Disclaimer:

The characters, places, and events are creations of J.R.R. Tolkien. No profit was or will be made from this story. It was written solely for entertainment.

Author’s note:

As always many, many thanks to my wonderful beta reader Erulisse.

Chapter 1:  a new malice

Gelir blanched when the sickening sound of an arrow embedding itself into flesh reached his ears. Knowing that only his brother was near enough to have been the target, he turned toward him after making sure that no additional orcs were advancing.

As he had feared, his brother had been struck and was now bent over, his fingers grasping the shaft of an arrow protruding from his thigh. Although the wound was without doubt painful, Gelir was relieved to see that his brother was not too badly wounded.

The two were part of a six-warrior group of scouts from Imladris who had been assigned the task of determining how the levels of orc activity in the high pass of the Mist Mountains had changed. Travellers to and from the land of Rhovanion had been reporting increased ambushes and more frequent attacks.

No sooner had the group arrived at their appointed destination than the warriors had been engaged in their first fight, proving the reports were true.

It was now their second day and this had been their third altercation with a band of orcs. Gelir looked around once more and when he was sure that no orcs remained alive he hastened toward his brother.

“Gaerion, are you alright?” he asked and grimaced instantly at the silliness of his question. The incredulous look on his brother’s face confirmed it clearly.

“Of course I’m alright. Why do you ask?” he said sarcastically and Gelir lowered his eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered already angry at himself. His tongue was always quicker then his brain.

Gaerion however waved the apology aside.

“Help me sit down, little brother. I need your assistance to get this dammed thing out!”

Gelir supported his brother until Gaerion was sitting and slowly straightening out his leg. Gelir stilled his brother´s fumbling hand when he saw Talven, the group’s healer running to them.

“Let me do this,” the fair haired elf said while kneeling and slapping Gaerion’s hand away. He knew how stubborn the older of the two brothers could be. Even if the wound was not life-threatening, an arrow not removed properly could cause great harm.

Gaerion only raised an eyebrow and looked pointedly up the hill where Talven had been kneeling beside another wounded comrade.

“Thelian is no longer in need of my service!” the healer said, his lips pressed into a thin line. The young warrior he had tried to help had been dying when he arrived, suffering from a deep wound in his side from an orc’s blade.

Gaerion pressed his lips together when Talven probed the arrow. While the healer determined how to best make the incision to remove the arrow, heat began suddenly spreading from his thigh throughout his lower body and quickly up his torso.

Before he could even comprehend what was happening his vision begun to blur and his hands to shake. He was unable to speak, only a panicked squeak sounded from him.

Talven looked up irritated at first but with rising concern when seeing all colour draining from the warrior’s face.

“Gaerion, what is it?” Gelir asked his voice shaking. He was clearly seeing his brother’s fast deteriorating state. He gripped the older elf’s arm to steady him.

Gaerion however was no longer able to say anything. His body was shaking violently.

“Help him lie down,” Talven ordered while he already straightened out the warrior’s legs. Gelir lowered his brother’s upper body carefully to the ground. Gaerion´s head was striking the ground as he began convulsing.

“What is it?” Gelir asked an anxious gaze directed at the healer as he pressed down on his brother’s body, attempting to control the violent tremors.

Talven only narrowed his eyes and said only one word: “Poison!”

Gelir swallowed. Orcs using poison on the tips of their arrows was not uncommon. Yet if treated quickly the effects were, while painful and taxing, almost always curable. The effects of the poisons he was familiar with were nothing compared to what his brother was suffering now. Gaerion was staring blindly ahead, his body convulsing with seizures, his breath ragged.

As quickly as it had started, it stopped. From one second to the other Gearion´s body went slack and he closed his eyes with a sigh.

Talven bend over the prone figure and placed his fingers on the elf’s neck to search for a pulse.

Gelir shifted to cushion the head of his brother in his lap.

When Talven remained in his crouched position Gelir cleared his throat.

“Talven, how is he?” he asked his voice already breaking. He was not only feeling the utter stillness of the body resting in his lap, he had also clearly felt the severing of their bond.

Talven´s next words crumbled his world.

“He’s dead!”

Although Gelir was clearly feeling the horrible truth he stared at the healer aghast.

“He’s dead?” he asked incredulously, yet with not much vigour. His hand was absentmindedly caressing his brothers pale cheek.

Not answering the question directed at him Talven shook his head in bewilderment. He was at a loss. He had been a healer nearly all his life and he was devoted to his profession but in all this time he had never seen a comrade die from poison, at least not unless another injury had also weakened him.

And this poison was fast, faster than any he had come across before. Poison was transported through the blood vessels and usually needed some time to reach vital organs or to do great damage. He had never heard of a victim dying within an hour of being struck with an arrow like this. This could not be and yet Gaerion’s dead body was proof that his experience was wrong.

Again Talven searched for a pulse but the look in Gelir’s face proved this gesture was useless.

When someone dropped beside him Talven looked up into the face of Geldarion, the captain of their group. The raised eyebrow of his superior clearly required an answer, yet Talven could provide none. He followed the captain’s gaze and only now he recognized that the arrow was still sticking in the warrior’s tight.

“Gaerion was hit and died within minutes. I was unable to help him,” Talven said in a mixed explanation and apology. Geldarion only nodded.

“Remove the arrow and preserve it. If the poison is this deadly then we must show it to Lord Elrond!”

Talven nodded while Geldarion rose. The captain gestured for Gelir to follow him and the healer observed that the captain was quietly speaking with the young warrior.

With practiced movements Talven removed the arrow, carefully avoiding its tip. When he looked closely he could see the typical oily black substance clinging to it. It looked no different than other poisoned arrows he had seen but something had been distinctive about this one.

The last warrior of their group had already gathered their horses, sent away when the battle had started. Talven rose and retrieved a bundle of linen from his bags slung in their usual position across his mare’s neck. He wrapped the arrow in several layers and carefully stored it in the bag.

Then he returned, wrapped the still body of Gaerion in his clock and draped the corpse over the back of the warrior’s horse. The stallion danced nervously not appreciating this kind of burden on his back. After Talven had spoken softly to the horse he looked up at a whistle.

Geldarion had already given the signal to depart. The remaining warriors of their group had dragged the dead orcs to the rim of the plateau and thrown them down into the abyss. They would not waste any more effort.

Talven mounted his own horse after he had made sure that none of their belongings had been left behind. He brought up the rear of their decimated group. Gelir had moved into line just in front of him leading the horse bearing his brother’s body. Talven was unable to glimpse of the younger elf’s face. Yet, what could he expect to see beside grief?

To be continued……………….

Chapter 2:  shocking news 

The Master Healer of Imladris looked up when a knock sounded on his study door.

He frowned briefly at the lateness of the hour. Yet his door was always open to any of the Valley’s inhabitants no matter the time, and so he called out, “Enter.”

He raised an eyebrow when his Troop Commander entered with two elves in his wake. A feeling that something was amiss hit him immediately. He slowly got to his feet from behind his desk.

While Glorfindel looked at him with an unreadable expression, the faces of the two other elves were stony. One of the two was Geldarion, the captain of the group Glorfindel had sent out to ascertain the situation at the High Pass. The other was Talven, the scouts´ healer.

Elrond took a deep breath. He didn’t need to be a mind reader to sense that not all had gone according to plan. The presence of the three elves standing before his desk at this late hour stated as much.

However it was not Geldarion´s presence that increased the healer’s concern, it was the presence of the healer. He had trained this elf himself and had been pleased with the passion Talven had shown while learning the skills needed for the profession.

Before the silence could grow uncomfortable Glorfindel cleared his throat.

“My Lord, Captain Geldarion and Talven have just returned from their mission. Their findings require immediate action and I deemed it proper to have them report to you despite the late hour.”

Elrond only inclined his head. If Glorfindel considered this meeting necessary then he had every reason to believe him. He gestured in the direction of comfortable chairs in front of the hearth. After all four elves had taken their seats Elrond looked at the taut faces.

“Well?” was all he said while looking back at Glorfindel. The Troop Commander nodded.

“Unfortunately the reports of increased orc activity were not exaggerated. We have two dead to mourn. But the deaths are not the worst that Geldarion and Talven have to report,” Glorfindel began before he looked towards Geldarion to continue the tale.

The captain acknowledged the prompt from his commander and looked at the Master Healer.

“My Lord, as soon as we had crossed over the pass a great band of orcs attacked us. If I had not known better, it almost seemed as if they had been waiting for us. Apart from a few minor injuries we were able to repel them.

“After exploring the area we discovered well-concealed caves and many hiding places from which the orcs were able to attack unsuspecting travellers. They had made good use of the terrain and used every opportunity the narrow path gave them to ambush everyone passing.

“On the second day another attack occurred and again the orcs surprised us with an effective and well thought out strategy; very uncommon for them. But then something happened that completely mystified us and that’s the reason why we thought you must hear of this, my Lord.”

Still waiting for specifics, Elrond shifted to look at Talven after nodding his thanks at Geldarion. He knew that the healer would now pick up the story.

Talven took a deep breath before he met the gaze of his Lord.

“Calen was killed after an orc blade cut deeply into his side. The blood loss and bodily damage was too great. I could only ease his passing.”

Elrond did not react outwardly to this statement even though he had clearly heard the intended apology. Elrond knew Talven well enough to know that the healer had done everything within his power and if there would have been a chance to rescue the injured warrior then Talven would have done it. He was expert enough to cope with the loss of a patient. Yet he also sensed that they had still not come to the core of the problem.

When Talven did not elaborate Elrond leaned forward.

“Talven, why did the second warrior die?” he asked. The healer’s head jerked up but when he looked into his Lord’s passionate eyes he relaxed. Elrond’s gaze held no accusation, only curiosity.

“Gaerion died after being hit by a poisoned arrow,” he hurried to answer the unspoken question. As the healer’s frown deepened, Talven continued.

“I know it sounds unbelievable but Gaerion died within an hour after being struck. Even before I had the chance to remove the arrow he was dead!”

Now his voice was exasperated but Elrond still said nothing.

When Talven reported that the unfortunate warrior had died so quickly he did not doubt it, yet this speed was unnerving. He had never heard of or experienced a poison this potent before. Now he understood why his colleague was wrought up.

Many poisons – and he had explored a lot of different sorts – were highly reactive and their influence malicious, but he had never before heard of a victim dying within an hour. This was new and had the Master Healer highly concerned.

Feeling all eyes on him Elrond addressed the warriors, looking at Talven.

“This is worrying news indeed! Talven, have you preserved the arrow?”

The healer nodded. “Yes, my Lord, it’s right here in my bag,” he answered patting the leather pouch slung over the arm of the chair.

Elrond nodded and stood. The other three elves quickly rose to their feet as well.

“Captain Geldarion, Talven, thank you for bringing this grave information to me as quickly as you have. This conversation must not leave this room. I will pay my condolences to the families when morning arrives. Glorfindel - a word?”

Having been dismissed, the two warriors left after bowing, leaving the Troop Commander behind.

For long moments the two Elf-Lords said nothing while they were lost in their own thoughts. Finally Glorfindel turned toward the Master Healer.

“Elrond, I have to inform the men. I have to answer their questions. What information can I share?”

The healer sighed. He didn’t want to spread a panic just yet; however the uncommon death of Gaerion could not be kept secret for long.

Elrond’s eyes showed his determination. “Inform the border guards of the new threat, but pull our troops back from all unnecessary forays until I have at least an idea of what this new poison is and how it works.”

Glorfindel nodded and left the room. He knew that the news of the new menace threatening their valley could not be contained for long.

To be continued………………………..

Chapter 3:  groping in the dark

 “Elrond!”

This was the second time the warrior had called out the healer’s name and again it was unheard. The dark haired Elf-lord was totally immersed in his work.

Glorfindel sighed and stepped into the workroom. This was nothing new to him. He closed the door a bit more forcefully than usually. This got the intended reaction. The healer looked up, a frown on his face.

Glorfindel raised an eyebrow. A look into the healer’s eyes answered his unvoiced question. Once again the test was unsatisfying.

“Elrond, you should take a break. You look tired,” the warrior suggested even though he knew that the healer would not listen.

As always, whenever he was stuck in his work he could hardly be pulled away. Sensing the upcoming protest Glorfindel opened the window to let some fresh air into the room. He was not very fond of the workroom, filled as it was with strange fragrances of herbs and exotic flowers.

Contrary to his expectation, the healer leaned back and took a deep breath. “Maybe you are right. I’m just as far from a solution as I was yesterday in any case.”

The tall warrior was not fooled by the light tone. It was essential for the healer to find a cure for this new poison quickly. At any moment, another warrior or some other unfortunate victim could be afflicted. But right now they had nothing to counter the effect of the poison.

The healer rose and tossed his quill angrily on his desk, joining the warrior at the open window. Glorfindel held his tongue knowing that the healer would eventually speak his mind.

“Whenever I get close to a solution the test fails. The antidote is not working and the result is always the same. The poison affects the victim so quickly that any defensive action from the body is useless.”

Glorfindel nodded. He did not understand everything the healer was telling him, yet to know their situation was dire did not require his understanding the details.

Before either Elf-Lord could say more a commotion arose from the courtyard. A rider was galloping at full speed up to the house. Fearing that his fears from a few minutes before had come true Glorfindel turned and hastened out of the room. Elrond lingered a moment longer, waiting until he had identified the rider who had stormed over the green in front of the house.

It was Threlan, the captain of the northern border section, and he was clutching an elf's body in his arms. The healer closed his eyes briefly to gain strength before following his Troop Commander. If a poisoned arrow had struck the warrior, then it was already too late.

Nonetheless, Elrond flew down the flight of stairs and hastened into his workroom. He knew that Glorfindel would make sure that the warriors were brought to him immediately.

No sooner had he tied on his apron, the door banged open and Glorfindel hastened into the room a spasming body in his arms. Captain Threlan followed his commander, limping badly.

Elrond registered this only peripherally, the afflicted warrior on his table requiring his full attention. Yet when he stepped up to the table he knew that his skills would fail again. Although he could not help the stricken warrior, he could observe what he had previously only known from the reports of Glorfindel and Captain Geldarion.

The elf was already almost dead. His body was shutting down due to the poison’s deadly influence. He was struggling to draw each breath and was seized by cramps.

With the clear call of the Lord of Mandos ringing in his head, Elrond placed a comforting hand on the unfortunate elf’s chest and poured as much healing energy as he could into the tormented body. He blocked out the agonized cries of pain, determined to ease the warrior's passing.

When the last breath had left the elf's body the healer closed his eyes in shock. Of course, he had not doubted the reports but as a scholar, he was always questioning reports and stories. This time, though, the reports had not exaggerated and the horrible truth had now been effectively driven home to him. This poison was indeed new; he had never seen anything that had this effect before. He did not ask how long ago the warrior had been struck; it did not matter if it were minutes or hours. This poison was potent in a way that frightened him.

His brain still working at full speed, Elrond closed the now unseeing eyes and while covering the still body with a cloth he gestured for the captain to sit. With the other emergency keeping everyone busy, his helpers had failed to look at the other warrior. An ugly gaping wound on the elf’s upper leg promised that here, at least, he could provide efficient help. The captain had been standing, so he was obviously not poisoned, or at least not by the deadly type that had killed the other elf.

From the corner of his eye the healer saw one of his apprentices gather the dead body to move it to a side room where it would lie in state until the funeral.

After a short glance and a nod towards his Troop Commander, Elrond directed his attention at his patient. Glorfindel would bring the sad news to his men.

While probing the wound Elrond glanced at the captain. With a sigh he paused in his ministrations and looked directly into the eyes of the elf. The captain stared blankly ahead.

“Captain, you could have done nothing different. No horse is fast enough to outrun the speed of this poison. You lost the fight the moment your companion was struck.”

Threlan looked up surprised that the healer had read his mind so well. Yet it had not needed a mind reader like the Elf-lord to guess what thoughts had crossed his mind. Accepting the offered comfort Threlan inclined his head.

Elrond helped the captain up again and guided him to his work station. He waited until Threlan had found a more-or-less comfortable seated position.

Gesturing for his apprentice to assist him, Elrond carefully cut the captain's leggings away to get a better look at the long gash running down the captain’s thigh.

An assistant healer began mixing a sleeping draught while Elrond tried to distract the warrior while cleaning the wound.

“Captain, tell me what happened, and please leave no detail out, however insignificant it may seem to you.”

Stiffening not only from the flaring pain caused by the probing of the healer but also from being forced to go through the events that claimed the life of one of his men, Threlan took a deep breath.

“When we arrived this morning at our scheduled location we surprised a band of orcs gathering there. It was obvious that they were planning to attack travellers using the nearby path. We made short work of them, the worst wound being the cut on my leg. Just when we were making sure that no orc was still alive, one recovered and with its last strength, shot Calan with its bow. It died while firing the arrow.”

Threlan swallowed. The protection of his men was his responsibility.

Sensing that his Lord was still waiting for more information, Threlan continued.

“I wasn't even able to remove the arrow. Calan was crying in agony from a wound that should not have bothered him that much. He soon began having trouble breathing and his body began to convulse with seizures. I removed the arrow but it was already too late. The poison had spread and I could only gather him into my arms and bring him home.”

When the captain stopped speaking Elrond only nodded. The symptoms were always the same. The poison was very potent and affected the victims so rapidly that no help could be given.

While he guided the warrior to a bed and helped him to lie down and drink the sleeping draught Elrond asked one more question.

“Captain, what colour was the substance on the arrow tip?”

Threlan furrowed his brow and the healer feared that the draught had already lulled the elf’s senses when he looked at the healer sharply.

“Now that you mention it, first it appeared black. But within seconds it began changing to a dark green…..I…I brought the arrow…”

With this, the warrior was asleep. Elrond nodded toward his apprentice, indicating that he should take over. The stitching of the captain's wound was well within the capabilities of his assistant. He had much more urgent matters to focus on.

At least now he had an idea what this new poison might be…

To be continued………………..

A/N:

I´m sorry for the long delay but RL is not always cooperating. Hope you enjoy nonetheless. Lai

Chapter 4:  first findings

After a few hours of restless sleep Elrond returned to his workroom determined to finally get some answers. He had quietly closed the door to their bedroom to avoid disturbing his still sleeping wife.

After entering the room he spotted a wrapped bundle on his desk. It had to be the arrow Threlan had brought with him.

He wanted to check on the substance as quickly as possible to forestall it from changing, causing him to miss new findings.

After slipping on a pair of leather gloves he carefully un-wrapped the linen bindings and peered at the arrow tip. Apart from dried blood he could make out an oily substance still clinging to the wooden shaft.

This was nothing new. Orc poison always initially appeared like this, then it dried to powder and finally it would wear off.

Yet after remembering the hint from Threlan he looked closer. Holding the tip against the light he could see that the substance actually showed a blend of colours ranging from a deep black to a dark green.

He arched an eyebrow. This seemed to imply that the substance consisted of two poisons combined together to enhance their strength.

With an almost resigned sigh he sat, leaning back into the high back of his chair and closed his eyes after carefully placing the arrow back on the desk.

To determine the nature of a poison meant he had to determine what it was made from and this was always difficult and arduous. Determining which other source had been used to augment the poison and in which combination the two substances worked best would be nearly impossible.

He had neither the time not the heart to give up just yet; he had to at least try. At any moment another elf or a man could be attacked and felled by the poison. He was not willing to again watch them die while he was standing there with empty hands.

Yet he still had to determine what other source had been used to make the substance.

Briefly he wondered how the orcs had gained the knowledge to extract the poisons and make them into the deadly combination that they used on their arrows.

The common sources of poisons with this deadly potency were certain plants and some animals. He knew many of the more toxic ones, of course. It would be as painstakingly difficult to search for the right animal as a specific plant. There were so many possibilities that it made him dizzy.

He would need a lot of time and many experiments to determine the right animal, if indeed an animal had been used. The possibility of failure was great. Of course, now he still did not know the plant and the right combination of ingredients. He was as far away from a remedy as ever, yet it could not be helped.

Determinedly he strode over to his apothecary and selected a few of the deadliest plants he knew of to begin his experiments.

………………………………

After two days of trials he had at last been able to identify the identity of the plant that formed one part of the poison. It was Aconitum. The plant was extremely dangerous. Once poisoned, symptoms appeared quickly, usually no later than one hour. With large doses death would be almost instantaneous.

As potent as the poison was it quickly diminished its power once exposed to air and put on the arrow head. But the poisoned arrows were just as deadly in the end if not treated properly and quickly. To change the Aconitum into the deadly portion the orcs were now using there had to be a second poison added, the composition of which had yet to be determined.

Elrond jerked his head up hearing a cry from Erelyn. The elleth had been busy crunching the leaves of Aconitum. To tackle the many experiments for confirmation he had asked Erelyn to help him.

The elleth had long been working with him preparing portions, drying and cataloguing herbs and searching for new remedies. She was very experienced and he had no other he wanted to entrust with this work.

The healer blanched when he looked at the pain contorted face of the elf. Seeing shards on the table, it was obvious that she had broken some glass.

He quickly rose and hastened over where Erelyn was sitting holding her hand upward. Blood was dripping on the table from a deep cut along the palm. With shock he realized that green mush was smeared over her palm. Whereas the poison of Aconitum quickly lost potency when extracted or treated, the stamps and leaves were still a deadly poison.

Seeing the shock on her Lord’s face Erelyn raised a placating hand.

“Don’t worry, Lord Elrond. These are leaves of scented mayweed. I wanted to combine both plants to try to reduce the potency of Actonicum. I pushed too hard and broke the bowl.”

The healer swallowed with relief. He would not have been able to help the elleth had she been poisoned with Actonicum.

“Let me see to this cut,” he said softly and turned to hide his slowly fading fright. He quickly regained his composure while cleaning and bandaging the cut on Erelyn's hand with practised ease. Afterward he ordered the elleth to retire despite her protests.

With a sigh he sat back in his chair. Now he needed to search for the right animal. He had some ideas from which animal the poison could originate but he had to make the tests to be sure. He had to know the exact combination of the poisons to make a remedy, if one was even possible at all.

After two further days the healer closed his notebook with a resigned sigh and rose from his desk. Again the tests had been negative. This final test had been the last of the poisonous animals he could think of in the area stretching from Imladris all the way to the Misty Mountains passes.

Had he overlooked something or interpreted a test wrong? Nothing he had combined with the plant had brought the desired effect, not to mention any hope of finding a remedy.

Resigning himself to repeating his tests yet again he looked up, startled. His advisor was standing in front of his desk. How long had Glorfindel been here?

With a half annoyed, half questioningly raised eyebrow he inquired after the fair-haired elf’s business.

The ancient elf only smiled knowing his friend all too well. His irritated façade was always in place when the healer was frustrated and tired. He could do nothing about Elrond's frustration, yet he had the perfect distraction for his exhaustion.

He strode back to the door, opened it and received a tray from a waiting servant. Not even the healer would escape the fragrance from the steaming tea and the heavenly smelling rolls.

Setting the tray on a low table in front of the couch Glorfindel didn't even need to ask the Elf-lord to join him. Elrond took a long sip of his favourite tea and bit heartily into one of the rolls, closing his eyes while savouring the sweet taste.

“Just what I needed right now,” he declared while still chewing.

“I know,” was all the warrior replied as he helped himself to a baked treat. “With the best wishes of Celebrían.”

After a short time of silence Elrond looked up at the warrior. “I’m no longer sure if the poison is really constructed from two parts. I have tested every animal in a wide stretching area that I can think of, yet I never got the desired effect.”

Silently contemplating the words Glorfindel didn't answer immediately.

For two days he and his men had caught and brought home any poisonous animal they could think of for the healer's experiments.

Many of the elves of Imladris had supported the hunt and Elrond was sure they had caught any animal he could think of, poisonous enough to produce the deadly substance the orcs were currently making.

“Maybe it’s not an animal from this side of the mountains?” Glorfindel suggested suddenly and the healer looked up sharply.

“What’s on your mind?” Elrond inquired after Glorfindel didn't elaborate further. His nerves were strained and he had no desire to play games.

Not reacting to the healer’s irritated tone Glorfindel only inclined his head.

“Another poisonous animal I can think of are the great spiders of Mirkwood!” he stated.

Elrond let out an exasperated huff.

“Rhovanion is beyond the mountains, Glorfindel. Why would the orcs take the poison from the spiders carry it over the barrier and use it here instead of there?”

The warrior shrugged his shoulders.

“Maybe King Thranduil has already encountered this new sort of poison?” Glorfindel countered.

The healer nodded absentmindedly. No messages had been sent that this was the case, but maybe Mirkwood's healers were struggling as much as he was to find a cure? If that was the case, then it would be absolutely necessary to share first results and combine their efforts.

Before either of the Elf-lords could think further about the problems the door to Elrond’s study was thrown open and Elladan, the Elf-lord’s oldest son hurried into the room.

“Adar, please come quickly! Elrohir was struck by a poisoned arrow!"

To be continued…………………………..

Chapter 5:  strained nerves

“Adar, come quickly! Elrohir was struck by a poisoned arrow!"

The Elf-lord blanched, the teacup he had been holding shattered on the floor and both elves rose simultaneously. After directing a barely concealed look of fright at his advisor, the healer and the warrior hastened after the older twin who had already left the room.

A thousand thoughts seemed to cross the healer’s mind while he followed his son down the long corridor toward the healing wing. He had no doubt that Elladan had brought his brother there.

When he entered the sick room he stopped momentarily. Elrohir had been placed on the central examination table. His chief healer Tinár was already busy cutting away the leggings along his son’s thigh where the arrow was embedded.

Mastering his dread Elrond rushed over uncaring that the table was surrounded by earth and mud from the boots. If his son had been struck by a poisoned arrow of the new deadly sort, then the dirt would be the least of his problems.

Elrohir was writhing on the table barely restrained by the hands of his brother. Elrond placed a hand on his son’s forehead and could already feel the fever that had always appeared when the victims were poisoned.

Mustering all his composure he looked deeply into his son’s eyes while pouring his healing energy into the body.

“Elrohir, I’m here now. Try to take deep breaths,” he ordered. He held up his hand to stop Tinár before the healer began the incisions needed to remove the arrow.

If Elrohir had been poisoned with the deadly substance then Elrond did not want to waste his son’s last moments by inflicting additional pain to remove the arrow.

Understanding his Lord’s silent command Tinár turned to mix a remedy that was always used to counter poison, putting the blade back on the nearby countertop as he walked away.

Glorfindel stood in the background looking over the scene with worry. He dreaded the moment when it would come to the worst and Elrohir would die.

Elrond would then be confronted with yet another failure – and undoubtedly the Elf-lord would see it as such. Glorfindel felt that this family could not bear another tragedy. With his lips pressed into a thin line, he watched as Elrond poured as much healing energy as possible into his son’s body and listened to Elladan´s voice pleading for his brother to hold on.

The other healers stood aside, feeling helpless but hoping that their Lord would succeed even though they suspected that it would be fruitless in the end. They had already seen how quickly the new poison claimed the lives of the unfortunates who had been attacked and not even the superior skills of the Elf-lord had sufficed to do anything against it.

After some time had passed, Glorfindel narrowed his eyes and calculated the time that must have already gone by. Elrohir was still moaning in pain and Elrond appeared to be deep in a healing trance. But by his count he felt that the time the poison had needed to kill the others had already been exceeded. Maybe it was the prolonged surge of concentrated healing energy that had countered the poison’s effect; or perhaps Elrohir had been fortunate and had not been struck by a poisoned arrow of the more deadly sort.

Elrond and Elladan were so absorbed in supporting Elrohir that they did not realize that the time when the poison had claimed each life until now had been exceeded.

Seeing the Elf-lord already sway from the exertion Glorfindel stepped next to the table and after taking a deep breath he dragged the healer determinedly away from his son. Elrohir had quieted and lay drowsy on the table his pain overpowered by the powerful input of his father's healing energy and the continued flow of support from his brother.

Tinár and the other healers gasped in surprise at the forceful act while Elladan gazed in bewilderment, first at Glorfindel and then at his father who was now leaning heavily on the warrior for support. Redirecting his focus, he only now registered that his brother had calmed and was looking at him with a yet dazed but relaxed gaze.

Elrond, still caught in his healing trance, tried to shake off the restraining arms of the warrior. Not succeeding he directed an angry glare at his advisor.

“Release me, Glorfindel! Elrohir needs my help!” he growled while still trying to escape the vice-like grip.

Glorfindel only gripped the healer more firmly.

“Elrond, listen! Look! Look at Elrohir. He’s still alive! The arrow was poisoned, yes, but it has to be the more common sort otherwise he would be dead by now!” the warrior said calmly not loosening his grip before his words had been acknowledged.

The Elf-lord jerked his head sharply in the direction of the examination table and his hard panting slowed when he observed the older twin was actually talking with his brother.

Elrond briefly closed his eyes before relaxing in Glorfindel's grip. He walked over to his son after he had been released. With relief he observed that Elrohir had really calmed down even if the poison was still wracking his body.

Elrond gripped the rim of the table to still his shaking hands. Seeing this and fervently sympathizing with his Lord, Tinár helped the younger twin drink the bitter medicine he had prepared. Elladan aided his brother, barely able to hold his tears of relief in check.

Having regained his composure Elrond placed his hands once more on his son’s chest and was pleased that the added painkiller within the remedy was already working.

After a few reassuring words and after seeing that the eyelids of Elrohir were already drooping he directed his attention to the arrow which was still deep in his son's thigh. With practiced ease he carefully cut the arrow out, throwing it angrily into a metal bowl.

After cleaning and bandaging the wound, he motioned to his older son. Elladan picked up his sleeping brother and carried him to a secluded alcove, placing him on the clean bed.

Briefly Elrond made sure that the standard poison remedy was already working and after a promise from Elladan to sit with his brother and a few short instructions for the healers Elrond left the room.

Just outside he smiled when his advisor silently walked up to him.

“I think I need some fresh air,” was all he said. He turned knowing that Glorfindel would follow him into the garden.

………………………………………

The next day Glorfindel went in search of the Elf-lord. He hadn’t seen him all day. Tinár informed him that Elrond had checked on his son in the morning but since then he hadn’t seen him either.

Elrohir´s condition had improved considerably. His temperature was still high, a testimony to the residual poison still in his body, yet it had lessened compared to the day before and the effects of the toxin were slowly wearing off.

After checking the Elf-lord’s study and finding it empty, Glorfindel nodded to himself. He knew of one place where Elrond would often go if he needed time to think or to simply be alone.

Quickly Glorfindel left the house through a side entrance and hastened up a stone stair winding up a spiralled archway. Finally he reached a platform sheltered by a filigree roof that formed a beautiful pavilion.

On a wooden settee, he glimpsed the healer reclining, relaxed with his head resting on a comfortable armrest. To any casual observer it would seem that the Elf-lord was sleeping, yet Glorfindel knew that he was not.

Elrond often came here to contact the Lady of Lothlórien or to receive news from outside the borders of the sheltered valley in ways only a few could even perceive.

Glorfindel quietly came closer and sat down opposite the Elf-Lord to wait for him while resting in a comfortable chair. He was sure that Elrond had recognized his presence despite his far away gaze and he was quite willing to wait until the Elf-lord’s mind had returned to this place and his conversation was ended.

Glorfindel was not as well versed with far speaking as the healer, although his skills outmatched most others. Still, he dared not eavesdrop nor inquire after the Noldo's business. Elrond would tell him if it was appropriate for him to hear even if he could well guess what business Elrond was conversing about with the Lady of Lothlórien.

While waiting Glorfindel pondered the new situation, since fighting against orc poisons was a daily occurrence. The foul beasts had always used these methods to inflict even more pain than an arrow alone would. It had always been a race against time between the healers and the ever-changing new toxins the orcs developed.

Until now the elves had always kept pace, countering this perfidious strategy. Now however something had changed. Glorfindel was worried that although Elrond had searched for days on end, he had not even gotten close to finding a remedy that really worked.

Today they had lost another injured warrior, a young elf born in Imladris only six hundred years earlier. Where the remedy Elrond had brewed the previous night had postponed the death of the young elf, it had not helped in the end. The youth had died in agony like the victims from the days before and the additional time to find a remedy had been ineffective. Elrond had been left with no other choice then to drug the elf against the pain as much as possible until the call of Lord Námo relieved him from his torment.

This situation was new to the healer. Never before had he not found a remedy against an ailment or at the least something that would be able to bring relief. This unnerved the son of Eärendil greatly and it worried Glorfindel.

Elrond's having retreated here high above the grounds of Imladris to far-speak with the Lady of Light was testimony to his desperation.

Then from one moment to the next the healer stirred and sat up rubbing his temples with the palms of his hands. As Glorfindel had guessed he was not in the least surprised to see him sitting across from him on the chair.

For long moments the two friends pondered their own thoughts while unconsciously listening to the Song only elves could hear amongst all the creatures living on Arda.

Suddenly the Master of Imladris rose and walked to the rim of the platform. Glorfindel also rose and joined the Half-elf, both of them standing at the edge of a sheer drop which featured no balustrade.

“Galadriel has not encountered either causalities or a new poison; however she has perceived that some new malice is stirring at Dol Guldûr. They have also encountered increased orc activity in the past weeks. Your guess that the poison comes from beyond the mountains seems correct.”

Glorfindel inclined his head even if the confirmation did nothing to ease his heart. That the new malice was possibly stemming from Dol Guldûr was bad news indeed. The consequences were less appealing too and the Half-elf’s next words gave voice to his own dark fears.

“I must travel to Lothlórien and, if need be, further toward Eryn Galen!” Elrond finally announced. This was not a suggestion but a statement and a decision already made.

With these words the healer turned and left the platform. Glorfindel remained just a moment longer. He could count the reasons for the healer to leave his valley on one hand.

Sighing he turned, already thinking about the preparations he had to make.

Would they find help or a solution beyond the mountains? With a heart that was heavier than before he had climbed the stairs to the pavilion, the warrior hurried after the Half-elf.

To be continued………..

Chapter 6:  faint hopes

Eight weeks later the Master of Imladris and his Troop Commander made their farewell to the guards of the Golden Wood and crossed the Anduin into the realm of the wood elves of Mirkwood.

The news they had gathered was valuable, yet this visit had brought the healer no closer to a solution for the reason he had come here:  to learn which animal had been used to make the new, deadly poison.

Apart from that, Galadriel had confirmed the increased orc activity and scouts that had been sent out had brought back news that something was indeed stirring at Dol Guldur.

After her own healers had performed some tests, Galadriel had agreed with her son-in-law’s guess that the creature had to be a spider. Although these beasts did not plague Lothlórien, the wood further north was home to many species of them, and so the two elves were heading toward the Elvenking’s halls.

Elrond and Glorfindel did not bother to take a break; too much time had already gone by since they had left the hidden valley. New victims could already have been poisoned and the Master of Imladris shuddered at the thought that the healers he had left-behind would be powerless to save the unfortunate's lives.

Well within the borders of the woodland realm Glorfindel wondered when they would be stopped by guards, even though Galadriel had sent word of their arrival ahead. If they were fortunate, they would be allowed to reach the Elvenking's halls without any further delay.

…………………………..

Opening the door to the private quarters for his guests Thranduil gestured them inside. After they had all seated themselves the King leaned forward, a glass of wine in his hand matching those held by his guests. “Now tell me. What brings you so unexpectedly into my forest?”

When Elrond did not immediately look up and kept staring into his wine Thranduil frowned. This was no simple visit then, as he had feared there must be some serious reason behind it. Had his scouts not reported that the two elves entered the forest from the direction of the Golden Wood? Were there some new developments in the South that he was unaware of?

When Elrond finally looked up, Thranduil braced himself for the news the half-elf would deliver and he feared he would not like it. Looking directly at the King, Elrond took a deep breath.

“Half a year ago our border patrols reported increased orc activity in the mountains. Travelling across the mountain path, or even at the base of either side of the pass, had become extremely dangerous.

“There was no party passing over the mountains that was able to come across without being attacked. It got so bad that I stopped any trade or movement over the pass. But before that we had forty five dead to mourn.

“Since then, messages between Imladris and Lothlórien can only be delivered by carrier pigeon, and even some of these birds don’t return. Additionally, the orcs have been growing more and more bold, pressing us hard, even to our very borders. And, as if this is not enough, now they have developed some sort of new poison that they use regularly; a new substance that can kill within an hour.

“Once the poison enters the body it is fatal; there is no remedy. I have never seen anything like it before. This substance is completely unknown to me.”

When the healer had ended his report Thranduil stared at him speechless, the wine goblet in his hand forgotten. The orcs in his forest also occasionally used poison, but if treated quickly and if the elf was otherwise not too severely wounded he usually recovered to fight another day. No one had died just from the orc’s use of poison.

The wood elves had a lot of experience with venoms, considering their other great enemy was the giant spiders that lived in the forest. But something as deadly as what Elrond had just described was new.

His master healer Thornil was an expert and knew every plant that could act as an antidote, but he had not reported that there was a new toxin against which they were completely helpless.

Letting the words the healer had uttered resonate in his mind, the King looked up sharply. “Are you telling me that you cannot find any cure against this new poison?”

Thranduil took a deep calming breath. If the orcs over the mountains were using this deadly toxin, it was only a matter of time until the orcs invading the south of his forest used it too. They would likely begin using it faster once they got word of the potency of this substance.

After a few moments of silence Elrond raised his eyes and focused upon the King. “For more than four months now I’ve tried to find an antidote but to no avail. We can slow the effects and the rate of death of the afflicted but the result is always the same. After some hours, at most a day, the unfortunates die in agony.”

Elrond fell silent and returned his gaze to his lap.

Seeing that he would not elaborate further, Glorfindel stood and walked toward the great hearth. “Because of this we travelled to Lothlórien. We hoped that the Lady of the Golden Wood could provide some help, but…”

Glorfindel’s voice trailed off and Thranduil looked back towards the healer, understanding what the golden warrior had left unsaid.

“This is dire news indeed. If even Galadriel cannot help in this matter what did you think to accomplish by travelling here?” he asked, a slight irritation sounding in his voice. His warriors had enough troubles with the evil creatures invading his realm day by day; he did not need any more complications.

Hearing the undertone in the King’s voice Elrond took a deep breath.

“Thranduil, this is not just a threat to Imladris and Lothlórien. The use of the poison will spread and soon you will also have many dead warriors to mourn. But informing you is only half the reason why I’ve come here.”

Thranduil braced himself for what would come next.

Seeing the King’s lips pressed into a thin line, Glorfindel snorted. `You are as stubborn as your father.` he thought, already wondering if it had been a good idea to come here.

He closed his eyes wearily. They had mourned too many good warriors of late; young elves he had trained and often led in his daily patrols. This had to be stopped now. He knew what Elrond would request but he doubted that they would find the cure here. Maybe Elrond was too involved in this to see a possible solution.

Standing immobile he listened when the healer resumed speaking.

“Thranduil, the reason why I’ve come here is to ask your Master Healer for assistance.”

The King’s jaw nearly dropped. The most renowned healer in all of Middle-earth was asking the wood elves for assistance - and in a matter of healing no less? He regretted his sarcastic thought when he looked at the serious face of the healer, Thranduil swallowed hard. He realized that this request showed clearly how critical the situation was.

Guessing the King’s thoughts Elrond ignored the furrowed brow of his old friend.

“Thranduil, Thornil is an acknowledged expert in all types of poisons. We have discovered that this toxin is not only made from a plant but also has some components from a spider. It is a mixture and therefore very difficult to analyze. Because of this I hoped that your Master Healer would be willing to help me in this matter.”

Having regained some level of calm Thranduil leaned forward.

“Of course. I will ask Thornil if he is willing to help, and I know he will be. But tell me Elrond, why would the orcs produce some new poison from the spiders around Dol Guldur but then use it hundreds of miles away, not directly against my warriors?”

Elrond sighed. He had asked himself that very question many times.

“Maybe the orcs know how highly trained the wood elves are in spider venom and they wanted to test it first on elves not so accustomed with it. Or perhaps there is some other reason behind it. But Thranduil, honestly, I do not know. The fact is this new poison is extremely dangerous and always deadly. I do not want you to have the same experience with it that we have been having.”

Elrond lowered his eyes again, assailed by memories. He had fought for so many lives in the last few months but had always lost the fight. His sons were out there every day and it was only a matter of time before one or both of them would be brought home infected with the poison. If that happened he would again be unable to help and he would have no recourse but to watch his child sink in agony until the spirit would flee to Mando’s realm.

Feeling the desperation rolling in waves from the healer Thranduil stood and laid a reassuring hand on his friend’s shoulder.

“Elrond, I will call for Thornil immediately. I am sure that together you will find a remedy. Many years ago he was unable to help you find a cure for the plague, and believe me it has tormented him to this day. But in this matter he is the one who can help you. There is no poison Thornil has not investigated.”

Sighing gratefully Elrond lifted his head. “Thank you, Thranduil, I had hoped as much.”

Smiling back Thranduil was already turning to ask the guard waiting outside to call for his palace healer. Thornil would be pleased to help and maybe an old debt could now be repaid.

After that, Thranduil refilled the glasses.

For long moments the three elves contemplated the news until the King finally rose.

“If your assumption is right, peredhil, and the poison originates from spiders then I have to dampen your hopes. The original poison used to create an antidote is very hard to get and there are many different species of spiders but…”

The King was interrupted by a knock at the door. Holding up his hand he called out an invitation. The door opened and as expected Thornil, the head healer of the palace entered.

Elrond and Glorfindel rose while Thornil approached the group. The two healers knew each other quite well and Glorfindel was also no stranger to the palace healer.

“What a surprise and a pleasure to meet you again, Elrond,” Thornil exclaimed while he stepped forward after a respectful bow to his liege. Elrond and Thornil clasped arms in a warrior's greeting.

“I’m also very glad to meet you again, Thornil. It has been a long time,” Elrond answered and the King gestured for the three elves to sit again.

Acknowledging the glass of wine a servant was handing him Thornil raised his glass.

“Knowing that you never leave your valley without need, my Lord, may I inquire what brings you to Eryn Galen?” Thornil asked.

Elrond smiled. Thornil was straightforward if nothing else. He had always appreciated this character trait.

Regarding his colleague with a measured gaze the healer from Imladris set up straight.

“You are right, Thornil. My need in coming here is indeed urgent. I’m here to ask for your assistance.”

This time Glorfindel smiled at the slightly baffled expression on Thornil's face. While Thornil could be counted among the older elves of Mirkwood, he was still young compared to Elrond. Once again the old healer had managed to baffle the younger one.

“My Lord?” Thornil asked with a frown. He had the presence of mind not to allow his surprise to show for more than a fleeting moment, Glorfindel observed with appreciation. Thornil was not a high ranking subject in the service of King Thranduil for nothing.

Pretending that he had not noticed the play of emotions on the others' faces, Elrond’s expression changed from amused to serious in the blink of an eye.

“Half a year ago we encountered increased orc activity around the mountain pass and discovered, with many bitter experiences that the foul beasts have managed to create a poison that kills within an hour.”

Seeing the incredulous expression on his colleague’s face Elrond held up his hand to forestall any protest.

“I know what you want to say, Thornil, and I agree with you, yet I have laboured for many months to find a cure against this new malice. Unfortunately, up until now I have not been successful.”

Thornil´s expression on his handsome face changed to deeply concerned and slowly it occurred to him why he had been summoned.

Before however he could pursue this train of thought the Elf-lord continued.

“Thornil, I have discovered and proven that the poison is made from a mixture of a plant and an animal. Since I could not found a suitable animal in the surroundings of Imladris, we surmised that it had to be an animal not native to the west regions of the Hithaeglir.

"After consulting with the Lady of Light I’m now sure that it has to be from a Mirkwood giant spider. I know that there is no greater expert when it comes to spider poison, so I’m here now to ask for your assistance.”

Thornil had pushed back into the cushions of his upholstered chair and now looked at the healer with a frown on his face.

“Well my Lord, of course I will help you with the very best of my knowledge, yet what….”

“Do not sell yourself short,” Glorfindel replied with some anger in his voice. They had no time for idleness and false modesty.

“Your knowledge about spider poison is second to none as I well remember from our last visit here.”

Thornil directed an annoyed gaze at the warrior well remembering the last visit of the healer and the Troop Commander from Imladris. Back then a plague mysteriously affecting both elves and men alike had brought much sorrow to the Kingdom of the wood elves. While he had been powerless to find a cure working alone, with the help of the Master healer, a remedy had been found.

As grateful as he had been back then for the competent help he had received, he had never recovered from the shame of his inability to discover the cure on his own. Maybe now he would have the chance to repay the debt.

“My Lord Elrond, I will do whatever lies within my power to help you, yet I have to dampen your hope. Whereas the spider poison is unique and very different to the poison of all the other dangerous animals we have to consider that there are many different species and it is not always the biggest fellow that is the deadliest.”

After seeing the pensive expression on the other healer’s face Thornil hurried to continue.

“Yet with the tests you have already made and my own humble experience I’m confident that we can discover the right species and will be able to produce a working antidote that is if you already know the plant…?” Thornil looked at this colleague with a questioning frown.

Elrond nodded. “I have already discovered that the plant used is Aconitum.”

Thornil only raised an eyebrow. Aconitum was one of the deadliest plants growing in Middle-earth. If the poison of this plant was now combined with the spider poison then is would make a potent toxin.

Looking at his King and receiving silent permission Thornil rose, the Imladris elves following his example and coming to their feet as well.

“Well, that’s a start. I will immediately check my stores of preserved spider poison, yet I fear it will be necessary to hunt for fresh stuff or for species not probed until now.”

Elrond and Glorfindel inclined their heads.

“Thank you, Thornil. I will join you shortly. Please let me express my gratitude. Unfortunately I must urge you to hurry; with every minute another life may be lost.”

Thornil nodded seriously. “The pleasure is all mine. I will await you.”

With this said the healer turned after a bow to his Lord and to his King’s guests.

The door had barely closed behind him before it opened again and Elarynia; the Queen of Mirkwood entered the room drawing the eyes of all present in the room.

“Here's where you are hiding,” she exclaimed. After a brief but loving kiss to her cheek from her husband, Elarynia directed her gaze at her guests.

“Dinner will be served shortly. I hope to see you there, Elrond, Glorfindel?”

Of course already informed about the business that had brought the Imladris elves into her husband’s realm Elarynia made sure that the elves would take a break from their earnest discussions.

Knowing each other long enough to be informal, Elrond inclined his head while Glorfindel kissed the outstretched hand of Thranduil's Lady-wife.

“We will be there, I will make sure of that,” Glorfindel said with a twinkle in his eye.

“I will hold you to that,” the ellith replied equally playful and after winking at her husband she left the room again. Thranduil only smiled indulgently.

After the door had been closed Glorfindel looked expectantly at the King and Thranduil could not suppress a smile.

“Yes, Lord Glorfindel. I will immediately order a hunting party and yes, you may be part of it, even if my warriors are most competent to hunt for spiders.”

Not taking offence at the side blow Glorfindel actually smiled at the woodland King.

“Of this I have no doubt, my Lord, yet a good hunt clears the thoughts and I could use a change of mind right now.”

Thranduil only laughed and the three elves left the room.

To be continued………………

Chapter 7:  problems along the way

At the signal from Galadhion, Glorfindel ducked low on the branch where he was crouching next to the Troop Commander. He had not seen or sensed anything that could warrant this action, yet he was no fool to ignore a warning.

Galadhion and his men were at home here and Glorfindel had more then once been reminded how attuned the wood elves were with their surroundings. For two days now they had been out here hunting spiders.

It wasn't that Glorfindel couldn't hear the Song from all around him, but the wood elves seemed to have a unique connection with the trees of their homeland. Although the trees supported and even welcomed the Vanya elf in their midst, it was not the same.

Galadhion and his warriors moved over the branches as if striding along broad walkways never looking where they had to set their feet and ever confident that the branches would aid them and move in the direction they wanted to pass.

This was foreign to Glorfindel. Of course, he was used to moving in the trees, but not to this extent. He had the impression that once the warriors had taken to the trees they had not returned to the ground in the last two days.

He did his best to keep up with the fleet footed warriors, even suffering the smirks at his expense when he needed a hand or a steadying arm to reach the branch he had not even noticed was there just a moment before.

For two days now they had hunted spiders. They had captured four of the foul beasts, collecting spider poison. Glorfindel could still smell the foul odour of these hairy beasts. They stank horribly while alive, but once dead their stench was nearly impossible to bear.

Galadhion, however, was not yet satisfied. To fulfil another request from the palace healer he was heading for a particular colony of great spiders further south in the forest. It was there that the feared red species dwelt; not as big as their black relations, they were nonetheless deadlier.

Quick and competent help was needed once a victim was afflicted by their poison. Thornil was assuming that it was the poison from this species which was the missing ingredient of the new deadly toxin.

Glorfindel narrowed his eyes after he had followed Galadhion's signal.

“The colony is not far ahead. Look at the bark and be mindful of the webbing,” Galadhion whispered next to him and Glorfindel raised an eyebrow. Could the son of Thranduil read his mind?

Galadhion only smiled at the surprised look in the Balrog Slayer’s eyes.

“No, I cannot, my Lord, yet your expression reveals much.”

Glorfindel accepted the explanation with a nod of his head. He had been a warrior much longer then all the warriors following Galadhion and he had encountered spiders more then once. Yet it was one matter to defend against a suddenly appearing foe and another matter entirely to hunt and confront the spiders purposefully.

Carefully he looked at the marks Galadhion had indicated. Indeed the bark of the trees all around him showed damage; some partially or completely ripped from the tree trunks, others hanging in shreds.

While climbing up the trees the spiders harmed the trees with their spiny legs sometimes to the extent that the trees died ripped of their protection from the elements.

Yet much more then this damage the trees suffered from another affliction the spiders brought: the webbing. Massive strands of sticky threads hung from tree to tree suffocating them and obscuring the life-giving light.

While an adult could, with difficulty, break free when caught, an animal or an elfling had no chance once entangled in a web.

Even if the spiders hunted their prey by directly attacking them, they also used this more malicious means to ensnare whatever was careless enough to walk among these trees without the necessary caution.

Glorfindel narrowed his eyes when he carefully touched a thick stand of webbing just to his right. The webbing stuck to his glove with a ferocity he had not expected. Disgusted he removed his hand with a determined tug.

Galadhion watched the scene with a grim expression. Glorfindel was an experienced warrior and he had no need to explain more. A sudden sharp whistle brought both elves' attentions back to the task at hand.

Many spiders were suddenly swarming the trees and they were coming closer alarmingly fast. Glorfindel was not sure what could have alerted them, yet there was no time to ponder this now.

Since this species was much smaller than their black comrades, they moved with greater agility through the trees. They sprang from branch to branch or used their webbing as pathways. Again Glorfindel was astounded how they always knew which strands were not sticky.

In no time Glorfindel had notched an arrow and, like the other warriors, fired one after another at their hairy foes. Sometimes more than one arrow was needed to bring them down. The bodies gave a sickening thud when they crashed to the ground.

Glorfindel concentrated on bringing down as many spiders as possible, yet the scene had from one moment to the other changed into a chaotic flurry he had not expected. The hissing and screeching of the spiders was so loud that he could no longer distinguish the orders Galadhion was giving from time to time.

It was much different from fighting orcs. Those fights were also noisy and confusing, yet you had always solid ground beneath your feet and the elves took advantage of every cover nature presented to them. Here, high in the trees, you also had to look and find a good spot to stand, fight and shoot. The wood elves seemed to have no problem with this concept, but they did it every day whereas Glorfindel had to first get used to this new style of fighting.

A shout reminded him that there was another direction he had to consider. Quickly he looked above and saw a spider scrambling toward him. The beast was much too near to allow use of his bow, so he slung it over his back and drew his sword.

With a wary glance he briefly looked at the branch he was standing on. It was already bending precariously under his weight. He was not sure if the limb would suffer the additional weight of the spider. For the final descent onto the branch, the spider was using a strand it was just producing.

Glorfindel raised his sword yet he was not given a chance to use it. Another weight was landing on the branch behind his back and now it was no longer possible for the tree to accommodate the load. With a loud crack the limb broke and the warrior together with the spiders tumbled to the ground.

…………………………….

Elrond looked up at hearing a resigned sigh coming from Thornil who was sitting opposite him at the huge work table. The palace healer had just finished another series of tests and the exclamation needed no further comment. Again the antidote was not working.

After setting down the jar he had been stirring, Thornil massaged his temples and closed his eyes briefly.

Three more negative results had now been added to their failures list. Elrond waited patiently for his colleague to voice his thoughts.

“This was the poison of the last species I had in my stocks, but again, the antidote is not working. Now we have to wait to find out if the Troop Commander is successful.”

Elrond knew all too well how Thornil must be feeling. He had experienced this feeling for many months now. Never before had his knowledge failed him to a degree that he was not able to find at least a relief if not a cure. That his colleague was as unsuccessful as he was no comfort to him.

Knowing that the Crown Prince was out there hunting for spider venom that they needed for further experiments did not bring ease to his heart. Normally the wood elves avoided any contact with the red spiders; their poison was too potent and therefore healing was not a guarantee.

They had not found a cure with the poisons of the four other spider-species in Mirkwood. He hoped that this more dangerous breed would carry the poison that would lead Thornil and himself to discover a working antidote.

So the healers could do no more then wait and hope that the hunting party would be successful and return home unscathed. Not for the first time on this day Elrond looked out the small window facing south. Even though he knew Glorfindel was a marvellous warrior he held no small amount of worry for his friend knowing that a spider hunt was new even for the experienced Balrog Slayer.

What if one member of the party was attacked and stung by a spider and was too far away from the palace to receive aid? What if the orcs had already brought the deadly poison over the mountains and waited for their chance to use it on the wood elves. Both healers would be powerless to save a possible victim.

Elrond sighed frustrated, yet before he could entertain these dark thoughts any further the door to the working room opened. Expecting the King inquiring after their progress Elrond raised an eyebrow at seeing the youngest prince pattering into the room.

Looking around carefully the young elf kept standing just inside the door obviously not so sure anymore how to proceed. Quickly closing the jar he had just opened Thornil rose and walked over to crouch before the elfling.

“Legolas, you know you are not allowed to enter this room alone,” he admonished gently. However the big eyes of the elfling never left the interesting items strewn all over the table he was barely tall enough to look at.

“But I’m not alone in here,” Legolas argued and Elrond had to hide a smile at the grimace on Thornil´s face. Children were all the same. That could have been an answer from his young daughter.

He had only met Thranduil´s youngest son a few hours before and had been instantly entranced by the bright and inquisitive elfling. This one knew exactly how to wind the adults around his finger.

Before Thornil had a chance to grab the little elf, Legolas ran around him and scrambled onto a chair in front of the table. Before either Elrond or Thornil could react Legolas had grabbed a sharp knife the healers had used to slice the stems of some of the plants.

“Legolas, no!”

The sharp command startled the elfling. In his fright he leaned backwards, but since the work chairs had no backs, he tumbled to the ground head-over-heels.

In Elrond's mind he was already seeing the elfling impaled on the knife soiled with spider poison. He paled while hastening forward to kneel next to the motionless boy.

Just as he reached out a hand the elfling came up to his knees and looked at him with eyes already filling with tears.

While Thornil quickly retrieved the knife, which had fallen from the elfling´s grasp, Elrond made a quick examination to confirm that the tears were only stemming from shock and not any injury.

He relieved his colleague of his anguish with a shake of his head and opened his arms. Readily the fair haired boy followed the invitation, crawling into the haven offered by Elrond's arms. “Shhh, do not cry,” Elrond whispered while rubbing the child’s back. “Nothing happened, it’s alright.”

After a while the elfling looked up and while still in the arms of the dark haired elf he looked carefully at the palace healer.

“You will not tell, Ada, will you?” he asked in a hushed tone all the while directing hopeful eyes at the stern looking healer. “Ada would be mad at me!”

Still fixing the child with his gaze Thornil took a slow and deep breath.

“No, I think not,” he answered his voice still strained. Elrond knew that it was from the fright not anger, yet the boy did not.

Carefully Legolas turned and directed the same pleading eyes at the healer from Imladris. Elrond was hard pressed to keep his face impassive.

“I think that can be arranged, yet you have to promise never to come in here again without permission,” Elrond said and when the boy nodded he echoed his colleagues sigh knowing how short lived such promises usually were.

“What are you doing here anyway?” Legolas asked and Elrond hid again a smile. All trouble already forgotten the boy had returned to his cheerful self.

“Nothing interesting for young elflings and now I’m pretty sure you should be playing elsewhere, young man,” Thornil answered quickly and caught the boy before he could climb the chair again.

“Namarie,” Legolas ground out between shrieks. Thornil had thrown him over his shoulder and was tickling him.

“Namarie Legolas,” Elrond answered and waved until Thornil had closed the door.

Shaking his head the healer of Imladris walked back to the window hoping that the hunting party would arrive back home soon.

To be continued……………………………

Chapter 8:  bringing good and bad news

Galadhion looked in horror as the limb broke and the warrior from Imladris together with two huge spiders plummeted to the ground. Swearing under his breath he let out a sharp whistle.

He had no need to give any additional orders. He and his warriors immediately descended down the trunk to come to Glorfindel's aid.

Galadhion had no doubt that the Balrog Slayer would be able to defend himself, yet he also knew that he could be injured and what he had glimpsed from the corner of his eyes did not raise his confidence.

Alerted by the commotion the spider colony had been aroused. Uncounted red bodies were coming toward him, scrambling down the trunks, hastening over limbs and descending to the ground by using their webbing.

Within moments the clearing was swarming with spiders. Galadhion stopped his descent, perched on a sturdy branch and readied his bow. He fired arrow after arrow into the mass of hairy bodies, yet he knew that he would soon run out of arrows and would have to join his comrades on the ground.

He stopped briefly, trying to glimpse if Glorfindel had recovered from his fall. Seeing a shimmer of gold and the flash of steel, Galadhion breathed a sigh of relief. At least the warrior was on his feet. As he fired his last arrow Galadhion jumped to the ground with a mighty leap. He slung his bow across his back and unsheathed his sword.

The Troop Commander and the warriors from Mirkwood were engaged in a ferocious battle, fighting on all fronts. The hissing and screeching of the great beasts turned the scene in an eerie chaos.

Body after body charged at him. Galadhion had to fight in front and behind him, above him and on the ground, and it always needed many strokes of his sword or an effectively placed arrow to bring the great beasts down.

The spiders were armed with mighty mandibles but also possessed very strong, flexible legs. Their bodies featured the protection of hard scales made of chitin. Sometimes they simply sent a warrior flying through the air with a well-placed kick from one of their legs.

A pain-filled cry spun him around. Galadhion narrowed his eyes when a warrior was stung by an exceptionally big exemplar.

The poor elf was held immobile against the ground by three other spiders which were pinning his arms and legs. Other elves of his group were hacking and jabbing at the spiders but they could not prevent their comrade from being stung. Once again the Troop commander remembered how intelligent these animals were.

Galadhion knew that quick help was warranted. He leaped back on the branch of the tree behind him and hastened to a spot he had crossed earlier. Unsheathing his long knife while running along the limb he raised the weapon and let out a shrill whistle.

As expected, both spiders and elves alike looked up and while hope appeared on the faces of the elves the spiders began to hiss angrily. Seeing that he had attracted the attention of the foul beasts Galadhion began to cut the first strand which held the heavy egg sack aloft in the trees.

The spiders released the poisoned elf on the ground and scrambled toward the tree where Galadhion was threatening their offspring. If the egg sack tumbled to the ground from this height, many of the baby spiders would not survive the fall. Galadhion knew this and he knew that the spiders did also.

He saw that as soon as the spiders had released their victim, Haldor, the group’s healer, hastened over and began to administer the poison's antidote to the fallen elf. He would need further treatment at the palace but the highest priority was a quick dose of the medicine.

Confident in his men, Galadhion had no more time to observe the warriors on the ground. The remaining spiders were already advancing toward him, making clacking noises to express their displeasure.

The Troop Commander raised his sword but did not have the chance to land his first blow. Several arrows fired in quick succession felled the great beasts which had already reached his spot and together with the unbalanced egg sack they tumbled to the ground.

Warriors on the ground made short work of the still surviving spiders along with their offspring.

Only now did Galadhion have time to recognize that only one elf on the ground had fired the arrows. The fair haired warrior from Imladris was just unstringing his bow and Galadhion inclined his head in thanks which Glorfindel answered with the same gesture.

However, as Galadhion narrowed his eyes to see clearer, he saw that Glorfindel was not leaning on his bow to unstring it but rather for support. As he watched, the warrior from Imladris sank to his knees, his right hand pressed tightly to his side.

Only now did Galadhion see a red stain on the warrior’s tunic. Swearing under his breath Galadhion came back down to ground level after he had made sure that the remaining spiders of the colony had either fled or were being held in check by his men.

Briefly he hesitated about which warrior to check first but a reassuring gesture from the healer made him hasten over to where Glorfindel was kneeling on the ground.

Galadhion knelt beside the fair haired warrior and swallowed when he saw that Glorfindel had squeezed his eyes shut in pain and was breathing heavily.

“Lord Glorfindel, let me see,” he said in a quiet voice while placing a comforting hand on the other’s shoulder. The Imladris warrior looked up startled as if just becoming aware of the elf beside him.

“It’s alright, Galadhion. Nothing to worry about….” the warrior ground out between clenched teeth. However, he was not able to finish his sentence. Galadhion swore again as all colour drained from Glorfindel's face when he tried to stand.

Gently but firmly, Galadhion increased the pressure on the other’s shoulder, preventing him from further rising.

“I think you are misjudging the situation,” Galadhion explained at the irritated look the older elf was sending him.

The Troop Commander looked up and was relieved to see Haldor already coming towards them. With one look the healer recognized the situation, and despite protests he managed to make sure that the Elf-lord was finally sitting down.

Galadhion hovered nearby to learn what had caused the warrior’s injury.

“You surely have more important things to do,” Glorfindel grumbled, yet the healer was used to grumpy patients and proceeded to cut the tunic of the elf open to have a better look.

“No, my Lord, Threlan has been cared for and the antidote is already working,” Haldor replied, his words not only to update his Troop Commander but also to make the Imladris elf feel more at ease.

Not complaining further Glorfindel hissed when Hador probed the wound, a long gaping cut along his ribs down to his abdomen. Even if the injury looked painful, Galadhion breathed a sigh of relief. The warrior had not been stung. Maybe he had acquired the wound while falling from the tree or while fighting the spiders, but it was nothing the healer would not be able to handle.

Confident in Haldor's skills Galadhion walked over to where two of his men sat watching over Threlan. They sang softly to the injured elf and Galadhion was instantly soothed by the melody. When their Troop Commander approached they moved aside without stopping their song to give him room to assess the state of his warrior.

Threlan was awake yet his eyes were closed. When he looked closer, Galadhion could see that the skin of the warrior was waxen, his breathing was laboured and he was sweating profusely, despite the evening's chill having already settled in.

This wasn't unusual for an immune system that had just been flooded with an injection of potent spider poison. The antidote was working otherwise the warrior would be dead by now and would not be showing the clear signs that the antidote had taken up the fight.

Galadhion knelt down and placed a reassuring hand on his fellow elf’s shoulder, immediately feeling the unnatural heat emanating from the body. Threlan opened his eyes and directed a bleary gaze at his superior.

“I’m sorry, Commander, but….” he began, but his strength was already deserting him.

“Shht,” Galadhion replied conveying with his gaze that no apology was necessary. “Save your strength, you will need it for the journey home.”

Too weak to protest, Threlan closed his eyes and was asleep a moment later. Galadhion rose and again directed a skeptical gaze at the other patient. Haldor was making some tea at the campfire the other warriors had meanwhile kindled.

Glorfindel was leaning against a tree trunk, a thick bandage visible around his torso. He had his eyes closed but Galadhion felt sure that he was not asleep. Despite Glorfindel not being a wood elf he knew that the Noldo also had a special affinity with the trees and was surely using this connection now.

Seeing the expression on Galadhion´s face Haldor winked in reassurance and Galadhion relaxed slightly. Now it was finally time to assess the situation.

The remaining spider population had fled the colony when the nest was destroyed. The many fallen beasts and destroyed eggs would make a return of the surviving spiders unlikely. They seldom returned to a spot where their offspring had died.

Not feeling any satisfaction at the massacre the elves had brought to the colony Galadhion was relieved to have enough dead bodies to allow the extraction of sufficient poison for the healers at the palace. They were desperately waiting for this.

The poison from the baby spiders was also precious. It was very pure and concentrated. He shook the feelings of sorrow from his heart. Although he regretted the death of the babies, he also reminded himself about how much grief the spiders were bringing each day to so many elves by killing warriors and snatching elflings away, dooming them to a cruel death if not found in time.

The spiders were the evil spawns of Morgoth, invading their home, occupying their land and enlarging their territory each year, pushing back the elves until one day there would be no more sanctuaries for his people.

With their thick webs they obscured the light, suffocated the trees and killed or drove off the animals that had chosen the forest for their home and their very existence.

No, Galadhion felt no regret at again having killed a few of these beasts. He closed his eyes and looked up listening to the song around him but this small victory did nothing to lift the lament billowing above this part of the forest. The trees were long dead or dying, their existence twisted into a grotesque form of their former glory. No pure and untainted song could return to this part of the land.

Brusquely turning and closing his senses to the desolation around him Galadhion gave curt orders to retrieve the poison and make the injured ready for the journey home.

If some of his men felt irritated at the sudden change of mood they did not show it. They knew their captain well and understood the despair that always befell those who entered into regions of the forest tainted beyond repair and touched by evil never to be removed.

Galadhion narrowed his eyes when he saw Glorfindel struggle to his feet using the tree behind him for support. Before the Balrog Slayer could take two steps toward the great bulk of a dead spider, Galadhion had reached him.

“My Lord, please keep sitting, you are in no condition to...,” Galadhion began but was stopped by a sharp look directed at him from steely blue eyes.

“Young one, I appreciate your concern, yet we are here to bring as much spider poison as possible back to the palace. Lord Elrond is expecting us to be successful and I have no intentions of disappointing him. So either you help me now to fulfil our task, or get out of my way. We have wasted enough time already. Prepare your fellow warriors for the journey home if you must, I can certainly look after myself.”

Galadhion was taken aback at the rude tone and for a short moment he contemplated respecting the wishes of the older elf. But he reminded himself of his position. He was the Troop Commander of the realm’s forces. No matter how much older and more experienced Glorfindel might be, this was Mirkwood and it was his territory. He would certainly not let Glorfindel tell him what to do.

“You have never fought directly against the great spiders and you certainly have no idea how to extract the poison and preserve it properly. If it is done wrong it will be of no use to the healers. So please, my Lord, let me and my men do our work and save your strength. The journey home will be arduous for the injured, even for you!”

Briefly the two elves glared at one another before Glorfindel raised an eyebrow and actually smiled at the younger elf.

“No reason to get cross, Galadhion. You are certainly right that I have no experience how to extract the poison correctly. I only want to help and not lose more precious time. We have already lost too much on my account. Do whatever you and your men have to do and then we can return to the palace.”

With that spoken the fair haired elf turned and sank back to his former sitting position. The grimace of pain at the older elf’s face allowed Galadhion to quickly forget his anger. Glorfindel was not really angry at him but rather at himself for delaying the completion of their mission through his injury and his unfortunate encounter with the spiders.

Galadhion shock his head but refrained from say anything further on this matter.

“We will do it as quickly as we can, my Lord,” he said in reassurance earning a half-hearted nod from the Balrog Slayer.

“And then we will be on our way and will arrive at the palace in time!”

He did not know how wrong he was.

To be continued…………………………..

Chapter 9:  time is of essence

The Master of Imladris stood on the window facing south. He had come to the entry hall of the fortress for some indefinable reason.

Again the series of experiments he had done in conjunction with the head healer of the palace had failed. There was nothing left for him to test anymore. All possible poisons from the animals native to this forest, including all spider species, had been tested. The only possible poison left was from the species of spiders living deep in the south near Dol Guldur.

Dol Guldur – again this dark patch on the map had shown them that, even if it currently uninhabited, it still was a steady source of evil. They had to remember that.

Thranduil had announced that he would send out scouts toward the dark fortress to ascertain if there was any additional activity or if some new leader had settled there.

Elrond and Thranduil were sure that the orcs were not intelligent enough to produce the new poison. They felt that there had to be a greater power at work here. Elrond shook his head in anger. Once again a new darkness was threatening the elves and they did not know where it came from or who was behind it. Elrond paced aimlessly. This was unsatisfying, very unsatisfying.

He had come to the entryway hoping that the search party would return soon. The poison of the red spiders was now his only hope to formulate an antidote. He only had to add this poison to the awaiting potion of the remedy to see if the antidote would work.

Thornil was away, dealing with an emergency. One of the kitchen staff had suffered a severe burning. Elrond was reluctant to proceed without the assistance and advice of Thranduil's healer.

Now he stood still looking out over the green in front of palace with an uneasiness steadily creeping into his consciousness. Blocking out his analytical mind he tried to explore where the feeling was coming from, yet after some time he still could not isolate it.

He let his senses expand out into the forest surrounding the underground fortress. It was similar, yet distinctly different from Imladris. He was unable to connect with the plants and animals around him, at least not in the way he did in his own sheltered valley.

The Song was present, of course, yet the trees in Rhovanion communicated differently. They were more vibrant and bursting with life, but they also guarded a hint of something darker and veiled that seemed cloaked or hidden.

`No wonder`, Elrond thought. Always have they endured the menace of dark evil in their midst'. Dol Guldur had changed and twisted the once pure Song of Iluvatar.

He started when a hand landed heavily on his shoulder.

“They will return soon. Galadhion knows his business.” Elrond turned and looked into the green eyes of the King. He did not doubt the skills of Thranduil´s eldest son, yet the bad feeling in his gut attested to something that could not be ignored.

“Come, my Lord Elrond, share some wine with me. It does not quicken time, yet it makes the waiting a bit more pleasant.”

Elrond smiled and followed the King through the hall. The two rulers had barely reached the opposite side of the great central hall when a side door suddenly opened and a captain of the Home Guard stormed in.

Seeing his king the guard hastened over and bowed deeply. After receiving permission to speak, the guard raised his eyes and looked straight at his liege.

“My Lord, the eastern border patrol was attacked by an unusually large number of orcs and….”

The King swallowed while the guard was still reporting and Elrond instantly knew why. Saeron, the King’s second son was the leader of this patrol.

“….two warriors died after receiving arrow wounds. My Lord, these wounds were by no means deadly, yet within an hour each of them was dead.”

Elrond’s head jerked toward the warrior. Now it had happened. The deadly poison had finally reached Mirkwood.

Thranduil stood frozen for a moment. He had also recognized the implications. The King was just about to issue some orders when the warrior spoke up again.

“Excuse me, my Lord but we have one more victim. On their way home the patrol was attacked again and your son was then struck by a poisoned arrow.”

With a supreme effort, the King pushed his feelings behind a stony façade. Once again he prepared to give some orders when the front door opened behind him. Galadhion stood in the doorway and after recognizing his father, came running over.

“Adar, we recovered the spider poison but on our way back we came across the eastern border patrol and…..”

Galadhion stopped when the King raised his hand.

“Galadhion, I’ve already been informed. Where’s your brother now?”

“They are bringing him into the infirmary. Adar it’s already half an hour past that he was struck!”

The King nodded. “Deliver the poison to the healers; I will go to your brother's side in the healing wing.”

Galadhion nodded but before Thranduil could turn, Elrond grabbed the King’s arm.

“Thranduil, the antidote is not yet crafted. There is no assurance that it will work against this poison!”

The King stopped and turned around. With a frightening calm he looked at the healer from Imladris.

“Then you had better hurry. I will send Thornil to you!” he said and turned.

For a moment Elrond was angered by the cool attitude of the King. How could he think this would work? Did he imagine that they would simply pour two substances together and all would be fine?

He shook his head. Standing here would accomplish nothing. Briskly he turned knowing that every moment was now of essence.

Before he left the hall, another figure appeared at the entrance. Elrond stopped short. Glorfindel was leaning heavily against the doorframe for support. Now the bad foreboding from earlier in the morning had returned.

Muttering under his breath the healer turned and hastened toward his councillor.

He had barely reached the entrance when the fair-haired warrior looked up.

“Elrond, don’t worry, you have more important work to do than to look after me. Saeron will die if you cannot provide the antidote. I can look after myself!”

Elrond stopped a sharp retort on his lips. Although people kept telling him what he should do, he knew his duty. The only important thing now was to mix the remedy. Time was running short and he had only one chance to save Saeron's life.

Narrowing his eyes he quickly scanned the warrior’s body before him. How seriously was he injured?

Glorfindel waved his worry away. “Go, Elrond! I’m alright, really!”

Nodding the healer turned and hastened toward his work room. `Valar, let the antidote work` he muttered while he slipped into the room.

Containers filled with a slightly yellowish substance were awaiting him on the large work table. Elrond sloshed one of the containers around and nodded. The substance was oily and viscous like the other spider poisons had been.

Quickly he donned his apron and begun to unpack the utensils he needed. He could not wait on Thornil. Surely the healer was with Saeron and would shortly storm in here and demand the antidote.

Elrond was measuring the poison to mix with the antidote compound they had already created. He carefully placed a vial of mixed poison antidote on the table, then put four glass dishes on the table He was just about to pour a small amount of the poison into each dish when the door was pushed open.

As he had expected, Thornil stood in the doorway looking agitated.

“Master Elrond. I need the antidote – now,” was all he demanded, yet his voice sounded more desperate than demanding.

Elrond rose from the chair and held up his hand.

“Thornil, I have not even had time to make a single test. If the antidote fails then he will be dead by my hand. If the amount of poison is not calculated properly he will die in agony.”

Elrond stopped when his colleague shock his head.

“Elrond, Saeron is already dying. He needs the medicine now. If it works then we are lucky, and if it doesn't, the dosage will make no difference.”

Elrond swallowed. All his instincts rebelled against administering an untested drug.

“Elrond I have the highest confidence in your work. The proportions of the antidote will be correct.”

With this Thornil stepped at the table and reached for the vial of antidote. However, Elrond was faster and stayed his colleague’s hand.

“Thornil,” he said insistently. “What if it fails?”

The palace healer freed his hand and grasped the vial.

“In a few minutes it will no longer matter.”

With this Thornil turned and stormed through the open door. Elrond sighed. He quickly followed the other healer. The next few minutes would show if the King of Mirkwood would lose his second son and if his own skills, honed over millennia, had served him well or not.

Elrond walked after Thornil and entered the sickroom. He stopped short, looking around the room.

It was crowded with elves. In Imladris, Elrond always took care to avoid such sick room situations. The patient's agitation was high enough and it did not help anyone heal when they were surrounded by too many people.

Thornil looked irritated as he hastened toward the bed.

“Everyone has to leave the room, including you, my Lady and my Lord,” he called looking pointedly at the hovering royal couple.

“Please,” he added a bit more softly after seeing the irritation and fear on both of their faces. Elarynia looked uncertain while the King merely tightened his hold around his wife’s shoulders.

Thornil however had no time to waste. Saeron was writhing on the bed barely restrained by two of his assistants.

The prince was already having trouble breathing and was no longer reacting to sounds or commands. Elrond pressed his lips together into a thin line. Even if the antidote worked, he doubted that the potion could reverse the effects of the poison. The poor young elf was already in the final stages before his death.

While Thornil uncorked the vial with the remedy, Elrond registered in the back of his mind that the room had cleared save for the healer's assistants and Saeron's parents. At least there will be fewer witnesses if the antidote doesn't work, he thought.

Thornil had made no further comment on the presence of the royal couple. He accepted that the King and Queen would be witnesses of his success or his failure.

Saeron finally stilled, too worn out to move despite the pain that wracked his body. His hands were shaking and the only sounds were the laboured and desperate attempts of Saeron to breathe.

Thornil sat behind the prince and lifted the sweat-soaked body up gripping his chin with one hand. Elrond rounded the bed and sat on the mattress. After a momentary hesitation, he poured some of the sticky liquid down the young elf’s throat.

As expected, Saeron begun to cough splattering the Elf lord with the antidote. Elrond simply repeated the procedure with a much smaller amount, stroking the elf's throat gently while simultaneously focusing some healing energy to relax the younger elf's muscles.

Saeron swallowed but it was no longer a conscious act. Elrond quickly poured some more over the young elf’s tongue until he was sure that it had to be enough.

He casually gripped the prince’s wrist to monitor his pulse, the action noted by both Thornil and the King.

Elrond expected the slowed heartbeat to stop any minute. Thranduil's lips pressed together into a thin line while Elarynia's eyes fixed on her son’s face.

The minutes stretched on and Thornil closed his eyes. Elarynia's breath caught in fright. She did not know if the healer had detected something she could not perceive, or if he was simply increasing his concentration. Thranduil did not take his gaze from Elrond.

The healer from Imladris was sitting totally still, his eyes closed and Saeron's wrist still gripped firmly in his hand. There was still life in the prince's body and Elrond hadn’t yet heard the call of Mandos.

Thranduil could also still feel that the bond to his child was intact. As long as it was not severed he would not accept his son’s death. Unconsciously he tightened his grip around his wife’s waist.

However, as time moved on even Elrond began to accept that they might have to add another causality to the list of those slain by the new poison.

They had been so close; but now all his experience, indeed, all hope had failed. At least the untested remedy had not killed the prince, but it had not worked either. The outcome was the same.

Just as he began to release the elf's hand and place it on top of the still body he felt a tremor. It was very slight, but nonetheless was there. At first, he attributed it to his strained nerves, but he concentrated more intently, focused only on his patient. Now he could see it. Saeron's fingers were twitching ever so lightly.

“Thranduil,” he called and three heads snapped into his direction. Thornil instantly pressed two fingers against the prince’s neck while Elarynia had sunk to her knees beside the bed gripping the other hand of her son between hers.

Thranduil stood frozen. For a moment he could not detect any change. His son appeared as lifeless as before, yet something must have alerted the healer.

He narrowed his eyes and now he too could see it. The hands of Saeron were beginning to shake. Unbelievingly he looked first at Thornil and then at Elrond but both healers´ gazes were glued to their patient.

As happy as he first was, seeing the signs of life, Thranduil blanched when the tremors quickly changed into full-fledged seizures.

To his consternation both Thornil and Elrond rose from the bedside and avoided any contact with Saeron's convulsing body. Thornil was even softly drawing Elarynia away from the bed.

Feeling the king's questioning gaze Elrond looked at him.

“The antidote is working. His body is fighting against the poison. We can only hope that he has enough strength left.”

Thranduil nodded while looking back at his son. Was there really reason to hope again?

To be continued…………………………..

Chapter 10:  victory

After the seizures had stopped Elrond had sat back on the bed and again checked the vital functions of the young elf. Saeron's heart was beating stronger now in a normal rhythm and his fever had gone down a bit. However he was still unconscious and not out of the woods yet. It would be a long recovery ahead of him.

Thornil had left the room to order fresh clothing and bedding for the prince.

Elrond had sealed the vial with the precious liquid and stored it into his pocket. From the remaining drops, the healers of Mirkwood wound have to produce more of the antidote.

When Thornil returned with one of his apprentices in tow Elrond stood.

“Elarynia, Thranduil, I will take my leave. I think your son now has a good chance of survival. I leave him in the best of hands,” he added, nodding toward his colleague. He still felt uncomfortable invading his colleague’s territory.

While the Queen only kissed him on the cheek and hurried back to her son’s bedside, Thornil inclined his head.

“And once again, it was you, my Lord, who saved the prince’s life. I’m in your debt.”

“It was your superior knowledge about the spider poison that made the antidote workable,” Elrond retorted.

Thranduil interrupted the two healers. “Enough of that. The only thing that matters is that the antidote is working. Or am I mistaken?” he asked with a nod in the direction of the still form of his son.

“Your son will recover, my Lord, with time. Now, his body is still fighting the poison,” Thornil said with conviction and Elrond nodded relieved that the palace healer had rediscovered his self-confidence.

With a last look at the youngster on the bed, he turned and left the room. He had still some work to do. Imladris would need the antidote as much as Mirkwood and he would not return without having a sufficient amount of it in his packs. Restlessness was already tugging at him.

……………………………..

Elrond had just left the healing ward when Calan, a young apprentice of Thornil, came running down the corridor. When he caught sight of the Imladris' healer, he stopped appearing unsure. His gaze wandered past the healer to the door closing off the room Elrond had just emerged from.

Elrond instantly felt that his presence again brought some misbalance to the well organized and established hierarchy of order in the King’s household.

Knowing that Thornil would remain with the prince to make sure that his healing progress was going well; Elrond stepped toward the young healer and raised an eyebrow.

“Master Thornil will be occupied for some time longer. If you are willing then I would be glad to be of help.” Elrond offered, carefully watching the young elf’s reaction. He was sure that Thornil would not mind.

Making up his mind Calan straightened.

“Thank you, my Lord, but it is indeed you I’m seeking, yet I don’t want to ignore Master Thornil...”

Calan stopped in mid-sentence when the Elf-lord narrowed his eyes.

Elrond’s confusion deepened. Why would the apprentice healer seek HIM out? The bad feeling from earlier in the morning was back full force. With all the agitation he had totally forgotten about…

“Calan, what is it?” he asked, carefully neutral.

The young healer swallowed at the low tone.

“My Lord, two hours ago I helped to care for Lord Glorfindel´s wound. At first all seemed well, yet after…”

Elrond swallowed. Glorfindel! The warrior had assured him that he was not badly injured. With all the focus on the prince, he had ignored inner voice and had left the warrior to himself. Elrond grimaced. With the events unfolding as they had he would have had barely found time to care for Glorfindel anyway. Now he was sure he would pay the price for his negligence.

Not wanting to lose more time Elrond was not interested in the full tale. He would learn it soon enough.

“Where is he?” he asked briskly. Motioning the young elf to follow him Elrond started already hastening down the corridor.

Irritated, Calan directed a last glance at the still closed door of the prince's quarter, but then he turned and followed the visiting healer.

“He said that he was not feeling well and before we could stop him he had returned to his room. Two times I checked with him and wanted to look after him, but each time he dismissed me assuring that he was well. The last time I checked I heard him moan and after that there was a loud commotion and…”

When Elrond looked at the healer with stormy eyes the young elf fell silent. Elrond quickened his pace fearing that again haste was required.

When he had reached Glorfindel's guest quarter he did not bother to knock. He pushed the door handle down but the door wouldn't open.

Elrond whirled around. “Do you have a master key?” he asked the befuddled young elf.

Calan rummaged in his pocket and to Elrond’s relief produced a key. Without further delay Elrond unlocked the door and strode into the room. As he had feared, Glorfindel was lying next to the bed on the floor unmoving.

Elrond swore under his breath and hastened over. The fair-haired elf felt cold to the touch even though he was sweating profusely.

Elrond turned his councillor over and felt for his pulse. It was present, but much too fast and somewhat erratic; a clear sign of a body’s reaction to poison.

Elrond lifted Glorfindel's limp body in his arms and placed him on the bed. He quickly opened the elf's tunic and while placing his right hand on his chest, he poured healing energy into his shivering body.

Calan stood nearby, unsure how to help. He looked uncomprehendingly as the healer of Imladris loosened the bandage he and his helpers had applied earlier. What was the Master Healer determined to find?

When Elrond continued to inspect the long gash Calan stepped closer.

“My Lord, how can I be of help?” he asked. He was partly irritated and partly worried. What had the palace healers overlooked?

Elrond had no time for explanations. Glorfindel already had problems breathing. It was clear now that that the gash had somehow been contaminated with spider poison. The red puffy tissue around the gash was not a result from this kind of injury. However, the amount of poison had to be minor otherwise the warrior would not have survived this long.

Something had come into contact with the open wound and it could only be poison given the symptoms Glorfindel was showing. Elrond had to admit that until now he had not learned what had happened to his advisor during the hunt.

Remembering that he still had the vial with the antidote he had used earlier on Saeron in his pocket Elrond did not hesitate. The antidote's recipe used the poison of the red spiders and it was against these beasts that Glorfindel had fought. The antidote would work against the pure poison as effectively as against the vile new combination made from spider poison and the poison of Aconitum.

Without any further delay he retrieved the vial, uncorked it and carefully poured some down the fair haired elf’s throat. He had to be careful because there was not much left and a few drops had to remain to produce more.

Remembering Calan was still standing next to the bed, Elrond looked briefly at the young healer.

“Please fetch me some warm water, some more blankets, and inform Master Thornil about where I am as soon as he is available.”

Calan nodded curtly and left the room. Elrond turned back to his friend and poured some more liquid down Glorfindel's throat. He encouraged the swallowing reflex and placed the elf's head back onto the pillow.

Experiencing the feeling of déjá vu Elrond grimaced. Hopefully this would have the same good result as earlier in the long day.

For nearly one hour Elrond sat on the warrior's bed, monitoring his friend’s condition. To his satisfaction the antidote seemed to be working and the symptoms were already milder. Glorfindel was sleeping now and he seemed to be returning to a more acceptable if still not normal level.

Suddenly the door opened and an irritated looking Thornil stormed into the room. Seeing the pale and unmoving figure of Glorfindel lying on the bed and the Master Healer from Imladris sitting right next to him, Thornil stopped and took a deep breath.

“Elrond, I’m sorry, I had no idea…”

Straightening an additional blanket and pulling it up to the still elf’s chin, Elrond rose and motioned for Thornil to follow him away from the bed.

“Don’t worry, Thornil. I found him in time and was able to stabilize him. The antidote worked as effectively as on Saeron, even though I had to throw all caution to the wind for a second time. My limits for being so rash have now been reached for the next millennia.”

Thornil grimaced, not really content. Being King Thranduil's guests, Thornil had been responsible for the Noldor elves and Glorfindel's poor health had slipped his notice.

Seeing what thoughts were coursing through the other healer’s mind Elrond placed a comforting hand on his colleague's shoulder.

“Thornil it was not your fault. Glorfindel fooled me too and he is a really good actor. I will have a few clear words with him when he awakens before I kill him with my bare hands.”

Now Thornil smiled. “May I at least assist you in that?” he asked and both healers laughed silently while glancing at the sleeping elf. They turned and left the room.

Five hours later Thornil re-entered the room of Glorfindel and stepped quietly closer. With a sigh he grabbed a blanket and placed it over the half-elf sitting in a comfortable chair next to the bed, sleeping. It still irritated him that the Master healer was sleeping with his eyes closed.

When he glanced back at the bed he recognized the first signs of waking by the fair haired elf. He gently shook Elrond, sure that his colleague wanted to be alerted.

“Elrond, wake up,” he said quietly.

The healer instantly opened his eyes and his gaze focused on the elf on the bed.

Thanking Thornil with a nod, Elrond moved to sit carefully at the edge of the mattress.

“How do you feel, Glorfindel?” he asked when he was sure that the warrior was recognizing his surroundings.

The warrior blinked a few times until his gaze locked on the healer’s sober face.

Closing his eyes briefly, Glorfindel took a deep breath.

“Elrond, I know what you want to say…..”

The warrior stopped when the dark haired elf held up his hand.

“No, you don’t,” the healer answered and exhaustion crossed his face. “You scared me, Glorfindel, but I’m the one to blame. I should have made sure that your assertions were true.”

Glorfindel clearly heard the accusation and the regret and he lowered his eyes. After another deep breath, he looked up at his friend.

“Elrond, I’m sorry. I did not deliberately lie to you; in fact, I did not lie at all. I simply underestimated the severity of my injury and I was completely unaware that poison had entered the wound.”

Elrond gazed back at the warrior but he only saw open regret and sincerity.

“Maybe you could leave it a healer to judge your injuries next time?" he asked but his tone had already brightened. Glorfindel knew that the healer was still angry, worried, and filled with self reproach but it was a beginning.

“Promise," Glorfindel replied, refraining from using any phrase that could aggravate the healer further.

Elrond nodded and squeezed his friend’s arm in sympathy.

“You are in the best of hands here and I expect that you will cooperate with Thornil because I intend to return home as quickly as possible.” Elrond nodded at his colleague still standing at the footboard of the bed.

“I will not be the cause for any further delay, Elrond,” Glorfindel answered also nodding at the palace healer.

Elrond rose satisfied.

“This is settled then. Please sleep, Glorfindel,” he advised and the warrior refrained from commenting. He only waved the healers away and pretended that he was already asleep.

When the door had been closed the warrior took a relieved breath. ´Never anger a healer!´ he thought.

…………………………………………

Elrond checked again, making sure to secure his packs safely on his horse’s back. The great stallion was dancing nervously eager to return home. The big leather pouches across his back contained, apart from his Master’s personal belongings, a few flagons containing the antidote. With a last reassuring pat at the proud neck Elrond turned and received a nod from his Troop Commander that he also was ready to go.

Elrond turned toward the fortress doors, expecting the King to be standing at the great steps wishing them farewell; but it was not only Thranduil standing there but Elarynia as well, and Galadhion, and to his dismay even Saeron.

The younger prince, however, was no longer his responsibility and things were handled differently in Mirkwood. The recovery period of their warriors was much shorter, although whether the foreshortened time was intentional or forced he had not learned.

The presence of the palace healer showed Elrond that at least one other person was uncomfortable with the not yet fully recovered young elf walking around. If the sons of Thranduil were as stubborn as their father was, then Elrond did not envy his colleague.

Before he could contemplate anything else, a blond whirlwind rushed past him right into the outstretched arms of his advisor. Glorfindel caught the bundle of energy easily and threw him in the air earning a loud shriek.

“Do it again…again…again….”

“He will never tire of this,” Thranduil warned when Elrond walked up to him. Elrond smiled indulgently. Glorfindel knew how to handle the youngest son of Thranduil. He had survived the childhood of his own twin sons and was still intact while enduring his youngest, his similarly aged and energy-laden daughter.

As Glorfindel walked over with Legolas riding on his shoulders Elrond directed a thoughtful gaze at his friend. He clearly remembered how Glorfindel had downplayed his injury and made them believe that all was well.  He had nearly paid for that deception with his life. He would keep a close eye on the warrior during their journey home.

While Gorfindel deliberately avoided his gaze, Elrond focused his attention on Saeron until the young elf begun to squirm. Here at least he was successful.

“I’m really feeling better, my Lord,” the young elf answered the unvoiced reproof, while he sent an uncertain look at his parents.

“Do not worry, Lord Elrond, I will make sure he takes it slowly,” Thornil assured.

“And I will too,” Thranduil added sending a dark look in his son’s direction. Saeron ducked in mock fright, receiving a kiss from his mother who was standing next to her husband.

“Me too, darling,” she whispered sweetly while squeezing the arm of her son affectionately.

Elrond smiled. It was high time to return home. He inclined his head toward the palace healer.

“Thornil, I’m glad that we came to such a promising result. Once again, we were able to repel the darkness. May the next assault be long in coming.”

Thornil inclined his head.

“That’s my fervent wish too, Elrond. I wish you both a pleasant and uneventful journey home.”

After that, the Master of Imladris turned toward the royal couple.

“Thranduil, Elarynia, Galadhion farewell and don’t forget to follow my invitation to spend the summer in Imladris.”

“I will remind him and thank you Elrond,” Elarynia answered while again placing a kiss on the tall elf’s cheek.

“And greet Celebrían from me.”

“That I will surely do,” Elrond replied as he turned, followed by the King who would escort them out of the courtyard.

Suddenly Glorfindel stooped when something tugged at his braid.

“Let me down, please,” the elfling whispered but Glorfindel looked at his friend walking right next to him with a surprised look on his face.

“What is this? I thought I heard something?”

Elrond tilted his head and pretended to be listening, deliberately ignoring the squirming child on his councillor’s shoulders.

“You must be mistaken,” he finally answered while hiding a smile at the frown that appeared on the elfing's face. Now Legolas looked like a perfect copy of his father.

“But I’m here,” Legolas cried his voice slightly wavering. Glorfindel mounted his horse with a leap making the elfling shriek with both fright and joy.

Sitting atop his horse, Glorfindel tilted his head up.

“Oh, my Lord King, I nearly overlooked your son and took him home with me….”

“Nooo…” Legolas cried. When the King stretched out his arms the elfling quickly scrambled down into the safety of his father’s embrace. With a scowl he looked back at the fair-haired elf.

“You clearly heard me,” he said accusingly. When Elrond, Glorfindel and Thranduil burst out in laughter simultaneously, the elfling buried his face in his father’s chest.

“Farewell Thranduil,” Elrond said and Glorfindel inclined his head while turning his horse around.

“Farewell Elrond, Glorfindel. May the Belain watch your path,” Thranduil said and waved until both elves were out of sight.

End.