Creation Song of Ilúvatar

Chapter 30:  Of Blues and Greys

Legolas felt a sharp pain in his chest and reached to feel the dagger impaled in his chest- a blade of dark craft but its magic was weak.  If it were not, he would have been dead- yet was he alive? Legolas felt himself drift off into a grey world where color had somehow become melted into shadow.  He looked at his hands and they seemed to dissolve at the ends as if made of a fine sand being blown in the wind.  He clutched at his chest trying to stop the blood that oozed out of him.  Here was the only remnant of color in his world, the crimson of his blood, standing in stark contrast to the greys of his body.

He felt the ground weak beneath him as if its very foundations were lost in the shimmers of dark light.  The world he entered was like none he had ever seen, shadows ran like water in a swift river, and his body came in and out of itself.  Legolas fought the urge to disintegrate.  His body ached to be blown away into the cold winds that caressed him, tempting him with the painlessness of becoming as a void- nothingness. 

He heard the call of a voice, singing like a siren in a blackened night, calling to him, playing a wicked game as it hid in the corners of his mind.  Legolas felt his body fall forward and at the very moment he was going to release his soul and float into the temptress wind another voice sought him from the distance. 

At first the voice was coming from afar, but as it called out his name, the urgency in it rang louder and it strangled the siren song that had so tempted him.  Legolas felt strong hands on his face, and as he had earlier drifted into a realm of grey, he now found himself being hurled forth towards a world of sharp contrast and pain.

Legolas eyes fluttered open as the pain he felt took hold of his body.  Hovering above him was the face of Glorfindel who kept calling towards Legolas.

“Legolas, stay with us, do not stray!”

Elladan had removed the blackened dagger and was now preparing to dress the wound.  Elrohir was trying to clean it best he could without removing pressure from it.

“I fear that we have made the wound worse by removing the blade,” Elrohir commented, his voice afflicted with uncertainty.

“No,” Elladan reassured, if we would have left it in, it would have further poisoned Legolas. “Here Legolas, chew on this if you can,” Elladan urged, placing an herb in Legolas’ mouth, “if you cannot let me know and I will help you with it.”

Legolas nodded his head and chewed on the strong herb. 

Glorfindel noted that it was a common weed found in the wilds that served to slow the blood flow, keeping blood loss from becoming too severe.  Glorfindel now sat behind Legolas who was laid out.  Legolas’ head rested on Glorfindel’s lap and the elder Elf sang songs to the injured Elf, songs of the wood.

Elladan was nearly finished grinding up herbs and tree bark into a powder.  When finished he mixed part of the powder with a small amount of water creating a paste.  The rest he mixed with the remaining water to give Legolas to drink.  The tree bark safeguarded in the medicine pouches Elladan and Elrohir carried contained a thick oil which aided in the blood becoming thick, thus easing the bleeding from the wound.  The herbs were a mixture of a potent mineral and plants that also aided in the thickening of the blood at the site of the wound.

In merrier and less serious times, the twins would make light of Legolas’ use for the oil found in the tree bark.  Legolas would run the oil through his hair and suck on the bark gifted by the trees.  Legolas would playfully joke with the twins that they too could have glorious and lustrous hair if they followed his lead.

“Glorfindel, give this to Legolas to drink.  He must swallow a good amount,” Elladan instructed Glorfindel.  Glorfindel took the mixture from Elladan and gently propped the water skin to Legolas’ mouth.  Although weak, Legolas managed to swallow much of the concoction, but the effort drained him of what little energy he had.  He dropped his head back into Glorfindel’s lap.

Elrohir had cleaned the wound as best he could and quickly lifted his hand from it as Elladan applied the paste followed by Elrohir quickly dressing the wound.  Elladan continued to apply pressure on the wound, afraid that Legolas would bleed to death.

Elrohir’s eyes were wrought with concern as he looked towards his mentor, “We must leave as soon as we have built a litter.”

Glorfindel nodded and gently laid Legolas’ head on the ground and along with Elrohir built a litter in a matter of minutes.  They gently placed Legolas on the litter and wrapped him in tightly.  They did not want to risk his falling off as they would be moving at a rapid pace. 

Legolas was drifting in and out of consciousness as he felt the group begin to move quickly through the densely wooded forest.  “Father,” Legolas’ mind cried out, “the pain is too much. It consumes me so!”

Legolas heard whispers in response, but it was not the voice of his father. As Legolas looked towards the tree heights it seemed that the trees were hunched over and looking over him as he passed them.  As he drifted out of consciousness he heard the voices of the trees, “Greenleaf, Greenleaf, hold to the colors of this world! Smell the vibrancy of life oh Greenleaf!”

***

Lenmana felt tired, so tired that her very bones seemed to moan.  She found her way to her makeshift bed which she had placed in a small alcove that usually served as storage of chairs and tables which were presently being used in the great hall.

She flopped on her bed unceremoniously and placed her arm over her eyes, trying to block out the soft light that radiated from candles near her.  Soon, her eyes closed of their own accord and she was enveloped in the darkness that is sleep. But as was custom in this strange land, dreams visited her in her slumber, and she awakened into the dream world, the place of visions. 

She was weightless and seemed to be suspended in a thick blueness like water.  Yes, she realized she was deep in a blue water.  She kicked her legs and began to explore the blue depths of her dreams, relishing in the freedom of moving through water.

Her hair floated around her as she paused, a bright shape coming toward her.  She felt no fear and waited as a woman as beautiful as day swam up to her and smiled.  The woman wore a necklace of shells and she breathed like a fish- her neck opening and closing like the fish in the rivers! Fish woman’s eyes sparkled like the stars in the heavens and her smile was as warm as an elders embrace.

Fish woman’s smile was enchanting and as she laughed, the very water seemed to ripple, but no sound was made.  She then beckoned for Lenmana to follow and soon they were darting in and out of caves on the water bottom, delighting in light hearted games.  Lenmana would try to catch fish woman, but each time she came close enough to touch her, fish woman would disappear in a flash of silver.  For an instant Lenmana saw the shape of a fish dart away, but as soon as she regained her focus, fish woman was laughing in front of her, beckoning her to follow.

Fish woman then slowed and held her hand out towards Lenmana.  In it was the most beautiful necklace Lenmana had ever seen, made of bright red coral and ivory colored shells.  Lenmana reached out apprehensively to take the necklace and fish woman laughed again as they floated in the turquoise water. 

Fish woman placed the necklace in Lenmana’s hand and gently caressed the young mortal’s cheek.  If water could be silken in touch then this was what Lenmana felt as the fish woman gifted her with her touch.

Lenmana held the necklace close to her chest and the two floated smiling and laughing, but then fish woman’s eyes grew wide and fear distorted her beauty.  Lenmana turned around but could see nothing.  Fish woman frantically motioned for Lenmana to leave, but as Lenmana tried to move her arms and legs she found she could not move them and her body began to sink towards the darker depths of the waters.  Lenmana looked up as fish woman reached out with her hand to grab Lenmana, but as she reached out a spear flew through the water and imbedded itself in fish woman’s chest.

Lenmana opened her mouth to cry out, but she could not scream, her entire body was paralyzed.  And fish woman, her beautiful face froze in the paleness of death and the turquoise waters turned red as her blood spilt out like an ominous smoke in the water.  Lenmana sank deeper and deeper and all she could see above her was the brightness of the water being darkened by the blood of fish woman.  And soon there was no light, only darkness.

***

“This was not supposed to occur,” Legolas mused, his unconscious ablaze in activity, “I am not ready to leave these lands!” But the pain that coursed through his body flashed in his mind and soon he was overwhelmed with light.  He felt himself cry out in agony, but his voice was distant, as if hanging by a thread.  Hands grasped his own, but Legolas could not respond.  His strength had bled out of him and then a shadow crept up to swallow the light.  It seemed to Legolas that the shadow took a perverse delight in devouring the light and he felt its sinister laughter as it weighed him down with the solidness of blackness.

***

“His breathing is labored.  It is as I feared, the dagger has probably pierced a lung.” Elrohir’s words stung Glorfindel as if a dagger had impaled him as well.

“Say it is not so,” Glorfindel breathed out in dismay.  “We must make haste or Legolas will not wake to another dawn!”

Although it seemed luck had long abandoned them, it had found them on their path towards Thranduil’s halls.

From a distance the group heard a call that they recognized as a greeting call from a Mirkwood patrol.  Elladan responded in kind, adding a note of urgency.

Soon enough, a group of Elves had dropped from the trees and their faces were drawn tight as they took in the sight of their badly wounded Prince.

One of the warriors flew forward and knelt by Legolas’ side, crying out, “Legolas!”

“When did this happen,” Erutunín asked, his voice trembling with disbelief and fear.

“It has been but a few hours,” Elrohir responded, “we have done all that our hands and bodies allow.”

Erutunín looked up at Elrohir and Elladan, “For this I am grateful for I know the healing skill that flows from both your hands.  Can we move him?  There are warriors on horses near by which we can summon.”

Elladan answered, “It would be best to get him to Thranduil’s halls.  We do him no good keeping him immobile.”

“Then let no more be said,” Erutunín replied hastily. “Call Nestadion, we will need him to get the Prince to the King’s healers.  As for the rest of us, make sure you send word to the remaining riders to come here as quick as their mounts will move,” Erutunín commanded, efficacy and urgency driving his manner.

With a nod, Elves took to the trees and as quick as their bodies could take them, they took to their task.

Within a short time, a rider was heard approaching the group.  As Nestadion approached the group, he called out to Erutunín, “My lord,” and extended his arms towards Legolas. 

Glorfindel and the others gingerly placed Legolas in front of Nestadion.  With Legolas positioned as safely as possible, Nestadion whispered in his stead’s ear and the horse responded by flying as effortlessly as possible through the wood.

“Now we wait for the remaining riders to come.  Elladan, Elrohir, if I may be so bold as to ask that you ride back once the riders have met us,” Erutunín spoke urgently.

“Of course dear friend.  We will not tarry here when our services are needed elsewhere,” Elrohir replied, with Elladan nodding in agreement.

***

Thranduil heard the horse and rider approaching and knew that all the doubts that were playing in his mind were now going to take shape, but when the rider came into sight, Thranduil could not believe what his eyes took in, despite what his heart had foreshadowed.

“Legolas,” Thranduil whispered hoarsely, tears filling his eyes. 

Laurenor immediately ordered some of the guard to retrieve the healers from where they were attending those injured warriors who had managed to return.  Laurenor then ran towards the rider, catching up with his father.  As Nestadion approached he began trembling with grief and anticipation.  He brought his king his son in a state near death, and he brought home a comrade in arms who had been his captain and tutor.  Nestadion whispered into Legolas’ ear, hoping feverishly that Legolas could hear him, “My lord, I do not doubt your strength and will to survive.  Know this.  You have all our love and strength.  Do not fear calling on it!”

As he said this, Thranduil was at his side, “Can we move him?  When did this occur? The sons of Elrond and Glorfindel, are they well- is anyone else hurt?”

Nestadion answered his lord, his voice struggling to remain steady, “My lord,  Elrond’s sons and Lord Glorfindel are uninjured.  As for Legolas’ injury, no more time has passed than when an Emlin builds her nest.”

“Steady, Adar,” Laurenor whispered as his father nearly tripped over his own feet.  “Let us wait until the healers bring the litter to move Legolas.  I fear he has already sustained too much jostling.” The steadiness in Laurenor’s voice was no indication of the torrent of anger and fear that were coursing through his body, making his very blood boil, but he needed to be strong, for his father and Legolas.

“Yes Laurenor, your words are sound,” Thranduil replied, never letting go of Legolas’ hand as Nestadion sustained him on the horse.

As Thranduil held onto his son’s hand, the healers reached their side.  Slowly, but steadily, Laurenor and Thranduil brought Legolas down from the horse and placed him on the litter.  Carefully, the healers took the litter inside the halls to the healing rooms housed within the hill.

“My lord,” Nestadion spoke hastily, attempting to catch Laurenor’s attention.

“Yes Nestadion,” Laurenor replied, realizing he was about to leave without waiting to hear Nestadion’s report.

“The sons of Elrond will be here shortly.  Riders rode out to meet them shortly after I left with Legolas.”

Laurenor’s face expressed understanding, “And Erutunín, how fares he?”

“Well, as  circumstances allow my lord.  He will be accompanying Lord Glorfindel as they return by foot.”

“That is well,” Laurenor replied, dismissing the warrior with a nod of his head.

With that Laurenor turned and ran towards his father’s halls to be by his brother’s side.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Response to Reviewers:

Daw the minstrel:  Yes I am back.  I have always been fascinated by the psychological effects of the shadow as Tolkien conceived it (which you write so well yourself!) I had reread some parts of Return of the King and was reminded how, for example, Faramir, suffered from prolonged exposure (at least in my view) and how this drove his relationship with his father.  They just recently had an interesting discussion on that very subject at the Henneth Annun group.

Nilmandra: Stories of Arda definitely helped in getting through the writer’s block!  Yes Legolas’ situation is grave, but for the sons of Elrond *sighs*.  My take is Sauron has some feelings about which individuals represent a threat in his mind, and Legolas is one of them, although he’s not sure to what extent Legolas is.

Mellon1:  Thank you so much for the compliment.  I certainly will try to write my best and update quicker!

Hanya the Bloody:  Yeah, darn that Shadow!  It has a way of just dampening things, doesn’t it.  Sooner than later, things will be lighter than they have been.

Coriandra:  Writer’s Bloc is the writer’s bane, is it not?  As for Lenmana, I don’t think the Elves can help her since they are not familiar with what ales her.  I am not sure she is ready to face her fears yet.  Hmm, well I believe Sauron has some feeling of foresight and feels that Legolas is a threat, although he doesn’t understand to what degree he will be, and of course, being Thranduil’s youngest, Sauron is indirectly getting to Thranduil.  And poor Thranduil, I mean this Elf gets a raw deal in fanfic, does he not? Well good luck on getting your WIP updated!