Chapter 19 - A New Day
Twisting and churning had once again consumed Legolas’ stomach. The sensation had become such a regular occurrence that he had forgotten what it was like to not feel queasy. As he began to retch and his eyes began to water, the elf tried to still the motion that his throbbing head was contributing to his discomfort.
Along with the throbbing and pounding of his head, which had resulted in his difficulty hearing, and the loss of sight due to the complete lack of light, Legolas had begun to feel numb in his hands and feet. He had tried to determine if this was another effect of the venom or if it was a result of prolonged immobility but his mind and body were too fatigued to give it substantial thought.
Water had been brought earlier and Legolas had attempted his routine of cleaning and tending his wounds, but soon after the guard left, the heaving had started. With every retch, the elf’s mouth would fill with a tinny substance, which Legolas quickly identified as blood and despair had once again began to creep into Legolas’ heart.
Slumped in his usual corner, Legolas began to tremble more violently and he slowly fell to his side resting on his injured shoulder. His eyelids began to feel heavy and Legolas could sense his consciousness slipping. He had come to fear sleep for the deeper darkness it brought. Yet his body craved the rest. It was a losing battle between body and soul with no seeming end and his heart ached at the prospect of giving up one for the other.
He had not the energy for the action of a stressed sigh, for the decision had been made that if his body had been broken he would fight to keep his mind in tact. A song of many years back repeated over and over in his mind as Legolas fell into sleep.
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Aragorn woke with a start. He had actually been able to fall asleep for longer than an hour and instantly guilt overwhelmed him for finding rest when he knew his friend could not. For many weeks worry over Legolas had prevented him from quieting his mind long enough for rest. Faramir had suggested a sedative so that the King could get some well needed sleep but Aragorn had refused stating that he needed to be coherent if there was any word from Alcandir.
Fatigue had finally caught up with him this night and when he lay down next to Arwen he was lulled into sleep by the soft, rhythmic breathing of the woman he loved.
Then he had started to dream. Strange dreams were not unusual for Aragorn. Often he dreamed about the goings on in Gondor. There were even times when Aragorn would dream about the occurrences of those he held dear who still dwelt in Middle Earth. There were many times he had dreamt of the Shire and the hobbits or had visions of Gimli in the Glittering Caves and these dreams brought comfort to the King. Sometimes Aragorn was able to extract important information from what he had dreamt, seeing things before they happened. But most of the time he just had average dreams that came from an overactive day or a heavy meal.
This dream fell into the first category. Aragorn had dreamed of Legolas. That his friend was trapped and hurt and pleading with Aragorn to help him. Aragorn couldn’t see the elf. He could just hear him quietly asking the King to hurry and telling him that he couldn’t hold on for much longer. In his dream world Aragorn had run down long halls and through thick woods in search of Legolas but no matter where or how hard he searched he couldn’t reach him. Legolas’ pleas had softened and gotten more difficult to hear and eventually they had stopped entirely.
When Aragorn started out of his sleep he found himself sitting upright staring to the open doorway of his balcony. He had waken Arwen with his abrupt movement and she had instantly began speaking soothingly to him in an attempt to console him and urge him to go back to sleep. Aragorn tried to force his mind to quiet and do as his wife encouraged but each time he closed his eyes Legolas’ face would appear before him, begging him for help.
Unable to ease his discomfort he climbed out of bed and padded out onto his balcony and directed his gaze to the South. The helplessness that Aragorn had been feeling since learning of Legolas’ abduction was becoming more overwhelming each day that the elf was gone. He wondered if Alcandir had discovered anything of Legolas’ location. He had thought, even prayed, that perhaps they were already on their way home. His heart would have a momentary respite at the imagined picture of Legolas riding home to safety in the company of Alcandir and the other four elves.
This recent dream had dispelled that hope however and fear had once again began to consume the Kings conscious mind.
With the knowledge that he had just received, the former ranger was starting to feel that maybe it was time to take the next step. He didn’t really believe that he had given Alcandir enough time to complete the job set out for him but Aragorn was never one to sit back and wait for things to be done for him.
His mind made up, Aragorn quietly slipped back into the sleeping quarters he shared with Arwen and began to put a pack together. When he had moved into the Citadel in Minas Tirith, one of the maids had become overzealous in her work and had disposed of Aragorn’s old ranger gear. But the King had asked that some new clothes of similar style be put together for traveling purposes. Aragorn dressed in the dark leggings and tunic and slung his pack over his shoulder then went to Arwen’s side to explain to her what he had decided.
Arwen opened her eyes to the slight jostling that Aragorn had given to wake her and she knew immediately what was on his mind.
"When do you leave?" she asked, a hint of sorrow in her voice.
"As soon as I can assemble some of the guard to escort me." Aragorn looked into Arwen’s eyes. Love and understanding shown so distinctly there that Aragorn was comforted in his decision. "I have to know Arwen."
Arwen placed her fingers over Aragorn’s mouth to silence him. "I understand my Love. I would go with you if you would allow it." A slight smile appeared on her face and Aragorn leaned in and gave her a loving kiss.
He rose then and exited the room. It was time for him to wake Gimli and the others. There were plans to be made and Aragorn wanted to leave at first light.
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Alcandir and Medero ducked into the first open door they came to after leaving the palace. The visit hadn’t gone as well as the bounty hunter had hoped, but it had gone like he had anticipated. He didn’t believe that Kalen would just hand Legolas over to him. He was surprised, however, that the large man had even admitted to having the elves in his possession.
He in no way believed that all of the elves were dead. He knew that Kalen was just trying to get rid of them and would most likely send his guards after them to make sure that the two never returned to Marek.
"The sun will be rising shortly. You should leave for Sadral immediately." Alcandir informed Medero.
Raising his right eyebrow in curiosity, Medero questioned the bounty hunter. "What are you going to do?"
Alcandir did not hesitate to answer, mock confidence flowed from him. "I am going to wait until Kalen’s guards follow you out of the city and then I am going to go back into the palace a retrieve the elf."
"Are you mad?"
"Many’s the time that I have been told I am, but I still do not believe it." Alcandir grasped Medero by the shoulders and forced him to look into his face. "You know as well as I that Kalen has lied. Prince Legolas is not dead and I am in doubt about the death of the others. If you leave Marek now, you will have a head start on Kalen’s men and they will stop pursuing you as soon as the sun begins to rise. They cannot harm you once you reach Sadral, it is not within their jurisdiction. You will be safe, but you must go now."
"What will you do once you rescue the elves?"
"That is dependant on how many remain and their physical state. I doubt that Kalen has been a gracious host." Alcandir turned Medero once more, this time away from him and gave him a light shove. "Now go. It will do neither of us any good if you are caught."
Medero took off at a run, staying close to the buildings and sparing glances over his shoulder every few yards. Alcandir watched his old friend go until he could no longer see him, memories of old times flitting across the bounty hunter’s sight as his old friend disappeared from sight. A slight sense of pride filled him at the return of honor to one he, himself, valued.
Alcandir stood, completely motionless, his body pressed tightly against the wall where the two had moments earlier held council. His mind raced with the possibilities of what would happen once he reentered the palace in search of the missing elf. Doubt weighed heavily on him over the prospect of locating Legolas and the others and safely removing them from their captor. Scenario after scenario played over and over again. Would the elves be heavily guarded? Were they incapacitated? Perhaps one or two were actually dead. How would he, one man, remove four, possibly injured elves, on his own.
Alcandir was roused from his concerned, doubt filled thoughts by the tromping of many hoofed feet. He pressed himself harder into the stone wall and watched as roughly twenty men, dressed in the colors of the Marek guard, rode by on horseback. The troupe headed swiftly down the street and once again Alcandir’s eyes could not be removed from their departing forms until they were far out of site.
Leaving the safety of the darkened doorway, Alcandir quickly dashed up the street back toward the palace walls. Slamming into the wall, just missing the watchful eye of the gate guard, Alcandir began to slide along the wall away from the main gate. His back slid across the marble of the walls soundlessly as he moved further from the gate.
When he felt he was out of site of the gate guards, Alcandir jumped up and grasped the top of the wall, quietly thanking Kalen for his arrogance and not building a higher wall. He hoisted himself up onto the top of the wall and peered inside the palace grounds searching out any guards who might be patrolling the grounds.
The guards patrolling the grounds moved in a well distinguished routine. Alcandir watched them for several minutes and was easily able to determine the timing between each rotation. Six guards were circling around the palace, three going in each direction. Two would pass directly in front of Alcandir every minute, leaving plenty of time to cross the distance between the gate and the palace entrance.
Alcandir patiently waited until two of the guards passed, stopping long enough to exchange some type of joke, then dropped silently to the ground inside the gate and wasting no time he sprinted across the courtyard and up the palace steps. Once inside the palace he stopped long enough to gain his bearings, taking special note of the direction the palace entrance faced, then moved down the hall in the direction of the great hall.
Alcandir pulled up just short of the doors to the hallway where he had been introduced to the large Lord of Marek. Footsteps approaching from an adjoining hallway could be heard and the bounty hunter pulled a knife from his boot and awaited the approach of the noise maker. He slid his muscular body partially behind a large, marble statue in hopes of keeping his presence hidden. The stone sword of the old, now deceased, Marek leader pressed into his back causing the bounty hunter to tense at the irony of his position.
A petite form stepped around the corner and came face to face with Alcandir. She stopped and her eyes roved over the bounty hunter, resting for a moment on the knife. She then lowered her head and resumed her original path as though she had never seen the intruder.
Alcandir spared no time to wonder on the unusual behavior of the lady, but gently pushed open the doors leading to the great hall and stuck his head inside. The room was devoid of any life, the emptiness allowing the doors to echo loudly through the large room. He froze, listening for any other sound, then slipped back out, quietly closing the door and resumed his quest further down the main hallway to the next door.
Through the door Alcandir could hear someone moving around inside this next room. Gripping his knife a little tighter he swung the door open and quickly stepped inside.
There, to his amazement, was the Lord of Marek. The large man was groping a young maid who was about a third his size and looked terrified and appalled. Her eyes met Alcandir’s and before she could inform her assaulter of the bounty hunter’s presence, Alcandir grabbed Kalen by the hair and placed the blade of his knife to Kalen’s large throat.
The snide voice of the large man quavered in fear. "How dare you..."
"How dare I?" Alcandir interrupted, shooing the girl out of the room. "She is but a child."
"What do you want? Is she your relation?" Alcandir had to stop himself from holding his breath as Kalen’s body odor assaulted his senses.
"Take me to the elf prince."
The large man attempted to turn his body in order to look at this new threat, but Alcandir vastly out muscled the man and his attempts were in vain.
"He is dead. I already told you." Kalen’s voice was now holding an air of uncertainty and even the untrained ear could detect the lie in his tone.
"You lie." Alcandir pressed the knife to Kalen’s throat even harder drawing a faint line of blood. "I know that he is here and I know he lives. Take me to him now or I will save us both the trouble and kill you now and find him myself."
Kalen hesitated for only a moment and then began to slowly move toward the doorway. He led Alcandir back past the great hall then out of the palace and down the large stairs. They had fortunately seemed to exit the palace just after a guard crossing, for the courtyard was empty. Kalen made a slight right turn and headed across the courtyard and Alcandir’s eyes fell on a series of small boxes lined up on the far side of the courtyard. Instantly he knew where Legolas was being held and he felt sick at the notion of what he might find.
"How long has he been in there?" Shock and, something Alcandir didn’t expect to feel, fear, coursed through him.
"I do not recall." The large man said with a malicious grin on his face.
The sweat boxes were not being guarded and this enforced Alcandir’s belief that many of the available guards had left in pursuit of him and Medero. They stopped in front of one of the boxes and Kalen pointed, not saying a word.
"Open it." The bounty hunter ordered. "Do not do anything stupid. I am in a sour mood and will not hesitate to kill you."
Kalen bent over and loosened the chain holding the door in place, the loud cracking of his weight strained knees pierced the stressful quiet. Then, using great force, he pulled on the door. The heavy door fell back and Alcandir could see the booted feet of the one lying inside. The tiny box where the elf was forced to reside was dark and Alcandir felt his heart lurch at the idea of being confined in such a constricting room. He felt his own panic rising and had to quickly remind himself what he was doing there and force himself under control.
"Now, very, VERY, gently, remove the Prince and lay him on the ground just there." Alcandir pointed to a spot just outside of the sweatbox, his voice left no room for argument and Kalen moved quickly to obey.
The Lord of Marek first nudged Legolas’ foot. When he received no response he grabbed a foot in each hand and began to pull the elf from the box.
Alcandir thought he was going to be sick when he saw the elf. His hair no longer appeared blonde, but was brown with dirt and old blood. The garments that the elf was dressed in had been pushed around his wasted exposing a bare and marred chest. There was a large, inflamed hole in his right upper chest just below his shoulder blade. His ribs were clearly visible through stretched skin and Alcandir wondered how long it had been since the elf had last eaten.
Alcandir could see various cuts and bruises over the elf’s face, head and chest and his left knee was wrapped and appeared swollen. The elf shook violently and blood trickled from the corner of his mouth.
"Tell me of the injuries that I cannot see. When was the last time he ate? Have you administered any poison?" Alcandir’s eyes never left Legolas, but he was fully aware of where Kalen was and what he was doing.
"I am afraid that I do not know what has happened to him. He was just fine when he was placed in the sweatbox. He was extremely agitated, I believe the wounds are self inflicted." The smug, faint smile never left Kalen’s face as he spoke.
"Where are the other elves?"
"They are all dead." He answered firmly. " This I promise you." Kalen paused, his eyes flipping back and forth from his captor to his captured and Alcandir felt a slight sense of glee when a line of sweat appeared on the large man’s face with this next question. "What are you going to do with me? You will never leave the city alive."
"I have half a mind to take you back to Gondor and turn you over to the Prince’s friends and people, but I do not think I could stomach your company for length of time it will take to return." Alcandir turned now to survey the large man. The sweat on Kalen’s brow seemed almost to scream out to the bounty hunter and the answer became very apparent. Using the tip of his dagger to point, Acandir motioned to the large man. "Inside! I believe it is time that you experience your own hospitality."
Kalen’s mouth fell open and he looked at the bounty hunter in disbelief. "I will surely die if you make me get in there."
"Aww, you are breaking my heart. IN!" Alcandir shoved the man in the direction of the door and as Kalen slowly climbed inside Alcandir lifted his foot and shoved the man in by his backside. He then lifted the heavy door into place and bound the chains locking the large man inside. "Farewell, Lord Kalen, enjoy your stay."
Alcandir dropped to his knees next to Legolas and began to search for signs of life. The elf was running a fever and his skin was hot and dry. The elf had stopped producing sweat which was a sure sign of dehydration. The blood trickling out of his mouth caused Alcandir to believe he had been administered some type of poison. But, the elf still drew breath and his heart still beat.
Alcandir, reached into his pack and pulled out an extra tunic and gently slid it over Legolas head. He then took out a bandage, wet it then wrapped it around the elf’s head, binding the coolant in place with a large knot. He wished to administer more medical care to the elf but he knew that he had to clear out of the courtyard.
Scooping the elf into his arms, surprised by his light weight, Alcandir began to move, as quickly as possible without excessively jostling Legolas, across the courtyard into the direction of the stables. He moved with seeming ease, his charge pressed tightly to his chest as his eyes continuously scanning the courtyard for any signs of threat.
Entering the stables, without incident, he set the elf prince on the stable floor and quickly inspected the horses. He had left Mithril outside of the palace gates and knew he wouldn’t be able to return to him without raising suspicion.
Alcandir saddled a horse that he deemed healthy and strong then went to a stack of supplies at the far end of the stables. He pulled out a large pack, which he recognized as a tent, and fastened it to the horses back. He then located several extra water skins and quickly filled them. He hurriedly picked through the other supplies and then tying the new provisions to the horses saddle, he led the horse over to the elf and scooped Legolas up once more placing him gently on the horse and climbing up behind. He cradled Legolas in his arms like a small child, thinking that it would be the most comfortable means of travel. Alcandir draped a large, horse blanket over the elf in hopes of keeping him hidden from curious eyes then gave the horse a kick.
They used alleys and back streets to get out of Marek. Several times they were forced to stop as the sound of Marek Guards were heard moving about the city. The venture from palace to gates was long and tense and even though Alcandir hoped that Legolas was well, he found himself quietly praying that the elf would remain asleep until they were safely away from Marek, the sounds of a rousing, ill being would assuredly rouse suspicion.
As they cleared the city gates, Alcandir tightened his grip on his precious, unconscious cargo and urged his horse into a gallop. Shouts from the guards at the main gates to Marek could be heard as the two rode into the desert. The first orange and pink rays were beginning to peak over the horizon as a new day dawned on the bounty hunter and the elf.