Chapter 2: Resolutions

Elrond settled himself in his favourite armchair and picked up his book, pausing for a moment to watch the glittering particles of dust that rose from the floor beneath his feet dance lazily in a shaft of early morning sunlight. The soft whisper of the cascading waterfalls in the distance added to the serenity he found in this quiet time. It did not last long however for as he had done often since the Fellowship had begun their quest several weeks ago, he found himself wondering how they fared. He sent a silent plea asking the Valar to keep them safe and for the quest to succeed.

The beat of horses hooves, accompanied by Elladan's shouts for someone to fetch Elrond, disrupted his musings and he walked quickly to the balcony in time to see Elrohir carefully reach up and take a limp body from his brother's arms. Rather than go to the courtyard, Elrond hastened to the chamber he used as an infirmary and prepared to receive his patient. As soon as Elrohir arrived, he helped him settle the injured Elf on the bed, and then quickly began his examination, his eyebrow rising in surprised recognition when he realised who he was treating. Thranduil!

"What happened?" he asked as he took the wet cloth Elladan handed him, removed the blood soaked bandage and began cleaning the large gash across the woodland King's chest. The cut itself was not too deep, but it was a terrible grey colour and the flesh that surrounded it was cold and already covered by a large blue-black bruise.

"We were patrolling the pass through the Misty Mountains when we came upon the tracks of a band of orcs. We followed them and arrived to find Thranduil in this unconscious state, and his guards slain," explained Elladan. "I tended his wounds as best I could, but I think he must have been slashed by a poisoned blade, I have not seen a cut the likes of that before."

"I have seen these symptoms before, it is now a very rare poison now, but it was once often used by minions of Sauron," admitted Elrond, looking worried. His concern deepened when Thranduil did not even flinch slightly when he probed the cut to see if there were any slivers of metal in the wound. Finding none, he coated the wound with a salve that was used as a general antidote and bound it with fresh bandages.

"Do you need our help any longer?" asked Elrohir, watching as Elrond searched through the drawers that contained his herbs and medicines.

"No, it may take some time to find, but I believe I still have the ingredients for a cure. It would be best if I work alone," he said, favouring them both with an encouraging smile.

"We intend to return to the pass and bury the bodies, rather than leave them as they are," said Elladan.

"Then make sure you take a large patrol, in case the foul creatures return," Elrond instructed needlessly, for he knew his sons were well accustomed to travelling dangerous paths, and equally well aware of the risks.

"We will," they replied in unison, warmed by the concern shown for their safety.

"I hope Adar can find a cure," said Elrohir as he quietly closed the door. "I wonder what Thranduil was doing so far from Mirkwood?"

"You can be certain he will do all in his power to return the King to health, if only to hear the answer to that question," replied Elladan with a wry smile as they returned to the courtyard to organise those who were to accompany them back to the pass.

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Elrond found the medicine he had been searching for and walked back to where Thranduil lay, still unmoving. Placing a generous amount of the ointment on his fingers, he gently pushed them under the bandages and rubbed along the gash, coating it all over with the paste. Then, taking a limp hand in his, he closed his eyes and drew on his inner strength, willing the Woodland King to live. After several minutes he felt a distant but powerful stirring deep within Thranduil as the warm glow of his strengthening spirit drew the Elvenking back to consciousness.

Thranduil had no idea where he was as he slowly awakened. What he did know was that his chest felt so cold that it burned and his head ached worse than it ever had, even after he had consumed too much Dorwinion the night before. He shook his head as he tried clear his blurred vision and focus his eyes and groaned loudly as a fierce pain lanced through his skull. He felt someone remove their hand from his and gently place a cold, wet cloth on his forehead.

"I would try to keep still, if I were you," said a voice he recognised although it had been many years since he had last heard it.

"Elrond?" he managed to croak through his dry lips, his eyes finally coming into focus. "What am I doing here?"

"Greetings, Thranduil. Your party was attacked by orcs, and you were injured. My sons found you and brought you here to be healed," he explained briefly. "Let me give you something to relieve your headache," he offered seeing a grimace of pain cross Thranduil's face. Noting that his patient was too weak to sit up, Elrond sat beside him on the bed and held his head with one hand as he gently pressed the cup to his lips with the other. After Thranduil managed to swallow most of the unpleasant potion, Elrond helped him to lie back against the pillow.

"You should try and sleep now and allow your natural healing abilities a chance to work. We can talk more when you are feeling better," suggested Elrond.

"I am very tired," agreed Thranduil weakly, the words barely leaving his lips before his eyes glazed over once more as he drifted into sleep. Satisfied that his patient was no longer in danger, Elrond left the healing chamber just long enough to fetch a tray of food, some fresh juice from the kitchens and, from his study, the book he had been reading earlier.

"Ah, Glorfindel, I am glad you are here," he said to his old friend who was also in his study looking at one of the maps showing the route the Fellowship were expected to take. "Should anyone enquire, I will be spending the rest of today as well as the night, in the healing chambers."

"How fares Thranduil?" asked Glorfindel, who had obviously already heard all about the incident at the pass.

"He has regained consciousness, and is now sleeping. I will stay with him to change his bandages every few hours so that the wound heals properly," replied Elrond as he picked up his book and turned to leave.

"Let me know when he has recovered, for I would dearly love to see his face when he realises he owes you his life," said Glorfindel, his eyes alight with amusement.

Returning to the chamber where his patient still slept peacefully, Elrond noiselessly carried the tray containing his meal over to the small table near the open archway that lead to the balcony. Settling himself so that he was facing the bed in which Thranduil lay, he sated his hunger, making sure to leave a small portion of food and drink to give to the Elvenking when he awoke.

Pushing the tray aside, he opened his book to the place he had kept with one of his most cherished possessions, a bookmark embroidered lovingly by Arwen when she was very young. He smiled as he fondly remembered the sight of a very patient Celebrían sitting in the garden with Arwen, teaching her the finer points of needlework, and how proud his daughter had been when she presented her Ada with her very first sample. Naturally he had praised the somewhat uneven stitching, and the depiction of what, Celebrían had assured him later, was definitely a swan as Arwen had claimed. That had been many years ago, he told himself, now Celebrían was gone into the west and Arwen was living in Lothlórien, and he missed them both very much. A small melancholy sigh passed his lips as he returned his thoughts to the present and began to read his book.

It was not until several hours later, when he found himself having to squint to see the words in the fading light, that he realised twilight had crept up on him unawares and it was time to change Thranduil's bandages again. As he walked around the room, lighting the candles with a taper, a tingling sensation at the back of his neck told him he was being watched and he turned to find Thranduil, his eyes now clear and focussed, looking directly at him.

"How are you feeling? Does your head still ache?" Elrond asked as he collected the new bandages and the ointment he needed before moving to over to the bed.

"My headache persists, otherwise I feel quite recovered," Thranduil declared stoically, attempting to raise himself to a sitting position. His chest wound was not quite as healed as he thought and he grunted in frustration as he was forced to lie back down to ease the pain. "Where is my shirt?" he demanded only now realising he wore none.

"Your attacker cut a very long wound with his poisoned blade and I need to regularly change the dressing to make sure all the toxin is drawn out of your body," explained Elrond as he reached to remove the bandages. "I thought it would be easier if I did not have to remove your shirt every time."

"Very sensible of you," commented Thranduil, the slight sarcasm in his voice tempered by the smile in his eyes. "Are your ministrations succeeding? How long do you intend to confine me to bed?"

"You ask more questions that an elfling!’ declared Elrond good-humouredly. “The wound is healing well, you should be able to take a short walk tomorrow," he added as he covered rapidly healing wound with some more ointment and then expertly completed the task of applying the bandages. "Do you feel like eating something?"   Thranduil nodded and with much effort managed to finish the meal Elrond had saved for him.

"What kind of poison was it?" Thranduil asked curiously, feeling much better for having eaten.

"It was the one favoured by Sauron's orcs during the last war, I did not realise it was still in use," replied Elrond with a look of disgust. Many Elves had succumbed to the poison before he had finally developed a cure.

"Just as I suspected. The foul creatures that inhabit Dol Guldur have been using it for several decades and it has become common practice for all Wood Elves to carry the cure. Did you get the antidote from my guards, or from me?" enquired Thranduil, looking around as if expecting to see his companions also confined to bed in the infirmary.

"Neither, I used my own supply, but I will be sure to pass your information on to my sons and the Rangers," Elrond assured him as he poured some water into a basin and washed his hands. Turning to face Thranduil directly, he told him the sad news, "I regret to inform you that none of your guards survived the attack."

Thranduil closed his eyes to hide his grief and whispered words of mourning for his fallen companions. "Then I owe you my thanks for saving my life," he said grudgingly, "though I am not at all pleased with the thought of being so far in your debt, friends though we may be." Even when he was recovering from almost being slain, Thranduil was nothing if not direct.

"I am a healer, I was hardly going to allow you to die, regardless of the cost to your pride," Elrond replied lightly, a part of him enjoying his friend’s discomfort with the situation. "I think perhaps it is Elladan and Elrohir whom you should be thanking, for had they not found you when they did, you would now be with your guards in the Halls of Mandos.”

"Then I will thank your sons, but do not think to be rid of me so easily. This is not the first time I have felt the sting of the orc poison," Thranduil informed him.

"Then that would explain your speedy recovery," observed Elrond. He studied his patient silently for a few moments before voicing his thoughts. "You have become a powerful leader, Thranduil, and one that we cannot afford to lose in these troubled times," declared Elrond. “You may not realise it, but I have a great deal of respect for you and the way you are able to draw on the strength of the songs of the natural world to keep your people safe from the constant threat you face in Mirkwood."

"I appreciate your confidence in my ability to protect my people, it is something I am well practiced in, ever since it became apparent that the Dark Lord had risen again, seeking that which Isildur refused to destroy," the Elvenking said, referring to one of the causes of their past animosity. “You need have no fear, Elrond, I have no intention of allowing the Shadow to defeat Mirkwood now, or when he finally decides to attack in force, which I am certain he will do," stated Thranduil with deadly certainty.
 
"Let us not dwell on the past; it is only the present and the future that should concern us now,” suggested Elrond.  

“That would be wise,” agreed Thranduil, as he leaned back into the pillows.  

“Well, if you are not too tired at present, I would like to know what you were doing so far from your realm in Mirkwood?" Elrond asked as he made himself comfortable in the chair next to the bed.  

Thranduil was silent for a moment, slightly disconcerted; not so much by Elrond's question but by the answer he had to give. He was saved from having to respond when a softly spoken voice interrupted the conversation.

"If I am not mistaken, Thranduil was on his way here to angrily demand an explanation as to why Elrond selected Legolas to be a member of the fellowship, why he sent the young one on a dangerous journey," surmised Glorfindel, his eyes alight with mischief as he peered around the door he had opened without the other two noticing. Both Elves had jumped slightly at the sound of his voice, a fact that only added to his amusement.  

"May I come in, by the way?" he asked belatedly, not even waiting for Thranduil to nod his assent before he walked over and casually settled himself on one corner of the bed.

"By the Valar, Glorfindel, sometimes you behave as if you were still an elfling," said Elrond, rolling his eyes in exasperation.

"And you are as arrogant and perceptive, and as quiet in your approach, as ever, " added Thranduil with a warm smile for the golden-haired Elf, whom he held in high esteem. Glorfindel was also one of the few Elves not of Mirkwood for whom the King felt a genuine affection. “It has been too long since we last met,” he added returning the Elf Lord’s firm clasp of his forearm.

"I am pleased to see you are recovering your strength," said Glorfindel sincerely. “I am eagerly awaiting your confrontation with Elrond, it should provide me with some quite interesting gossip to trade with the messengers.”

"I take it that Glorfindel is correct in his assumptions as to your plans?" asked Elrond brusquely, favouring Glorfindel with a look of displeasure which the Elf Lord pointedly ignored.

"I am simply anxious to discover your reasons for sending my son on the quest. I sent him here as my emissary with messages because I felt he needed a relatively safe assignment for a change, only to find I could not have been more in error. However, at this moment all I can think of is that my headache is returning and I am feeling very weary again," admitted Thranduil, the humility in his voice surprising both Elrond and Glorfindel.

"I will give you a potion that will relieve the pain and help you to sleep," said Elrond. "You are healing well, so you will not need your dressings changed until the morning, we will discuss this further then. For now, Glorfindel and I will leave you alone to rest." He quickly prepared the pain killing sleeping draught and gave it to his patient, then waited the few minutes it took for Thranduil's eyes begin to glaze as he fell into the misty land of elven dreams.

"I made that potion strong enough so that he will sleep peacefully the rest of the night," Elrond said as he closed the door quietly.

"A few glasses of good Dorwinion red would have had a pleasantly similar effect," observed Glorfindel. "Would you care to share a bottle with me over a meal?"

"An excellent idea," agreed Elrond as he accompanied his friend to the dining hall.

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As the first rays of the morning sun caressed the mountaintops, a feeling he could not name awoke Elrond with a start. His instincts as a healer caused him to suspect that there something was wrong with his patient, and he quickly covered the short distance to the healing chamber and rushed into the room. Seeing that the bed was empty, he checked the adjoining chamber, and finding no sign of the Elvenking there, he sought Glorfindel's assistance and was even more surprised to find his friend's room empty as well.

Deciding that it would be undignified to continue the search dressed only in his nightshirt, Elrond returned to his bedroom and hastily pulled on his robes. After a fruitless search of his study, the library, the dining hall and other places he thought they might be found, he turned his sights to the gardens.

Eventually he found them in the small grove not far from the house, and Elrond realised he should have searched here first for the Wood Elf. Thranduil was sitting with his eyes closed, his back resting against the trunk of one of the trees, listening to Glorfindel, who was sitting on a small stone bench, singing a song of the Trees of Light.

"What do you two think you are doing? How do you expect to recover if you are wandering about?" he asked, directing his question to Thranduil who was watching the angry Elf with some amusement.

"So many questions,” laughed Thranduil, throwing Elrond’s own words back at him.

“I am not an elfling, either,” declared Elrond, joining in the mirth, unable to keep his own laughter under control.  

“As you pointed out yesterday, Woodland Elves have a special rapport with the natural world. I am asking this gentle tree to help me recover quickly," explained Thranduil. "Do not place any blame on Glorfindel, for he merely offered to help me find this place. I am afraid he found me attempting to negotiate the labyrinth of passageways in your house in an effort to find a way outside."

"Why did you not simply return Thranduil to his chamber?" Elrond asked Glorfindel when he had stopped singing. "You should know better than to let my patient wander around."

"Thranduil desired to feel the light of the stars on his face and to hear the voice of the trees in his ears," came the simple response. "It seemed like sensible idea to me."

"It was, for I feel I am fully recovered," declared Thranduil, not entirely truthfully. He still felt a few twinges, but nothing he could not hide. Or so he thought.

"I am pleased to hear that, but it may be only a temporary reprieve. How long have you been out here in the cool moist air?" asked Elrond.

"Just for a few hours before dawn," stated the Woodland King, grimacing as a sharp pain suddenly spread fire along the almost healed scar on his chest, making walking difficult and painful.

"So you may easily have caught a chill and undone my work," said Elrond. "Let me help you back indoors," he said, offering his arm as a crutch, which Thranduil accepted. "Glorfindel, would you be so kind as to organise some breakfast for Thranduil and myself to be sent to the infirmary?"

"As you wish," answered Glorfindel and with a quick bow he was gone.

Walking was indeed painful and it took so long for the two Elves to finally return to the warmth of the chamber that they arrived at the same time as Glorfindel who was carrying the breakfast tray Elrond had requested. His two friends helped Thranduil back into bed and Elrond replaced the dressing on his chest before they ate their meal in companionable silence. He wondered if Thranduil would think to continue their unfinished conversation, and suspecting he would rather speak in private, Elrond indicated, with a slight incline of his head, that Glorfindel should leave them alone. Reluctantly the Elf lord headed towards the door,

"As much as I would love to stay for the 'entertainment', I must leave to attend to the messenger who has just arrived from Lothlórien. I will see you again Thranduil," he said.

"I thank you for your singing this morning, and I look forward to our next encounter,” replied Thranduil with a smile that enhanced his handsome features.   Then, as if he had read Elrond’s mind, the Elvenking turned his attention to the Lord Of Imladris and began speaking.

"I would hear your explanation for your actions concerning my son now, Elrond," he stated without preamble. "The brief note Legolas sent me failed to inform me of his plans, other than to say he was being sent on an important quest. I have heard no news about his whereabouts since he came here, and even though I can still feel his living presence in the depths of my heart, I fear for his safety. I questioned his guards when they returned, and they told me it had something to do with the Ring bearer, but that was all they knew. I thought the guards were mistaken, but I take it from Glorfindel's words that it is true that the Ring has been found?"

"Yes, it is true," he stated, watching Thranduil's eyes widen with shock and his already pale face turn even whiter, for he had hoped that his information was not correct.

"That is impossible! It was lost forever after Isildur was killed!" he exclaimed.

"Apparently not, it was found first by Gollum and then by a Hobbit. Gandalf has confirmed its authenticity. Legolas and seven others, including the Istari, are accompanying the Ring bearer to Mordor, to destroy the ring in the fires of Mount Doom."

"The quest you have sent my son is to travel to Mordor!" he shouted, his grey eyes flashing with the hot fire of his anger, a direct contrast to the ice-cold rage in his voice. "Why? Is this your idea of revenge for the escape from our custody of that miserable creature that Aragorn brought us?"

"Of course not! Do not be so ridiculous!" Elrond exclaimed, his voice also now raised in anger. "Aragorn is also one of the nine companions, and I would not deliberately endanger the life of anyone, especially my foster son, but there is no other way to prevent Sauron from regaining the Ring, and his full power with it. You know as well as I that it can only be destroyed in the fires of Mount Doom."

"Yes, and this time it must be destroyed," declared Thranduil. "You still have not yet answered why you chose Legolas to represent the Elves."

"Let me explain. I did not specifically chose anyone for the quest. For various reasons, all members of the Fellowship were drawn to Imladris at the same time. I determined that some greater plan, the details of which I have no idea, was unfolding before me. I believe those who travel Mordor were 'meant' to attempt the journey," explained Elrond.

"It is possible, I suppose," agreed Thranduil, still seething with anger but endeavouring to remain civil.

"In all honesty, he would have been my choice to represent the Elves, had it been totally up to me," Elrond offered. "He is a strong young warrior, his archery skills are legendary, and most importantly, he has spent his whole life living in the shadow of Dol Guldur. Just as you were able to sense the darkness at Mordor, he insists he can sense it in Mirkwood, that he can sense evil approaching. He has had plenty of practice over the preceding years and his skills will help ensure the survival of the Nine Walkers."

"You have a high regard for my son, and I am very proud of him and his skills," said Thranduil. "I totally accept the need to destroy the Ring, the reasons for doing so are the same as they were when Isildur took it from the Dark Lord. As for Legolas being destined to be one of the nine companions, that may be so, for events certainly conspired to ensure he was sent to Imladris. It is a comfort at least to know that Mithrandir and Aragorn are also going on this quest. It is ironic, is it not that Isildur's heir and Oropher's grandson are attempting to right a past wrong/"

"Yes it is, let us hope that they succeed," agreed Elrond fervently.

"Can I perhaps convince you to prescribe a medicinal glass of wine, so that we can toast the courage of our sons and their companions?" asked Thranduil, a smile hiding the concern he knew he would feel for Legolas until his son returned safely to Mirkwood.

"Dorwinion red is your 'poison', is it not?" asked Elrond, a smile playing about his lips. "I believe I actually have a bottle here, for emergencies, of course," he added as he retrieved a dusty bottle from his medicine cupboard and poured them both a glass, which they raised in silent tribute to their sons and the success of the Quest.