Chapter Thirty Five

Elrond walked into his study, and the first thing that caught his eye was a cloth sack sitting in the middle of his desk. *Ah, yes. I had forgotten. Glorfindel must have left it here for me.*

The blond-haired elf often took care of details for Elrond, especially when he was focused on a problem. And, what had happened and was continuing to happen to Legolas was definitely a problem; one which would take a great deal of effort to correct. Of course, there was always the possibility that nothing need be done at all. The trouble Legolas was having could well right itself without intervention. Elrond, however, was not willing to just sit around and do nothing, hoping that that would happen. If his efforts proved unnecessary, then so be it, but the attempt would be made and the research done.

The elf lord walked around and sat in his chair, not taking his eyes off of the sack. With a heavy sigh, he reached out and lifted the object. He untied the draw-string and put the fingers of both hands down into the small opening, pulling the mouth of the sack as wide as it would go. He gripped the bottom of the sack and turned it upside down, dropping the contents onto the desk top.

With a feeling of dismay, he looked at the black snake. It had been a week since the serpent had been killed, and its body was now dried and withered, locked into hard, stiff coils. Elrond almost laughed. *At least it didn't decompose.* Although, he wasn't sure that mattered, at this point. He knew a lot of what he might have been able to find out, might instead, be lost. Unique as this snake was, its secrets could remain hidden forever.

He then held a mental debate with himself. He knew he could reconstitute the creature’s body. However, that presented two problems. If he used plain water, it would take a long time, and would surely cause the snake to begin the decomposition process. There would then be no answers forthcoming that might help Legolas, an idea that he had had in the back of his mind, when he had brought the snake back with him from the valley forest. If he used a combination of fluids that he already had on hand, the reconstitution process would be greatly speeded up, and the body would be preserved, but there was no way to know whether the preservative itself might damage the snake internally. Such damage might destroy the very findings he was trying to obtain.

Elrond sighed. No one ever said being a healer was easy. It was most rewarding, when all went well, when elves, and occasionally others, were able to walk out of the Houses of Healing on their own two feet. But, it could also be very frustrating at best and despairing at worst, when things didn’t go well, when injuries could not be righted and mostly when patients died despite the best he could give them. Right now, for Legolas, Elrond still held a large measure of optimism.

With another sigh, Elrond picked up the snake and carried it to his work room, located behind the library. The main door that he had used earlier was off the corridor, but there was also a small convenient door at the rear of the library.

He set the stiffened black body down on the table and reached up for one of the myriad of jars on the highest shelf that ran across in front of the window. He poured half the contents in a bowl and carefully set the snake down into it. He added more liquid until the serpent was completely covered by a couple of inches. He knew it would take a good four hours, if not longer, to reconstitute the snake.

Elrond then returned to his study and began the research on Legolas’s unusual speech problem. It was going to be a long afternoon and most likely an even longer night.

~*~*~

The sun had long dropped below the horizon, when Legolas’s half opened eyes opened fully. As lucid thought began to take hold of his mind, a feeling of peace came over him. It was so good to be home again. He dearly loved being in Rivendell and being with Estel, the twins and Elrond. But, there was nothing like being in his own bed in his father's palace stronghold in Mirkwood.

His thoughts of home began to waver. He frowned, not understanding why his joy was fading into fear. It made no sense. He lay very still, trying to figure out why his mind was forcing such an emotion on him. The elf was confused. The rational part of his mind recognized that fact, but he wanted to know why.

Turning his head, he saw his father sitting by his bed. Thranduil’s eyes were not fully focused, but the tension in his body clearly showed that he was not asleep. From long years of seeing it, Legolas knew that his father was deep in thought. Sitting as he was by the bed, he appeared to be keeping some sort of vigil. Yet again, Legolas asked himself why.

He turned his head to the right and saw Estel sitting in another chair. A soft snore was coming from the man. Estel was asleep, his head hanging down near his chest. When did Estel arrive in Mirkwood? Legolas saw that there was no one else in the room. He would have thought that, if he were somehow injured, one of this brothers or sisters, if not all of them, would be there. His frown of confusion deepened.

Legolas tried to clear his thoughts. Then, the memories began to creep in. He and Estel had been in a forest, one he had never seen before. They had disagreed on which path to take. He had felt a foreboding in the forest, but Estel had been there before, so they had gone down the path the ranger had said was the way they should go. At camp, he had gone out to hunt for dinner. What had happened then? Legolas shook his head. He remembered following a rabbit. Then...Mordraug!

It all came back to Legolas then. The presence of the Avari and his snake, being bitten, waking up...here! This was Rivendell, he suddenly realized, closely inspecting the room to confirm that fact. He continued to remember, and those memories were not pleasant ones. He had learned that his Naneth had died at the hands of Mordraug, as had many other elves centuries ago. He, himself, had been poisoned, and when he had gone after Mordraug, he had suffered an attack of agony like none other he could ever have imagined. Then, he had died. Legolas paused. *I did die!* He clearly remembered his spirit flying upward toward the heavens. *And, I came back. I actually came back.* The next memory was of him waking up with broken bones. *And, I could not speak right.* Legolas forced himself to pause again. The memories had all come flooding in so fast, hitting one after the other, that he could only recognize them but had no time to analyze each one.

The memories were beginning to swamp his fragile mind. That had happened the last time he had been conscious. He had given in to it then. The elf shook his head. *No! I will not give in this time. I will remain conscious and deal with whatever I have to deal with.*

Legolas’s determination was strong. Now, he only had to make sure that the part of his mind that craved oblivion did not get its way. His body ached, but that, too, would be pushed aside.

*Ada?* Legolas frowned again, as he heard himself say, “Pantu?”

Thranduil jerked his instantly-focused eyes toward his son. It was the sound of Legolas’s voice as much as what he said that had commanded his attention. He forced a smile, hiding his dismay that his son’s sleep had not corrected or even improved the speech problem.

The king got up from his chair and sat down on the side of the bed. Putting his hand on Legolas‘s cheek, he said, “I love you, ion nin. And, I have to believe that Elrond is going to find out what is causing your speech to be...erratic.” That was not exactly the right word, but it was the first thing that came into his mind. “And, he will then find the cure.” He moved his hand down and squeezed Legolas’s shoulder, giving him a reassuring smile.

Legolas smiled back. He wanted so much to believe that Elrond would, indeed, find out what was wrong with him and cure it. If anyone could do it, the Lord of Imladris could. But, some things were beyond even the elf lord’s power to correct. What if this is one of those times? What if he was doomed to spend the rest of eternity unable to speak so that he could be understood? Fear continued to well up inside of him from the pit of his stomach.

The two wood elves looked intently into each other’s eyes. For Thranduil there was the pain of helplessness to aid his child, and for Legolas there was the naked fear he wanted to spare his father from seeing. Unfortunately, Legolas’s feelings could not be hidden from his father, who knew him better than anyone. Thranduil would have given his right arm to take that look out of his son‘s eyes.

Aragorn had awakened, when Thranduil had first spoken, but he had not given any indication that he was no longer asleep. He hadn’t wanted to intrude on the intimate moment between father and son. He would have left the room had not that action done as much to interrupt them as speaking would have.

Despite his decision to remain quiet, Aragorn was dismayed when, out of nowhere, a sneeze erupted. Both elves looked his way. *Damn,* Aragorn said angrily to himself.

Legolas started to make a teasing remark about humans and their peace-shattering noises, when he remembered that no one would be able to understand him. Frustration was building to match his fear, and any attempt at humor was driven away.

Aragorn, for his part, did not let on that he had not just awoken. He was not trying to be deceitful, but he did not want to make his friend or Thranduil uncomfortable by letting them know their moment together had been witnessed, or at least, overheard.

“Please forgive my rather loud announcement that I am now awake.” Aragorn was trying to add a bit of humor of his own. He sighed, when he saw that it was not working.

Like Legolas, he had forgotten, for a moment, that Legolas could not answer, when he asked, “How do you feel?” The look of dismay on his face at his goof made Legolas offer a genuine smile. The circumstances were grave in the elf’s mind, but he was not so far into self-pity that he couldn’t try to ease his friend’s guilt.

Apologizing all over the place would only make matters worse, so Aragorn just shrugged instead, offering a sheepish grin. He glanced quickly at Thranduil, fully expecting the king to be giving him a stern frown of disapproval. He was surprised to see a look of amusement on the elder elf’s face. He decided that Thranduil was happy for anything that brought a smile to Legolas’s face.

Aragorn was further surprised, when Thranduil stood up and said, “I think I will go and find Elrond. I want to know what he has found out.” The last sentence was spoken with a touch of the usual no-nonsense Thranduil that Aragorn had always known. He didn’t have any fear for his father, though, knowing the Lord of Rivendell could well hold his own against anyone, even the King of Mirkwood in his foulest mood, which was not the case here...so far, at least.

With a smile for his son and a nod to Aragorn, Thranduil left the room, closing he door quietly behind him.

Now, the two friends were alone in the candle-lit room.

Aragorn stifled a brief moment of discomfort. He didn’t want to ramble on, talking about things that were obviously just meant to fill an awkward silence, something Legolas would recognize immediately. He also didn’t want to make Legolas feel ill at ease about not being able to conduct a two-way conversation.

The last time Aragorn had felt this way in Legolas’s presence was the day they had met. He was a somewhat gawky human child of ten in awe of meeting this warrior prince from the mysterious realm of Mirkwood on the far side of the Misty Mountains.

His twin brothers had knocked that awe right out of him by teasing him about the fierceness of the wood elves and their fearsome behavior toward all races not elven. Humans were considered less than dirt under their feet, Elladan and Elrohir had told him, and they particularly hated human children.

Estel had been warned that he must lower his eyes and not ever look directly at the prince‘s face. If Legolas reached toward him, he was to back up, and if Legolas stepped toward him, Estel was to run for his life. The gullible child, trusting his brothers, had believed all of it.

Consequently, little Estel had been unnaturally quiet with eyes constantly downcast, whenever he found himself in the elf prince’s presence. He laughed now to remember the confused look Legolas had given him on the few occasions he had lifted his eyes for a few seconds to watch the prince.

Legolas had tried very hard to make friends, but the young human had believed the elf was trying to get him close enough to grab. Matters were not helped by the twins in the background, whispering words of warning to Estel before each encounter with Legolas.

One morning, three days after the Mirkwood elves had arrived in Rivendell, Estel had found himself alone in the garden, when Legolas, who had been enjoying the comfort of a tree, had dropped down several feet in front of the boy. Estel had screamed, thinking Legolas was going to kill him. An irrational idea, for sure, but for a frightened child, who had been fed such lies by his mischievous older brothers, not too farfetched.

Instead of letting the child run away in fear, Legolas grabbed him and put his hand over the boy’s mouth. Estel was positive then the elf was going to drag him into the flower bushes and kill and then eat him, another idea the twins had whispered in Estel‘s ear. He almost passed out from sheer fright. And, then he began to struggle with all his might. He, of course, was no match for the strength of the elf, who held him firmly.

“I will not hurt you, Estel,” Legolas said softly.

It was the soothing way the elf spoke and the use of the boy’s name that caused him to stop struggling.

“If you promise not to scream again, I will remove my hand.”

The boy nodded, though his wide eyes betrayed his fear.

True to his word, Legolas moved his hand away from Estel’s mouth and gently turned him around, so that they were facing each other. “I only want to talk to you.” To remove the perception of a threat, Legolas released his other hand and backed off a couple of feet.

To his own amazement, Estel did not run or even back away. There had been a gentle kindness in the elf’s blue-gray eyes that Estel had not had the opportunity to see before. With a tremor in his voice, he said, “My brothers say wood elves hate human children so much that they will kill and eat them, if given the chance.”

“So, that is why you have shown such fear of me. Your brothers are incorrigible.” At the confused look on Estel’s face, Legolas realized that the boy probably didn’t understand the word he had used, so he smiled and rephrased his statement. “They are persistent and incurable in their mischief-making. I think what they told you was meant as a prank at you and me both. I have known them many years, and they never change.”

Estel narrowed his eyes. “What they said is not true, is it?“

“No, it is most definitely not true.”

“They wanted me to be afraid of you.”

“Apparently. And, they wanted me to be confused as to why. Shall we play a prank on them instead?”

The boy nodded eagerly. “What shall we do?” The thought of a conspiracy against the twins turned his fear to great joy.

Before Legolas could answer, however, he heard his father call him. It seemed that Thranduil and Elrond had argued, and the Mirkwood elves were leaving Rivendell immediately. Legolas sighed, not at all surprised. “We will meet again, Estel, and then your brothers will feel our sting.” He winked at the boy before turning around and leaving the garden.

That next meeting had not occurred for another seven years. Many pranks had been exchanged between Estel, Legolas and the twins after that, yet elf and man had never found the exact right time or prank to pay Elladan and Elrohir back for that specific joke they had played.

Aragorn now chuckled at the memory.

Legolas wanted to ask what the man was laughing about but could not. He forced the frustration away and just looked at his friend, a raised eyebrow and the tilt of his head his way of questioning.

“Memories,” Aragorn answered, chuckling again. “Funny memories." He proceeded to remind his friend of that first meeting.

~*~*~

Elrond was deep into reading one of his books, when loud and insistent knocking sounded on the wooden door to his study.

“Come in, Thranduil,” Elrond said with a shake of his head. He was expecting the king, and he didn’t think it was going to be a particularly pleasant visit.

TBC