Chapter Seventeen

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Ada."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Thranduil’s face crumpled. "I..."

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

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

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

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

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

A plan began to form in his head.

TBC