Chapter Fifty Three

Aragorn was holding to the single-minded belief that Legolas was not going to be paralyzed. It was just plain unthinkable for him to even attempt to come terms with the thought of the active, energetic warrior just lying in a bed unable to move even a finger or a toe. Such a visualization caused the ranger a pain he had rarely felt before. The man shuddered at the thought of Legolas being carried onto a ship sailing to Valinor and then being carried off to spend eternity in his current condition.

No, Aragorn resolutely corrected himself. He knew Legolas would not survive such a life. Being a prisoner in his own body would kill the elf as surely as would an arrow to his heart. Horrible as the thought was, it would probably be easier to accept the elf’s death than the alternative. However, Aragorn was not prepared to lose his friend to death or paralysis.

Aragorn couldn’t suppress another shudder at the sight of the neck brace, the bandages around Legolas’s midsection and the horrible bluish-purple bruises that stood out boldly on the elf’s fair skin, The man pulled a light blanket up to his friend’s shoulders. Leaning down, he whispered in the elf’s ear. “You will recover, Legolas. We are all here to see to that.” He stepped back and sat in one of the two chairs beside the bed. Elrond was seated in the other one, while the twins sat cross-legged on the floor.

Five minutes later Glorfindel arrived, having just been informed of Legolas’s fall. Not wanting to burden his sons with another recounting of the awful event, Elrond pulled him aside before telling him the whole story.

Glorfindel was shocked, yet at the same time, not surprised. He knew Legolas was an extremely compassionate elf, and the idea that he would rather die than be the cause of harm to his family was so easy for him to believe, But, no matter the noble reason behind the act, it saddened the elder elf greatly, and he prayed to the Valar that the young prince would recover.

Aragorn got up from his cushioned chair and gave it to Glorfindel, who argued that he did not need it. The man insisted, saying that someone of such great age needed something soft to rest his ‘old bones’ on. It was a joke the two engaged in from time to time. Glorfindel finally accepted the chair with good grace. Thus it was that the fifth member of the vigil was set in place.

Aragorn left the room and returned shortly with a small chair that he had commandeered from a nearby room and set it beside the bed. It was a hard, wooden one with no cushion on it, but it would do.

~*~*~

Night descended and candles were lit in the healing room. The small group was several hours into what they knew was going to be a very long night at Legolas’s bedside. This one was different, though. This time they were all waiting for Legolas not only to wake up but to be the one to tell them how badly he was injured, instead of the other way around.

Food trays were brought into the room by one of the young apprentice healers. None of them were touched, and the full trays were taken away later that night. The only thing that the elves and the ranger partook of was water and in Elrohir‘s case, some fruit juice.

Just before midnight, Aragorn asked, “Ada, do you have any idea when Legolas might wake up?”

“It will depend on how badly his head is injured. I saw him hit the ground. He struck his head hard. Yet, he is an elf with an elf‘s accelerated healing ability, so I hope that he will awaken sometime tomorrow.” It was a guess on Elrond’s part but an educated one. He had certainly tended his share of head injuries before.

Elladan uncrossed his legs and got up from his place on the floor and walked over behind his human brother. “Lean forward a bit, Estel.“

Puzzled, the ranger turned his head to look up at his eldest brother.

The elf was smiling down at him. “Come on, Estel, lean forward.” His words were accompanied by a gentle push against the man’s back.

When the ranger had bent forward slightly, Elladan began to massage the man’s tense shoulders and back. “Considering the state of your nerves, it is no wonder that your muscles are wound as tight as a spring.” Elladan didn’t mention that he was sure the rest of them in the room were in almost the same state.

The man couldn’t suppress a smile and a deep sigh, as he closed his eyes and let a good deal of the tension drain away with the practiced movements of the elder twin’s talented hands. No one, not even Lord Elrond, could knead a knotted muscle the way Elladan could. If only he could ease the aching in the ranger’s heart.

~*~*~

At first Legolas thought that he was being choked. He heard screaming and thought that there was some sort of battle going on ‘out there’, though where that was, he had no idea. He couldn’t remember fighting anyone, but he could think of mo other reason for someone trying to strangle him.

He felt something very tight against his jaws and the back of his head. Was someone holding his head down against a hard surface by putting their hands across his jaws? He tried to raise his hands up to grab whatever was holding him, but they refused to move. Why would they not obey his command? *They must be tied down,* he reasoned, though he could feel no ropes or manacles of any kind.

The pressure on his jaws and head did not decrease, yet he suddenly realized that he was not choking, as he had at first thought. When he swallowed, something hard and cool touched his throat, but it was not squeezing him. He was able to breathe without restriction. He couldn’t quite reconcile the two: something pressing on his throat while still being able to breathe.

He tried to struggle, attempting to wiggle free of the tight grasp but found he couldn’t move any part of his body. Was someone sitting on him? Not likely, since he couldn’t feel that sensation, either. This was a most puzzling situation, one he had never before found himself in. He briefly remembered the dream he had had when he floated without a body, yet he knew this was far different from that experience, even if this was also a dream.

He heard the screaming again and concentrated his keep hearing on trying to recognize who it was and what, if anything, they were saying. He could do neither. All he could make out was a haunting wail of pain and fury that made him shiver. At least, he believed that he had shivered. He couldn’t be sure, since there was only numbness below his neck.

If only he could get this person or thing off of him, he could take an inventory of his body to see what all had been done to it and why it was reacting so strangely.

Legolas was hit by another puzzling question. Why couldn’t he open his eyes? There was nothing impeding them, as far as he could detect anyway. Yet, like his body, they would not obey his command.

“Estel?” The elf called out to his friend, knowing that the man would be quick to help him. “Estel?”

There was no answer. The archer tried to hold down a wave of panic. Surely, if the ranger was all right, he would have come already. That could only mean that something terrible had happened to his friend. But, then he wondered if Estel had even been with him. He couldn’t remember. He might have been alone, attacked by something that still held him in its iron grip. No memory of such an event came to his desperately seeking mind. However, if that meant that Estel was safe somewhere else, then Legolas‘s heart could rest a little easier.

The screaming continued unabated and pushed its way into the forefront of this mind once again. *Is that me screaming?* he asked himself. No, he knew it was not him. His mouth was tightly closed. That he could feel. It was just another thing to add to his growing list of puzzling things to ponder.

Lying where he was, unable to move and unable to dislodge his perceived attacker forced him to turn inward. Since he was evidently in no immediate danger and could evidently do nothing about it anyway, he retreated into his mind.

It was then that he realized who was doing the screaming---and why. It was Mordraug, and he had gone totally mad with rage that Legolas had destroyed his plans for revenge. And, with a horror that seized his heart, Legolas remembered and now knew beyond a doubt what he had done to cause it. *I jumped from my balcony and tried to kill myself.*

Hitting full force in the same instant was the realization of why he couldn’t feel his body. *I am paralyzed!*

~*~*~

Elrond was working over in his mind the plan to deal with Mordraug. When he finally reached the point where he knew how to proceed, he almost laughed. He had been thinking about the problem for what seemed like ages, and yet the final solution had been so simple. Of course, he reminded himself, he had had to go through all the possible consequences of the plan before even considering embarking on it. The idea was to banish Mordraug forever and not do Legolas any harm in the process. Success lay in the details.

~*~*~

It was about three hours after midnight, when Elrond finally decided that any delay in implementing the plan he had finalized would serve no useful purpose. He had worked through all the possibilities. There were unknown variables, he knew, but those had to be dealt with as they came up. It was simply impossible to think of everything.

It seemed logical to Elrond that the dark elf could only be aware of things that Legolas was aware of, since he survived inside the young archer’s mind. Still, Elrond was reluctant to outline the plan to his sons and his friend ahead of time. It would ruin any chance of success, if he was wrong about Mordraug’s awareness of what was going on around Legolas. It wasn’t worth the risk.

Standing up, Elrond turned to his sons and Glorfindel. “I am about to do something that I cannot explain to any of you beforehand.” He took note of the puzzled looks that were turned his way. He truly hated to go into this with no one else aware of what he was about to do. The plan may not work. He could suffer in some way he had not thought of. Legolas... The elf lord sighed. *I must not borrow trouble.*

“Ada, what are you talking about?” Elrohir asked.

“That is what I cannot explain. I must obtain a promise from each of you.” Again, he noted the puzzled lools that were now tinged with concern. “You must promise that no matter what happens, you will not interfere.”

“But, Ada, why…?”

“No questions, Estel. You must trust me. That is all I can say. Just trust me and do not interfere with what you might hear or see.”

They all trusted Elrond implicitly, so even though they hadn’t the faintest idea what the elf lord was planning, they accepted his word. They all gave their promise.

“Estel, kneel down on your side of the bed and put your arm lightly across Legolas’s waist. Put your other hand on the top of his head. This is just a precaution should he try to struggle.” He looked at his eldest son. “Elladan, be ready to hold his legs, if need be. Both of you, do not let him move.”

To Aragorn, these words were an admission of Elrond’s uncertainty regarding the paralysis. Even his father did not necessarily believe that Legolas was paralyzed. This, however, was not the time to comment on it. Instead, Aragorn nodded and did as his father bid him.

Elrond approached the bed and knelt down on the floor opposite Aragorn. He looked down at Vilya. *Please, Eru, let this work.* He carefully leaned forward and placed the palm of his hand against Legolas’s forehead, making sure that the metal of the ring was touching the young elf’s skin. His free hand he placed on his own forehead.

The elf lord closed his eyes and began to hum softly, speaking words in his mind that no one would have been able to understand even had they heard them. As he did so, the sapphire stone in the Ring of Air began to glow and pulse with an inner fire.

Elladan, Elrohir and Estel were convinced that Elrond was tying to use Vilya to heal Legolas. They were very excited by that prospect, sure the power of the ring would not fail. Only Glorfindel, mainly because of his previous conversations with Elrond, had an idea of what his friend was really attempting.

After only a moment, the entire room was bathed in a soft blue glow. The ring itself was no longer visible, being lost to sight from the sparkling brilliance that radiated from it. Even the form of Elrond himself soon wavered in the light of the ring.

Elrond felt himself being sucked into a kind of vortex that stretched and twisted his spiritual body, yet it was not an unpleasant feeling. For some reason he could not fathom, it felt different than any other time he had used the ring’s power. He didn’t have time to contemplate it, however, as he flew down a tunnel of light. He was soaring through a myriad of what appeared to be stars, whipping by him in steaks of light. Everything was in shades of blue, from deep midnight to the color of a robin‘s egg. The light, the colors, the speed he traveled were sensations that hit his senses all at once. It was an awesome experience he wished he could indulge in more often.

One tiny part of his mind, even now, wished the experience would not end. He was on the verge of being mesmerized to the point that he could easily forget what he was there to do. Mentally, he shook himself free of the captivating pull of this tunnel of blue lights.

All too soon, everything came to a sudden stop. The blue lights faded, and he found himself in a room with no windows and no doors. It was a room that he had never seen before. He was alone, but swirling all around him were screams that seemed to rise and fall, as they bounced off the surrounding walls.

“What is this place?” the elf lord asked aloud. It was not where he expected to end up. Had there been some mistake, some miscalculation on his part? Or, had Vilya been unerring, and this was indeed the place where he was supposed to confront the enemy.

TBC