Chapter Twenty Eight

The jolt that went through Legolas’s body, as his spirit slammed back into it, startled everyone, to say the least. They all stared at the young elf. Was this a final death throe, one last convulsion before death made its final claim on the prince’s earthly remains? Or, could it be the unimaginable, life renewing itself in the elven body?

No one knew for sure what the answers to those questions were. Each one literally held their breath, waiting to see if there would be another such movement. For what seemed like an eternity, there was none. Hope was on the fringes of being abandoned.

Elrohir, still stunned and staring, found his voice first. “I know we did not imagine that.”

Elladan shook his head. “No, we did not,” he confirmed. He couldn’t see Legolas’s face from his vantage point, but what he could see told him there had been no change in the wood elf’s features. He looked to his father, but the Lord of Rivendell’s face was an unreadable mask.

Thranduil’s heart skipped a beat and then began pounding so hard it filled his ears with the sound of it. He wanted so badly to believe that life was truly stirring within his son, yet he was afraid to, afraid that if he did, and he was wrong, his heart would be shattered beyond all hope of repair. When Legolas gave a great gasp, followed by another, as his oxygen-starved body tried to force air into his lungs, Thranduil knew the truth of his hope. He raised his head slightly, so he could see his son’s face. He looked at it in wonder. “He lives,” the king said, his voice almost breaking. “My Little One has returned to me.” He then began to stoke Legolas‘s cheek, his forehead, his hair. Right then, no one else existed.

If anything, more tears began to follow each other down Aragorn’s face. His hand opened and closed continually, squeezing Legolas’s shoulder in sheer overwhelming elation. He offered a silent thank you to Eru for bringing his friend back. How and even why it had happened could be explored later. At this point, he was too overcome to try and figure anything out. Legolas was alive! Those were the three words that meant more to him than his own life. They brought boundless joy back into his grief-stricken heart.

The twins were simply grinning ear to ear, unable to say another word. It had taken a miracle to accomplish that feat.

Glorfindel knew more than anyone what coming back to life felt like, though the circumstances of his return to the land of the living had been quite different. A smile played about his lips. Could this kind of incredible event really be happening again? He happily answered his own question, as his smile broadened.

After the first convulsive movement, Elrond had been about to make the comment that none of them should get their hopes up. He knew how devastating it would be for everyone to think Legolas was reviving only to find out that he was not. Thranduil, he knew, would never fully recover from such a cruel blow. But, when Legolas gasped and then began to breathe, Elrond’s doubts were swept away. His own eyes confirmed the miracle. The essence of the young elf was indeed back among them.

Elrond had to temper his own joy with caution. He reached across Legolas and put his hand on Thranduil’s shoulder. “Thranduil, Legolas may be alive, which is a wondrous and joyful miracle, but that does not necessarily mean all is well.” The elf lord hated to utter those words. Yet, he knew they needed to be heard.

Thranduil looked up and stared evenly into Elrond’s eyes. At first, there was a puzzled look on his fair face. His youngest child was alive, back with those that loved him, back to resume his life. Why was Elrond casting such doubts about Legolas’s future? Then, it suddenly dawned on the elf king what Elrond meant. He looked down at Legolas again, taking in his cold twisted body.

Elrond continued softly. “Legolas’s spirit has returned, but you see the cruelty his body is still enduring. There is no guarantee that the poison that took his life just moments ago, will not force this condition to remain as you see it.” When Thranduil opened his mouth, and it looked like he was going to protest, Elrond held his hand up. “I think I know what it is you wish to say, Thranduil. I, too, have hope that all will be well, yet we must all be aware that whatever recovery Legolas attains will be won only after a long, hard road.” He was making it clear that there may not be a full recovery.

Aragorn, like Thranduil, wanted desperately to believe that a full recovery was the only outcome that could possibly take place. He decided not to voice his thoughts, not wanting to hear his father’s arguments on the matter. He knew Elrond was just being the practical healer he was. Instead, he asked, “Ada, what can we do to change what the venom has done to him?” His voice was husky from the intense range of emotions he had just experienced.

The Lord of Rivendell did not want to admit that he was not sure what, if anything, could be done for Legolas, at this point. He was not worried about appearing fallible. He had already demonstrated that shortcoming all too well. He was determined that from now on, any negative thoughts he may have would be kept to himself. Those around him had suffered enough. Also, not knowing for sure if Legolas could hear what was being said, he decided that only positive thoughts should reach the young elf‘s mind. Total honesty could be sidestepped for the time being.

It was Aragorn that first saw a change in Legolas. Anyone taking in the elf’s total appearance would probably not have noticed it. The ranger had been staring at the elf’s hands, more as just a place to look, while his emotions swirled, rather than as an actual observation. The elf’s hands were still painfully twisted around each other, yet the man was suddenly sure that Legolas’s fingers were not quite as clawed as they had been before. Was it just wishful thinking, or had there been some kind of movement? He saw it then. The fingers were definitely moving. It was very subtle, but it was real. “Ada, Legolas’s fingers are straightening out.”

Elrond’s first thought was that Estel was just seeing what he wanted to see. However, he was not going to dismiss his son’s words out of hand. The elf lord frowned in concentration, as he, too, stared at the archer’s fingers. “You are right, Estel. Legolas’s muscles appear to be trying to move back into their original positions.” Since this was the first time anyone had not only survived the venom but was trying to reverse its effects, Elrond found himself in totally unknown territory.

Six pairs of eyes were now staring intently at Legolas’s fingers.

“Elrohir,” Elrond said. “Go get two blankets. No,” he corrected looking at Legolas, who had now begun to shiver. “Get three of them.”

Elrohir jumped up and ran toward where they had left their horses grazing on the sparse grass that existed on the dark forest floor. He reached into the travel pack on his horse and pulled out his blanket. He then turned to Elladan’s horse and retrieved his brother’s blanket. He started to get the one belonging to Estel but hesitated, knowing that the human, who was more susceptible to a chill, may be in need of it later on. He then chose the blanket belonging to Glorfindel, sure the elder elf would not mind. It had taken Elrohir only a moment to complete the task. With all three blankets in hand, he ran back to the clearing.

He handed one blanket to Elrond, who spread it out between himself and the two wood elves. “Thranduil,” Elrond said, “we must put Legolas down on the blanket.”

The elven king was reluctant to let go of his son, but he trusted Elrond in this. Knowing what he did about Mordraug, he held no grudge against the healer for not being able to stop what had happened. All he cared about now was getting his son back the way he had been. That was an idea that Thranduil would not let go of. He refused to believe that there may be permanent damage done to his son in body or spirit. Legolas would recover to full health. His father’s heart would accept nothing less for his child.

Because of Legolas’s physical condition, especially the way his head had been forced backward, it was impossible to lay him on his back. “We must put him on his side,” Elrond informed Thranduil.

The two elves gently rolled Legolas onto his right side, facing Elrond and Estel. The elf lord then covered the archer with the two remaining blankets that he took from Elrohir’s hands. “Do not touch him,” Elrond instructed, his voice tinged with a note of sternness that was aimed at both Thranduil and Estel. “Even the slightest touch could cause him both harm and more pain.” He had decided to err on the side of caution.

The bitter cold that had gripped Legolas’s body was slowly being replaced with a warmth that was spreading throughout his body. It took several moments before the young elf stopped shivering. However, movement did not stop. There was a continual jerking and twitching that was relatively mild yet easy to observe through the two blankets.

Estel asked his father, “How long will it take?”

“It will take much longer for the muscles to reposition themselves than it did to get into this position to begin with. We must wait several hours, I would assume.” He didn’t really know, because, as he had noted earlier, no one had ever recovered from the venom’s poison before. The elf lord was still amazed at that stunning occurrence.

Legolas began to moan and occasionally cry out. No one doubted the pain that wracked the elven body, as the muscles twisted back the other way.

The one thing that Elrond feared more than anything was that both of Legolas’s wrists, his left ankle and possibly some of his ribs, that had been broken by being wrenched one way, could now result in more severe damage while twisting back to where they belonged. How ironic that the very act of recovery may bring about more harm.

Aragorn, who had been on his knees this whole time, sat down cross-legged, determined not to move until Legolas woke up. He still held the belief that once the elf’s body had returned to its natural form, he would awaken and have no more wrong with him than a few broken bones, which Elrond, aided by Legolas’s elven healing ability, would quickly and easily take care of. Legolas had already faced up to his fears of Mordraug and the snake after the dream that had revealed the horror of what had been done to him, so the ranger did not believe the elf would have lingering fears about that. Besides, Mordraug was now dead and could never hurt anyone again.

Aragorn sighed and a small smile touched his lips. He firmly believed that by the time they got back to Rivendell, Legolas would be fully back to himself. The ranger refused to let any other possibility enter his mind. He didn’t know then how wrong that thought would prove to be.

TBC