Chapter Six

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“One word---lhûg.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~*~*~

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

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

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

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

 ~*~*~

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

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

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

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

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

TBC