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

Chapter Five

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“ADA!” Estel yelled out frantically once again.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~*~

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

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

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

TBC