you again.” His tone and demeanor reflected the contriteness of his heart.

With the mock expression of a stern elf lord, Elrond said, “See that you do not, young one.” It felt good to say something that was light and carried a note of genuine mirth.

Legolas strained to move his eyes so that he could see the smiles he knew were all around him. He allowed the warmth that radiated from those smiles to wash over him.

It was only deep inside that he felt a twinge of foreboding. After all, there was still the impending meeting with his father to deal with. Shaking off that thought for now, he grinned at his best friend, standing next to the bed and grinning back at him.

TBC

Chapter Sixty

The very hour that movement returned to Legolas, he began working hard to get the feeling that had manifested itself in the fingers on his right hand to spread throughout his entire body. It was slow going, but gradually feeling and movement increased until he could once again command fingers, toes, arms legs and feet. He still did not have a great deal of strength nor full range of motion, but he knew it wouldn’t be long until he had both.

The prince’s attitude had also taken a dramatic turn for the better. He was much more pleasant to be around. He demonstrated his eagerness, bordering on obsession, to do what he was supposed to do and was rewarded with positive results.

Physical progress was not the only thing that had given him such a lift to his spirit. The thing he was most proud of was the fact that he had reclaimed his courage before feeling returned to him. It would have been so easy to become the lighthearted elf he had always been, if he had known that his return to life as a warrior was in his future. It had been much harder to reclaim himself, not having had that knowledge. Yet, he had done it.

Retreating into his mind until his spirit departed for the Halls of Mandos had been a near thing. So near, in fact, that he still shuddered to think how close he had come to throwing his life away. ‘I did not give up and flee into my mind.’ he told himself with a small smile. He knew that from now on going to his own private Greenwood would be a journey of light and joy, not a retreat of guilt and shame.

“Why are you smiling?” Aragorn asked, as the ranger walked into the room and approached the bed.

“Have you ever done something that made you proud of yourself?”

The man was a bit taken back by the question, since he was actually expecting Legolas to tell him about some new ability he had regained. He recovered quickly and nodded. “More that once.” The elf’s smile was contagious, so he offered one of his own. “There have been times when I almost applauded myself.”

“Almost?” the elf asked with raised eyebrows. He knew that every so often his friend tended to gloat over some deed he had done.

“Well, once I did applaud myself. There was no one else around to do it for me.”

The sheepish look on the ranger’s face made Legolas laugh. “You will have to tell me about it one day.”

“I can tell you about it right now.”

“Oh, you are so proud of yourself the story can wait no longer. Very well, what did you do to elicit such a reaction on your own behalf?”

“I broke up a pile of dead tree branches and leaves that had dammed up a stream so that it was threatening to flood a small, nearby farm. I did it single handedly.”

Legolas stared at the ranger. “That was good of you, Estel. But, you have done many things far more heroic than that.”

“But, you see, I was only ten years old at the time. In fact, it was only about a month after I had first met you. I actually did it because of you.”

“Because of me?” The elf was clearly puzzled. “How so?”

“I had this image in my mind of a very brave elven Warrior Prince. I had heard the farmer’s fear of the rising water washing away his recently planted crops, and I thought about what you would have done in that situation. I already told you I was very in awe of you, once I got over the fear that my irascible brothers had instilled in me, regarding your penchant for eating small human children.”

Legolas laughed at the memory of that human child, running from him in wide-eyed terror. As for the hero worship, Legolas wasn’t sure what to say.

Aragorn spared him the effort of coming up with something, when he continued with his story. “I told myself, ‘Legolas would go right out there on that pile of debris and tear it loose so the water would run down the streambed again.’ I have to admit that I thought you would be braver than I felt at the time. But, I did it. And afterward, when I stood and watched the water flow through the broken dam instead of destroying the seedlings, I clapped, because I was most pleased with what I had done.”

“Did the farmer not thank you?”

“Oh yes. But that was later. Right then I had only myself to thank me.”

“That was indeed brave for a ten year old child,” Legolas said in admiration. Yet, he couldn’t resist adding, “It was also very dangerous.”

“I heard plenty about that later, when I bragged to my brothers. They were truly frightened for me, but I told them I could do no less than the Warrior Prince of Mirkwood would have done.”

“I imagine they were impressed with that.”

“Not really,“ the ranger replied, lost for a moment in the now-humorous memory. Then, Aragorn looked at Legolas. He had not forgotten that it was the elf who had brought up the subject of self-pride in the first place, and he was curious to find out the reason behind it. “Why did you ask me if I had ever been proud of something I had done?”

Legolas hesitated for only a second before saying, “I have not told you this, Estel, but I had made up my mind to leave and retreat into my mind after my father arrived, and I had spoken with him. That is how far I had descended into despair. Then, I found myself again.”

“When you screamed.”

“Yes. I was enraged that I had let myself sink so low as to want to run away. I was determined that Mordraug would not win. So, I decided right then to face whatever I had to face here in this life. I am proud that I made that decision before the feeling came back to my fingers. If I had let the return of movement be the thing that brought me back instead of my own idea of self-worth, I would have forever seen myself as a coward, who wanted to live only if I could do things the way I always had.”

Aragorn shook his head. “You have never been and never could be a coward, Legolas. I’m glad you told me. I had been trying so hard to make you recognize the fact that you still had a worthwhile life to live, even if you remained paralyzed.”

“I know you did. I am sorry for making your life so difficult.” The elf made a face that reflected his shame. The look was not terribly serious, though his words definitely were. “I apologize for driving you crazy.”

“Well, you’ve been doing that for as long as I’ve known you. You just carried it a bit farther this time.” The ranger then leaned over and held both of the elf’s arms in a firm grip of friendship. “You’ve no idea how good it is to have my best friend back.”

“I do, Estel. I do, because I feared that my anger and frustration may have eventually driven you away.”

“That could never happen.”

Before either could say another word, a knock sounded at the door, and then Elrohir opened it and stuck his head part of the way in. “Legolas, your father is almost here. Elladan just spotted him coming up the road toward the gate. He will be right here in a few moments.”

Legolas closed his eyes and exhaled a heavy sigh. It had been three days since the message from Balardoron had arrived, and still Legolas was not sure if he was prepared to face his father. It looked now as if he would have no choice. Besides, he knew delaying the inevitable would provide him with no real solace.

The blond elf opened his eyes and looked toward Elrohir. He couldn’t really see the youngest twin, but he knew where he stood. “Elrohir, would you find Elrond for me---quickly. I need to talk to him before my father sees me.”

“I am right here, Legolas,” came the dark-haired elf lord’s voice. He walked into the room. “I was on my way from seeing another patient and thought I would look in on you. What do you require?”

“You heard Elrohir say my father is here.”

“I did. I will meet with him and tell him of your condition.”

“First, I want your permission to sit up. I do not wish to have my father see me for the first time lying flat on my back. Seeing me in this neck brace will be hard enough for him to bear. I can lean against the headboard for support. Please allow me to do this.” The prince’s bright blue-gray eyes were pleading.

“This means a lot to you.” After confirmation from the young archer. Elrond said, “I will let you sit up, Legolas, but you must be very careful.”

“I will. I promise.”

Nodding toward Aragorn, the elf lord and his foster son both grabbed onto the archer and slowly eased him up into a sitting position and then carefully pulled him backwards until his back was firmly against the wooden headboard.

They had just pulled the bedcovers up to Legolas’s waist, when the irate form of King Thranduil appeared in the doorway.

Elrohir had prudently moved aside, when he saw the imposing figure of the royal wood elf approaching.

Just as had happened the first time the king had entered a room in which his son was in a bed, injured, Thranduil, looking neither to the right nor the left, headed straight for Legolas.

As much as he wanted to grab his youngest child and hug him tightly, as he had done before, Thranduil did not dare attempt it. The sight of the meal brace around Legolas’s neck and shoulders clenched his heart and caused it to skip a beat. He had to force his breathing to remain steady, as well as force his face not to reflect the dismay he felt. Instead of the hug, Thranduil put both of Legolas’s hands between his slightly larger ones. “Ion nin.”

“We will leave you two alone to talk,” Elrond said, as he started to withdraw.

He took no more than two steps, when Thranduil’s stern voice brought him to a halt. “Do not leave, Elrond.” The king had not turned his head, as he kept his eyes on Legolas.

“Ada,” Legolas began, “please do not...”

Thranduil shook his head to silence his son‘s attempted protest. “I will handle this, Legolas.” It was then that the King of Mirkwood stood up and turned to face the Lord of Imladris. “I left my son in your care, Elrond, assured that he would recover soon from all that he had been through before. I was further assured that it would be only a few days until your sons brought him home fully recovered.

“Imagine how I felt when Cúran arrived to inform me that my son fell from his balcony and broke his neck while he was still in your care. Since Legolas has exceptional balance, even for an elf, I want to know exactly how he could have fallen.” Thranduil’s voice was cold and dangerous. It held the promise of dire consequences, if he did not get the answers he sought.

Legolas took a deep breath. He was very familiar with this particular tone of voice. It was likely the same one his father had used on the humans, who had demanded his presence in Mirkwood not long ago. However, there was one big difference here: Elrond would not be intimidated by the words or the tone.

“I want to know why my son is paralyzed!” Thranduil demanded before Elrond had a chance to say a word.

“Ada, I am not paralyzed,” Legolas quickly informed his father, realizing for the first time that Thranduil had not had the chance to discover that the feeling had returned to him.

Thranduil turned and stared at Legolas. “Cúran told me that after your fall, you were unable to move. He would never tell me such a thing, if it were not true.”

“It was true, Ada, but as I told Cúran, Elrond believed I would recover, and I have.” To confirm his words, he lifted both arms and moved both feet side to side. “You see, Ada, I am fine---for the most part.”

“For the most part?” Thranduil did not like the sound of that.

“I still have a way to go before everything moves as easily as before, but I am working hard and following the instructions given me. In a few days, I will have this neck brace off, and I will be able to get out of this bed and walk out of here.”

Thranduil, unbridled joy on his face, leaned over and kissed Legolas’s forehead. “Thank the Valar. Ion nin, that is wonderful news.” This was the voice of a loving father. He smiled at his son and gently caressed his cheek, his fingertips lingering a moment.

Turning back to Elrond, the icy mask of the elven king slipped easily into place. “How did he fall, Elrond?” Thranduil demanded again. He was sure his son had been through much anguish, and he was determined to find out how it had happened.

Elrond eyed the unhappy king evenly, his demeanor completely unruffled. “I think that whatever we discuss should be done in private. I do not wish to upset Legolas.”

“Upset Legolas?” Thranduil’s voice rose. “Look at him, Elrond, sitting there with that meal cage around his neck. How could he possibly be any more upset than having been paralyzed could be?” The elven king was not going to take no for an answer, that is until Legolas spoke up.

“I will tell you everything, Ada.” By comparison, Legolas’s voice was soft and held a note of reluctant resignation that was impossible to miss.

Thranduil’s eyes narrowed. There was something going on just under the surface here, and he did not like the feeling that that realization brought. An uncomfortable knot began to form in his stomach, as he looked at his son‘s sad face.

Legolas had already told him, and had in fact demonstrated, that he was truly no longer paralyzed. So, what could be the matter? Though not endowed with an abundance of patience, the king made the decision to wait until Legolas told him the full story. He would base his reaction on what it was he heard and felt.

Elrond inclined his head toward Thranduil, who had turned his own head and was looking at the elf lord over his shoulder. “I will be in my study, when you are ready to speak with me,” Elrond told the royal wood elf. He had no doubt that the king would show up there, when he was finished talking to Legolas.

Thranduil may not have been blessed with a full measure of patience, but he was fully cognizant of the diplomatic protocols between leaders. He inclined his head toward Elrond in recognition of the other elf’s station just before Elrond turned and left the room.

Aragorn gave Legolas an encouraging yet sympathetic smile, squeezed his arm and then followed his father out of the room. He pulled the door shut, as he passed it.

Father and son looked at each other for a long moment before Legolas spoke. “Ada, I wish you to hear me out before you say anything. Will you do that for me?”

Thranduil nodded. “Say what you have to say, ion nin. I will listen.” He did not let his words reflect his mounting sense of foreboding.

Legolas began to tell his story. He left out nothing from the time Thranduil had left to return to Mirkwood until the fateful day he had stood on the balcony with Elrond. He neither sugar-coated what had happened nor did he dramatize it. He merely related the events. Harder to reveal were the emotions that had chased each other around in his head and heart during all of those events.

Legolas never once met his father’s eyes. It was easier to tell the story with his own eyes downcast. He tried to keep his voice even, but there were times when his voice all but cracked, and more than once he had to stop and take a deep breath before continuing.

True to his word Thranduil had not said anything. He listened to every word his son uttered. At the mention of the return of Mordraug, the elven king had bristled but still kept his silence. He tried hard to convince himself that hearing the plan to force Legolas to kill his family was the cause of the foreboding he felt. Yet, he somehow knew that it was not.

“I believed that there was only one way to stop Mordraug.” Legolas forced himself to raise his eyes and look directly into the blue-gray ones so like his own. This was the first moment of truth. “Ada, I jumped off of the balcony.”

The shock that appeared on the elder elf’s face was frozen in place. After a moment, his closed mouth began working to open and say something, but it would not obey his wishes.

With an expression of deep regret, Legolas continued, preferring to continue rather than let the silence stretch out between him and his father. “At the time, I did not see any other way.

“I cannot tell you how much I regret the disappointment in me you must be feeling right now. Please forgive me for trying to take my own life. I know how you look down on those, who have done that.”

Thranduil shook himself free of his shock. He reached out and once again caressed his son’s cheek. “I am not disappointed in you. Legolas. I never could be. I think that what you have described was so much more devastating than mere words can convey. You must have felt terribly alone and terrified for what Mordraug was intending to make you do.”

“I was terrified, yes, but I was not alone. Yet, I could not see how anyone could help me. Forgive me,” the younger elf whispered again.

“It is I who should ask for your forgiveness, ion nin. I was not here to help you, when you needed me the most. It is my regret that I left you here.”

“You had to leave, Ada. You had to keep the peace at home.”

“Too often I have had to put the welfare of the realm above my own family.”

“You had no more idea that anything would happen to me after you left than I did. Elrond...”

“Elrond,” Thranduil scoffed. “I should never have trusted that half-elven. He has done nothing but let you fall victim to Mordraug’s powers.”

“You are wrong, Ada. Elrond saved me from Mordraug. He used the power of Vilya to enter my mind and defeat that dark elf.” Legolas then told his father all that had transpired inside his mind and the ultimate revenge exacted against Mordraug.

It was the description of the black tunnel that would serve as Mordraug’s eternal prison that brought a smile to the king’s face. “So, he is gone for good this time.”

“Yes. And, it would never have happened, if not for Elrond. You know yourself what he did to rid me of the venom.” Legolas looked earnestly at his father. “He deserves your utmost gratitude.”

Thranduil sighed. “I will consider it,” he replied non-commitally.

Legolas smiled, knowing that his father would end up doing more than that. He wasn’t sure, however, that there would not be a definite clearing of the air between Thranduil and Elrond before any expression of gratitude was given. But, he knew his father would eventually give Elrond his due. The archer decided not to comment further, preferring to let the two elven lords settle the matter.

“Ada, I have not quite finished the story.”

Thranduil’s attention immediately returned to his youngest child. The look on Legolas’s face did not ease the king’s heart any.

Legolas took another deep breath. This was the second moment of truth. Exhaling slowly, he continued, telling of his bad behavior while being forced to lie motionless in this very bed, thinking he would be paralyzed forever. He again took his father on a journey of his emotions and ended by telling Thranduil of the decision he had originally made to retreat into his mind until his body died and released his spirit.

Legolas almost flinched as he said the words. He had been relieved to find that his father had not condemned him for trying to kill himself, but that, at least, had been done in an effort to protect his family. This, however, was a pure act of cowardice, and he dreaded his father’s reaction.

If Thranduil had had any thoughts of disappointment in his son’s behavior and decision to flee his circumstances, one look at Legolas’s face would have driven it all away. The young archer was miserable. He was obviously waiting for some kind of reproach.

“You are expecting me to rebuke you?” Thranduil asked.

“I could not blame you, if you did. I am fully aware of how cowardly I acted.”

“No, Legolas. You could never be a coward in anything.”

A small smile crossed Legolas’s lips. “Estel said the same thing.”

“If I have agreed with a human, then it can be nothing but true.” The elder elf once again held Legolas’s hands firmly in his own. “I am, always have been and always will be proud of you, Little One. No one can know the horror of what you have been through, therefore, no one can judge you because of it. Me least of all.”

Legolas looked deep into his father’s eyes. He saw reflected there the truth behind what Thranduil had just told him. “Thank you, Ada. You have greatly lightened my heart.”

“As you have always done to mine.”

Legolas didn‘t think that he had ever been more at peace than he was at that moment. “Ada, will you do me a favor?”

“Of course, ion nin. What do you wish me to do?”

“Will you braid my hair for me?”

TBC

Epilogue

Aragorn walked down the stone pathway until he reached the center of the garden where the largest tree grew. He stood beneath it and looked up into its thick, green foliage. Even knowing the elf was up there, he still was unable to spot him.

A cheerful voice soon floated down to him. "Come up and join me, Estel."

Aragorn eyed the tree suspiciously then shook his head. "I tried that once, remember? I nearly killed myself. That is one experience I do not wish to repeat." 

"Some ranger," came the mock sarcastic reply, as the wood elf dropped lightly beside his human friend. "Honestly, Estel, you act as if climbing a tree was the worst thing that you could possibly do."

"Only climbing that tree," Aragorn said, remembering the broken arm and bruised ribs he had suffered as a teenager, after losing his balance and falling out of the tree. Then he  grinned. "It is good to see that you are back to what brings joy to your heart." Neatly switching subjects, he added, "I gather you are experiencing no lingering weakness?"

"Ever the healer," the elf said, laughing lightly. "I am fine."

Ignoring the elf's all too familiar words and  determined to convince himself, yet again, that that was indeed the case, Aragorn looked the elf up and down with a critical eye. At the exasperated look on Legolas's face, the man's grin widened, as it did still more, when the elf swatted the man's reaching hand away. 

"I just climbed up to the top of a very large tree, Estel, and then I climbed back down again.  I stand before you perfectly sound.  Does that not tell you that I speak true, when I say I am fine?"

"You've been known to fake it," came the ranger's terse retort.

"I am fine," Legolas insisted. "Just fine."

Finally convinced, Aragorn said, "Then, I am truly happy for you, mellon nin."

"You do not sound all that happy." The elf knew his friend was overjoyed at his recovery, but there was a lingering note of regret in the man's voice, and Legolas was pretty sure he knew what was causing it.

"Must you really leave today?"

He had been right. Aragorn was thinking of the elf's eminent departure. "My father wanted to wait until he himself was sure I was fit to travel, despite the fact that Elrond pronounced me completely recovered two days ago. Now, all of a sudden, my father feels the need to return to Mirkwood, as soon as possible." He rolled his eyes at the suspect rationale of the king.

It had taken almost two weeks for Legolas to reach this point.  He had worked hard to regain all the movement he had ever possessed.  Everyone: Thranduil, Aragorn, Elrond, Elladan, Elrohir and Glorfindel had all taken their turns aiding Legolas both in his physical efforts to strengthen his muscles and in helping him, day by day,  to move farther and farther away from the small healing room he occupied. 

Elrond had had only a tiny moment of pause, when Legolas asked to be returned to his regular room in the residential wing of the house six days after his father had arrived.  But, considering the progress the young archer had already made and the fact that the neck brace had been taken off that morning, the elf lord allowed it.  After that, Legolas’s progress seemed to accelerate at an amazing speed.  

Stubborn determination together with the inborn rapid elven healing ability had brought Legolas here to the garden just twenty-three days after his fall. 

The emotional scars from what Mordraug had done to him went deep and would never truly leave him, but they had been pushed far enough from his consciousness that his normal cheerful personality had been able to take over.  The elf that Aragorn had longed to see again had finally resurfaced.

Now, silence fell between the two friends. It was as if, by not speaking, they could suspend time and prolong their moments together. Unfortunately, the mood was broken, when Thranduil called to Legolas that it was time for them to leave.

It occurred to both elf and man that this scene was very similar to the one years ago, when Legolas had first said goodbye to the then ten year old Estel.

"You know, we never have paid my brothers back for the prank they played on us," The man's tone was conspiratorial, as he leaned closer to the elf's ear.

"No, we have not," the elf agreed. "We should both think on that and come up with something...appropriate."

"I have no doubt that we will do just that," Aragorn said, completely ignoring the fact that they had not come up with anything 'appropriate' in nineteen years.

Reluctantly, the two friends then began to walk slowly toward the garden entrance. They soon spotted both Thranduil and Elrond, standing and quietly talking together like old friends.

Aragorn asked, "Did your father ever tell you what happened between him and my father when they met after seeing you?"

"No. I asked him, but he would not discuss it. Did Elrond tell you?"

"He said only that they had had a lively, and he stressed the word lively, discussion for over two hours, and that much air had been cleared. Then, he just smiled that infuriating smile of his that always tells me he is not about to reveal anything further. I got the distinct impression that whatever went on between them will be kept as their own little secret, and we will never find out what happened."

Legolas nodded. "I suspect you are right."

"They seem to have become rather closer than they had been. I would loved to have been a little dragonfly on the wall and heard that conversation."

"Conversation or confrontation?"

"Both, I would imagine," Aragorn replied.

By then Legolas and Aragorn had reached their fathers, who were both smiling as their sons approached. Standing nearby were Elladan and Elrohir, both also smiling.

Elenblaith nickered as his master neared, and Legolas rubbed the neck of the gray horse, causing the stallion to snuffle against the elf's chest.

"We must leave now, Legolas," Thranduil informed his son, knowing that any further delay would just make parting more difficult.

Legolas nodded and turned to Elrond, giving him a warm embrace. "Thank you for all that you have done for me. I know you do not want it, but I will be forever in your debt." He pulled back and gave the elf lord a slight bow.

"So will I," Thranduil added, as he grasped Elrond's arm. "We will notify you of our safe arrival in Mirkwood."

Legolas had given Glorfindel a hug and a thank you before leaving the house. He now did the same for each of the twins and added that they should try and stay out of trouble while he was gone. They only grinned at him but made no promises, which was just as well. They couldn't have kept those promises anyway.

Next Legolas turned to the ranger. The two embraced each other fiercely.

"I will miss you, mellon nin," Aragorn said, his words almost lost in the silken strands of Legolas's hair.

"And I, you. Namarie, Estel.  Until we see each other again."

The two parted but held each other by both shoulders, looking into the other's eyes. A world of brotherly love passed between the two before Legolas broke the connection and swung lightly onto Elenblaith's bare back.

Thranduil followed suit on his own stallion, and along with the five guards, who had accompanied their king, turned and rode out through the gate, his youngest child at his side.

Just before being lost to sight, Legolas pulled out of line and turned back to wave to his friends, who all stood and waved back.

Soon the Mirkwood contingent was beyond even the keen vision of the Rivendell elves.

Elrond put his arm around his ranger son, as the two headed toward the house. "You will see him again soon."

"I know. I'm already looking forward to it."

~End~

A/N: Alas, this is the end.  I imagine some of  you were wondering if it would ever arrive. "o)  I want to thank all of you, who have read my tale.  I especiallly want to thank those who reviewed.  I am so happy at the reception this story has received.  I would like to request that those of you who read but didn't review, to please leave one now and let me know what you thought of the story.

I will be posting a new story, called, "Black Mountain" in the near furture.  I hope to see you then.

Namarie for now