Chapter Forty

After Aragorn walked out of the room, Legolas held his hands up in front of him. They no longer ached, not even after he had eaten, held a glass to drink from several times and held his father in a tight embrace before he left. To Legolas that meant his wrists must be healed. It was time to find out.

He looked toward the door to his room, as if checking to see that no one was watching. Truth be told, that was exactly what he was doing---checking to make sure no one was going to catch him doing something he knew he really shouldn’t be doing.

Legolas’s elven ears picked up no sounds from out in the hall. In fact, the only sound he heard at all came from the wind outside. It had picked up in intensity in the last few minutes. Glancing through the open balcony doors, he noted that clouds were beginning to move in over Rivendell, driven by the wind. A storm was brewing, though Legolas thought it was at least an hour away. He grimaced as the thought of his father, Cúran and the Royal Guard having to face bad weather. Hopefully, they would at least out distance the worst of it.

As he thought of his father, he thought of the problem that was unfolding in Mirkwood. The elf shook his head. It wouldn’t do to worry over it. There was certainly nothing he could do to help the situation. He must push it from his mind and let Thranduil and Balardoron handle it. He calmed in the knowledge that he would be notified of the outcome, whenever the matter was settled.

Legolas smiled, thinking of Aragorn’s words about his father’s force of will. Again he spared a sympathetic thought for the humans, who would probably soon be ruing their haste in insisting on the king’s presence, not that Balardoron was much less an imposing figure to deal with. His oldest brother took after Thranduil in temperament more than any of his siblings. He took after him physically, as well, except that he had raven hair like his mother. Only Legolas and his oldest sister had inherited the golden tresses of their father.

Legolas sighed, as he turned his attention back to his hands. With the dexterity of the long elven fingers on his right hand, he began to work out the knot that held the cloth wrapping in place on his left hand.

Lord Elrond would not be happy with what he was about to do. The archer felt a pang of guilt, hoping that the elf lord would not feel that Legolas thought he knew better than the ancient healer when the splints should come off.

It took him a while, but gradually the knot began to loosen. Soon he was unwinding the cloth strip. The small pieces of wood that had been placed on either side of his hand fell onto the bed. He pulled the last piece of cloth from that hand and then began to undo the wrapping on his right hand. In a matter of a couple of minutes, the other hand was unbound and the wood pieces fell down beside the others.

Legolas held both of his hands up in front of him and examined his wrists, turning his hands front to back. He knew that just looking at them wasn’t telling him much about their condition, so he bent both hands slightly and turned them in slow circles, increasing the angle of the bend with each revolution until his hands were bent as far as they would go. He felt no discomfort. Then taking his right wrist in the fingers of his left hand, he pinched down in several places---hard. No pain. He did the same with his opposite wrist. No pain there, either. He smiled to himself and silently declared the broken bones completely mended. Surely, if they weren’t, they would have protested his maneuvers.

He almost laughed wondering how in the world he would have gotten the splints back on his wrists had they proven to need more mending. One thing he would surely have received was a stern lecture from Elrond, along the lines of a patient playing at being a healer with possible dire consequences. The thought of being on the receiving end of such a lecture made him cringe. He sighed, knowing he may yet be reprimanded for his actions in removing the splints.

After setting the pieces of wood and the cloth strips on the bedside table, he lifted the bedcovers and observed his left foot. He was dismayed to discover that now that he was thinking about it, it hurt. Funny, he hadn’t noticed the ache before looking at it. He decided that the pain wasn’t bad enough to demand his attention unless he was concentrating on his foot.

Unfortunately, the fact there was pain at all meant the bone in his ankle was not completely healed. It had evidently sustained a more serious fracture. He would have to leave it alone and let Elrond make the final decision on when it was healed enough to take the splint off. Legolas was not happy, but he wasn’t going to risk further damage and thus incur a longer healing period just to rid himself of the splint.

Legolas had remained awake a lot longer than Aragorn had thought he would. Of course, the ranger hadn’t known that the elf would be engaged in a project that would keep his mind fully occupied. However, now that his mind had nothing more to concentrate on and with only the wind to keep him company, it didn’t take long for Legolas to lose the battle to stay awake. Just before drifting off, the elf scooted himself down in the bed, adjusted his pillows and pulled the bedcovers up around his shoulders. He was asleep with his next breath, eyes fully open.

Just before time for the evening meal, Elladan stuck his head in the door to see if Legolas wanted anything to eat. When he saw that the younger elf was asleep, he quietly withdrew and closed the door.

“He is asleep,” he told his twin, who had been waiting right outside the door. “Believe it or not, Estel is not with him.”

Elrohir chuckled. “Legolas must have kicked him out, which means Estel is probably in his own room.”

“Pouting most likely.“ Elladan grinned and led the way to their younger brother’s room.

Elladan stopped to knock on Aragorn’s door, but Elrohir opened it without waiting for an invitation. “We have come to get you for evening meal,” he said cheerily. “Come.”

“I need to check on Legolas first,” the ranger said.

“I just did,” Elladan informed him. “He is asleep and does not need to be disturbed by his mother hen.”

“I am not a mother hen,” Aragorn protested. He narrowed his eyes and glared at both of his brothers, knowing that whatever one said to someone, the other was sure to be in full agreement, unless of course, they were bickering between themselves. In that case, they never agreed with each other. “He accuses me of that all the time,” the ranger added, still obviously peeved at the accusation of being a mother hen.

“Then, it must be true,” Elrohir said with perfectly logical reasoning. “Now come.”

Before the young man could protest, both of his brothers grabbed his arms from either side and began propelling him toward the door.

The two elves pulled their human brother down the corridor and then down the three flights of stairs toward the dining hall and didn’t let go of him until they reached it.

~*~*~

Legolas begin to dream.

He found himself in a brightly-lit room approximately fifteen feet square. There were no doors and no windows nor was there any evident light source. He gave only a moment’s thought to that puzzle before redirecting his attention.

Turning slowly around, he spotted a figure in one corner of the room. It was clearly a dark-haired elf, thought his back was to the archer. There was something very familiar about this elf, but Legolas couldn’t quite figure out who the being was. He knew it wasn’t Elrond or one of the twins. It most certainly was not either of his brothers. He searched his mind, trying to go through all the dark-haired friends that he had, but there seemed to be a wall of fog between his conscious thought and his memories. He shook his head rapidly, trying to dislodge the answer to this dilemma.

Legolas stared at the elf’s back. It wasn’t until the other being turned around that the blond elf’s eyes went wide in surprise and horror. The creature was Mordraug! “It cannot be. You are dead.” The fog in his mind suddenly cleared, as he remembered being told that the dark elf had been killed.

“Yes, I am dead, courtesy of Thranduil.” There was a tone of infinite bitterness in his voice.

“My father did not kill you. Your pet snake bit you after you betrayed it, thinking that by doing so, you could save yourself.”

“I see that someone has been telling you tales, since, at the time, you were busy dying in the same manner that I died.”

“I retuned,” Legolas told the dark elf somewhat smugly, though he knew he had Eru to thank for that. “I am not a ghost.”

“So you think that I am a ghost.” Mordraug laughed. “I will not argue that point. Think of me as you wish. It matters naught to me. I have more important points to make.” Mordraug moved forward a few steps, forcing Legolas backwards in an effort to keep the same distance between them. Mordraug laughed again. “Are you afraid of me, little prince?”

“Why should I fear a ghost?” Legolas had glanced at Mordraug’s left arm to make sure that there was no snake residing there. He wasn’t surprised to see that there wasn’t one. That meant that the dark elf was all he had to deal with. That, he was sure, would be formidable enough.

“Why have you invaded my dream?” Legolas asked, not sure he wanted to hear the answer to that question. At the dark elf’s next remarks, he was sure of it.

Staring evenly at the younger elf, Mordraug, in a very measured tone, said, “You think that all of your troubles are behind you. You are quite mistaken.”

Legolas blanched. He didn’t like feeling fear in this elf’s presence, but he couldn’t help it. “What do you mean?”

“Well, your broken bones have mended, your speech is on it’s way to becoming normal again, thanks to that meddling half-elven healer, Elrond. It would appear that soon you will be as you were. How wrong that assumption would be.” A smirk had crept across Mordraug’s face, as he spoke that last sentence.

As soon as Legolas had recognized Mordraug, he had been prepared to dismiss every word that came out of the dark elf’s mouth, sure they would be nothing but lies. Yet, Legolas could not deny that a feeling of dread began to built in the pit of his stomach.

He didn’t understand how Mordraug could be in his dream or how he could know what was to come, but he began to fear that Mordraug’s words of foreboding could not easily be set aside.

“Why would that be a wrong assumption?” Legolas pressed, determined to find out as much as he could. “What is to happen?” The young archer tried to hide the mounting trepidation in is voice.

The dark elf had given no details. Therefore, Legolas was trying to believe that Mordraug was simply attempting to turn this dream into a nightmare by frightening him. The tactic was working better than Legolas wanted to admit. The dark elf was obviously upset that Legolas hadn’t died, or rather, hadn’t stayed dead.

Mordraug confirmed that idea quickly. “You were brought back from the dead while I, who is much more worthy of such a redemption, was not. I think you should pay dearly for that miscarriage of justice. I wanted your father to pay dearly, as well. But, somehow you saved him.”

Legolas just stared at Mordraug. How could this elf have gotten everything so wrong? Legolas was not the one to bring himself back from death. Nor, had he had anything to do with saving his father from Mordraug’s clutches. The dark elf was every bit as insane as Thranduil had said he was. Like most of those who‘s minds become twisted, he was blaming everyone but himself for what happened. “You have all your facts wrong, Mordraug. It was your betrayal of your own snake that caused it to kill you. No one but you is responsible for your fate.”

“Lies! All lies!” Mordraug screamed, stepping forward and startling the young elf.

Just as suddenly, the outburst ended and a calmness settled on the dark elf. In a quiet voice, he said, “You and your father have thwarted my plans to obtain Greenwood, which is rightfully mine. You will pay, and so will he.”

Legolas was aware that he had done nothing himself to rid Middle-earth of this evil being. The snake had killed Mordraug, and Glorfindel had killed the snake. It was only Legolas’s journey to the valley forest to confront the evil elf, prompting his father and his friends to follow, that had led to Mordraug’s downfall.

Legolas didn’t understand how a ghost in a dream could continue his evil, especially since he no longer had his pet snake. It made no sense.

Mordraug saw the puzzled look on Legolas’s face and laughed. “I see you are confused, little prince. It is not me but your own mind that will turn against you and make you pay for what you have done to me. I need not do a thing. That is the beauty of it. When you awaken, you will begin to understand.”

With those words, the dark elf vanished. Legolas spun all around, searching to make sure Mordraug was not lurking behind him. There was no one else in the room. He stood stock still, contemplating all that Mordraug had told him. It still made no sense to him. Why would his own mind turn against him? He was not guilty of any transgression. He was mending, his father was safely on his way to Mirkwood. *Mordraug’s evil spirit is trying to do what he could not do while alive. I will not allow it.*

The light in the room promptly vanished as quickly as Mordraug had. Legolas stood in pitch blackness. Since he had already noted there were no doors or windows, the young elf knew there was no way for him to get himself out of the room.

Thoroughly shaken by the encounter, Legolas sat down cross-legged on the floor, wrapped his arms around himself, and waited to wake up. That was the only way he could free himself from the dark room. Would the light of day free him from his dark fears?

TBC