Chapter Thirty Seven

When the two elven lords approached Legolas’s room, they stopped and listened. No sounds could be heard on the other side of the oak door. Elrond knocked softly, knowing that if Legolas was awake, he would hear and alert Aragorn to answer. The very idea of the woodland elf having to do that still caused a clinch in Elrond’s heart.

He put his ear near the door, but there was no response, so Elrond opened the door and peered inside. He turned and nodded to Thranduil, putting his finger over his lips. The two elves quietly entered, and Thranduil closed the door behind them.

Aragorn was again asleep in one of the chairs by the bed. His head was resting to the side against the back of the chair, instead of leaning forward, so this time, he was not snoring. There was a slight upward curve to his lips. Many times in the past, Elrond had seen that very look on a much younger Estel’s face. He could only imagine what humorous event his foster son could be dreaming about now. The elf lord couldn’t avoid a small smile of his own.

Thranduil’s gaze went straight to Legolas. The young elf was no longer propped up against the headboard. He was lying down flat in the bed, the covers pulled up to his shoulders. His head was turned toward Aragorn, as if he had been listening to his friend when he, too, had fallen asleep. His loose hair was splayed out across the pillow his head rested on. However, the one thing that Thranduil noted, with continued dismay, was the fact that Legolas was still sleeping with his eyes only half open. He knew he should not have expected more, since he was well aware that his son was far from healed, but each time he saw him sleeping this way, it jolted him.

Thranduil went over to the side of the bed opposite Aragorn and sat down on it as gently as he could. He reached out to touch Legolas’s cheek but then pulled back. He did not want to risk waking his son. Looking at his face now, the king could see no evidence of the horror that Legolas had so recently gone through. But, he knew better. What ailed his son, besides the splinted bones and the problem with his speech, was deep inside---running through his veins to be exact. And, there was no way to know for sure how badly his spirit had been damaged. How could it not have been? Legolas had died a torturous, agonizing death and then been returned to this life. To Thranduil’s way of thinking, there was nothing a being could endure that could be more traumatic.

Something then occurred to the king. Had Legolas’s immortality been somehow compromised? Was he now as mortal as his human friend? Thranduil couldn’t suppress a shudder at the thought. He would make a point of asking Elrond in private at a later time.

The king laid his hand on the top of the covers that lay over his son’s chest. *May your spirit be well, ion nin. Your family needs you back. And, the people of the realm need their youngest Prince.*

Thranduil looked over at Elrond and saw the Rivendell elf looking at him. There was a kindred spirit evident in his eyes. As Elrond had noted before, they were both fathers, who loved their children dearly. Elrond smiled and nodded his understanding.

Thranduil knew that this elf, who he had argued with, more often than not, over the centuries, would do all he could to help. He had proven that, when the two were in Elrond’s work room. He still believed that the Lord of Imladris was his son’s only hope.

~*~*~

Several hours later, the eastern sky began to lighten, causing the stars in that part of the sky to fade. It would be dawn soon. With luck, there would be a favorable reaction to the snake’s venom, and an antidote would have been born. Unknown to each other, both elven lords were thinking the same thing.

Elrond, who had taken up residence in the other chair next to Aragorn, stood up. He suppressed the urge to stretch and yawn. Instead, he said, “I will go and check to see if we have created an antidote.” He was generous in using the word ‘we’, since all Thranduil had done was watch and ask questions. Elrond spoke softly, not wanting to wake either of the young ones. He held his breath, as Aragorn stirred but did not wake.

The woodland king was tempted to follow Elrond out of the room, anxious to know if the dark-haired elf lord had succeeded with the antidote that would heal his son. He decided to forgo that and stay with Legolas, wanting to be there in case he woke up. However, all the while Elrond was gone, the wood elf couldn’t help but continually glance toward the door in anticipation.

~*~*~

When Elrond entered his work room and approached the table, he was dismayed to see that the little glass dishes contained only clear fluids, an unmistakable indication that no reaction had occurred. He started to discard them all in frustration, until he noticed that the one on the right end of the line had a slightly reddish tint to it. He held it up to the light and, bringing his eyes up close to it, stared into the liquid. It was so pale he had very nearly missed seeing the color change. But, he easily saw now that the content was definitely red. He smiled.

His next thought was that it needed more time to develop a stronger color. However, it had been several hours, and so, on second thought, he didn’t believe more time would help. Still, he wasn’t willing to risk an antidote that was too weak to do any good, just because he was overanxious to help the young Mirkwood prince.

Elrond set the little dish aside and decided to wait. Thinking that more than one dose of the antidote might be needed, he opened the drawer and retrieved the second drop of venom. He proceeded to put a bit of the venom into two more little dishes. Into each of them he added the same combination of liquids he had put in the one he was now convinced had given the correct reaction. The remaining dish with venom he resealed with the oil cloth and put it back into the drawer. He may or may not need it later.

Elrond did not want to go back to Legolas’s room until he had what he needed ready to administer to the young elf. So, the next hour was spent working on other things in his work room.

With a feeling of anxiousness the long-time healer didn’t usually feel, he pulled the dish out of the shadows and held it up, so that light from the window in front of him would again reflect the color inside the dish. It looked the same. His earlier suspicion had been correct. The red wasn’t going to deepen in color. What he held in his hand had already changed as much as it was going to. He was glad, though, that he had waited to be sure. There would be enough guessing, as it was.

Now, came the difficult part of the whole endeavor. How much to give Legolas. Did he give him just the tiny amount in the dish? Or, did he add a fluid that would not react with the antidote but only dilute it? He knew the poison was powerful. Common sense told him that the tiny amount of the antidote he was looking at was probably too strong.

The antidote to a venom had to be made from real venom, therefore giving too concentrated a dose could bring about more harm. Yet, he knew that if he diluted it too much, the antidote would not be strong enough to neutralize the poison.

The creation of the antidote had changed the venom itself but not enough to make it totally inert. Despite the unknown particulars of this venom, Elrond had no choice but to rely on his vast experience. It would all come down to his best guess. That was not an overly confident way to go about this, but what else could he do?

Staring at the small dish of red tinted fluid, Elrond made his decision. It was better to err on the side of caution. Not enough antidote would probably leave Legolas no worse off than he already was, whereas too much could well cause irreparable damage. Added to what was already in his system, it could bring about the young archer’s death. And, Elrond was sure the wood elf would not return to them this time. Eru had saved him for a purpose, and Elrond did not intend on being the one to ruin that plan.

~*~*~

Bright golden sunlight streaming in through the balcony doorway and hitting Aragorn full in the face woke him up. Unlike his father, he had no urge to stifle a yawn. He displayed the yawn to the limits his mouth would accommodate it. He then sat forward in the chair and, slumping forward, he raised his arms over his head, pulling his arm and back muscles as far as he could. Arching backward, he then did the same with the muscles in his chest. Extending his legs and tightening and then loosening those muscles completed the task. He sat up straight and grinned, as if thoroughly satisfied with his accomplishment.

Thranduil watched the amusing contortions but said nothing. Elves also stretched their muscles but among the Firstborn, it was a graceful flow of motion that was far removed from these crude, awkward movements. It was the first time the king had ever witnessed this or any other human’s attempts to stretch.

Legolas, who had just awakened, was grinning at Aragorn and shaking his head slowly side to side. He had witnessed the ranger doing all this stretching quite often during their many times together. He felt about the same way his father was just now feeling. Most ungraceful, almost like a bear just coming out of hibernation. In fact, Legolas had once made that same comment to the ranger, who had simply snorted and turned his back on the elf. The snorting hadn’t done anything but reinforce the idea Legolas had of watching a bear. They had been on a hunting trip for several weeks at the time, and being downwind of the human hadn’t helped that impression one bit.

Legolas opened his mouth to make a disparaging remark and then clamped it shut. He did not want to be reminded, yet again, that only babbled words, making no sense even to himself, would be the result. Knowing it would happen was bad enough without him having to actually hear the ridiculous sounds. All humor fled from the elf, as he struggled to keep his despair and frustration at bay.

Aragorn read the look immediately. He gave his friend an encouraging smile. “I know it’s frustrating for you, Legolas, but father will come up with the cure. Just you wait and see.”

As if he had been waiting patiently for just such a cue, Elrond entered the room without knocking. All eyes turned to him, trying to read in his expression, if he had found the answer.

Elrond, for his part, did not give anything away in the set of his features, which was an unreadable mask. He wished he could smile broadly and announce that he had, indeed, found the cure to what the venom had done to Legolas, but things were more complicated than that. He had to make sure everyone, especially Legolas, understood the risks involved before he would proceed.

Right behind Elrond came the twins and Glorfindel. They were all as anxious as anyone else in the room to find out what would happen now that a possible cure was in sight. They all came to stand at the foot of the bed, each giving Legolas a smile and, in Elrohir’s case, a small wave.

Legolas held his right hand up and waggled his unsplinted fingers in greeting. A smile lit up his face. It was good to be reminded that these people that he cared so deeply for, also cared deeply for him.

“Ada?” Aragorn questioned his father, as the elf lord approached the bed. It was then that he saw the small vial in Elrond’s hand. “Is that the antidote?”

At the question, Thranduil came up off of the chair and Legolas tried to lift himself onto his right elbow, so he would have a better look at the contents of the vial Aragorn had mentioned.

Elrond did not want to risk the vial falling over, so he set it down inside an empty cup sitting on the bedside table nearest him. “That is my hope.”

He turned to Legolas, and seeing him struggling to lift himself, the elf lord leaned down and aided him to sit up. After he and Thranduil pilled up the pillows and fluffed them, Legolas was laid back against them the same way he had been the night before.

Elrond sat on the side of the bed. He noticed that Legolas was staring at the vial. Elrond took his hand and put it under the young elf’s chin and turned his head, so that the two were face to face. “Legolas, what I am about to tell you is very important. You must listen to everything I have to say. Then, you must think about the answer to the question I will ask you. Do you understand?”

Legolas nodded. To show he would do as Elrond asked, he did not let his eyes stray from the elf lord’s.

“I have done my best to find the antidote to the venom that the black snake injected into you. I do not know anything about this snake, where it came from or how its poison works. I do know it is very powerful. I cannot even be sure if a cure can be found.

“Having said that, I have done all that I know to do to secure what I believe is the antidote. I have had to guess at the dosage to give you. There is no way to know what that does should be, how strong or how weak. I have used all the knowledge I possess regarding poisonous snake bites, venoms and antidotes to them.

“There is a chance that it may not work. There is a chance that it could do more harm to you, possibly even ending in your death. I am leaving the choice of whether to take what I have formulated entirely up to you. Do you have any questions?” Elrond felt a pang of guilt at asking that, since he knew Legolas could not speak correctly. He also knew that this was important enough to give the young elf a chance to make himself understood.

Legolas thought for a moment. *I could end up the same. I could end up worse. I could end up dead. Or, I could be cured.*

He knew if he ended up the same as he was now, it would greatly affect his future. A warrior who could not give orders, relay signals or cry out warnings would be all but useless to his fellow warriors. Yet, once his wrists completely healed, he could write. It would not be the way of a warrior, and that part of his life would be over, a painful thought he pushed aside, hoping it would not have to be considered later. However, writing would be something he could manage in his daily life, whatever that life turned out to hold for him.

He didn’t like having to think about ending up worse. The burning question would be worse how? Would he suffer further physical damage? Would he lose the ability to walk or the ability to think? That alone would cause him great despair. But, if he became little more a thinking, reasoning being than a flower in the garden, would he even know it? His family would have to take total care of him and would be the ones to suffer in that case. Could he risk doing that to them? Perhaps, he would end up with some horrid affliction that he couldn’t begin to imagine. What then?

Death not only held no fear for him, it now held no mystery. He had already died once. He clearly remembered the joy and wonder of his spirit, as it soared toward the Halls of Mandos. Legolas knew that the thought of death would not deter his decision to take the antidote that Elrond had produced.

Legolas then grasped and held onto the one remaining possibility. That little vial Elrond had brought in with him could be a cure. He could walk out of this room exactly the same person with all the same abilities, physically, mentally and emotionally that he had always possessed.

With an intense look at Elrond he lifted his right hand and pointed first to Aragorn, then to Elladan and then to Elrohir. Legolas pointed to the vial and then to Elrond and raised his eyebrows in question.

Elrond watched the young elf and understood what he was asking. “You want to know if I would give it to one of my sons, if they were in your place.”

Legolas nodded once.

“If it were left to me alone to decide, then yes, I would risk it. But, you must decide for yourself, Legolas. Those around you, who love you, will be affected by whatever happens. There is no doubt about that. But, you are the one who has to live with it. You are the one who will not be able to escape the consequences, be they good or ill, that results.”

Again, Legolas nodded. Elrond was a healer of great knowledge and great talent, honed through thousands of years of experience. If this great elf lord believed in what he had created, shouldn’t he, a young woodland warrior prince, do the same? Practicality was a solid way to go about living your life, but life also involved luck and faith. It seemed to be faith that was called for now.

Legolas pointed to the vial and then himself and nodded again.

“Legolas, are you sure?” It was Thranduil asking. He was apprehensive, but he did not disagree with his son’s choice. He would have done the same for himself or any of his children. He just wanted to be sure Legolas was both clear and comfortable in his own mind about the risks he was about to take.

Legolas put his right hand over his father’s, which was on Legolas’s left forearm. He nodded and smiled at Thranduil, who saw no doubts and no fear in his son’s eyes. The king, nay, the father smiled back.

“Very well,” Elrond said. He picked up the vial and held it in front of the young archer. “I do not know the reaction it will produce. Nothing noticeable may happen. Or, you may simply go into a healing sleep. You may suffer some kind of physical tremors or even more pain.”

Legolas could not imagine the antidote causing more pain than that he had already suffered from the poison itself. Without hesitation, he reached out and curled his long fingers around the vial, pulling it gently from Elrond’s hand. *I will do this myself for myself*, he thought.

With another reassuring smile to all present, he put the vial to his lips and tilted his head back, letting the reddish liquid pour into his mouth. It had a slightly bitter taste, but Legolas didn’t care. With one swallow, the antidote was gone, hopefully on its way to combat the poisonous venom that infused his body.

TBC