Stories of Arda Home Page
About Us News Resources Login Become a member Help Search
swiss replica watches replica watches uk Replica Rolex DateJust Watches

Fire and Shadow  by daw the minstrel

I borrow characters and settings from Tolkien, but they are his, not mine. I gain only the enriched imaginative life that I assume he intended me to gain.

Many thanks to Nilmandra for beta reading this chapter. 

*******

3.  A New Captain

Someone poked at his broken leg and pain tore through it. Legolas gasped and grabbed blindly, the medicine he had been given making him slow to wake.  “Easy, my lord,” said Belówen gently, and Legolas came fully awake to realize that he had seized the healer’s arm and jerked it up behind his back.  Embarrassed, he released his grip and collapsed back against the pillow.

“Should he have more pain medication before you do this?” Thranduil’s voice asked, and Legolas turned his head slightly to see his father hovering nearby.

“I am all right, Adar,” he said, irritated by the knowledge that his father was capable of fussing over him endlessly.  “I was simply taken by surprise.”  He was further annoyed to see Thranduil and Belówen exchange a glance and to realize that his own wishes in the matter were probably going to count for little.

“I am nearly done, my lord,” the healer told Thranduil and then looked with some amusement at Legolas.  “And I think it was I who was taken by surprise.”

Legolas closed his eyes and breathed deeply, willing himself to relax under Belówen’s touch.  Thranduil’s hand patted his shoulder and despite his irritation, Legolas had to admit that the contact was comforting.  True to his word, the healer finished quickly.  He had evidently already examined the leg and was simply rebinding the splints.

“You are healing nicely, my lord,” he told Legolas.  “We will have you back on your feet in no time.”

“Good,” Legolas grunted.

“But you are not to get up before Belówen says you may,” Thranduil warned.  He had been the father of sons for many years now and knew exactly how restless they were likely to be when they had been injured and were beginning to heal.

Legolas grimaced and Belówen laughed.  “You will be on crutches within a few days,” he assured Legolas and then gathered up his things and took his leave.

“How do you feel?” Thranduil asked.

“Better,” said Legolas automatically and then realized that it was true.  His breathing was easier and, except when Belówen was examining his leg, it was less painful too.

Thranduil seated himself near the bed and then seemed to hesitate.  Finally he said, “You do not have to talk about what happened if you do not wish to, Legolas, but I would be happy to listen if you need to speak of it.”

Legolas glanced at him and then looked away, sorely tempted.  When he had first become a warrior, he had found to his surprise that his father was good at listening to him talk about his fears and worries over his experiences.  Thranduil offered sympathy and occasional advice, and if he was alarmed by what he heard, he hid it well from Legolas. What he really would like to do now was ask his father just what had happened.  Perhaps if someone reminded him of events, he would remember them on his own.  But he could not admit to Thranduil that there was a large blank space in his memory, he thought unhappily.  If he did, he might never be let out again or might be relegated to some safer and less useful posting.

His temptation to speak was cut off by a quick knock at the door and the entry of Sinnarn carrying a tray.  “Good evening, Grandfather,” he said politely, setting the tray on the table next to the bed.

“Good evening, child,” Thranduil greeted him affectionately.  Legolas smiled slightly to himself.  Ithilden might be angry at Sinnarn, but Thranduil was unlikely to be anything but happy to see him.  Legolas was always amazed at how indulgent Thranduil was toward his grandson compared to how demanding he had always been and still was toward his sons.

Sinnarn looked at Legolas. “You are awake,” he said, sounding pleased.  He turned to Thranduil.  “Naneth says that you are to go to the dining room for your evening meal.  I am to sit with Legolas and help him eat if he needs it.”

“I will stay,” Thranduil protested.

Sinnarn raised an eyebrow.  “Naneth says,” he repeated firmly.

Thranduil looked exasperated and rose.  “I suppose I had better, then.”  He leaned over and kissed Legolas’s brow.  “I will be back,” he promised and left the room.

“He might not be,” Sinnarn told Legolas, helping him to sit and then putting the tray on his lap.  “My naneth intends to make him go to bed.  He has been sitting up at night with you.”

Legolas smiled.  “I wish I could see him and Alfirin arguing over what he is to do.”

Sinnarn laughed.  “One cannot predict how it will turn out,” he agreed.  “Do you need help with the venison?”

Legolas looked at the tray and picked up his fork. “I can do it,” he said and realized he was hungry.

Sinnarn sat down in the chair Thranduil had been occupying.  He watched Legolas eat in silence for a moment or two and then, abruptly, said, “I am sorry for what happened, Legolas.”

Legolas immediately felt guilty.  “How are your hands?” he asked.

“Completely healed,” Sinnarn said promptly, extending his hands for Legolas’s inspection.  Legolas could not even see any reddened spots on them.

A sudden unpleasant thought struck him.  “If your hands are healed, then what are you still doing home, Sinnarn?  Are you hurt elsewhere?”  His nephew looked well enough but one could never be sure.  His family was perfectly capable of keeping news of more serious injury away from him.

Sinnarn made a face.  “Amdir and I have both been reassigned to the Home Guard.  Eilian is so angry that he says he will not have us back in the border patrol.  Believe it or not, I have been standing guard duty at the palace and the captain has given me extra shifts.”

Appalled, Legolas stared at him.  “Do you happen to know if Eilian is that angry at me too?” he demanded before he could stop himself.

Sinnarn took the question in stride though.  “I do not know.  When we were all sent home, he was too upset by what happened to say anything else.  I hope not.  I would hate to think that Amdir and I got you into real trouble.”

Legolas looked up to see Sinnarn eying him anxiously, and it suddenly occurred to him that here was a possible source of information.  He considered his options.  It would be best not to tell Sinnarn about his memory loss either, he decided.  Typical of his family, his nephew might feel he needed to pass the information along to Ithilden or Thranduil for Legolas’s own good.

He looked down and toyed with the food on his plate for a moment, trying to think how to ask for what he wanted to know without giving himself away.  Then, suddenly, he thought of the perfect question, one that he had been asked on a number of occasions himself, when things had gone wrong.  “What were you and Amdir thinking?” he demanded.

Sinnarn shifted uncomfortably.  “I do not know,” he confessed honestly.  “I think we were both annoyed at Eilian.  He had kept me from any of the more exciting assignment, but you know that because he did the same thing to you. And Amdir was not happy about the extra clean up duty.”

Legolas frowned.  Could he remember being irritated that Eilian was being overprotective?  He almost thought that he could.  He glanced at Sinnarn, who was looking despondent.  “Do you want to talk about it?” he invited, echoing his father’s question and feeling only slightly guilty for his hypocrisy.  He really did sympathize with his nephew, who was obviously unhappy, and Sinnarn might feel better if he talked about what was bothering him. That Legolas might also learn something was beside the point.

His nephew hesitated, reluctance evident on his handsome young face.  “It is not easy to talk about,” he said soberly.  “I do not think I will ever forget what that fire was like.”  Legolas cringed inwardly.  Without understanding why, he felt responsible for whatever had happened with the dragon and the fire it spewed, and his nephew had apparently suffered for it. Sinnarn looked at him.  “But I think I would like to talk to you about it, if you do not mind.  After all, you were there.”

Sinnarn sighed.  “I knew there would be problems from the minute Eilian rode into camp and announced he was our new captain.  I already had Nithron keeping an eye on me, and you of course, and sometimes even Beliond.  The arrival of Eilian and Maltanaur just added two more people who thought they had to take care of me.”  Legolas smiled to himself a little ruefully.  He knew just what Sinnarn meant.

 

~*~*~

At the sound of approaching horses, Sinnarn looked up from where he was watching Amdir make stew to see his uncle Eilian and his body guard come riding into camp.  Next to him, Amdir whistled under his breath.  “Look at that,” he said.  “Do you think your uncle is Galan’s replacement?”

Sinnarn knew instantly that Amdir was right. “I cannot think of any other reason he would be here.”  Amdir had sounded dismayed by Eilian’s appearance and Sinnarn was not completely happy about it himself.  He was fond of his uncle and glad to see him, but like all the older warriors in his family, Eilian tended to treat Sinnarn as if he were still a child.  Moreover, Eilian was very cool toward Amdir, probably sharing Sinnarn’s father’s belief that Amdir was a bad influence on him, so Sinnarn also felt some resentment on his friend’s behalf.  Serving under Eilian might present some difficult moments.

Sinnarn glanced across the camp at Legolas, who had risen and looked overjoyed by Eilian’s arrival.  Legolas and Eilian had always been close, and Legolas had often voiced the desire to serve under his brother’s command.  Sinnarn suspected that Legolas might be in for a less satisfying experience than he was anticipating.  So far as he could see, Eilian was at least as protective of Legolas as he was of Sinnarn.

“Mae govannen, Eilian,” the group’s lieutenant, Lómór, called as both Eilian and Maltanaur slid to the ground.  He waved toward a warrior, indicating that he should take the horses of the two newcomers.

“Mae govannen,” Eilian grinned, clasping arms with Lómór.  “I hope your warriors have been behaving themselves, Lómór, because your new captain is here to inspect you.”

Lómór grinned back.  He had served as Eilian’s lieutenant before and seemed happy at the prospect of doing it again.  “I think we are ready for you.  And you have your usual good timing.  Evening meal is almost ready.”

Legolas had now moved forward to greet his brother, and Sinnarn went to join them.  Eilian embraced them both.  “I have letters for you two from your various doting parents,” he told them.  “Do not let me forget to give them to you later.”  Then he walked off with Lómór, evidently intending to confer with him.

“This could be interesting,” Sinnarn observed dryly.

Legolas glanced at him.  “What do you mean?”

“Do you really think he will allow us to do anything he believes is dangerous?” Sinnarn responded.  “He is more likely to take away our weapons and tell us not to play with anything sharp.”

Legolas laughed.  “I have been serving the realm faithfully for over fifty years now, so I think I am safe, but I have to admit that if I were you, I would get ready to spend all my time cooking and tending to the horses.”

Amdir approached.  “Perhaps you two can talk Eilian into letting me cook instead of doing any clean up,” he suggested hopefully.  They both turned to face him.

“It does not hurt you to do your share of clean up,” Legolas said.  “And you cook because you like it and are good at it.”

Sinnarn looked at him sideways.  When Legolas was around Amdir, he sometimes sounded as old as Sinnarn’s father.  Sinnarn did not understand it.  He knew that Amdir had had an older brother who died young and that the brother and Legolas had been friends, but he could not see any necessary connection between that and Legolas’s apparent need to try to govern Amdir.  He had once asked Legolas about it, and Legolas had said that he felt responsible for Amdir, but that had not cleared the matter up much so far as Sinnarn was concerned.  Legolas tended to feel responsible for anyone with whom he was friends or to whom he was related.

Eilian and Lómór had evidently finished their conference, for Eilian had now walked into the center of the camp and was calling them all together.  Sinnarn, Legolas, and Amdir joined their fellow warriors.  Eilian looked around at the group and grinned at them.  “I am pleased to see so many of the realm’s finest warriors here.  I am counting on you to make me look good as your captain.”  The assembled Elves all laughed, and Sinnarn could feel them warming to Eilian.  He knew that his uncle was a popular captain, and he could already see why.

“We have been asked to undertake a special mission,” Eilian went on, “and I assured Ithilden that this group would have no trouble with it.”  Again the assembled warriors looked pleased.  “Something has stirred up the Dwarves in the Grey Mountains, and we have been asked to find out what that something is.  We will leave in the morning, so get a good night’s sleep tonight.  I look forward to seeing just what this group can do.”

With that, he dismissed them and walked off, evidently intending to store his gear in the flet that was always used by the patrol’s captain.  As he crossed the camp, Legolas joined him and took one of his packs, and then the two of them disappeared together into the tree tops.  Sinnarn started back toward the campfire, where Amdir was adding a handful of herbs to the stew.  Amdir was really a very good cook and their evening meal smelled wonderful.

“Come and walk with me for a while, Sinnarn,” said a familiar and not particularly welcome voice, and Nithron was suddenly blocking his path.  Sinnarn stifled a groan.  Nithron already looked set to deliver a lecture, and it would be unwise to provoke him.  He fell in next to his body guard and the two of them strolled off into the surrounding trees, although they were careful to stay inside the patrol’s sentry line.

“I have been to the Grey Mountains before,” Nithron began, “and I will tell you about them as we draw closer.”  Sinnarn repressed a groan at the idea of the lecture to come.  Nithron was a tireless teacher and Sinnarn had never much liked sitting still for lessons.  “But judging by what Eilian said, this mission will probably be more dangerous than the routine patrols we have been carrying out.  If the Dwarves are alarmed, you can be sure that something serious has happened.”  He turned and faced Sinnarn.  “You need to take care, Sinnarn.  You cannot go adventuring on your own.”

Sinnarn nodded impatiently.  He knew this, and he could not understand why Nithron was so concerned.  He had been in the northern Border Patrol for almost a year now, having been transferred there from the Home Guard, where he had gone directly after finishing his training.  He knew that he sometimes tended to seek excitement and that, particularly when he was with Amdir, he occasionally amused himself in ways his various captains had not found amusing at all, but he did not think that he had ever done anything that unduly endangered himself or risked the success of a mission.

Nithron looked at him gravely.  “Eilian will not put up with any nonsense, young one,” he warned.  “He will want to see you safe, and he will not hesitate to send you home if he thinks that you are not ready for this kind of duty yet.”

“I will be careful,” Sinnarn promised, and Nithron evidently accepted his pledge for he let Sinnarn go back toward the camp.  As he approached the fire, Legolas joined him and handed him two letters.

“From your adar and naneth,” he said happily and held up a letter of his own.  “My adar also sends you his love.”  Sinnarn smiled and settled down to read, with Legolas next to him rereading his own letter.  Warriors all over the camp were opening and reading messages that Eilian had brought with him from home.

“The colt you were admiring when you were home is turning out to be clever,” his father wrote.  “When oats are being poured into his feed, he has taken to nudging the bucket so that he gets a bigger share.”

“I have decided to weave a new wallhanging for your sleeping chamber,” his mother told him.  “I am thinking of an autumn scene with reds, and oranges, and yellows.  Would you like that?”

The two letters finished with almost identical words.  “Be careful.  We love you and we miss you.”

Sinnarn cleared his throat. Next to him, Legolas folded his letter and tucked it in inside his belt.  Sinnarn had seen him before with such letters, taking them out and reading them repeatedly in the evenings.  “Do you miss home, Legolas?” he heard himself ask with some surprise.

“Sometime,” Legolas said, picking up a twig and poking at the ground with it. He was silent for a moment and then seemed to steel himself.  “But I like being here doing something useful too.”  He glanced at Sinnarn sympathetically.  “It gets easier,” he said.  Sinnarn nodded and did not meet his uncle’s eyes.  He was saved from further emotional display when Amdir called that the stew was ready and the patrol descended on him enthusiastically to eat their evening meal.

Those who were not on watch went to bed soon after the meal was over.  Sinnarn scrambled up an oak to the flet he shared with Amdir.  He found Amdir digging through one of the small storage chests for the apples he had brought back from his last leave.  “There is only one left,” he said, pulling it out and holding it up.  It was shriveled but still good.

“You can have it,” Sinnarn said.  “You brought them back after all.”

“Nonsense,” Amdir declared.  “We share, remember?”  He grinned at Sinnarn.  “I will arm wrestle you for it,” he offered.  “I can dispose of you in short order and eat the apple without guilt.”

Sinnarn smiled gleefully back at him.  “You are going to be sorry you said that,” he announced.

Amdir slammed the chest shut, dragged it out from between the two pallets to a clear spot, dropped to his knees at one side, and plunked his elbow onto its top.  Sinnarn dropped down across from him, positioned his own elbow, and clasped Amdir’s hand in his.  “Go!” cried Amdir, shoving at Sinnarn and pinning his hand to the chest before the word was even out of his mouth.  He jumped up and snatched the apple.

“Not fair,” Sinnarn laughed, grabbing at the apple that Amdir held overhead.  “I win by default because you cheated. That apple is mine.”

“Keep away,” Amdir crowed.  “You are too long-legged for it to be natural.  There is some sort of magic going on there and that is cheating too.”  He shoved lightly at Sinnarn who slid to one side, forgetting that the chest had been moved.  With a suddenness that was heart-stopping, he felt his legs catch and his body tip over the chest to dive head first off the flet.

A branch tore through his tunic, gouging painfully at his back, but providing him with something to grasp.  Quicker than thought, he twisted his body and swung his arm over the branch, to find himself dangling thirty feet above the camp.  He hung for a moment, too surprised by what had happened to feel much of anything else.  Then his body noticed that he had fallen, and his heart began to pound. He swung one leg over the branch too, pulled himself up on it, and lay with his face pressed to the tree limb, listening to the tree tell him he was safe.

“Sinnarn!”  Amdir cried, peering down over the edge of the flet.  “Are you hurt?”  On the ground too, someone had noticed the commotion and people were gathered below him.  Two people started hurriedly up the tree. He thought they were Legolas and Nithron.  And now that Sinnarn knew he would not fall, he suddenly felt his heart sink. This would not go over well with any of the various people who kept an eye on him, he thought in dismay.

He pulled himself to a crouch on the branch, feeling a painful pull across his back as he did so.  Legolas now jumped to the branch beside him.

“My back is scratched,” Sinnarn assured him rather shakily, “but other than that I am all right.”

Legolas examined the tear in his back.  “It is only skin deep,” he concluded, “but I expect it stings.”

“A little,” Sinnarn admitted.  Nithron was now on his other side, looking at Sinnarn’s back with his lips compressed in disapproval.  He waved reassuringly to Eilian who stood below them looking anxiously up and then turned back to Sinnarn.

“We will go down to the ground and clean and bandage that,” he said, and all of them climbed down the tree to find Eilian waiting for them.  Amdir ran to get an emergency healing kit.

“He is fine,” Eilian told the gathered warriors.  “The rest of you should go on about your tasks.”  Amdir came hurrying back with the kit, and Nithron took it from him and then cut off the remains of Sinnarn’s ruined tunic so that he could care for the injury, while Eilian stood watching with his face grim.  Sinnarn expected that his keeper’s efforts to clean the cut would sting and he was not disappointed.  As Nithron worked, the other members of the patrol dispersed slowly, going back to their preparations for the night.  At last, Nithron finished, and Amdir handed Sinnarn a new tunic that he had retrieved from their flet.  Sinnarn pulled it over his head.

Now it was Eilian’s turn.  “What happened?” he demanded angrily.

Sinnarn and Amdir looked at one another.  “I fell,” Sinnarn offered hopefully.  He could see Legolas grimace at his attempt to evade the question.  They both knew only too well that the attempt was likely to prove futile.

“Do not toy with me, Sinnarn,” Eilian snapped.  “How did you come to fall?”

“We were wrestling,” Sinnarn admitted, “but it was only in play.”  Somehow, he did not think that excuse would placate his uncle.

Eilian’s face reddened, and he paused for a moment as if struggling to choose appropriate words.  “You could have killed one another,” he finally said, his voice sharp.  His gaze raked from one of them to the other.  “Both of you are on clean up duty for the next two weeks, and I never want to see you doing something like this again.”

Sinnarn kept his face carefully impassive, and from the corner of his eye, he could see Amdir doing the same thing.  Eilian would not react well to any protest.

Eilian looked at Amdir, Nithron, and Legolas.  “Leave us,” he commanded, sounding unexpectedly like Thranduil.  “I want to speak to Sinnarn.”  Amdir shot Sinnarn a sympathetic look and sidled away, only to be intercepted by Legolas, who seemed to have a lecture of his own to deliver. Nithron went off to put the healing kit away.

“Walk with me,” Eilian commanded and led the way into a sheltered spot a small distance from the clearing, turned to him, and placed his hand on Sinnarn’s shoulder.  “In what I am about to say, I am your uncle and not your captain. I am one of those who has watched over you with love since you were a baby, and who would have to bring the news to our family if anything should happen to you.  Do you understand?”  Sinnarn nodded a little doubtfully, wondering where this was all leading.

He did not have to wonder long.  Eilian moved his hand from Sinnarn’s shoulder to his chest, grabbed a fistful of his tunic, and pulled him close so that their faces were only inches apart. The gesture pulled Sinnarn’s tunic tight across his scraped back, but he did not think now was the time to complain.  “I am unhappy enough that Legolas is about to leave on a dangerous mission, Sinnarn,” snarled Eilian, “but at least I have seen him in battle and have some faith in him as a warrior.  You, however, scare the wits out of me, all the more so because I vividly remember being a young fool myself.  If I ever hear about you behaving so stupidly again, I swear to you that I will take a quiver strap to you as your uncle before I turn into your captain and discipline you again.  And then I will tell both your adar and your naneth exactly what happened.  Am I making myself clear?”

“Yes,” Sinnarn squeaked.  “And I am truly sorry, Uncle.  I promise you this will not happen again.”

“It had better not,” said Eilian grimly and released him.  “Get some sleep.  We leave early tomorrow.”  He strode away, leaving Sinnarn to draw a deep breath and then make his way back to the camp site, where Amdir was just shaking himself free from Legolas.

Amdir joined him but waited until they were safely alone on their flet to speak.  “You have a very bossy family, Sinnarn.  Do you know that?”

“I know,” Sinnarn admitted.  “But this time, we were wrong.  We really should not have been fooling about on the flet.”  His encounter with Eilian had shaken him, and he fully intended to heed his uncle’s warning. He did not think Eilian would actually carry out his threat.  Sinnarn’s father was capable of growing far more angry than Sinnarn had ever seen Eilian become, and Ithilden had never laid a finger on him.

Amdir made a face.  “It was an accident,” he insisted.  “Eilian and Legolas both overreacted.”

Sinnarn made no reply but began taking off his various weapons and laying them carefully to hand in preparation for sleep.  He would be more careful, he promised himself.  Eilian had been right.

 

~*~*~

“I am glad to hear that you recognize that Eilian was right,” said Alfirin, coming into the room in time to hear Sinnarn’s last words.  She was dressed for evening meal and her thick braid was twisted in an intricate knot at the nape of her neck.  Putting the cup she was carrying on the bedside table, she inspected the empty tray on Legolas’s lap.  “Good,” she said approvingly.  “You must be feeling better.”

Sinnarn had jumped to his feet at her entrance.  “I really am sorry, Naneth,” he said contritely.  He looked miserable.

She turned to him and suddenly her face softened.  “I know you are, iôn-nín, and I have faith that you will do better next time.”  Sinnarn smiled in relief and came forward to kiss his mother’s brow.  “Go,” she told him.  “Legolas is going to sleep now.”  She handed the tray to Sinnarn, who started toward the door.

When he had gone, Alfirin turned back to Legolas.  “Thank you for getting him to talk to you about what happened, Legolas,” she said softly.  “He has been unwilling to speak to Ithilden or me or even his grandfather.”  She eyed him speculatively.  “Your adar will be relieved that you and Sinnarn have spoken to one another, even if you are not yet ready to talk to the rest of us.”

Feeling like a fraud, Legolas was unable to meet her eyes, and after a moment she began settling him for the night, telling him small bits of news as she smoothed out his blankets:  her brother was away buying horses and Legolas’s best friend had gone along as part of the guard; the friend’s small daughter had announced that her ada was going to bring her back a pony and that her grandmother needed to make many strawberry jam tarts because that was what the pony would want to eat.  The grandmother was busy baking.

Eager as he usually was for news of these people, Legolas only half listened to his sister-in-law as he considered what Sinnarn had told him.  And suddenly, vivid as life, he remembered part of the scene between himself and Eilian on Eilian’s flet.

Eilian had handed him a pack of letters. “There is one from me in there too,” he had said with a wry smile. “I wrote it before I realized I was about to join you as your captain.”

Legolas had caught his brother’s mixed emotions.  “You know that Ithilden has only your well-being at heart when he moves you,” he had protested.

Eilian had made a visible effort and smiled at him.  “At least I will be able to keep an eye on you and our scapegrace nephew.”

And Legolas could now remember the dismay he had felt at Eilian’s words.  “I do not need you to keep an eye on me,” he had protested.  And Eilian had laughed, clapped him on the shoulder, and sent him off to deliver Sinnarn’s letters to him.

Triumphant at having recovered this brief memory, Legolas turned it over in his head, trying to see what it might tell him about other, more important, events.  Eilian had certainly not sent Sinnarn and Amdir back to the Home Guard for engaging in horseplay on the flet.  Legolas wanted to hear what had happened next, for those events were the ones he needed to know about. He could not quite recall those events clearly, but he could feel memory of them tickling on the edge of his consciousness. 

Alfirin had finished arranging the blankets and now picked up the cup on the bedside table.  “This is to ease any pain and help you sleep,” she told him. 

“I do not need it,” he said, pushing the cup away.  He would never remember what happened if he kept taking that medication, he thought in frustration.

Alfirin hesitated.  “Belówen says you are to take it, Legolas, and I do not feel I have the right to set his orders aside.  I can get your adar, but he, I hope, is asleep in his bed, and he consented to go there only because I promised faithfully to take care of you.”

“Ithilden?” Legolas asked hopefully.  Perhaps his brother would be willing to countermand the healer’s directions.

She shook her head.  “One of his captains sent for him just as we were finishing evening meal. He has not come back yet.”

Legolas grimaced.  It felt churlish to refuse the medicine from his sister-in-law when he had taken it from Thranduil and Ithilden. He reached for the cup and downed its contents as quickly as possible so as not to taste them.  Alfirin sat down next to the bed.

“You do not have to stay,” Legolas protested.

She smiled at him. “Sleep now.”  And whatever had been in the cup had been powerful because he did not think he could have disobeyed her, even if he had wanted to.





<< Back

Next >>

Leave Review
Home     Search     Chapter List