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See chapter 1.

Chapter 7:  endurance

The journey toward Imladris was the longest Legolas could ever remember having travelled. He had been on his way to visit the twin sons of Lord Elrond spontaneously, but now he was responsible for two wounded elves and four criminals.

With one eye on the dark haired councillor riding in front of him Legolas again readjusted his hold on the unconscious warrior leaning heavily against his chest. The elf’s head was resting on his shoulder.

With dismay he registered the increasing wetness he could feel seeping through his tunic. He did not have to look at the wound on the elf’s back to see that it had started bleeding again.

He looked around, hoping to detect a patrol or some Imladris guards who could relieve him, but again the forest around the valley was unnatural silent. Something felt completely out of place here.

He considered calling for a halt to have the opportunity to rebind the wound but hesitated when he noticed how tightly Lord Erestor was grabbing the mane of his horse. The advisor had managed so far but Legolas was not sure if Erestor would be able to remount after a break, as much needed as it might be.

Legolas was already hard pressed to care for the blond warrior in his arms as well as the two men he was dragging behind him. Erestor would manage he knew, he was a trained warrior after all and accustomed to going on despite the pain, but the greater problem was his emotional state at the moment. The advisor’s normally sharp mind was weighted with sorrow and grief.

Legolas had only grasped pieces of what had happened at Imladris that day and was not sure if he should ask again what had brought such distress to the Elf-lords. He would find out eventually.

With a quick look behind him he looked at the two unconscious men bound to their horses, now blissfully quiet. Only a few minutes ago Legolas had sprung from his mount, not an easy task with a wounded comrade in his arms, and knocked the two from the waking world, after having sustained nearly an hour of constant taunting. It was not a heroic deed but had been necessary all the same.

Legolas looked at the advisor again and saw the growing red stain on the other’s leg. He decided, despite the need of haste, to stop and allow the injured elves to rest. After taking a deep breath he announced his suggestion, ready to stop the procession.

As expected Erestor did protest, but Legolas managed to convince the dark haired elf that a break was more than necessary and would only delay them half an hour, no more.

Narrowing his eyes after seeing the red stain on the young wood elf’s tunic from the bleeding wound on his friend’s back Erestor relented, knowing that Glorfindel needed to be looked after. He silently admitted that a fresh bandage on his leg would not hurt either.

Legolas was surprised that Lord Elrond’s chief advisor did not protest further; it was almost impossible to convince the elf of something he did not support, but Legolas attributed this to the unstable emotional condition of the elf as well.

After dismounting and lying the troop commander carefully on the ground Legolas turned to help the other elf down from his horse but Erestor had already slipped to the ground. Legolas clenched his jaw but refrained from saying anything; ever a bit in respectful awe of the ancient elf.

Quickly he spread a blanket and carefully rolled the blond warrior on top of it, positioning him thus that he could rebind the wound on his back. While slicing the old bandage away Legolas looked at the four horses standing with their heads lowered behind his mare.

The two survivors remained unconscious and not in need of anything right now. He would care for their horses though; they should not be blamed for their poor masters. Glorfindel´s horse stood a few paces away observing the wood elf intently. Legolas sighed.

The horse distrusted his actions. His ministrations seemed helpless in the face of such a grave injury but what other options were left to him? His only hope was to bring the Imladris elf back to capable hands.

After he had rebound the blond’s wound, seen to Erestor´s leg and cared for the horses Legolas sank into the grass with a weary sigh. Only a short ride and they would be in the valley.

Legolas savoured the quiet and the peacefulness of the moment, the whispering of the trees around him reviving his spirit somewhat.

When he realized that he had heard no further sound from the councillor since his agreement to stop he looked up and tried to catch the other’s eyes. Erestor was looking in his direction but not really seeing him.

Again he could glimpse the deep worry and anguish in the other’s eyes but again a much more intense and deeper feeling: despair. He tried to exactly recall what Erestor had told him had happened in the sheltered valley.

Some deceivers had attacked Lord Elrond and had left him badly wounded. Legolas shuddered. He had never considered the Elf-lord to be the one in dire need of help, but then he shook his head.

There were plenty of other good healers in Imladris which were able to help their Lord, and not to forget his two best friends, Elladan and Elrohir. The Elf-lord’s sons were accomplished healers themselves and were surely capable to make sure that their father survived.

Overcoming his awe, Legolas moved closer to the seated elf and touched the other’s forearm lightly to get the councillor’s attention.

“Lord Erestor, do not give up hope yet. In no more than an hour we will reach Imladris and then Lord Elrond will….”

“He will not”, was the almost angry interruption. Erestor´s head had snapped up and a piercing gaze was directed toward the wood elf. Legolas gulped and nearly forgot what he wanted to say.

Never one to give up so easily and gathering more courage Legolas squeezed the other’s forearm again lightly. “Lord Erestor. I do not understand, why…..”

Legolas was again unable to complete his sentence because he nearly backed away from the sorrow he saw in the brown eyes.

“Lord Elrond is dead. He will not help him,” Erestor said in a hushed tone indicating the golden warrior. Gasping Legolas sat back frozen. His world began to spin. The councillor had said that the Elf-Lord was badly wounded but now he stated that he was already dead?

Trying hard to hold the tears in check Legolas directed his gaze toward the valley. What in Valar´s name had happened there?

……………………………………….

After a while, Legolas did not really know how long it lasted, he took a deep breath and looked again at the still unconscious men. He hardly dared to think about how he would have reacted if they had invaded his home and attacked his father or worst killed him.

He could still not comprehend that the Elf-lord of Imladris could be dead. He had always considered Lord Elrond as a second father to him, Imladris as another home and therefore his heart simply refused to accept the horrible truth.

Again a nagging thought in the back of his mind made itself known. How could all this have happened? How was it possible that these men, or any men at that, were able to attack a skilled warrior like Elrond, wound him this badly and leave afterwards without someone in the Last Homely House or the valley taking notice?

He could not comprehend this but he had hardly enough information to rightly judge the situation. As if sensing the young elf’s thoughts Erestor suddenly directed his gaze at Legolas. The wood elf shuddered, somehow feeling guilty for assuming that something could have been done differently.

Yet to his immense surprise the dark haired councillor confirmed this very fact. “Through our lack of attention we did not discover the attack until late afternoon. No one knows how much time had passed since the injuries were inflicted. It was already too late for proper help. Lord Elrond was bleeding to death; still struggling, yes, but already beyond aid.”

Hearing the self accusing tone along with the minute description of the events Legolas could nearly physically feel the guilt and worry coming from the Imladris elf. He did not know that neither Erestor nor Glorfindel were in the valley at the time the attack had happened and therefore would not have been able to prevent this.

With all the disturbing news swirling through his mind Legolas did not give much heed to another question long begging to be answered. Even more so when one of the men came round and instantly opened his mouth to protest against his unjust treatment.

With a resigned sigh Legolas rose, grabbed his water skin and approached the bound man. He loosed the rope binding the man to his horse and pulled him down from his mount.

His legs, unused for some time, caused the man to stagger while trying to find his balance and he landed on his backside. Cursing loudly and grazing the elf with an angry glare he held up his bound hands in a mocking gesture indication at the water skin Legolas was holding.

Stepping closer while drawing his knife, Legolas cut the ropes with a threatening gesture toward the annoying human. Having understood the implication the man let his further protests die on his lips and drank deeply from the offered water skin.

As soon as he had drunken his fill Legolas snatched the water container from the man and rebound his hands. “You blasted elf, I cannot ride with my hands bound....”, he declared while he kicked out against the elf’s shin. Legolas suppressed a cry of pain and grabbed the curly hair of the still sitting man.

“You don’t have to worry. I will bind you over the back of your beast the same way you arrived here and I will gag you if you utter but one more word.” he growled while holding a piece of cloth up in the face of the human. The man swallowed and took a deep breath but remained silent.

With a last warning glare at the man Legolas returned to their resting spot and offered the water skin to Erestor who took it gratefully. His own water skin was still attached to his horse and out of reach at the moment.

Checking again on the blond warrior Legolas was pleased to see that the new bandage was at least not stained with fresh blood. The ashen complexion of the warrior’s face and the stillness of his body was already enough to frighten him.

Remembering the thought that had come to the forefront of his mind before the man had interrupted them Legolas regarded the advisor who was busy tying a new bandage around his thigh.

Not wanting to stir the emotional storm again after it seemed to have calmed somewhat, Legolas debated with himself if he should ask the councillor the one fact he had to know.

Deciding that he could make nothing worse by simply asking he scooted closer and helped Erestor to stow the remaining healing items back in the pouch. He did not want the men to overhear their conversation.

“Lord Erestor, if I may ask but one more question?” Legolas began while intently watching the dark haired elf. When Erestor did not object or agree the young wood elf took a deep breath.

“What of Elladan and Elrohir? Were the twin sons of Lord Elrond not able to help their father? I know they are pretty good healers themselves...”

Legolas stopped and regretted instantly that he had ever opened his mouth. The sorrow and grief reflecting from the brown depth of the older elf’s eyes increased which chilled the blood of the wood elf to his very core.

Legolas quickly lowered his gaze not knowing if he should simply be silent or ask for forgiveness? On the other hand he nearly choked on his fear that something similarly bad had happened to the twins.

After some awkward moments Legolas heard the deep voice of the advisor and carefully lifted his eyes preparing himself for a story he was not sure that he wanted to hear.

Lord Erestor´s gaze was again on him but his eyes were focused on the distance. “Not long after we discover what had happened to our Lord his sons returned from a two weeks patrol. I do not have to tell you how they reacted. The brothers launched themselves into a healing trance but were unable to call their father back. We fear that Lord Elrond was already too far gone. The only thing that was accomplished was that their minds were dragged over the edge and they are now lost to us as well.”

During the narration Legolas eyes had widened but now he sprung up with a cry of anguish. If he had thought that his world had crumpled with the news of the loss of the Elf-Lord now his world went black.

With tears in his eyes but an angry glare on his face he whirled around; his knife suddenly back in his hand. He had not taken one step toward the man however when a sharp command stopped him.

“Stop, Thranduilion. Not one step further.”

Holding in his advance Legolas’ head snapped around and he directed the same angry glare at the dark haired elf who he registered with surprise was standing not a foot away from him. Before he could even think to take another step an iron grip was forced around his wrist.

Softening his gaze but not his grip Erestor returned the stormy glare unflinchingly. “These men are not worth the toll you would pay.”

With an angry shake of his head Legolas tried to get away from the strong grip but did not succeed. That did nothing to soothe his anger, which Erestor knew was only born out of sorrow.

“They have forfeited their right to draw breath”, Legolas snarled his knife still raised high.

Knocking the knife out of the young elf’s hand quicker than Legolas could even blink Erestor moved closer, his face nearly touching the blond’s now.

“But it is not your place to deal out justice. These are men and not orcs. You would do right to remember that.”

With another cry of dismay Legolas pulled away and staggered back. Suddenly released of the grip he was hard pressed not to lose his balance. In shame he lowered his eyes. What had come over him?

When he heard a grunt however, he quickly looked up again and a wave of guilt washed over him when he saw the advisor had sunk to one knee, his wounded leg no longer supporting him.

Legolas sprang forward and knelt next to the panting elf. “I’m sorry Erestor, please forgive me!” he asked, his eyes searching for the other’s gaze.

Raising his head the dark haired councillor smiled, to the young wood elf’s surprise. “Forgiven, Thranduilion, and now help me up. We have a journey to complete and we need to bring this scum back to Imladris.”

Sighing a relieved sigh, Legolas helped the advisor up and looked back at the man who was staring at him with wide eyes. His mouth remained blissfully shut and his face was very pale.

To be continued……………………………..