Chapter Forty One

The deep rumble of thunder sounded loudly in Legolas’s ears. At first, he couldn’t understand how there could be thunder in the dark room where he was. Only seconds before, right after Mordraug left, there had been nothing but a deathly silence. It took him a moment to realize that he was lying down---in a bed?---not sitting cross-legged on a cold floor.

A flash of lightning illuminated the room. He saw cushioned chairs, book shelves, a desk with a small wooden chair pulled up to it, as well as other familiar furnishings. It all combined to reveal the error of where he thought he was. Instead of the plain closed-in room, the elf recognized his Rivendell bedroom.

Realization struck. A dream. *It was just a dream.* The comforting words he spoke to himself brought a feeling of relief. It was not the first time in his life that he had awakened from a bad dream only to realize that that’s all it was, and that he was safe where he lay. However, it had been a long time since such a disturbing dream had occurred. His father had been there then to comfort him. With a touch of dismay, Legolas remembered that Thranduil had returned to Mirkwood.

Legolas had completely forgotten the foggy nightmare when he had no body and when he had seen the huge serpent. Such were the elusive fabric of dreams, even intense ones.

Legolas lay still and thought about the dream he had just awoken from. He wasn’t anxious to think about it, but if it had this kind of unnerving effect on him, it had to be important, and he needed to work through it.

He clearly remembered that Mordraug had been in the dark room of his dream, telling him his mind would turn against him and that, upon waking, he would begin to understand. Understand what exactly? Mordraug had been a ghost in a dream. Nothing more. How could he possibly cause the kind of trouble he had hinted at? Maybe, he couldn’t. Maybe, the Avari was powerless to do anything further to the young wood elf, and he was just trying to make Legolas create enough doubts to bring that trouble upon himself. That had to be it. *I am stronger than that,* the warior elf declared to himself. “He...will not...win.” It wasn’t until it dawned on Legolas that he had spoken those last words haltingly that he realized he had spoken out loud.

The elf frowned. What if he was wrong, and Mordraug did have the power, ghost or not, to exact his revenge in the way he had described? What if Mordraug could indeed bring to pass all that he had predicted? What if the dream had been real? It did not occur to Legolas that it was those very questions that were leading him toward the slippery slope of doubt. And, the elf never saw it coming.

Thunder continued to rumble ominously and lightning continued to flash. But, since there was still no rain, Legolas thought that he had been asleep for less than the hour he had believed it would take for the storm to hit. The thought had barely registered, when rain began to fall and fall hard.

Legolas stared out toward the balcony and gave a small sigh of relief. Though the curtains just inside the doorway were flapping in the strong air current, the wind itself was driving the rain right to left, assuring that the torrent would not be blowing into his room. The elf really did not relish the idea of attempting to close the doors while hopping on one foot, fighting the wind and then getting wet, since the doors were laid back against the outer walls.

Legolas had never feared the weather, no matter how bad it became. He had often, in his life as a warrior, functioned in storms just as violent as this one looked to be with no decrease in skills. Yet, he couldn’t help but feel a tingle creep up his spine, as he stared out at this storm that was venting its fury against Rivendell and the valley beyond. Did the feeling have anything to do with Mordraug’s appearance in his dream? He didn’t see how the two could be connected in any way, but then, why did this storm make him feel so---uncertain.

Just then the door to the elf’s room opened, and Aragorn came in carrying a candle. His free hand was cupped around the small flame, which was flickering crazily. Without a word or more than a quick glance at the elf staring at him from the bed, the man walked over to the bedside, and turning his back to the balcony, he took the crystal globe from the candle holder and used his candle to light the one sitting on the small silver pedestal. The new flame sprang to life. He quickly replaced the globe before the swirling air could extinguish it. The candle he still held was blown out immediately, and he set it down on the table.

Triumphantly, Aragorn turned a wide smile on his friend. “There, isn’t that better?”

Legolas sat up. “You... look pleased with...yourself,” he observed.

Aragorn‘s smile broadened. “You sound better. As for being pleased, I didn’t think I was going to get all the way over here without the flame being blown out. So. yes, I’m pleased I made it.”

“You...could have brought...the candle...in a...g...globe.” It seemed like a perfectly logical idea to Legolas, not to mention a very simple one.

“You sure know how to squelch my sense of accomplishment,” Aragorn said, feigning hurt feelings.

Legolas merely smiled.

Continuing, Aragorn said, “I knew your doors would be open, and since you only have one good foot at the moment, I didn’t want you trying to close them yourself should the wind shift and the rain start coming in. Do you want me to close them?”

Despite the feeling of uncertainty the storm seemed to be generating inside the elf, Legolas shook his head. “Thank...you, Estel, but no. I...like...to see the...v...various sides...of Nature.”

“So do I, as long as they don’t cause me inconveniences or discomfort.”

“Some ranger,” was all the elf said, but the two words were spoken with a measure of humorous sarcasm, and he knew his friend understood exactly the point he was making.

The human merely shrugged. He pulled one of the chairs up a little closer to Legolas and looked at his friend. Legolas chose that moment to rub an itch on his chin. The ranger’s eyes went wide. “Legolas!”

“What?” the elf asked reflexively, startled at the sudden and loud bark of his name.

“Your hands.” Aragorn jumped up and leaned over the archer, grabbing both of his arms above the wrists before Legolas could pull them away. “Why did you take the splints off?”

“I do not...need...them.”

The healer in Aragorn came to the forefront. “Let me see.” He pulled the elf’s hands closer to him, so it would be easier for him to make his examination. He gently turned Legolas’s hands around in circles and then pressed the site of the breaks with increasing force.

Legolas simply endured the human’s exam, knowing how seriously Aragorn took his healing skills, and also knowing that he wasn‘t going to talk the man out of doing what he was determined to do.

Estel was going so slow, trying to be careful, that the elf finally sighed quite loudly. “Estel, I...have done that...al...ready. My wrists...are fine.”

“Let me be the judge of that,” the man said in a no-nonsense tone.

“Do you...find my...wrists mm...mended?” Legolas challenged, knowing all too well the answer to that.

“Yes, they appear to be. Do they hurt at all?”

“No. That...is why...I...r...removed...the splints.” The look he gave the man was one that reflected pure logic.

“That may be, but I do not think my father will be pleased that the patient made the decision to remove the splints instead of letting the healer make that decision.”

The elf thought again of the lecture he was likely to receive from the elf lord. There was no point in dwelling on it. It would happen or it wouldn’t, though he was pretty sure which it would end up being.

“And, your foot?” Aragorn asked.

Legolas frowned. “Not mended...yet. But...soon.”

A sudden booming crash of thunder made Legolas’s whole body jerk. He immediately chided himself for acting like a frightened elfling. This storm was making him nervous, and he couldn’t figure out why.

Aragorn had seen the elf jump at the sound of the thunder. That was not a normal reaction for his friend. In fact, Legolas rarely reacted to thunder or lightning at all, except to embrace it as a part of the natural world he loved. The ranger deliberately held back a frown, reminding himself what his friend had recently endured. The elf was bound to be a little jumpy. In similar circumstances, Aragorn figured he probably would have made a dive under the bed, or at the least, pulled the covers over his head. And, that was without experiencing anything like the dream his friend had just had, which he, as yet, knew nothing about.

In an attempt to be encouraging, Aragorn said, “I think that between the antidote and the sleep you got, your elven healing ability has come back strong. I think you are right; your foot will be healed in no time.” His smile reinforced his words.

“I hope...so.”

“Are you hungry?” the man asked, smoothly changing the subject.

Legolas shook his head, just as another clap of thunder hit, rattling the globe on the lit candle holder beside the bed. He closed his eyes. Why did he feel so... His mind searched for the right word. Scared? No, he was not scared! He tried to banish that notion. Yet, the tingling feeling running down his back was as close to it as he cared to get.

Aragorn saw the elf’s hands shaking ever so slightly. He could no longer keep his concern to himself. “Legolas, I know that all you have been through is nerve-wracking, and it’s understandable that you would be jumpy during a loud, raging storm...” He got no further.

“I am not jumpy!” the elf declared loudly and with more than a touch of anger. “Do not say that.” He was afraid that hearing the words would make it true, and that was one admission he was not willing to make. He hadn’t noticed that the emotional outburst had overridden his halting speech.

The ranger was taken aback by the vehemence of Legolas’s words. “I was only...”

“It does not matter...what you were trying to do, Estel. You do not...know what I have been...through, not really. So, please do not...attempt to offer me your...human platitudes.”

Aragorn had to clench his fist to keep from responding in kind to the elf’s sudden, and in his opinion, totally uncalled for outburst. It was so unlike the elf to become angry like this over nothing. However, getting into an argument with his obviously stressed-out friend was not going to do anything but risk upsetting them both. Aragorn took a deep breath and let it out very slowly.

Thunder again intruded upon the two friends, and this time Legolas closed his eyes and put both of his hands over his ears. “Go away,” he yelled to the offending noise overhead.

Aragorn, of course, thought that Legolas was speaking to him. The ranger sighed and stood up. He did not want to remain, if doing so was going to upset his friend further. “I will give you some time to find the peace you seek.” Without another word, he left the room.

When Legolas opened his eyes, he saw that he was alone. It confused him. Why would Estel just get up and leave him without saying anything? He hadn’t heard the ranger’s last words to him nor did he remember the tone of voice he himself had used toward the human. *What made Estel leave so suddenly?* Was his friend angry with him for some reason? Had he done something wrong?

Then, a horrible thought slammed into his mind. Was Estel getting tired of tending to him? Was he wishing that the elf had simply left Rivendell with his father, taking his infirmities and his neediness with him?

At those questions, Legolas’s nervousness increased. Why was he thinking those thoughts? Estel was his best friend. He would never begrudge his time or attention in helping the elf. He had demonstrated that many times over. But perhaps now, he was just getting tired of doing it.

Legolas cocked his head, thinking that he had heard the very faint sound of...laughter? No, it could not have been anyone laughing. He was alone. It must have been the storm. There was so much thunder, lightning, wind and rain that something in the tempest must have made a similar sound. He listened intently, but did not hear it again. His head was beginning to hurt, so he eased himself back down in the bed, refusing to think about anything.

The dream, and Mordraug’s appearance in it, that had so disturbed the elf had now completely faded from his mind. By the time he had found a comfortable position for his foot and settled himself, he no longer remembered any of it. However, the tingling Legolas felt was still in evidence.

He was eager to go back to sleep. Perhaps, when he woke up again, the storm and the feeling of nervousness it gave him would all have passed.

~*~*~

Out in the hall, Aragorn stood looking at the door to Legolas’s room. He was confused, but he didn‘t know how to help his friend. *He needs time,* the man thought, echoing Elrond’s words. *Time is all.*

He walked down the hall to his own room, determined to leave the elf alone for now. He had no idea what was behind what had just happened with Legolas. It was as if some fit of anger had taken possession of the elf. Aragorn had no intention of backing off for more than a short while.

In times past, he had managed to force Legolas to speak about whatever was bothering him purely as the result of his own persistence and the fact that Legolas trusted him implicitly. If he had to endure the elf’s anger to get to the bottom of whatever was going on, then that is what he would do. Not knowing the real problem involved, the man was sure his tactic of sheer doggedness would work this time, as well.

Hopefully, Legolas would soon come around on his own.

TBC