MCAward


Let the Bond Remain Unbroken

 

 

Author ~ Aldalas

 

E-mail ~ TheInsaneElvenMystReforged@yahoo.com  (This is my new one ~ the other one on my previous story isn’t working anymore. Thanks!)

 

Feedback ~ *begging* please do! I love hearing what you think! Questions, comments, insults, threats ~ just do me a favor and break me gently, ok?

 

Disclaimer ~ You all know how it goes. I don’t own anything. Nothing, do you hear me? Nothing! *sob* Oh how I wish it were possible! Wait . . . it is, isn’t it? *grins* Sorry guys, but this was writen for enjoyment only. All recognisable charactures from Tolkien’s Middle Earth are his, any others where made up by me.

 

~ Also, just know that I am NOT a slash writer! Anything you read is 100% friendship, and it’s nothin’ BUT friendship. So please, don’t question it, and humor me by keeping our minds outa the gutter, ok? Thank you!

 

Rating ~ PG-13  (warnings of extreme torture and even a little angst ~ proceed with caution J )

 

Summary ~ During a hunting trip in the forests around Mirkwood, Aragorn and Legolas are attacked by a wolf and a party of orcs. In the fight, Aragorn is badly wounded and Legolas hurries to get him home to Rivendell, all the while blaming himself. Within the walls of Rivendell Aragorn recovers, but Legolas comes down with a mysterious poison that the elves do not recognize. To save his friend, Aragorn must return to where they were attacked to find out what he can about the poison. But time is running out, and soon after the young ranger leaves home, he discovers that there is much more to the poison than he thought . . . and he’s not the only one after it’s only possible cure.

 

Warnings ~ This story is very serious for the most part, so don’t be decieved by my feeble attempts to be funny. It’s to lighten the mood to come!

 

~Along the story line there is going to be full of both serious and fluffly moments, so if you think I overdid it, I apologize now. I wrote as though Legolas and Aragorn are both emotionally healthy, though it might be slightly contrary to popular belief.    ;o)

 

~ I made my own interpretations of how Aragorn’s parents died, and I’m going along the lines that Cassia and Sio use ~ that they both died when he was two.

 

~Also, I have an unbreakable love for animals, especially horses, so you’re gonna see a lot of different sides! And for the sake of the story, animals do have voices! (Yup, this is brought to you right from my very strange and warped imagination. :0) )

 

Dedication ~ To those who read it and love it for what it is, rather than what it could have been.

 

Special Thanks ~ My widdle sissy and older brother for being my major critics, my widdle brother for giving me ideas for fight scenes, Cassia and Sio for their amazing stories, all you wonderful writers out there who have inspired me *sooo* much, and anyone who’s even bothering to read this! Hannon le, mellon nins! Let us all die of shock, I’m actually doing it . . .

 

Elvish Translations ~ these will look like this ~>

 

“Mellon nin”

 

~My friend~

 

They have the funky ~ ~ things :0)

 

Ok, enough of me blabbing and rambling ~ on with the story! Please, ENJOY!!!

 

 

<~~^~~>

PART 1

 

He rolled over again under his cloak, causing pine needles and leaves under him to rustle and crack beneath him.  His companion groaned, unable to find sleep as easily as usual, and his friend’s constant movement on the other side of the slowly dying fire was keeping it that way. The elf’s sharp ears again heard his friend seemingly settle again, and listened to the horses shift their weight in their sleep. He again desperately wanted to slip into unconsciousness, but everything he heard seemed intent that he stay awake.

 

Finally giving up all hope of sleep, the elf sat up off his blanket and pulled his cloak more firmly around him, keeping out the chill of the still night air and moved closer to the crackling fire. It had been a long day. They had set out going hunting ~ since Aragorn was still learning and developing his skill with a bow and arrow, and game was on the move to beat the coming winter months, they decided to go on a trip. With winter on their way, food needed to be stocked so it was the perfect opportunity.  The day had started out fine, riding deeper into the forests around Mirkwood toward the Misty Mountains, trying to find a good place to begin. Having mastered the skill of moving through the trees without being seen or heard, they left their horses, and tracked down a full grown stag. Legolas smiled, remembering the event. Aragorn was doing better, but still was having problems with aim. They had approached the animal downwind so that it wouldn’t catch their scent, and got to be only a few feet away. Aragorn notched his bow, aimed, fired, and missed . . . by about two feet. The stag shied in fear, and ran, quickly disappearing before Aragorn had time to react. Legolas had barely managed to keep a straight face as he watched Aragorn curse his aim . . . again.

 

Legolas watched Aragorn turn over again in the light of the fire and laughed softly. He was so restless that night. The hunting had been successful ~ they were both satisfied, but tired. Aragorn let out a soft sigh and turned over again, facing the fire and the elf. He opened his eyes and looked unfocused at the fire, and saw his friend in the light. He grinned, and then sat up.

 

“Why are you still awake, Legolas?” he glanced up at the star-filled sky, and detecting the position of the moon, determined that it must have been no later that about midnight.

 

“Why? Because of you, my friend!” Legolas grinned. “Your constant tossing and turning made me give up all hope of sleep! You, the horses, and every noise in the forest, even the silence, has kept me awake.”

     

Aragorn smiled sheepishly. “You know, you can just wake me up and tell me! But then again my sleep and my dreams has been quite restless, it would only be a matter of time before I would join you.”

 

“Sure you would.” Legolas said with a teasing grin, earning himself an annoyed smile from his friend. He laughed softly, letting Aragorn know that he was only teasing him, and soon they were both laughing together.  As the fits died down, they both stopped and listened. A long mournful cry echoed in the still night air, long and deep in the quiet of the night. Legolas recognized the cry right away, having heard it many times in these woods ~ it was a wolf. He turned his head to the right, guessing where the wolf was. Without fully turning his head back, he looked at Aragorn, listening for the wolf’s voice to die down, and smiled evilly.

 

“Spooky, isn’t it?” he said in a low voice that did not match the look on his face.

 

Aragorn looked at him and returned the evil smile with one of his own. “Scared?”

 

Legolas laughed. “Oh yes, very much!” he grinned sarcasticly. Aragorn grinned back impishly.

 

“It seems I can never get a full night’s sleep with you! Neither one of us can sleep, it’s the middle of the night, and then you try to scare me. Did you really think a wolf’s howl could get me going so easily?” he studied Legolas with a mocking stern glance that looked remarkably like Elrond’s, trying not to laugh again.

 

“You look like your father.” Legolas grinned back, returning a look of equal seriousness. “No way would I try to scare you! I don’t think I’m that brave to provoke a Ranger! I’d have to be crazy . . .” Legolas was laughing by then, unable to continue, and soon Aragorn joined in. As the laughter died away, Aragorn laid back down on his blanket and faced the sparkling sky, and opened his mouth to ask the elf a question, but he never got there. For right then, a loud snap made them both jump.

 

Instinct took over thought.  Legolas whipped around, snatched up his bow, and from out off his quiver, an arrow. Loading his bow, he glanced at Aragorn, who had also reached behind him and unsheathed his long sword, and pulled out a sharp knife. They both stopped moving, listening for any noise that would let them know what and where their intruder was. The horses,  of whom had been awoken by all the laughing, where stamping and snorting softly and restlessly, clearly uneasy, which heightened the tension in both Legolas and Aragorn. Legolas could hear something moving ever so slowly and carefully in the shadow of the trees. He inwardly chastised himself for not paying attention, and by the look on Aragorn’s face, the human was doing the same thing. The creature was so close they could both hear the soft breathing, and see the gleam of the yellow eyes shinning in the light of the moon.

 

“Ok, what do you want to do now?” Aragorn whispered.

 

“Wait until we know what it is.”

 

The animal came closer; it’s powerful legs slinking through the grass, hidden in the trees. There was not another sound ~ it seemed to them that the loud snap they had heard was purely chance, complete coincidence.  Aragorn moved over to the log pile and added more fuel to the dying flames, and increased the light. The animal’s features heightened. They were unmistakable  ~ it was a wolf. The fur was a blackish grey-blue. It’s powerful body moved stealthily toward them; yellow eyes watched them carefully. Large jaws released its worst weapon as it curled its lips, revealing long sharp teeth, gleaming in the firelight. But there was something different. This wolf was huge. It could have easily taken down one of their horses, or them. Worry etched it’s lines on their faces.

 

“Ok, go after him.” Legolas told Aragorn.

 

“Why? You have a bow ~ just shoot him.”

 

“I can’t. See how closely he’s watching us? He’d bounce away from my arrow. Go on, get after him.”

 

“Ok, so I’ll be away from the light of the fire and he’ll kill me. I can’t combat in the dark that easily, you know that!!”

 

“Oh, don’t be such a baby, Aragorn. Just go after him. I’ll cover you.”

 

“WHO’S A BABY!? Who doesn’t want to risk one stupid arrow? I’d rather not risk my life, thank you very much!”

 

“You won’t be! It’s an over-sized dog! Just get over there and cut its throat! I’ll be right here to help!”

 

“And how do you know that it’s gonna be so easy? What about thick hides? Or look at the teeth! Why don’t you just get out your knives and get after him yourself?”

 

“All right, I will!” Legolas retorted, pulling the elven knives from their sheathes. As he did so before Aragorn could shoot out another insult, he faintly could hear the sharp piercing cries of orcs coming.

 

“Oh, great! Something else to top off this perfect night.”

 

“What now?”

 

Legolas had forgotten again that he was with a human, not an elf.

 

“There are orcs coming. Can you hear them? They must have seen the fire and are coming to investigate. I knew we shouldn’t have camped so close to the Misty Mountains. What do you want to do?”

 

“Where from? I have not elf ears.”

 

“Over there.” Legolas said nodding in the opposite direction of where the huge wolf was. The loud cries were slowly becoming louder, and now Aragorn could hear them too.

 

That was their first mistake. Looking in the opposite direction of the wolf, they had let their guard down. The huge animal took its chance and ran into the campsite. It stopped in front of the fire, as if trying to decide where to start. Making up its mind, it headed for Aragorn, who, even under the surprise attack, held his sword ready in front of him. The wolf lunged and Aragorn swung, cutting deeply into the wolf’s shoulder and chest. The wolf hesitated, landing on the forest floor. He bared his teeth, and with amazing speed despite his injuries, leapt up under Aragorn’s arm and struck ~ sinking three inch teeth into Aragorn’s side, throwing the human to the ground. The scream that followed echoed loudly through the night, tearing right through Legolas. Legolas screamed too, and loosed the notched arrow, sinking it into the beast’s right eye. The wolf reared and howled in pain, than fell and lay silent. Legolas ran to Aragorn, horrified at the growing pool of red.

 

Aragorn didn’t move as Legolas approached. His cloak, leather coat, and shirt on the left side had been shredded into hanging rags, now being soaked with blood. Aragorn’s side was destroyed ~ the wolf had ripped apart the skin on his ribs. Legolas tossed aside his weapons, dropped to his friend’s side, and as gently as he could turned his left side up to inspect the wounds.

 

Legolas’ heart dropped as he made his inspections. The gashes were deep and bleeding freely. Using one of his knives he cut away the shirt to completely expose his side, grabbed his blanket from the ground, and began to try and stop the blood flow. As he did so, he again heard the orc cries, and they where much louder now. Legolas groaned. He didn’t have much time ~ he needed to get Aragorn out of there and hidden before they came. The blanket he was using was becoming soaked with blood. He grabbed Aragorn’s blanket as well and doubled the layers. As he pressed down again, Aragorn stirred and moaned.

 

“Aragorn?” inside Legolas begged that Aragorn would respond.

 

Aragorn groaned again, and immediately moved his right arm to his left side. Legolas knocked the arm away.

 

“Don’t touch your side, my friend. It’s still bleeding badly. Hold on for a moment.”

 

“Oh . . . Legolas . . . don’t worry . . . it’s only a scratch, I’m fine . . .” Aragorn said weakly, not matching his words, or opening his eyes.

 

“You’ve got a little more than a scratch.” Legolas couldn’t help but smile a little at the ranger’s attitude. “Hang on for a moment.” He bound the blankets to Aragorn’s side and called his horse to him. He gently picked the ranger up in his arms and set him down on Arien’s back, partly lying him down in a position that did not touch his side. He firmly tied him down to the horse’s back, and grabbing the horse’s halter led him out of the clearing into the woods. He had to hide them and deal with the orcs himself, because if they both left, the orcs would follow. He began to whisper to the horse in elvish, telling him that if the orcs got to close he would bear Aragorn away to Elrond’s house. The stallion seemed to understand, and stood ready to spring away at the first real sign of danger. Legolas ran back to the campsite, ready now to deal with the orcs alone.

 

He burst into the campsite. Judging by the now fully enraged orc cries he knew he had only moments to get ready. He quickly gathered any forgotten supplies and food together and hid them. He called his own horse to him, tied a few provisions to his back, and sent him to Arien. The horse headed into the trees, leaving Legolas alone. The orcs were now much to close ~ he could see dark shapes moving through the trees to him. Legolas pulled out an arrow, widened his stance, and faced the oncoming orcs. For a moment, Legolas halted and stood still, his elvish glow penetrating the night, adding to the firelight. He sighed deeply and closed his eyes; thinking of Aragorn tied to his horse not twenty feet away, and desperately wished that he would make it. He opened his eyes, adjusted his stance, and faced the oncoming and completely visible orc party. It had begun.

 

At first, he just picked off a few with his bow. The figures in the trees were more visible and he could tell that this was not going to be as easy.  The orcs were a larger breed and not as simple as the smaller ones.  They mostly had large battle-axes, but some had swords. There was one Orc more towards the back that was larger than the rest. He was holding an axe that had a double-sided blade bigger than most dwarves.  Most of the orcs had armor that was not penetrable by an arrow, but that didn’t stop Legolas.  He aimed directly at the neck.

 

As the orcs ran at this elf, they saw seven of there compatriots fall to the ground with an arrow in their neck. This elf would pay.  Deeply.

 

The orcs were too close now.  He dropped his bow and whipped out his trusty elven blades.  As the orcs closed in, time seemed to slow down. His friend was depending on him to keep him safe. If he had just been more alert about the wolf, his friend would be here with him.

 

The first one went down quickly. As the two sides began to mix, Legolas found it harder and harder to dodge, parry, and kill the orcs. As he slit the throat of one and shoved him away, another orc came from behind and wrapped Legolas in a huge bear hug, blade placed against his ribs. Mental reaction took over and Legolas flipped forward, throwing the orc over his head, but as he did so the orc pressed the blade inward. A thick deep gash was laid open over the width of his ribs, but he ignored it and bore back into the fight.

 

In incredible speed despite his injuries he continued to destroy his enemies, angering them the more success he had. One smaller orc managed to dodge under Legolas’ twisting arms and dig his rough knife into Legolas’ leg. Legolas inhaled sharply, turned around, and buried one bloody blade into the orc’s face.  As he watched the pitiful body crumple to the ground, he saw a white flash in the side of his vision. He immediately leaned to the side as a long blade hurtled into the air where his head had been two seconds ago. But he noticed too late – though the move saved his life, the blade cut lightly into the side of his face, and disappeared into the night.

 

Many of the orcs now began to retreat in fear, escaping into the surrounding woods, but the large orc in the back of the group stood his ground, fingering the huge double-bladed axe in his hands. When he saw an opportunity, he lurched forward and swung a bit wildly, cutting the air just in front of Legolas’ neck. The orc repositioned his stance, axe out in front of him, and growled evilly at the elf. Legolas’ head was spinning slightly from pain and blood loss, but still tightened his jaw and gave the orc a look of pure hatred. The orc swung again, aiming this time for Legolas’ abdomen. Expecting such a move, Legolas jumped into the air and flipped backwards, narrowly missing the sharp bite of the axe. He landed gracefully on his feet and again faced the orc, who at the moment looked shocked at the move Legolas had just pulled. But it faded quickly and the orc charged.

 

As though he intended to cut Legolas in two, the orc threw his axe at the elf. As he saw the hurling mass of metal thrown at him, he halfway fell backwards and watched the axe fly over him, and land harmlessly in the thicket of trees behind him. He got back into a standing position again, and threw both elven knives at the large orc, striking him in the neck and ribs. The orc fell slowly to the ground, a mixture of shock and bewilderment plastered on his face forever.

 

The remaining orcs watched their greatest warrior fall to the forest floor, then glared at Legolas. Now weaponless, Legolas froze, knowing that there was no way he was going to survive this. He watched the orcs charge for a second, then closed his eyes.

 

The next thing he was kicked in the back of his knees and thrown to the ground. The last twenty or so orcs surrounded him, placing their wicked blades on his neck, chest, and stomach, laughing at him, glad  that even in the end the elf couldn’t defeat them. Legolas clenched his fists, but held still, knowing that no matter what he wasn’t getting out alive by himself. He closed his eyes again and concentrated on one thing – “I’m sorry, Aragorn. I tried.”

 

Yet even as he relaxed and prepared himself for the next world, he suddenly heard hoof beats coming closer to them. The orcs, momentarily distracted, looked up at the new intruder, baring their teeth and hissing their displeasure for being interrupted.  The soft clippity-clop of a horse’s hoofs grew louder, and soon a lone dark figure raced out off the trees and into the midst of the orcs.

 

“Strider!” Legolas couldn’t believe it. Still tied securely to Arien’s back he charged into the clearing, raising his sword, of which he had miraculously kept a tight hold on. He raised it high into the air and Arien reared up, lashing out with his forelegs, instantly killing three orcs. Aragorn moved his horse toward the greater part of the orcs, scattering them slightly and allowing Legolas to get up and move toward the fallen orc leader to get his knives. Once again equipped with his blades, Legolas again leapt into the battle, fighting side by side with his companion, and together with Arien’s help, killed the greater part of the remaining orcs. Knowing that there was no way they were going to win now, the few remaining orcs ran out of the clearing, hissing and crying out in anger and defeat.

 

<~~^~~>

 

Legolas took a deep shuddering breath as he watched the last few orcs run out of sight in total panic. He turned to look at the ranger. Aragorn was still on Arien’s back, but barely. With the adrenaline rush over, he looked ready to fall over had his horse not been holding him up. He clutched his horse’s mane desperately, trying to regain his breath. Legolas knew he wasn’t much better off, but he had to try to help his friend, and fast.

 

Legolas ran to Arien’s side and helped the ranger to the ground. Aragorn winced as he was laid on the ground and closed his eyes, groaning in withering pain. Legolas flinched. He was going to be worse off now that he had fought. He positioned the ranger on his right side as before and unwound the blankets to see the damage that had been done. He groaned as he removed them. The bleeding had slackened little.  Since this time he had could longer examine the wounds, he made a through check and discovered more than he wanted to.

 

Razor-sharp teeth had cut though the lean skin and muscle, tearing it apart, and in some places revealing the clean, white bones of his ribs. Legolas had no time to sit ~ he set to work. He cleaned the wounds as well as he could, and with medical supplies from one of their packs tried to calm the fiery pain. He bound up his side with the blankets again ~ having nothing better to use ~ and got their things together. He saddled Arien and gently put Aragorn in front of him in the saddle. He had to get him to Rivendell quickly. He felt that Aragorn would be in better hands with Elrond than with the healers of Mirkwood. Elrond’s skill in healing far surpassed the skill of the healers of his father’s. He spoke a word to Arien, and the great horse sprang away. Legolas’s horse followed them quickly. Legolas thankfully could direct Arien with a quiet word, and could hold onto his friend with both arms.

 

They rode almost non-stop to Rivendell. Legolas knew the sooner they got there, the better off they both would be. He didn’t actually realize that he was seriously wounded until much later, but he couldn’t stop to help himself ~ Aragorn was slipping in and out of consciousness.  To keep a good pace, he encouraged Arien in elvish constantly, and the horse responded. He also tried to keep Aragorn’s spirits and his own up by either talking or softly singing as they raced through and out of the Misty Mountains. The ride took nearly two days and most of the second night, arriving just before dawn on the third day. Arien ran into the familiar area and stopped in front of the front door. Legolas tried to yell out for Elrond, but he was so worn from his injuries and constant riding that the noise died before it passed his lips. Fighting the throbbing in his head that threatened to overcome him, he put his head down on Aragorn’s shoulder ~ who was at the moment unconscious ~ and inhaled deeply, every fiber of him praying that someone would come and help him. Arien was breathing heavily and was trembling. Legolas patted the great horse’s sweating back and gently spoke to him in elvish without moving his head from Aragorn‘s shoulder. Suddenly they were surrounded with light ~ the front door had been thrown open. Elladan, Elrohir, and Elrond ran to them. Legolas inwardly thanked them, than allowed the throbbing to claim him, passing out cold in the saddle and falling into Elladan’s open arms.

 

¨          ¨          ¨

PART 2

 

When he finally woke, it was slow. He was alive, but could hardly move. The pain in his side redoubled as he made the attempt. He finally managed to pry his eyes open, and discovered that he was no longer on Arien in his friend’s arms. Then he realized that someone was there, watching him. He looked strangely familiar in the dark room.

 

“Ada?” he asked groggily.

 

“Yes, my son. Estel, how do you feel?”

 

Aragorn sighed and groaned as he tried to move again ~ his side was heavily bound with soft bandages and cloths. His ribs burned with pain. He held his breath and froze, willing the pain to stop. Elrond moved forward and gently forced him back into the bed.

 

“Don’t try to move just yet. Those wounds need time to heal more.”

 

Aragorn laid back down and relaxed under the soft quilts. It was wonderful to be back in his own bed.  Elrond looked at him and smiled, but the man sensed that he was troubled about something. Then, he remembered, like a kick in the face.

 

“Where is he?!” anger and panic was in his voice, but there was fear in his eyes.

 

Aragorn’s sudden change of mood stopped his father, causing him to stare at him for a moment, but he knew whom his son was talking about.

 

“Ada . . . please . . .” His voice was no longer angry, but filled with fear. Elrond looked down for a moment, and then faced his son.

 

“He’s still unconscious. He had many untended wounds, and most were long since infected. He’s lost a lot of blood from the ride here. We found that one or more of the blades was poisoned, and it wearied him greatly. I’ve done all I can for him, but I’m not sure . . .” he trailed off, having no need to finish the sentence. Aragorn’s hands covered his face.

 

“No…please, no…” he whispered. He did that for me! How can I repay him if he dies for me?

 

“Ada,” he suddenly looked up at the elf lord with a look on his face often seen. “Does he have a chance?”

 

Elrond recognized the familiar glow of hope in the man’s eyes, and smiled again. “There is always hope.”

 

¨          ¨          ¨

 

Aragorn sat back in his chair and sighed fearfully. Nearly a week had passed since his long ride to Rivendell, and he had not yet woken. His eyes remained closed, while his face was sweat-streaked. His entire body was very cold to the touch. Legolas shuddered helplessly, tortured by some unknown cold.

 

As soon as Elrond would allow him to move, Aragorn went to see Legolas as much as his father would let him. For the first time Aragorn could see the real damage the elf had endured to keep his friend safe. Gashes covered his arms, upper torso, and back, some deep enough to reveal his ribs. Along his right thigh there was a long horrible mark that had been laid open to the bone. On the right side of his face, there was a long, but not dangerously deep cut that started at his forehead, moved down next to his hairline, in front of his ear, and ended at his chin. All had been well tended and thickly layered with clean bandages. Aragorn moved his chair closer to his friend’s bedside and groped for his hand, pulling it close, and he noticed how the hand was so cold. He put his head down on the quilt, placing his head between his arms, and squeezed Legolas’ hand, trying to give his friend something to hold onto. Grimly he tried to watch over his friend, until moments later sleep finally reached out to claim him.

 

¨          ¨          ¨

 

“By your side, scared to death

Felt the pain, you were fighting

Placed my palm on your head

Spoke your name, just keep trying.”

 

~Jeff Carlson “Real Life”

 

<~~^~~>

 

Trapped.

 

He had been awake for a while, but could not even find the power to open his eyes. He felt frozen to the bone. He hated the weakness and vulnerability that had overtaken him. The pain was everywhere ~ he could feel it as it became deep and harsh, so overpowering. He almost wished that it would end. But then, he felt something gently squeeze his hand.

 

Aragorn? he thought.

 

He could not make his mouth work. Yet even as he tried to speak, he felt strength flow through him from the gentle hand that held his own. Ever so slowly, he managed to crack open his eyes, and take in his surroundings.

 

The room was dark, except for a single light burning in the corner near him. His eyes fell on the dark shape next to him. He was asleep and had pulled Legolas’ hand close to himself, clasping it tightly in his own. He was in a strange position ~ he wasn’t wearing a shirt as it aggravated his injuries, so the thick bandages on his side were quite visible as Aragorn leaned on his right side to keep the pressure off his left. Legolas inwardly groaned when he saw it, still haunted with the thought that that injury was his fault. He closed his eyes again, and then, gathering what strength he had gained, he weakly squeezed his friend’s hand back.

 

Aragorn jerked out of his sleep when he felt the pressure in his hands. Legolas had weakly grasped his fingers, and then let go. His eyes went to his friend’s face, and watched as Legolas face began to spasm slightly. Sensing that he was waking up, Aragorn moved his chair closer and grasped his friend’s arm.

 

“Legolas?” he looked at his friend’s face, not daring to hope.

 

Legolas gulped, then nodded once, his face filled with pain.

 

“Legolas,” Aragorn pulled his hand closer to him, brushing the fingers across his cheek. “Legolas, please . . . please open your eyes.”

 

Legolas again willed the strength to do it again. He shook for a moment, then pried his eyelids open, looking into Aragorn’s eyes, and smiled faintly.

 

Aragorn could not find the power to speak, pressing the inside of Legolas’ hand against his cheek and covering it with his own, smiling in such relief.

 

“Thank the Valar you’re all right my friend.”

 

Legolas opened his mouth as if to speak, but Aragorn stopped him. “Tampa, dina esta. Na nefach, mellon nin. Na nefach . . . ea na qwiil.”

~Stop, stay silent. I am here, my friend. I am here . . . be at peace~

 

He watched Legolas’ eyes slowly become unfocused, and he knew that he was asleep again, the way he should ~ with his eyes open. Staying seated in the armchair he was in, he laid his head on the side of the bed. As he gently stroked his friend’s hand in his own, he allowed himself to fall asleep, refusing to leave Legolas’ side.

 

<~~^~~>

 

Aragorn wanted to be there when Legolas woke again. After convincing his father, he never left his friend’s bedside. His eyes remained open this time, and his face became more relaxed. Relief flooded through Aragorn, knowing his friend still had a chance.

 

Legolas woke that next night, not long after Elrond had checked on them for the umpteenth time. He was feeling much more alive ~ energy had returned to him, but he was still very weak and incredibly cold. He found he could not stop shuddering ~ never before had he felt more cold. Again opening his eyes was a relief, and the first person he saw was Aragorn. He sat back in his chair, working intently on a piece of paper.

 

“Aragorn?” the word was soft.

 

Aragorn jumped slightly at the sound. He looked at Legolas carefully, and gave his friend a small grin. He sat up and moved his chair closer to the head of the bed, placing the sheet of paper aside.

 

“How do you feel, my friend?”

 

Legolas tried to move, but very quickly found out the hard way that his body would not allow this without extreme pain. He held his breath, allowing the sharp pain to slowly pass.

 

“Legolas?!” Aragorn nearly panicked as he watched Legolas’ face cringe in pain. He didn’t want to relive the past week.

 

“It’s all right. Give me a moment.” Legolas again relaxed in his bed, inwardly telling himself not to move like that unless he was helped up.

 

“Don’t do that again!” Aragorn said, using a rather stern voice. Legolas sighed and the headache passed.

 

“Don’t worry, I don’t plan to. Can you help me sit up?” Aragorn moved closer and carefully helped his friend into a sitting position, and sat across from him on the bed.

 

“You’re very cold. Are you sure your all right?” Aragorn picked up a blanket from the edge of the bed and wrapped it around Legolas. Legolas shuddered hard and pulled the blanket closer.

 

“I’ll be fine.”

 

“I’ve heard that before.” Legolas chose to ignore that one.

 

Now sitting up, the pain had reduced much, and Legolas eyed his friend carefully. “Aragorn, have you moved from that spot at all?”

 

“No, not really. I wanted to be here when you woke up. Besides, it was this or I’d be staring at my own wall. I was worried about you.”

 

“Are you all right?” Aragorn smiled at the old question. He touched his left side carefully. He still wasn’t wearing a shirt, so the whiteness of the thick padding was very visible still.

 

“I’ll live. I don’t think Ada is going to let either of us out of his sight for a while until we’ve healed more. You’re going to be here for a while. You had him, and me, scared to death.”

 

Legolas shut his eyes and looked down. “I’m sorry.”

 

“It’s all right.” Aragorn softly replied, but Legolas shook his head.

 

“No, it’s not. This was all my fault. You got that injury because of me, it got worse because you helped me, you nearly died because I thought it would be better to put you in the hands of your father…” he trailed off, trying to keep his emotions under control. He turned his head away from Aragorn and whispered, “I’m so sorry.”

 

“Legolas, it was not your fault.” Aragorn’s voice was quiet, but there was the ring of finality in his tone that went deep. “It was an accident. I was in the fault too. If I hadn’t provoked you in the first place, we both may have gotten the upper hand. Please, don’t blame yourself. It was not your fault.”

 

Aragorn reached out and touched Legolas’ shoulder. Legolas turned back and looked at him, searching his eyes. In the darkened room those silver eyes glowed at him, begging him to listen. He felt himself calm searching the deeps of Aragorn’s eyes. He could almost see the deep bond of friendship, hope, and trust reflecting inside its depths. He sighed, holding onto that power.

 

“I know, but that’s how I feel about it.” Aragorn smiled slightly

 

“We both seem to have that problem, blaming ourselves for things we cannot always control.”

 

Legolas too smiled slightly at that. It was often proved true. He sighed heavily, and his entire body shook. Aragorn noticed and moved behind the prince, pulling him back so he leaned heavily against the other, and tried to keep him warmer. Legolas was immediately tense under his touch.

 

“Relax, mellon nin, eressern marvros na buioch.” Aragorn softly began to sing, a song that had been sung much in the halls of his father, and one that was greatly loved by both of them. And Legolas slowly did relax, and eventually fell asleep, listening to Aragorn’s quiet voice echo through the room.

~My friend, I only want to help you~

 

Aragorn knew when Legolas had fallen asleep, but he didn’t let go, rather repositioned him so that Legolas’ head rested right under his chin, and pulled him close to his chest. He held him for a long time in that position, deep into the night. When Elrond came to check on him that’s how he found them, Aragorn sitting cross-legged against the headboard with Legolas in his arms, peace filling the room. Elrond helped Aragorn lay Legolas back down. Still not wanting to leave him, Aragorn again sat in his chair with his head on the thick quilt, and allowed his mind to sink into unconsciousness.

 

But Legolas never did cease to shiver helplessly from the unknown cold.

 

<~~^~~>

 

He didn’t know how long he slept, but the next thing he knew Aragorn woke up as something icy cold touched his arm. He jerked out of his sleep and looked wildly around him, trying to find what was so cold that had touched him. He glanced around him, and felt the icy chill clutch his arm tightly again. He looked down and froze. Legolas had his hand on Aragorn’s arm, slowly gripping harder. His hands were so cold, it took his breath away. Legolas’ face was very pale, his lips were blue, and he was trembling hard. Aragorn immediately felt his friend’s forehead and the sides of his face. They were freezing to the touch. Legolas’ eyes were grazed over.

 

“Legolas? What’s wrong? Are you all right?” Aragorn frantically tried to get him to react.

 

Legolas’ face was filled with pain. His skin had a faint white tint to it. Aragorn no longer hesitated.

 

“ELROND!!! ADA NORO!!!”

~ Father hurry! ~

 

Aragorn franticly yelled his father’s name down the hall. He didn’t care if he woke everyone up; he was going to get his father in here!

 

He was quickly in motion. He began to check Legolas for vital signs of life. He found the prince’s pulse ~  weaker than he would like and very thready, but there. His skin was cold and clammy, and he had soaked his shirt with sweat. Not wanting him to do any damage to his injuries, he removed the shirt and wrapped him in a thick wool blanket. Sitting behind the prince he pulled him close to share his body warmth and keep him from getting any colder. Legolas was shuddering violently in his arms. He clenched his teeth to keep them from chattering and had squeezed his eyes shut. He moved closer to Aragorn and curled into a tight ball.

 

Why is he so cold? What happened?

 

Choking back the lump in his throat he tightened his hold on Legolas. Moments later his sharp ears heard the faint sounds of elven feet running down the hall to the room. Elrond burst into the room, followed by Elladan and Elrohir. All three of them looked panicked.

 

“What happened?” Elrond quickly moved toward the bed and scanned his foster son’s eyes.

 

“Le-Le- . . . ” Aragorn could barely say his own friend’s name. But Elrond knew what he was talking about. Gently he took Legolas from Aragorn and began his inspections. Several minutes went by as he did much of what Aragorn had already done, but did more and discovered more. Confirming all the symptoms Legolas had shown, he turned and faced Aragorn again.

 

“It looks like it could be an after affect of the Morgul poisoning,” he said, shifting the prince’s weight in his arms, and checking the prince’s pulse again. “Since he had been infected for over two days it hit harder than what is normal. This form of an after affect is not very common, but that doesn’t necessarily mean anything. I’ll be honest with you, Estel, I’m amazed that he made it this far this well . . .”

 

Aragorn was silent. He didn’t know what to say. He watched as his father took the prince’s pulse again. Legolas was still shuddering violently, but calmed slightly as Elrond began to softly talk to him in elvish. As he moved Legolas’ head to adjust one of his bandages, he noticed something. He placed Legolas’ head in one hand and moved the elf’s long blond hair aside, revealing a very small, almost insignificant thorn imbedded in the skin, right inside the hairline. He looked at it carefully, and gently removed it. The thorn was no more than half an inch long and was almost thinner than parchment. It was a dark brown, and very straight and hard, despite the fact that it had almost no volume at all.

 

“Elladan.” Elrond did not glance up, keeping his eyes on the thorn. Elladan moved from his spot on the floor he had occupied for the past several minutes and moved closer to the bed, stopping at his father’s feet.

 

“Yes, Ada?”

 

“Please take this and test it for any poison traces. Be careful not to touch this end.” He said, pointing at the end that had come out of the skin. Elladan, who was well taught in his father’s healing arts and poison knowledge, carefully took the thorn and left the room.

 

When he had gone, Elrond turned to the other twin. “Elrohir, please come here and take the prince. I need to take care of Estel.”

 

Elrohir too moved to the bed, sat down, and took the shuddering prince from his father’s arms and wrapped him in his own. Aragorn looked questioningly at Elrond. What is wrong with me?

 

He soon found out. Elrond moved toward him and lifted his arm revealing his injured side. Blood was slowly blossoming through the thick padding. Shaking his head he made Aragorn lay down on the bed so that he could tend to the reopened wounds. Most had healed, but a few of the deeper gashes weren’t completely closed yet. When Aragorn had jumped to get the blankets for Legolas several minutes ago, he had popped some of the stitches in his side, reopening the deeper tears and allowing them to bleed again. Elrond restitched the wounds and left for a few minutes to get new bandages, as the old ones had been soaked through and were now useless.

 

When Elrond left Aragorn glanced at Elrohir. Elrohir had wrapped his arms around the prince and held him close to keep him from getting any more chill. Legolas was still very frigid. Elrohir glanced back at Aragorn and gave him a small grin, trying to encourage his brother.

 

“Tithen muindor, ea benifred.” Aragorn smiled slightly and sighed, looking at the chilled, pale expression on Legolas’ face.

~ little brother, be without fear ~

 

“Iston. But I’m going to keep worrying until he’s all right.”

~ I know ~

 

As if on queue, Elladan walked back into the room. Both Aragorn and Elrohir looked at him curiously, but Elladan didn’t say anything as he quickly scanned the room and found out that Elrond was not there.

 

“Where is Ada?” he asked, but his voice sounded strange. Elrohir opened his mouth to reply, but had no need. Elrond walked through the door with his arms full of fresh padding, and headed to Aragorn to commence rebinding his side. Elladan followed, but didn’t say anything as he watched Elrond apply the padding and secure it in place.

 

When he had finished he helped Aragorn into a sitting position, and looked at his oldest. Elladan tried to look at him back, but soon had to look down. Elrond moved forward and put his fingers under Elladan’s chin and tipped it up, forcing him to look at him.

 

“What did you find?” Elrond asked, although by his son’s actions he didn’t really need to ask. Elladan shut his eyes and inhaled deeply, fear and worry in his breath. He faced his father.

 

“It was poisoned.” His voice was shaky. He glanced at Aragorn, who stared back at him. Aragorn sat stone still, unable to react in any way. Elladan’s face was filled with pain and apology. Elrond watched the exchange, then prodded his son to continue. Elladan then continued to tell his father about what he had found, but his voice had no life in it and Aragorn could tell he wasn’t finished yet. There was something else. Something worse. And it didn’t take long to find out what.

 

When Elrond asked him what kind of poison was in the thorn, Elladan froze. He couldn’t hold it off any longer, his time was up. He glanced at Aragorn before responding, then looked at the ground.

 

“I don’t know. I don’t recognize the poison.”

 

He had said it, and now watched painfully at the affect of his words. Aragorn froze ~ could only stare at the wall in stunned silence. Elrohir too did not move. Elrond glanced at the older twin, his face almost expressionless, but no one could mistake what he really thought. He had no reason to not believe his son. Elladan knew as much about poisons as he did. If Elladan didn’t know, there was little chance that he did.

 

“I am sorry.” Elladan looked away from his younger brother and stared at the wall, not believing what he had just found out to be true.

 

Aragorn couldn’t move. On his face was a completely closed expression; so grim it was hard to look at. Elrohir read the hidden fear for a moment as he watched him. He then gently picked up the nearly unresponsive, shuddering prince in his arms, and moved over to where Aragorn was. Aragorn didn’t even react until Elrohir was right next to him, when he stiffly moved to take Legolas in his own arms. He tightly held the prince, but the lost, one-sided expression did not leave. Legolas continued to violently shiver against him, and Aragorn could only bow his head over the prince and hold him tighter.

 

“Ea na qwiil, nin mellon. Maethach . . .” Legolas barely whispered the words, but Aragorn still heard them. He tightened his grip and whispered back in the prince’s ear, his face never changing.

~Be at peace, my friend. You tried . . .~

 

“Uuyech er, idra mellon nin. Na nefach.”

~ You are not alone, my dear friend. I am here.~

 

The room was very quiet after that. The only noise was Aragorn gently rocking the elf in his arms, trying to keep him conscious and letting him know that he wasn’t alone. Through all this, Elrond was very quiet, deep in thought. Elladan had said that he didn’t know the poison, but it had come from a thorn. Thorns don’t just grow; they come off a certain plant of some kind. So they needed to know what plant the thorn had come from in order to try and find an antidote. But the prince was so close to losing himself. The only reason he was still here it seemed was because Aragorn was here.

 

Aragorn was holding on to the prince with everything he had, just like . . . just like so many times before. So many times had they been steps away from death’s door, and each time managed to pull through. Weaker men would have long ago given up the ghost, weaker elves would have left for the sea, but never these two. Hard and bold in body and mind, they refused to give up. They both had each other to hold on to, never stopping the long and difficult fight because they both knew there was something more, something beyond the pain.

 

How could he make Aragorn leave when he was probably the only reason Legolas had not left for the halls of the Mandos?

 

But Aragorn knew where they had fought the orcs and the wolf, he was the only one who could find what they needed, but that would mean that he would have to leave Legolas to try and find out where the thorn had come from. Elrond watched his son carefully. Aragorn’s face remained stony as he gently rocked his friend. He wasn’t going to leave Legolas. Elrond sighed deeply and shut his eyes, mulling it over. He didn’t know what to do. Make Aragorn leave? He would never go willingly. What if something happened if he did? What if Legolas . . . he shuddered at the thought. No. He could never ask Aragorn to leave when it looked like his best friend would not survive much longer. But there was nothing else that they could do. It was either that, or they had no hope to find a cure for Legolas. He was already fading.

 

Elrond slowly moved over from his chair that he was in and sat on the bed next to Aragorn. Wrapping his arm around the human’s shoulders he gave his son a tight hug. Aragorn turned his head and rested it on his father’s shoulder, but didn’t release his hold on Legolas. Elrond waited for a few moments, then turned his head so that they were face to face.

 

“Aragorn,” he began, looking deeply into the silver eyes, normally bright and full of life, but now dark and cold, death like. “Aragorn, I know this is going to be extremely hard, but this may be the only way to save Legolas. You need to go back to where you were attacked by the orcs and find where the thorn came from. We need to get the plant and try to make an antidote. If we don’t find out where it came from, Legolas won’t have a chance.”

 

A small battle went on behind Aragorn’s eyes. Leave? Now?! What about Legolas? What if something happened while he was gone? He turned his head away from his father and shut his eyes as he thought about it. But then, what choice did he have? He had to try. He would never forgive himself if Legolas was lost and he did nothing.

 

He pulled Legolas closer still and again rested his head on his father’s shoulder, and for a split second he was at peace ~ he was going. He looked up into his father’s eyes.

 

“I will go. I have to. Just . . .” his voice caught, and grimly he choked it down. “Just give me some time with him, just in case . . . he doesn’t make it.”

 

Elrond nodded, and, gesturing to the twins, left the room, leaving Aragorn and Legolas alone. He gently awoke his friend from the uneasy sleep he was in and looked deep into the cloudy blue eyes.

 

“I have . . . to go.” Aragorn whispered. Legolas groggily nodded, having listened to pieces of the conversation that had been going on. He reached up and grasped Aragorn’s hand. Aragorn squeezed back, and then sighed as he looked at his old friend.

 

“Are you afraid?”

 

“Of death?” Legolas even in his almost delirious state gave him a weak smile, but Aragorn did not react so well.

 

He looked to the side and then down, his eyes blurring as he gasped painfully at the thought. Legolas squeezed his hand as tightly as he could for a few seconds.

 

“It’s okay.” Legolas tried to pass it off as nothing important.

 

“That’s not funny.” Aragorn looked back up, but his eyes were now red and his face taunt as horrifying thoughts began to consume him. Legolas looked at him for only a few moments before he too shut his eyes and sighed deeply. He finally looked back up and give Aragorn a soft, searching gaze.

 

“I’m afraid of being apart from all that I hold dear.”

 

Aragorn paused for a moment before moving forward until he was inches from Legolas’ face. Even though his face was lined with pain, his voice did not shake.

 

“Oh, mellon-nin, that will never happen!” he whispered softly. “Don’t give up, my friend. You need to hang on. Don’t give up.”

 

“Just…come back fast. I will miss you.”

 

“I will miss you too. I’ll come back. Garor, idra nin mellon. Garor.”

~ Hold on, my dear friend. Hold on. ~

 

Aragorn gently kissed the prince on his forehead. Legolas placed one hand on top of Aragorn’s head and held him against him for a moment, until Aragorn finally pulled away and gave his friend’s hand one last squeeze. He left the bed, and right before he opened the door, he looked back. Legolas weakly held up one hand, a sign of farewell. Aragorn smiled and returned the gesture, then quietly left the room and shut the door behind him.

 

Legolas sunk back with one last thought. Believe and you shall find your way . . .

 

¨          ¨          ¨

Part 3

 

“Are you ready?”

 

Aragorn looked up from his horse’s saddle. Elladan walked up next to him and placed a hand on his shoulder. Aragorn sighed and tightened the belt around Arien’s belly.

 

“Physically, yes.”

 

Elladan studied his younger brother for a moment. Aragorn looked worn and tired, yet determined. Only in his eyes could he really see the pain that he was feeling. There was no real fire of light in them, and it pained Elladan deeply to see it gone. Elladan squeezed Aragorn’s shoulder and turned to get his horse a few feet away. He was going to go with Aragorn to help him find what they were looking for.

 

Elrond walked out toward them a few minutes later. Elladan checked his mare, Hísië, over, tightening  the bridle slightly and walked over to him. Aragorn secured the last bag behind Arien’s saddle and joined them.

 

“Estel,” Elrond began, placing his hands on either side of his son’s face and looking at him in the eyes. “I just want you to be careful. Hurry there and find out what you can, and get back quickly. I’m giving Legolas about one week under his conditions. You have to hurry!”

 

“I will. I’m not going to let him die.” Aragorn moved forward and gave his father a tight hug.

 

Elrohir walked out and walked toward them. Aragorn let go of his father and walked to his brother. Grasping his brother’s shoulders he looked at him almost fiercely.

 

“Don’t leave him. Don’t let him let go.”

 

Elrohir smiled and pulled his younger brother into a strong embrace.

 

“Don’t worry. I’m not going to let him.”

 

Aragorn pulled away and smiled at him. “I know you won’t.”

 

Elrond came over to them. “Try to get back quickly. I know Legolas would want to see you whether or not . . . you’re successful.”

 

Aragorn nodded. He turned and leapt lightly onto Arien’s back. Elladan followed suit, and directed Hísië over to where Aragorn was.

 

Aragorn turned to his father and brother. “Namàrië. We will come back. I’m *not* going to fail him.”

 

Both Elrond and Elrohir smiled. “You do your best. Hurry back!” Elrond called out.

 

At a word from both riders, both horses sprang away, leaving Elrond and Elrohir alone next to the stables. When they had disappeared, Elrohir turned to his father.

 

“I’m going back to Legolas.”

 

Elrond nodded. “Stay with him. I’ll be in to check you later.”

 

Elrohir walked away and headed down the hallway to Legolas’ room. He entered the room and stopped next to the bed, pulling a chair behind him. He settled down and watched Legolas carefully. The prince was still violently shuddering, but calmer than he was before. Elrohir sighed and relaxed. Hurry Aragorn, he thought. I don’t want you to lose him.

 

¨          ¨          ¨

 

Time is a valuable thing

Watch it fly by as the pendulum swings

Watch it count down to the end of the day

The clock ticks life away

It’s so unreal . . .

 

~Linkin Park

 

<~~^~~>

 

He hadn’t felt so sore in quite a while. Aragorn bent over Arien’s back, trying to ease the stiffness in his muscles. Riding at a gallop all day did help put us ahead, he thought. But it can seriously render someone stiffer then wood. I can’t feel my back anymore.

 

“Hey Elladan! There’s a clearing up ahead.” shouted Aragorn from Arien’s back to his brother behind him. “Let’s stop there tonight and give the horses a break. We pushed them hard today.”

 

“Alright!” Elladan called out back. “You lead and I’ll follow.”

 

About five minutes later Aragorn pulled Arien to a stop and looked around. The trees were dense and clustered together here, making this a wonderful spot to camp without being seen. Just outside the clearing was a small stream, and Aragorn directed Arien in its direction, dismounted, and let the stallion drink his fill. Elladan also dismounted and let his horse walk over to the stream, and began to unload provisions from his back.

 

Aragorn began to brush both horses dry, then allowed them to walk wherever they wanted. For a few minutes he watched them play and begin to crop the grass. When he finally turned back to Elladan, his brother had his back to him, staring into a larger and thicker cluster of trees not too distant. Wondering what was so interesting, Aragorn walked up next to Elladan, looked at him, then the trees, then back at him. Elladan didn’t move.

 

“Elladan? What do you see?” Aragorn asked quietly, breaking Elladan out of the semi-daze he was in.

 

“Look at the over there.” Elladan pointed to a small white shape that was against a tree trunk. As Aragorn began to watch it more closely, he saw it move.

 

“What is that?”

 

“It’s a white bird…no, a white owl. He’s watching us closely.”

 

“A white owl?” owls were not commonly seen anywhere near Rivendell or Mirkwood. But they were around, they just preferred to remain hidden ~ a curiosity to men, and sometimes elves too. But so curious was this. Why, when owls normally only come out at night, was this one out in the fading daylight, watching them?

 

As if to tell the two riders that he knew they saw him, the owl began to hoot and screech loudly. The quiet mountain range around them began to ring with his loud calls. And the bad thing was – he didn’t stop.

 

“What is he doing? Trying to get us killed?” Elladan asked in annoyance. To any listener, loud repeated calls of an owl, or any animal for that matter, meant something’s up, and would come investigate. Around here, it would most likely attract something they’d rather not have around, like orcs, or wolves.

 

“We’ve got to make him stop!” Aragorn bent over and picked up a large rock off the ground, aimed, and chucked it at the owl. It would have been a direct hit . . . if the owl had not moved.

 

Aragorn snatched up another rock and threw it at the owl again. But as before, the owl sidestepped it and as if in response, began to hoot louder. Patience gone, Elladan reached for his bow. Not wanting to kill the owl, but rid themselves of him, Elladan took careful aim and shot just to the right of the owl. The owl saw it coming, and stood stone still as the arrow shot by him, ruffling his feathers as it went.

 

“I don’t believe it.” Said Elladan as he loaded another arrow. “He didn’t even flinch. That’s no normal animal.”

 

Just before he let loose another arrow – this one aimed to kill, not scare – he froze. Aragorn saw this and looked at him questioningly.

 

“What’s wrong?”

 

Elladan shut his eyes. “The earth is trembling beneath us. Something approaches . . .” he listened again, and inhaled deeply. “. . . and it doesn’t sound or smell friendly.”

 

“We must hurry!”

 

Elladan again aimed and let loose his arrow, but the owl was way ahead of him. He spread his huge white wings and was in the air before the arrow was half way to him. With one last screech, he disappeared into the trees. The arrow was rejected and followed the first, disappearing into the brush.

 

“Well, that beats it. It’s almost like his could read my mind.” Elladan turned around, shaking his head. He started walking back toward the horses calling to Aragorn as he went. “Come. We need to get out of here, quickly.”

 

They re-loaded their horses and escaped through the trees. A few minutes later, as they were about to go around a ridge in the mountain, they looked back. Right in their clearing, a small group of orcs had gathered, searching the ground. Both of them looked forward and quietly spurred their horses forward.

 

<~~^~~>

 

“What was wrong with that owl?” Aragorn threw more fuel into the fire and sat down across from Elladan. They had ridden for at least another hour until they were sure they were out of danger. The darkened world hid them very well, but neither one of them were very calm. The owl was confusing them greatly, and it made Elladan especially uneasy.

 

“No idea. It confuses me as much as you. I want to know why he wasn’t afraid of my arrows.”

 

“Very strange.” Aragorn looked over to the horses a few feet away and watched them shift in their sleep. “Do you think we’ll ever find out?”

 

Elladan looked at him carefully. “I have a feeling, Estel . . .” he said. “that these strange happenings are only beginning.”

 

¨         ¨         ¨

 

Finally, after another day of frantic riding, Aragorn recognized the area around them. After a few moments of experienced examination of the grounds, he nodded to Elladan and urged Arien farther into the forest. After nearly another hour of slow riding, Aragorn spotted the small clearing he and Legolas had camped at the night of their attack. The stench of orcs reached the riders, both of whom stiffened with disgust. Aragorn swung lightly from Arien’s back, pulled the reins over the great horse’s head, hobbled him, and left him in the trees. Elladan followed suit, and followed his younger brother into the small clearing. The fallen orcs were still there, the stench of battle and orc blood was still heavy in the air. Both Aragorn and Elladan began to search and examine the ground carefully for clues.

 

Scanning the forest floor, Aragorn found and read the story again, reliving the horrible night. Because it had been nearly a week and a half since the battle, wind and other animals had confused many of the tracks, but it didn’t hinder Aragorn much. He carefully studied the prints on the ground, and located where the wolf had entered. Following the tracks carefully, he again watched the attack imbedded in the ground, almost as an outsider would. He came to the place where he had slept that night. He looked over to where he vaguely remembered seeing the wolf fall, and gasped.

 

Elladan, who had been working a few feet away, heard the sharp intake of breath, and quickly moved to Aragorn’s side.

 

Aragorn turned and stared at his brother wide-eyed, and again looked back. The wolf, of which he remembered falling right underneath a large bush, was gone. He swiftly walked to the bush and carefully read the signs in the dirt. There were some that looked faintly newer than the rest, and they were screaming the obvious ~ the wolf had gotten back up and left the clearing. Small puddles of dried blood marked the path, here and there snatches of the wolf’s fur were caught on branches of the large bush. Elladan had followed him, and then began to track the great animal father. A few feet outside the clearing, Elladan picked up what looked like half a stick off the forest floor. He turned around.

 

“Estel! Come here, look at this . . .”

 

Aragorn walked over and took the stick from his brother. On closer examination he discovered it to be a broken half of an arrow. He ran his fingers over the broken shaft, fingering the feathers on one side, and the sharp splinters of the other. Recognition hit him.

 

“Elladan, this is Legolas’ arrow. I’d know it anywhere . . .”

 

“Come look at this.” Elladan pointed to a nearby tree. At about hip level there was a sharp, white indent in the rough wood, the kind that appears when wood meets wood fast and hard.

 

“Amazing . . . he broke it off himself like that?” Elladan was stunned.

 

“But - how did he survive? That hit was fatal ~ right into his eye . . . he should be dead . . .” Aragorn was baffled.

 

“I don’t see the head of the arrow anywhere,” Elladan said, looking around them. “It must still be in him.”

 

Aragorn shook his head in frustration. There was more to this wolf than he thought, just like the owl they had seen yesterday . . .

 

What else was going to happen?

 

He nudged Elladan. “Come on. Let’s keep looking.”

 

Going back to where he knew he had bedded down that night, Aragorn found Legolas’ spot and began searching again. Using the marks and scuffs on the ground as a guide, he read his friend’s movements, picturing each before moving to the next. Elladan picked through the dead orcs, trying to find anything that looked like a clue to what they were looking for.

 

Only when the sky turned a deep crimson red did they stop. They had discovered nothing of the mysterious poison that had infected Legolas. Frustration at their failure tore deeper into Aragorn’s steps, making each one harder to endure.

 

They walked back to the horses and prepared for the night. Aragorn turned to Elladan.

 

“I’m going to go look for firewood.”

Elladan nodded. “Hurry back. It’s getting dark fast tonight.”

 

Aragorn headed out into the trees, picking up sticks as he went. He had a fair supply by the time it got very dark. His arms full, he headed back for camp. Even though the sun had all but disappeared he could still see Elladan and the horses up ahead. He speed up, wanting to get back. Now that night was assuming it’s normal course, chilly air was setting in, and none too slowly.

 

Soon he was close enough to hear Elladan call out to him, telling him to hurry up. Aragorn quickened his pace, but as he rounded a tree, his foot caught on an annoyingly large tree root. Losing his balance he fell forward, landing with his face in the pile of wood he had gathered.

 

Elladan had been watching, so when Aragorn had suddenly disappeared he took off running. Reaching the young human he helped him out of the fallen wood and off the ground. While steadying, Aragorn suddenly winced and moved his hand to touch his cheek. Elladan watched the pain flicker in Aragorn’s eyes and right away removed his brother’s hand from his cheek. Caught in the soft flesh was one good-sized piece of wood. Another smaller one was stuck above his eyebrow. Elladan shook his head. Both injuries were starting to bleed slightly.

 

“Lovely new attraction, Estel.” He said, turning Aragorn’s head to better reveal how serious the damage the splinters were causing. Aragorn to hiss gently as Elladan touched one lightly.

 

Aragorn snorted and rolled his eyes. “Lovely? Right.”

 

Elladan gave him a big smile, and then began to pick up the wood that littered the forest floor about them. Aragorn moved in to help. When they had gotten back to camp with it all and had a fire going, Elladan began to gently remove the small chunks of wood from Aragorn’s face with a small knife. Once they had been cleaned and dressed, Elladan let Aragorn go.

 

“Thanks, El.” Aragorn sent his older brother a grateful smile.

 

“No problem.” He replied, re-packing his bag. Aragorn watched him for a moment, and then moved toward the saddlebags to get dinner going.

 

It wasn’t long after dark when they got ready to sleep. Aragorn agreed to take the first watch. He watched his brother’s eyes slowly unfocus, and then pulled his blanket closer as he looked up at the stars.

 

He watched the stars glint and twinkle at him for a long time. He now understood fully why Legolas loved the stars so much. They were sparks of hope, and they filled his heart with an old feeling of light. He relaxed against the tree behind him and sent his friend an unspoken message ~

 

Stay strong and hold on, my friend. I will not fail you.

 

¨          ¨          ¨

PART 4

 

Elladan feed the dying flames and watch Aragorn toss again in his sleep. Brushing his hair from his eyes, he sighed deeply. He almost wished something would happen, or that time would fast-forward about three hours so that dawn would come. Absentmindedly, he fiddled with a small chunk of his hair, his eyes half-open.

 

“AAAUUURRRGGGHHH!!! NNNOOOOOO!!!”

 

Elladan jumped as though he had been struck in the face.

 

This is not what I had in mind, he thought, racing over to where Aragorn lay, who was tossing and turning violently.

 

“Aragorn! Aragorn! Wake up! Estel?! Wake up!!” Elladan shouted desperately, moving to his brother’s side, trying to get something, anything out of him. Aragorn’s face was drawn and tight, and he had squeezed his eyes shut, clenching his teeth. He continued to jerk roughly, moaning in whatever world he was in.

 

In total desperation, Elladan began to slap his face forcefully, but not harshly. That got the desired reaction he wanted. Aragorn jerked out of the uneasy sleep he had been in and bolted upright, nearly smacking Elladan in the head. He was breathing heavily, and his eyes were wide as he stared into the night.

 

“Estel? What’s wrong?” Elladan watched the human fearfully.

 

Aragorn looked down and inhaled deeply. He lifted his hand and placed it over his heart, gripping his tunic. Elladan placed his hand on his brother’s shoulder.

 

“What’s wrong?” Elladan gently forced Aragorn to look at him.

 

“I-I . . . had a . . .” Aragorn froze for a moment, and then continued. “I . . . don’t know . . . what it was.” He continued shakily, his eyes filled with confusion and fear. “It was unlike any dream I’ve ever had. It was strange at first – I saw swirling color in my dreams, sometimes I would see or hear something familiar, like a face or a voice, but mostly the mixing colors . . .” Aragorn paused, gently rubbing his right temple with his middle finger, trying to figure out what he had seen.

 

“Then,” he continued abruptly, staring once again into the dense trees. “Then all at once the colors stopped, leaving my world dark, and . . . and then . . . he came back.”

 

Aragorn stopped again, leaving Elladan horribly confused. Who was he? What’s going on?

 

Aragorn turned and looked at his brother. Reading the questions in his eyes, said, “The wolf. He came back.”

 

“He just walked into my head, if that makes any sense . . .” Aragorn continued, silencing Elladan from voicing whatever he had been thinking. “The darkness around him began to swirl around him, directing all attention to him. He turned and looked at me squarely in the eyes. I could see the other half of the broken shaft in his eye – the arrowhead was sticking out between his eyes, right in his forehead. That’s how he survived – the arrow hadn’t gone in fatally, just impaired his vision and probably gave him a bit of a headache . . .

 

“But that wasn’t what was so strange. When he looked at me, it was like I . . . like I could hear him talk inside my head. He never opened his mouth, he just looked at me, and I understood him, and he knew what I was thinking.”

 

Aragorn watched Elladan carefully. Elladan didn’t know what to say. Wolves talking? Reading minds? It was almost laughable, if the situation and the previous events hadn’t been so serious. He looked back at Aragorn, prodding him to continue. Whatever was strange about this no doubt would be cleared when he knew what the wolf had ‘said.’

 

~The Dream~

 

They glared at each other for a moment as the wolf moved right into Aragorn’s line of view.

 

It’s the wolf! Aragorn thought, almost as if he were talking to someone, and yet no one in particular.

 

A musical, yet penetratingly deep voice entered his thoughts.

 

“Don’t be a fool. I will not harm you here.”

 

Aragorn jumped and stared at the wolf. The wolf didn’t move or even blink as he stared back.

 

“I must be quick,” the wolf continued, speaking right inside Aragorn’s head, making him jump again. How could he do that?? “My name is Valkenor. I have only been given a limited amount of time to talk to you, and help if I can. Your friend has been poisoned by one of the most rare and deadly poisons known to our world. It has been very long since I have seen any traces of it, but since evil has begun to wax strong again it must have returned. When I say long,” the wolf continued, reading Aragorn’s mind again, “I mean this poison has not been seen since ages before Sauron came to Middle Earth. Before he had not known of it, but somehow he must have discovered it’s particular value. Not even the elves know of it, having destroyed the remnants of it eons ago, and from what I gather, forgotten it. I had hoped that when it was destroyed I would never see it again.

 

“Now, there is a cure for this, but it will be very difficult to come by, and since your friend was infected with it nearly two weeks ago, that doesn’t leave you much time. Now listen carefully. After this I will not be able to help you again.

 

“Soon you will be visited by another creature. You might find him quite familiar, since you saw him only a few days ago, though you may not know it. Talk to him, and he will tell you how to find the cure. Just ask him how to find Kathalion. He will tell you where he is, and how the cure should be administered.

 

“You must hurry! The elven prince does not have a lot of time left. Make sure you pay close attention to how the cure should be administered, for if it is done incorrectly, he will most surely die.

 

“Also, since I know you are wondering, the night I attacked you and the elf I had been searching for the poison, since it became known to me that it had returned. In my irritation at finding you right where the poison was, I chose to attack you and try to lead you away from the poison, and nearly got myself killed. That elf has some amazing talent with a bow. I’ve never been that close to death in many, many years. When you return to him, tell him that. And tell him I don’t blame or curse him for shooting me. It was my fault anyway. I’m also sorry for what I did to you, too.

 

“I must go now, so don’t forget, ask your next visitor how to find Kathalion. Do not falter. The elf will not give up so easily, and the endurance of the elves is very high, but that doesn’t mean he will not weaken slowly from this. Hurry!”

 

With that, the wolf turned and ran out of Aragorn’s sight, and right out of his mind. The swirling colors returned . . .

 

<~~^~~>

 

Aragorn studied Elladan carefully, while thinking about it himself. It all had happened so fast. The elf across from him had fallen into a deep silence, listening to Aragorn tell him about this dream, or, vision he had with the wolf. When Aragorn stopped talking he had fallen into a quiet inner-seclusion, sorting it all out. Finally he looked up and the two brothers looked at one another.

 

“How can he speak? He’s a wolf. Wolves can’t talk. No animal can. Not in the common tongue at least.”

 

“I wouldn’t be too sure about that. Animals can talk, just not in our language. He must be a servant of the Valar, helping them do something.”

 

“It’s just so strange.” Aragorn said. Talking animals. Who had ever heard of something so obsurd?

 

“What was the wolf’s name, again?” Elladan asked. For some reason, the name sounded familiar…and yet unfamiliar.

 

“Valkenor. If he had stayed longer I would have asked him how old he is. He made it sound like he had been around since the world was shaped.”

 

“Elves are not the only ones Iluvitar blessed with immortality.” Elladan said, placing his chin in his hands. “He must be old indeed if he can remember way back to the beginning of the First Age . . . and he never said anything out loud?”

 

“Not once. My guess would be that that’s the only way he could communicate with me so that I would understand.”

 

Elladan nodded in understanding, then fell silent for a moment. He looked up again, and asked another question.

 

“Is that all that you can remember? Does the dream end there?”

 

Aragorn shook his head. “No, there is another part. You know, I don’t think this is really a dream. I think it’s more . . . of . . . some kind of vision.”

 

Elladan nodded. “This is a little different from an ordinary dream. Tell me what happened next.”

 

Aragorn began to rub his temple again, thinking about it.

 

“It was long,” he began, “before anything came again. The colors returned as soon as the wolf left, and again I would get flashes of memories, and hear familiar voices, like Ada, or you . . .”

 

“But then, as before, the swirling colors faded, blackness came, and again something came into my line of vision. Only this time, instead of running, it was flying. Do you remember when I told you that Valkenor said that I would remember him, because I’d seen him before, only a few days ago? Well, he was right. It was the owl we meet.”

 

“No way. Not the owl! That bird nearly got us killed . . .”

 

“That’s what I thought. And he could read my mind too, just like Valkenor . . .”

 

~The Dream, Part 2~

 

The owl flew gracefully into Aragorn’s sight and landed in front of him, folded his white wings, and surveyed the other with bright, amber eyes. As before, the darkness twisted and swirled, directing all attention to one spot.

 

‘Oh no, not him again!’ Aragorn thought when he saw the owl. ‘Valkenor wasn’t kidding when he said the next messenger would be familiar . . .’     

 

“I heard that.” The voice this time was a rich, grandfatherly tone.

 

Aragorn jumped again, and then rolled his eyes. “You too?” he thought, giving the owl a knowing stare.

 

The owl nodded. “My name is Moran.”

 

Aragorn felt like slapping himself upside the head. “Oh well,” he sighed. “I may as well get used to this kind of communication . . . and that’s why you didn’t get hit with an arrow! You read Elladan’s mind!.”

 

“Smart lad.” The owl had hardly moved, but Aragorn could have sworn he was grinning. “But that’s beside the point. You should already know, if Valkenor told you already, about the poison and it’s only cure, correct?”

 

Aragorn nodded, and the owl continued.

 

“But Valkenor no longer knows where the cure is, since it was moved to a new and more protected spot very recently. He does not know of the location, otherwise he may have told you himself. But, he is the only one who knows with one to use, since he watched the whole thing.”

 

Confusion was written on Aragorn’s face. “Which one?”

 

“Yes, yes! The cure for each case can be quite different, so depending on what kind of symptoms tells what kind of treatment is needed. We found this out the hard way, many years ago when it was a common killer of men and elves alike. Did Valkenor give you a name?”

 

Aragorn thought for a moment, then remembered. “Kathalion. That was it.”

 

“Good, good . . .” Moran said, more to himself that to Aragorn. “That one was more common that others; it’ll be much easier to cure, since the eagle’s full trained . . .”

 

Moran began to explain before Aragorn even began to ask.

 

“The cure has to do with what eagles possess. In this case, Kathalion is the only one who can cure this particular type. His cry and his tears carry powerful healing arts. Use both when you get back to the elf. Kathalion does know what to do, but I’m going to tell you anyway. First, and essential if the elf is fully unconscious, is that Kathalion will have to wake him up by screaming in his ear. And don’t give me that look . . .” Moran said as Aragorn gave him a look of utter disbelief. “By now it may be the only thing that will wake him up, and he needs to be conscious. Next, the tears will be needed. The poison will slowly warp the the body’s ability to function, so he should start at the heart, then the throat, arms, legs, back, and sides. The tears will begin to heal the damaged muscles and set his system back in order, if it’s done on time. You’ll be surprised at how fast it can take effect. Do you understand?”

 

“Yes.”  Aragorn nodded carefully at the owl.

 

 “Don’t forget the order! Now, you need to know how to get to Kathalion . . .and recognize him . . . he’s not very easy to find, but easy to see . . .he’s a pure silver-white eagle with a dark blue-black head and tail. He is not far from here, but the establishment is well hidden. Head south from here, toward the Galadan Fields. Stay near the Anduin River when you reach the fields, and go about two leagues in, and search for a small island on the river. The island is roughly the shape of a star. Get on it, and search for a cave. Be warned-only those with pure intentions will be able to find it.

 

During the owl’s explaination Aragorn could suddenly see the island in his mind, and then the cave. Right away he knew where to look ~ next to a heavy overhang on a small hill, hidden behind a tall, thick burlap tree,  the shadow of a cave entrance could be found.

 

The cave enters into a series of tunnels-a total labyrinth. Always take the right passage. Kathalion does have a guardian, so be careful around him. Matthius has a nasty temper to those who appear hostile. When you find the eagle, just tell him Valkenor and Moran sent you and he’ll come willingly, though he may not trust you very much at first. He can take you out of the cave easily; so don’t worry about getting lost. Then get back to Rivendell quickly! Most likely you will be followed, so be very careful. Did you get all that?”

 

“Yes-how much time do I have?”

 

“About 4-5 days. It’s a good thing you have horses with you. You’re going to need them. Now, I must go, so I’ll wish you luck, and don’t worry about the poison-Valkenor and I can handle it now that we know where it is. Just watch out for intruders, and pay attention to your thoughts and feelings. Your senses know more than you do. Good luck!”

 

Moran spread his wings and flew away as he had come, and for a moment Aragorn’s vision became incredibly bright, brighter than noonday sun. Then a flash of something appeared, making Aragorn freeze and cry out loudly . . .

 

<~~^~~>

 

“What was it? What did you see?” Elladan looked almost entranced by what Aragorn had just told him, and he wanted to know why Aragorn had cried out . . .

 

“I’m not sure . . . something dark . . . a kind of vast shadow. It felt so evil, something hooded and cloaked, but he didn’t hide his eyes - as red as blood. When I looked at it, it felt like I was on fire, and I had sudden sharp pain all over my back, like I had been burned or whipped . . . I don’t know what it was.”

 

“Wow Estel, that’s really incredible. Do you think it’s something that you’ve seen before?”

 

“No . . . I think . . .” Aragorn stopped for a moment. “. . . I think it’s something I’m going to see, something that’s going to happen.”

 

¨          ¨          ¨

PART 5

 

“ADA!”

 

Elrond jumped out of his chair and flew down the hallway, headed back for Legolas’ room. He had only been gone for a short while, what could be wrong now?

 

He threw open the door and ran to the opposite side where Elrohir and Legolas where, but what he found was not something he wanted to see.

 

Legolas’ entire body was contracting in spasms of sharp pain. His arms were bent at the elbows and were jerking wildly in front of him, his back was arched forward and his head thrown back, unseeing eyes stared wide and terrified at some unknown sight. He was gagging horribly as the uncontrolled convulsions completely took over him, rolling wildly over the bed, putting up a good, yet unintentional fight against Elrohir.

 

“Ada!  . . .” Elrohir was kneeling on the bed next to Legolas and was trying to hold the prince down.

 

Elrond quickly walked to where he had left his herbs and in moments he had put together a draught. He poured the concoction onto a cloth and headed for Legolas. Placing the cloth over the prince’s face so that it was completely covered, he began to whisper to him softly in elvish to soothe him. In a few moments the prince calmed, and soon was completely still. When he did not open his eyes, Elrond found the prince’s pulse – going much faster than it should have, but the prince was still alive.

 

“He’s all right now.” Elrond said, as if that could describe it – he was still critically ill, but he was no longer convulsing. Legolas’ eyes were closed tightly, and his breath was hitching every two seconds. He was shuddering so hard Elrond worried that Legolas would lose too much strength before Aragorn came back.

 

Elrohir breathed a small sigh of uneasy relief and sat back down on a large armchair he had yanked into the room earlier. That was not something he wanted to see again.

 

“I’m going to say here for a while, to make sure he’ll be all right.”

 

Elrohir could only nod.

 

¨     ¨     ¨

 

“Home is behind

the world ahead

and there are many paths to tread

Through shadow, to the edge of night

until the stars are all alight . . .”

 

~Pippin ROTK

 

<~~^~~>

 

Day and night. Travel day and night.

 

Not going to stop, not until we get there.

 

Can’t give up. Can’t give up. Can’t give . . . up . . .  Can’t . . . Won’t . . . for Legolas . . . not . . . give . . .up  . . .  no . . .”

 

Aragorn entwined his fingers in Arien’s mane, comforting the stallion’s snorts of weariness and urging him forward, even though his own tired muscles begged for release.

 

We’re almost there . . . almost there . . . almost . . . there . . . can’t give up . . . can’t  . . . Legolas . . . is  . . . waiting . . .

 

“Aragorn!”

 

Aragorn snapped out of his daze roughly and fell backward in the saddle. Arien was weakened with fatique and couldn’t help the rough, fast stop that ended in rearing high. Gravity worked against him, and Aragorn flew into the air and landed on the ground hard, all air rushing out between his teeth.

 

“Aragorn! Aragorn!”

 

“Can’t . . . stop. I must  . . . keep going . . .” he whispered roughly as oxygen painfully entered his lungs. Arien turned and ran back to his master. Stopping next to him the stallion nudged his head gently, as though begging him to get up. Aragorn sighed deeply, reached up, and patted Arien on the cheek, smiling as the horse whickered happily at the familiar gesture.

 

Elladan dismounted and ran to the fallen rider. “Aragorn! We need to stop. You aren’t coherent enough to keep riding like you are. Come here,” the elder elf said, helping Aragorn sit up. The human’s head was spinning as he tried to move, and he wearily hung his head, his senses begging for sleep. “You stay here with Arien. I’m going to set up camp. We’ll continue when dusk comes.”

 

Aragorn laid back down with a groan and looked up at the sun. It could have only been mid-afternoon at the latest. But he was so tired . . . never stopping . . . telling Elladan over and over that he was fine . . . never giving up . . . and now falling into an uneasy half sleep while riding at a gallop . . . Elladan had had enough. All speed was needed, but Elladan didn’t want Aragorn to run himself to death. The ranger needed to sleep. Shaking his head Aragorn cursed his weakness.

 

Arien nuzzled Aragorn’s head softly. The softness of the stallion’s muzzle was so comforting; it threw Aragorn into a world of his own, the world of healing sleep. Elladan came back moments later with the human’s bedroll, but it was too late. Aragorn was completely gone, enjoying the sleep of the blessed. Arien whickered at Elladan softly, as though to warn him to be quiet. Elladan quietly walked up and spread the bedroll on the ground, gently picked up the human, and laid him on the soft leather. Aragorn sighed and went into a deeper slumber.

 

Elladan walked over to Arien and removed the horse’s briddle, saddle, and the provisions tied to his back, allowing the stallion to walk free. Instead of standing up to sleep, Arien walked over to Aragorn’s side and curled his legs under him, settling next to his master with a heavy groan. He wearily laid his head right near Aragorn’s hand, and shut his eyes.

 

Elladan couldn’t help but smile. That horse was so loyal to Aragorn, refusing to leave his side even in sleep. It was as if the stallion knew that Aragorn needed him.

 

Sleep well, faithful one.

 

Elladan worked about the camp a while longer, securing it before he sat down himself. Kneeling next to Arien’s side he watched the horse carefully. Arien had shut his eyes, but he wasn’t asleep. Every time Aragorn moved, the stallion’s grey eyes would open, checking on him. Even if Aragorn shifted slightly in his sleep and Arien would watch him. Elladan stroked the horse’s shoulder knowing that weary as he was, Arien would protect the human with his own life. Arien looked over at the elf with understanding, as if to say “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of him.”

 

“Sleep well, Arien.” Elladan left the horse’s side and propped himself against a thick tree. The last thing he saw of them before falling to sleep himself was Aragorn getting up, moving his bedroll to Arien’s side and curling up against the horse’s shoulder and side, stroking him softly, as though thanking the animal for the chance to let go. Arien sighed deeply and allowed himself to doze.

 

Elladan’s own horse walked up and stood next to the elf, as if she were watching over him. Elladan smiled again as he looked into Hísië’s bright eyes. The mare gave a soft neigh and bumped Elladan’s shoulder. Elladan reached up and rubbed the horse’s forehead. Sometimes I wonder what we would do without our horses. They can be as terrifying and deadly as orcs, and then as soft and gentle as a young dog. In this case though, they save lives, heal hearts, with no thought to themselves. Risking even death.

 

“Sleep well, Hísië. I’ll be up in a few hours.” With that, Elladan fell into a deep, unafraid sleep.

 

<~~^~~>

 

Breathing in deeply, he smelled for any sign of danger. Now was no time to relax. They were entering unknown lands, and it put him on the alert. Finding nothing to worry him, he again laid his head down, checking on his sleeping companions as he did so. I’m so tired. He thought as he tried to relax. But something won’t let me sleep. There’s something out there that I don’t want here.

 

Again he inhaled deeply as a small gust of wind went by, but this time, he did catch something new. He raised his head again. A new scent, but not unfamiliar. Arien tensed instinctivly.

 

“Hísië!” the mare was dozing on her feet, but at the sound of her name, she jerked awake and walked over to the stallion.

 

“What’s wrong?” dark grey eyes watched him carefully.

 

“I can smell something new. Can you? I think its orcs!”

 

Hísië raised her head and her nostrails flared; when a small gust of wind came she to caught the sent and stiffened in fear and dislike.

 

“I can! Come, we must leave! I’ll wake my master, you try to wake yours.” With that, she trotted to Elladan’s side, whickering softly, but urgently.

 

Arien twisted his head and nudged Aragorn’s. Aragorn was immediately awake, though still gravely tired. “Arien? What’s wrong?”

 

“Orcs! Hurry, we must go!” Arien said softly, but all Aragorn heard was fantic whickering. But still, he got the desired effect ~ Aragorn got up and looked around.

 

“What’s wrong Arien? What do you . . .” Aragorn stopped. He could hear something. No wait, he could hear nothing . . . It was too quiet.

 

Arien stiffly got to his feet, walked to his master and butted his shoulder, whickering harshly now. “We must go! Hurry!”

 

Aragorn walked over to a ridge on the outside of their camp and looked. What he saw put him into a frenzy of action.

 

“Elladan!” the elf was already up, and rushing to him. He to looked over the ridge and saw what had frightened Aragorn so much. He too moved faster than normal, trying to get all their supplies together.

 

“Aragorn! Come help me!” Aragorn looked up at the sky. They couldn’t of slept longer than a few hours. Running one weary hand over his eyes he ran to help Elladan.

 

As before, they gathered everything they had and escaped. But it wasn’t long before whatever was following them to catch up. Arien could now smell something else in the wind with the orc-smell, one that made him want to run for miles to get away from it. Once Aragorn was on his back he didn’t wait for a command, rather bolted before Aragorn had time to react. Hísië followed swiftly behind, Elladan to needing to give her no urging.

 

Aragorn tried to keep in pace with Elladan, hurrying Arien as much as he dared. “Elladan! How far are we from the island?”

 

“I would guess another few hours at a gallop, but right now we need to get out of range! This is no time to get mixed up with orcs and their pets. Come on, let’s move!” and with that, Elladan urged Hísië to a full gallop, Aragorn and Arien right behind them.

 

¨     ¨     ¨

 

“Arugh! They’ve escaped again!” a young orc soldier growled as the small company was halted.

 

“Calm down.” said his captain. “We’ll catch them. We have too. They can’t run forever.”

 

“This is the second time he’s gotten away thanks to that elf and those horses! What are we going to do now? Master will not be happy!”

 

“The horses we can deal with, but we need the elf too, remember?”

 

“But-”

 

“Be silent! We’ll have to send for Master. The one who had the dream is being protected by the old powers. When Master comes he will be able to loose those bands.”

 

“Send for . . .  him?” the young orc quaked slightly at the thought.

 

“Yes fool. For him. Then finally we can find one of the old powers for the Dark One. Hurry, take a few others and go get him! Remember, if we do get the old power we will finally be freed.”

 

“I have not forgotten the trade, the deal we made. I will go.”

 

“Three days, you miserable bag of bones.” The captain snarled at him. “I’ll give you three days to come back with him. Go, and do not fail me.”

 

“I will not. Three days. I have only three days.” The younger orc recruited a few other companions, mounted his warg, and was soon gone. The elder one watched them leave.

 

“Do not fail me . . .”

 

¨     ¨     ¨

PART 6

 

Elladan urged Hísië into the raging waters of the Anduin, Aragorn and Arien on close pursuit.

 

“Elladan!”

 

Elladan turned and answered the young man. “What?”

 

“Why are we going in the water now? Wouldn’t it be easier to travel over land until we find the island?”

 

“Normally yes! But those orcs have been following us. We need to cover our tracks and move as fast as we can!”

 

“All right!” Aragorn encouraged Arien to slow to a walk so he could make it through the river safely. Moving to the middle of the river the two riders kept a close eye one the surrounding banks for danger, and searched for the strange star-shaped patch of land somewhere on the Anduin.

 

Several long, careful minutes passed as they searched, staying in the soon numbing water of the Anduin. Arien and Hísië soon were whickering in annoyance as the freezing water chilled them to the bones. Both Aragorn and Elladan noticed and urged them faster to keep the blood moving.

 

Minutes turned to hours, and hours turned to nearly dusk  before they finally found it.

 

Elladan saw it first. Stepping onto an overhang in the water he could see ahead. Beyond it was a small waterfall that dipped down several feet before resuming normal course, and at such a height he could see the shape clearly. With a joyious cry he told Hísië to gallop. The mare faultered for a moment, and weakly began to run forward. Aragorn too urged Arien forward when Elladan had whooped, and at the overhang he too could see the island. Relief calmed a part of his heart ~ they had found it!

 

They soon found a problem. The waterfall was far to high to jump over ~ their horses could easily break all their legs in the attempt. They would have to go around. But the problem was ~  the surrounding river banks were covered in . . .

 

“Wet mud.” Aragorn said after a moments examination of the grounds. Picking up a piece of driftwood he threw it into the sticky substance, and watched it sink and disappear. “It must have rained recently over here. If we try to cross it we’ll leave a clean path for the orcs to follow. You know they’re going to search the river for us.”

Elladan nodded. “We could leave the horses here, and climb down the waterfall on that side,” he pointed to the right side of the waterfall and the large boulders. It would give the perfect handholds to climb down with no risk of danger.

 

“Elladan, we can’t leave the horses in the water! They already are beginning to freeze. If we leave them we’ll never get them back home.”

 

“Then I guess our only chance is to go through the mud.” Aragorn groaned. He hated having so few choices.

 

“All right, but we’ve got to leave as little tracks as possible. We don’t want those filthy creatures finding us too soon.”

 

“Let’s go.” Elladan turned Hísië around and took the smoother side with less of a vertical drop. Staying close to the rocks Elladan let his mare to make as few hoofmarks in the mud as possible, and Aragorn followed close behind, having Arien step in the same places Hísië had. Once they were on level ground and past the waterfall, both riders looked back.

 

To a casual glance one would have thought the marks in the mud next to the rocks were made by the rocks themselves, possibly from rocks that had moved or fallen and left behind grooves in the mud, but to a more careful examination they were the marks that once bore the bodies of at lease two horses. Aragorn groaned again.

 

“We may as well write “HERE WE ARE” on that waterfall. Those hoofmarks certainly do.”

 

“Those impressions won’t be missed by an orc that’s looking for such a mark. Come,” Elladan again entered the water and hurried for the small island. “We must hurry and find the cure, before we are discovered.”

 

Aragorn too entered the water, trying to calm Arien’s snorts of displeasure. “Calm down my friend,” he said to the stallion. “Soon we shall be out of this water so you can warm up again.”

 

Arien let loose a half sneeze as they entered the watery mist from the waterfall. Worried that the horse might take ill, he dismounted and pulled Arien through the water and up the side of the island. He walked to Elladan, who was taking care of his own horse, and looked around.

 

The island was indeed the shape of a star, and stretched several long feet in length. Large trees had taken root and seemed to hide many things, making the island look like a small dark forest. Aragorn tied Arien to a tree and removes all his water-soaked equipment, and made an attempt to dry the stallion. Arien was shuddering violently and snorting. He constantly tried to lift his legs to stretch and ease the stiffness in them, but it was painful and made the horse groan deeply.

 

Hísië was faring no better. Elladan was working quickly to warm her up, but would not get far without a fire. Aragorn looked at his brother.

 

“Elladan, we can’t help them without some warmth. We have to build a fire.” They both knew what that meant. The smoke would send up more of an alarm than the hoofprints would ever do. But they didn’t have a choice. It was a fight between fire and discovery, or deathly ill horses and their only hope to get home with speed shot down.

 

“I know. We have to find the cave, so that we can at least be able to defend ourselves should we get caught.”

 

Aragorn nodded as he thought about the cave, and without his asking, Moran’s warning flew back into his head.

 

Be warned-only those with pure intentions will be able to find it.

 

“Pure intentions . . .” he mumbled to himself. “If these aren’t pure intentions ~ saving our horses, and getting a cure for my best friend, than I don’t know what is.”

 

“Elladan, I’m going to go look for the cave. I think I can find it ~ I’ve seen it in the dream. Can you stay here with the horses while I look?”

 

Elladan looked up, about to object, but seeing the hard apphrehensive gaze on his younger brother’s face, he nodded the affermative. “Sure. Just hurry!”

 

“Thanks, El.” And with that, Aragorn dropped the knapsack he had on his back to the forest floor and disappeared into the trees. Moments later, Elladan could no longer hear any sounds of the ranger’s movement.

 

He has gotten good. Elladan thought as he turned his full attention to the two horses. Not a sound.

 

<~~^~~>

 

Aragorn stepped carefully through the trees, making not a sound in the brush. He wasn’t taking any chances, and this place was strange to him. He looked everywhere for that familiar overhang on a hill, the big burlap tree, and the hidden shadow of the cave.

 

It had to be somewhere!

 

For several minutes he carefully wandered through every inch of that island. It wasn’t long however, before he realized that he was going in circles.

 

I’ve got to be missing something.

 

He suddenly realized that there had been a large rock face in the middle of the island all the way around. Could there be something in the middle, hidden from his view?

 

Curious, Aragorn lept up onto the rocks and dug his hands into the cracks in the surface. It wasn’t a high wall, only about twenty feet, and the human easily made it to the top. Once he was straddling on the tip, one leg on either side, he looked down.

 

There you are, he thought. The cave was indeed well hidden ~ right in the middle of a large rock circle that not many would have thought to climb. Quickly shinnying down, he landed on the forest floor and looked at it carefully.

 

That’s exactly what I saw. A small hill took nearly all the small area provded, with a large burlap tree on one side that shaded it nicely. Several other trees had taken root, but none as tall as the burlap. And there, right behind the thick tree, a dark shadow of a cave entrance was there, carved into the hillside. One could barely tell it was there.

 

Moran was right. It was hard to find. Aragorn cautiously walked toward the tree and the cave behind it ~ immediately he was hit with a rush of cool air flowing gently out of the entrance. The cave was about ten feet in height, but steedily grew shorter and deeper underground as he went farther. After a few feet the cave opened to a large room with more tunnels going every way imaginable. The air was not stale and close as one would think ~ it moved gently, making the cave cool and comfortable. It was perfect. Aragorn turned and left the cave, heading for the rock face again.

 

I had better go get Elladan and the horses. We’ll be safe here. Aragorn was about to climb the boulders again when he realized something. He froze for a second, then let go of the rocks and landed on the ground, staring up at the top in disbelief.

 

They would never get their horses over the wall!

 

There has to be a way.  Aragorn spent the next several minutes circling the rocks, looking for a weak spot, an opening, something to get them through!

 

As he rounded one side, he saw how one part of the rock indented sharply at the bottom for a few feet before straightening out again. When he leaned forward to examine it farther, he found that the rock was loosely packed and held together with dried mud and moss. It would be easy to remove it all to make a space large enough for the horses to get through, with no risk of the higher rock becoming loose and falling.

 

All right. Aragorn was quickly to work, yanking and pulling at the loose rocks, shoving them away and making a large hole in the rock wall. It wasn’t long before the job was complete, and satisfied with his work, he left the cirled wall and ran back to where he had left Elladan. It would be dark soon.

 

<~~^~~>

 

Elladan continued to work with the horses, while keeping a sharp eye for both Aragorn’s return, and any sign of danger.

 

Using soft leaves from the surrounding trees he made the attempt to brush the animals dry. While he worked, he sang softly to them. The soothing sounds of the elven tongue calmed them so that they stood quietly, though still shuddered helplessly.

 

Several minutes later he left the trees to the bank of the island to clean up. As he knelt down and scooped up a handful of water, his sharp elven ears heard the sounds of heavy running feet, closing in fast.

 

<~~^~~>

 

As Aragorn reached the spot where he had left his brother, he had to stop in surprise as Elladan burst out of the trees toward him, a single pack strapped to his back, leading both horses by their reins.

 

“Elladan?”

 

“Aragorn! They’re here! They will soon discover our tracks, for I could hear them from the bank. I hope you’ve found that cave, or we’re going to be in big trouble.”

 

“Don’t fret, I found it. I’m sorry I took so long, but I had to make a path so the horses could get there. Come, follow me!” Aragorn took Arien’s reins and began jogging back to the wall hidden amongst the tall trees, Elladan following close behind.

 

“Aragorn!” Elladan called to the retreating form of the young man. “Aragorn, didn’t Moran say something about a guardian?”

 

“He said it was only concerned about those who act hostile. I think we’ll be all right ~ I know I found the right one. The orc party will never find it, it will only be invisible to them!” Aragorn quickly dodged among the trees, running for the rising rocks.

 

Aragorn stopped just outside the large hole in the rock wall and listened, allowing Elladan to catch up. The loud noises of the orcs could be clearly heard, the cries of victory at top notch and resounding splashes of water signaling several excited orcs.

 

“Aragorn hurry!” Aragorn was already through the hole and trying to prod Arien through. The stallion balked for a moment, but ever loyal he weakly put his head down and walked in. Elladan followed closely and gently pulled Hísië after him.

 

“Hey, there’s a horse over there!” An amazingly loud voice yelled out his find. Elladan pulled Hísië faster, fearful of being caught. Another orc responded to the first.

 

“Follow it! Don’t let them get away again!”

 

The mare grew agitated at being pulled so hard, but the rough voice made her flinch. Jumping forward in her excitement she snorted loudly and yanked Elladan forward. Aragorn grabbed his brother’s arm and too yanked him toward the cave.

 

Aragorn ran inside with Arien behind him, and the others were too quickly hidden in the cave’s shadows. It was not a moment to soon. The orcs had discovered the hole one of them had seen Hísië disappear into. Knowing they had their prey cornered, they ran into the clearing, loud war cries sounding in the once still air.

 

Aragorn stopped Arien in the stallion’s fear and wrapped his arms around the horse’s head, stilling his movements and pulling him up against his chest. Softly he soothed his shivering stallion with his hands rather than his voice, trying to keep him silent. They could not risk the orcs finding the cave. Elladan pulled Hísië’s head up against his own, quietly stroking her neck. Both animals responded to the familiar gestures and remained quiet. It was as if they understood the danger and did nothing to give them away.

 

As they listened to the orcs search for them, they couldn’t help but smile a little at the frustrated cries at being decieved ~ again.

 

“Where did they go?!”

 

“I *saw* that horse come in here. I *know* I did!”

 

“Shut up, pig breath. If a horse came in here, where do you think it could hide? Or did it just become invisible?! I don’t see anything! Not a horse, and not the man and elf we’re ‘sposed to find!!”

 

“Well I know it’s them! We found the hoof-tracks in the mud, remember? Those stupid riders, did they really think walking close to the edge would hide their tracks from us?”

 

“Well I suggest you find out where they went this time! The master will be here soon. We need them ready.”

 

Aragorn looked out the cave entrance and watched the orcs search, some even staring right into the cave opening and not even pausing to look farther. It was like the cave wasn’t there. He continued to stroke Arien on the cheek and watch, waiting for the orcs to leave so they could move again.

 

It was a while before the orcs made to leave. They left nothing untouched. Every rock on the ground, every bush, every tree was searched thoughly, as though the stupid orcs thought men, elves, and horses could disappear into one of them.

 

But never did they find the cave, nor their quarry that was unknowingly within their grasp.

 

<~~^~~>

PART 7

 

“Rumor grew of a shadow . . . whispers of a nameless fear.”

 

~Galadriel FOTR

 

<~~^~~>

 

“Ah, we’re never going to get them without Him!” a small orc came into Aragorn’s line of view, looking like he wanted to kill. Another unseen voice answered him.

 

“Shut that ever-moving mouth of yours before I do it for you. Now keep looking! Search everywhere!”

 

Growling loudly and cursing at eachother, they all left through the hole and continued to search all of the little island. Aragorn and Elladan listen to them for a few minutes before moving deeper into the cave, searching for a place to take care of their horses.

 

When they could no longer see the entrance, Aragorn suddenly realized that all the supplies Elladan had brought was a pack of things he had quickly put together, but the magority of their equipment was not with them. The horse’s tack, the knapsack Aragorn had taken off and left, everything!

 

“Elladan, what did you bring? Surely the orcs will find the rest of what we brought with us. We will have nothing for the return journey home!”

 

“Oh, don’t worry Aragorn.” Elladan opened the pack and began to remove herbs, rags,  blankets, containers of water, and even a small bundle of wood. “I’ve hidden them well. If they find anything I’ll let them take it for I will be in shock.” Aragorn knelt and took the bundle of wood, and in no time at all had a small fire going. The wind in the cave kept the smoke moving, making the fire comforting rather than sufficating.

 

Elladan took out a shallow pan and handed it to Aragorn with a container of river water. “Come, let’s take care of these two.”

 

For the next few hours Elladan and Aragorn took care of their horses. Using the best of their knowledge they did everything they could to help them. The small fire did little to warm two huge horses, but warming blankets to a comforting heat and wrapping them in them did much. Using special potions Elladan had learned they cured the chills and any fever that may have taken hold, and in the late hours of the night, both animals were recovering wonderfully.

 

Sitting down with a small groan Aragorn relaxed near the small fire and tried to ease the stiffness that had built up in his back and legs over the past short while. Elladan finished gathering the rest of his herbs and carefully placed them back in his pack. Stroking the fire so that it continued to burn merrily, he sat down with a heavy sigh next to Aragorn.

 

“Well, I think we can declare them out of danger now.” Elladan smiled.

 

“Yes, I’d say they’ll be fine if we leave them alone tonight.” Aragorn leaned his head against the rock wall behind him and relaxed.

 

“Aragorn, are you fine?” the abruptness of the question made Aragorn look at Elladan carefully, but could find nothing but concern in the elf’s eyes. After a pause, he continued. “I know that you are still in pain. I can see it in your eyes.” Aragorn looked away, staring at his hands. “You fear for him.”

 

“I do fear for him. I don’t know what’s happening at home Elladan.” Aragorn suddenly looked back up at the elf. “El, there’s something strange happening. It’s been haunting me. I keep seeing Legolas in pain. Pain that Elrohir and Ada are having trouble handling.” Aragorn stopped for a moment, passing one hand over his eyes wearily. “Pain that I can now constantly feel, like a knife in my heart.” Aragorn again looked down. “He’s falling. I can feel it.”

 

“No, Estel, he cannot fall.” Elladan placed one hand on the man’s shoulder. “He has your hope. Your confidence. Both could fill the hearts of Middle Earth. He won’t fall until you do. Don’t give up on yourself.”

 

“But he’s so weary. Weary with a poison that has but a single cure. I don’t even know if he’s still alive.”

 

Elladan grew quiet for a moment. Aragorn had been very quiet about what he felt about Legolas’ getting hurt and poisoned. The elf had heard Aragorn mention him very little ~ indeed, barely at all since they had begun. Elladan had wondered, worried, but done nothing, for there wasn’t anything he could do. But then Elladan thought of something.

 

“Aragorn, what has Legolas taught you?”

 

Aragorn was quiet for several moments, thinking about it. “How can that be discribed?” Aragorn looked at the elf next to him with a strange, yet thoughtful look. “Let me try it this way. Elladan, you taught me to walk, but Ada taught me to run. Elrohir taught me to look, but you taught me to see. I was taught to hear, but then to listen. Taught to sing, then to rejoice. I discovered that there is another side to everything. There is something deeper that isn’t always grasped at first. You start with something that skims the top of the water, and only later do you go beneath the surface, and find the true value of what you can do. What you can discover.”

 

“What value did he enforce for you?”

 

“You, Ada, and Elrohir taught me to fly, to go beyond myself. Be who I wanted to be, and didn’t think any less of me so long as it was what I really wanted, and who I really was. Then Legolas came, and . . .”

 

“. . . And? . . .”

 

“He taught me to soar.”

 

A pause.

 

“He taught me everything again. Only to look harder, see it another way. See through another’s eyes. Understand with another’s mind. Feel with another’s heart. He’s so different than me, but he made it so it didn’t matter. Didn’t matter that we were worlds apart.”

 

Aragorn pressed his knuckles into his eyes to keep the burning inside. “And now I might lose the one who has given me such freedoms that I never would have known otherwise, that I can never repay.”

 

“It is such a secret place, the land of tears.” Elladan whispered as he watched Aragorn struggle with himself. “Such a secret place.”

 

“What does that mean?” Aragorn looked up at him questioningly, though his eyes remained red and almost dark at a glance.

 

“It’s just something Nana used to say . . .” said Elladan, almost as if he spoke in a dream. At once, Aragorn knew he was recalling his mother, remembering her voice, her words, and her touch. But ever conscious of what was happening, Elladan snapped out of his daze and explained. “It is a secret place, for it is different to every individual. We all see tears differently. Oppinions may change, views may alter, but it remains forever different and unique to everyone who visits, for no one sees it the same. So tell me, why do you weep? What are those tears on your face?” Aragorn hadn’t even realized that he was crying, even if silently.

 

“I fear I will never see him alive again.”

 

“Your fears will pass.” Elladan told him gently, reaching forward and wiping away the silver-clear linings on the young man’s face. “Don’t fear. He is strong for you. Be strong for him. You have repaid him in many ways, Estel, and one day you’ll know how. I think in a way he’s become apart of you, because he’s your friend that holds you in such a high place of honor. He knows you by what he has come to know as your inner soul, as you to him. Don’t underestimate the power of a friendship. You discover hidden powers and strengths with a friend. Sometimes it could be the only thing to pull you from the edge. In a way, I think you’ve saved each other much more than once.”

 

Aragorn nodded, then reached forward and embraced the elf tightly. “Hannon le, Elladan. Thank you for helping me, in more than I shall ever know or come to understand.” He was silent for a few moments, but suddenly continued. “She was right. It is a secret place, and one that I know well. As of yet has been one I visit often alone.” Aragorn’s voice was filled with the call of a lost one.

 

“You don’t visit alone.” Elladan embraced the man tightly back. “Never alone. Someone visits with you every time. Mourns every time you mourn, aches every time you cry, though you may not always know it, may not always know who suffers silently at your side.”

 

Elladan let go of the man and leaned him against the wall, saying only, “Sleep.”

 

“Sleep . . .” Aragorn sunk into the depths of his memories.

 

<~~^~~>

 

Arien jerked out of his doze and whickered fearfully. Elladan was quickly to the horse’s side, but suddenly noticed why the horse had called. The air in the cave had changed from cool and soft to a sudden warmth and moving much faster. Confused at the change, Elladan stared into the surrounding tunnels that snaked everywhere. All the air seemed to be in motion.

 

Aragorn did not sleep in the change for long. Waking to the swift air he stood and walked to Elladan, who was staring at one particular tunnel that opened just to the left of the entrance. The tunnel dived for a few feet and then curled upward, out of sight.

 

Elladan noticed Aragorn next to him and turned his head to the man, though his eyes never left the tunnel. “There’s something in there.”

 

“What is it?”

 

“I do not know. I can feel it’s presence ~ it’s unlike one I have ever encountered.”

 

The uncertianty in Elladan’s voice put Aragorn on edge. He too focused on the tunnel, and it wasn’t long before they both could hear the sound of large feet, approaching quickly, and yet so silently.

 

Aragorn froze when he first heard them, for the sound was unlike one he had ever heard before. He could easily recognize the sound of a man or an elf’s steps, and of many animals, but these were not clear to him. It was obvious the stranger walked on four legs like a horse, but the sounds were completely unlike the smooth ambling of hoofs. It was as if the front legs were much smaller than the back legs, making the sounds of walking most unnatural and strange, yet still in tune.

 

The noise was steadily growing lighter and more persistant, as if it were moving faster  ~ it would be here in moments. Aragorn looked over at Elladan nervously.

 

“Do you think we should hide?”

 

Elladan shook his head. “Whatever it is, it knows we are here, but I do not feel any sense of evil following this creature. But let’s move over here, so it will not scare the horses.”

 

Aragorn followed Elladan over to the far side of the cave room, leaving loud echoing of the horse’s feet in their wake. And right away, whatever was coming to them heard the noise and began to move even faster.

 

A faint light began to appear in the shadows of the cave walls, bouncing with the creature’s movement. It steadily grew brighter until it was in league with their small fire, and the shape of the creature began to appear on the walls. The shape told them it was larger than either of their horses, and most unlike anything any of them had ever seen.

 

Finally they saw feet appear out of the tunnel, going down the descent and entering the room. Aragorn and Elladan did not move as the sight in front of them grew to it’s full height.

 

It was a dragon.

 

Almost entirely black with flashes of silver, the dragon seemed to move with the heated wind in the cave. It’s skin was not entirely scaly but covered with short hair, with a short thick mane that did not lay on it’s neck, but stuck out and waved as the creature walked. It’s body was long and snake-like, weaving up and down from head to tail. It’s back legs were huge and bulky, though very strong, and while it’s front legs were much smaller and shorter, they still held much power. His feet were not hoofs but had three toes, larger on the back feet than the front. Soft folded wings rested on either side of the dragon’s sides. It’s long neck was thick and muscular, and it’s head was shaped almost like that of a horse. Framing his face was a thin leather halter, and dangling from the forehead strap a small white stone that glowed softly. It explained the light, for now the cave room was filled with the white light. The most unique part of the dragon was the fact that between the nose and mouth of the dragon it had one single, thick whisker on either side. Both flowed lightly as the dragon walked, their ends reaching the creature’s front knees. Dark forest green eyes watched them quietly.

 

Aragorn looked into the eyes as one entranced. Over the left eye, two thick parallel scars long healed obscured the dragon’s gaze, making him look deadly and tough. As a bringer and controler of dreams, he was both strong and hard, though oddly gentle, the guardian of Kathalion the healer, an old decendent of the old last dragons that remained hidden, the silent wanderer of his time.

 

Aragorn knew who had found them. Moran’s voice came back like an echo of the past.

 

Kathalion does have a guardian, so be careful around him. Matthius has a nasty temper to those who appear hostile.

 

“Matthius.” The name was not a question.

 

The creature walked up to them and faced Elladan, and with his head only inches away from the elf’s, his green eyes locked on the grey. Elladan did not look away. After a moment, the dragon lifted one three-toed foot and placed it on Elladan’s chest for just a moment, nodded, and then turned away. Leaving them he began walking down a path on the right. Just before he disappeared, he looked back and stared at Aragorn. Under the creature’s intense gaze, Aragorn felt like squirming, but like Elladan he held the dragon’s eyes without showing fear. And as before, a moment later the dragon nodded, and again turned and continued down the tunnel.

 

Elladan spoke as the creature’s swishing tail faded around a corner. “We must follow him.”

 

“Follow him?”

 

“Yes. He can help us find the eagle. I saw it in his eyes. He *wants* us to follow.”

 

Elladan picked up the pack he had finished putting back together and strapped it to his back. Picking up both sets of the horse reins he tossed one to Aragorn and put his own back on Hísië’s head. Then silently, with only the sounds of the horse’s feet to remind them to keep going, they caught up with the silent dragon and followed.

 

<~~^~~>

 

“I can hear them whisper
And it makes me think there must be something wrong with me
Out of all the hours thinking
Somehow I've lost my mind.”

 

~ Matchbox 20

 

<~~^~~>

 

They walked through the tunnels for most of what was left of the night. Aragorn took the lead with Arien next to him, and followed the flowing gait of the dragon just ahead. While he watched, the young man realized that Matthius almost looked like he was flying, though his feet never entirely left the ground. But as Aragorn focused so intently on the dragon’s wary form, he realized that he was constantly hearing things.

 

Like in the dream that he had had only a few nights ago, it was all flashes of voices and memories. He would hear so many things that were so dear and familiar to him. So many voices, sights, sounds, and even smells swirled in his head and floated around him. It also seemed that he was the only one to be experiencing them.

 

Elladan walked silently behind him, lost in his own thoughts. Neither of the horses made any noise, and Matthius ahead kept his pace that never grew weary. Aragorn tried to resist the voices in his head, but finally gave up. He let them play before him, and began to relive moments of the past.

 

Right when he stopped the resistance, he stopped getting flashes and received whole memories. The events began to go backwards chronologically, and Aragorn watched several fond events that slowly grew to his younger years.

 

The memories grew faster and more detailed the farther back it got. Aragorn saw himself with his family at all ages, skipping from one event to another. For the next hour he relived several hunting trips, training lessons, talks with his father, jokes with his brothers, and the good and bad times with Legolas. The last one he saw was of him and Elrond together, reading a book. He could not have been more than four years old. Aragorn had to smile slightly at that one.

 

Once that one was complete the memories faded away from him. He was almost disappointed, but still Aragorn waited for it to happen again, for he felt like it was not over yet. There was more to come, he was very sure of that. The odd feeling he had carried since the first dream had not yet left.

 

He was right. A very short while later the familiar swell returned, but this time it did not take him to the familiar events of his past. Rather, it took him to a place he did not recognize. The cave walls melted from his view. A wide colorful meadow opened in front of his eyes.

 

And this time, rather than being the observer, he became a part of the memory, running to someone he did not remember.

 

***

 

The grass was soft and springy as he ran on unsteady feet to a very pretty woman. As soon as he was close enough he threw up his arms in delight and giggled happily as the woman picked him up and tossed him into the air, then embraced him tightly for a moment. One part of him was so happy to be with her, but his older self was confused at his own deeds. Who was she?

 

He realized that he was much younger than he thought. Before, the youngest he had seen himself was only about four, but now . . . why, he could have been no more than two years of age.

 

The woman placed him on her hip and began walking back to an encampment not too far distant. He watched her like one entranced, but so confused. Somewhere he knew she was familiar, but he could not put a name to her face. He could not remember.

 

His undivided attention seemed to please her, and she began to talk to him, pointing out a flower, a bird, and finally . . . an approaching man.

 

Curiousity was added to his confusion. The woman pointed at the man for his sake and began to walk faster, eagerly talking to Aragorn. When they reached the man he swept them both up in a firm hug, and began walking with them back to the encampment.

 

Aragorn stared at them both, confusion growing. Who where they? There was something inside him that said he knew, or had once known, but now, after so many years, the memory was so short and undetailed.

 

The man was laughing as he talked to his wife, for Aragorn could assume they were married, and finally reached out for Aragorn. The woman gave him up right away, placing the small child in the man’s arms.

 

The face of the man was light and merry, and suddenly Aragorn knew the familiarity he felt. Felt but had not understood. The face . . .  it was so much like his own . . .

 

“Father?” he murmured at the man, and watched the man smile widely at the title.

 

“Yes, Aragorn.” His voice at once rang forth from Aragorn’s memory, breaking through the veil it had hidden under for so long.

 

“Look at that.” He said to his wife as she to smiled at the name Aragorn had spoken. “He is learning so quickly.”

 

Father? Aragorn to stare at the man, along with the woman beside him. Mother?

 

“That’s right, Aragorn,” the woman said to the little boy, stroking his cheek softly. “That’s your father.”

 

Her voice too was suddenly breaking through his mind, like the sound of something long lost, and now found at last.

 

“Mother?” his voice was soft and slightly wobbily, his voice a recognizable two-year-old’s, but the meaning understood by those he was with. The woman to smiled at her own title that had finally been said by her first-born son.

 

“Yes, my young son. Yes.”

 

They entered the small encampment and the man handed Aragorn back to his mother. His *mother* . . . Aragorn saw, knew, but could not believe that  what he saw was real.

 

“I will be back soon Gilraen. There have been rumors of orcs.” Gilraen frowned ever so slightly in her worry.

 

“Be careful. I shall wait for you.”

 

“I will be just fine. Don’t worry about me.” He kissed her tenderly on the cheek, and then turned to Aragorn. “Take care of your mother, my little Aragorn, until I return.” He smiled happily as he ruffled the small child’s short dark hair.

 

“Father . . .” Aragorn said again, and looked questioningly at the man, looking for the last bit of conformation he needed to make the connection.

 

“Be safe.” the man kissed him on the forehead, then with one last look, turned away. A short distance farther, a small group of men waited. “Come Arathorn!” one called. “We must leave now if we wish to return before nightfall. The orcs grow more restless.”

 

Arathorn turned and waved at his wife and son before joining the others. Arathorn, Aragorn thought. Gilraen. I know them. They . . . they are my parents. My parents!

 

But how? He wondered as Gilraen took him to a large tent and set him down on the floor. How can I remember them? It was so long ago . . . Those memories had long since been forgotten, but at that moment, he didn’t care. Aragorn rose to his feet and followed her everywhere she went, watching her with unshakeable curiousity.. A short while later she again picked him up, wrapped him in a blanket, and walking slowly around the room, began to sing him to sleep.

 

I remember this. He thought as he felt his body relax and his senses falling into the world of sleep. I remember her. Laying his head against her shoulder his eyes drooped heavily. All too soon he was softly snoring, half awake, and the last thing he remembered was her laying him down on something soft. Darkness came . . .

 

***

 

The memory faded out of his head and Aragorn awoke to walking through the cave. Arien still plodded next to him, though the stallion looked half awake. Matthius was still glidding just ahead, and behind him Aragorn could hear Elladan and Hísië. Nothing had changed. Nothing but himself.

 

Why would he have that memory of his parents come back to him? Sure, he had always wondered about them and asked Elrond and his brothers for details, but mostly they had remained a fantasy in the back of his mind. It confused and scared him. He didn’t understand. Something was fooling with feelings he had laid long ago to rest. He was worried to death about Legolas, he was trying to concentrate on getting his friend the cure, and now it was almost there, right within his grasp!

 

And yet . . .

 

He suddenly got the thought that someone was trying to make him forget, to focus on something else so that he wouldn’t suceed in getting Legolas’ cure. The thought frightened him. It seemed logical. After all, someone had sent orcs after them, that much he had figured out from listening to the party search for them. Right away he knew what was happening to himself.

 

Someone was trying to hurt him.

 

<~~^~~>

PART 8

 

Matthius suddenly stopped and snorted loudly. Just ahead the cave tunnel curved to the right, and another light was shining from somewhere beyond. Shaking his head lightly, he turned toward the light and cried aloud ~ a roar that echoed up and down the halls.

 

Aragorn and Elladan pulled both horses into a run and chased after the dragon. The tunnel suddenly widened and entered an enormus room. The tunnel opened in the middle of a large hole of a room and the path stopped, leaving walls rising above them and fading below them. Matthius opened his wings and lept into the open air. Elladan noticed how graceful the dragon flew, effortlessly, as though he weighed nothing at all, soaring into an imaginary sky.

 

Matthius couldn’t have been in the air for more than a few seconds before his entrance was noticed by something not yet seen. A loud cry sounded through the room, and Matthius flew in place in the middle, completely visible. It was impossible to tell where the call had come from, for the room was round and it echoed off the walls. A small white and blackish-blue blur was suddenly flying right for Matthius.

 

The blur attacked the dragon and suddenly Aragorn and Elladan were watching a full-out fight. Matthius could have easily taken whatever had attacked him down, but seemed to be more toward playing with him.

 

“El, that’s Kathalion,” Aragorn suddenly recognized the blur to be the shape of an eagle ~ a large white eagle. And he was playing with a dragon ten times his size!

 

Matthius was soon done with the game and flew back toward the entrance and the waiting figures in the doorway, urging Kathalion to follow him.

 

The eagle screeched when he saw the new-comers and turned stern, turning questioning dark blue eyes to the dragon. Matthius only snorted and pushed him forward. The eagle landed gracefully in front of Elladan and looked up at the elf with curious, but un-trusting eyes.

 

Matthius landed next to him and sat down on his haunches, and turned his eyes to Aragorn. Reaching forward until his head was only an inch from Aragorn’s, he spoke for the first time.

 

“Talk to him.” Using the very same way to speak as all the others, only Aragorn heard the words. Matthius’ voice was deep and harsh, not at all like any of the other’s Aragorn had heard, worn with long years of service and battle. The young man right away knelt in front of the eagle and addressed him carefully.

 

“Are you Kathalion?” the eagle looked him in the eyes and nodded, but as of yet said nothing.

 

“I need your help. I have traveled from Rivendell to find the one who can cure a strange poison that has inflicted my friend. I was sent here by Valkenor and Moran-“

 

“It’s that serious? Has that poison returned?” the eagle cut the man off and gave him a wary look, his voice deep but full of life, right inside his head. Elladan jumped, unused to this at all.. “But we rid the world of the poison many, many years ago. But they sent you to me . . . Has it returned?”

 

“I know nothing other than what Valkenor and Moran told me, other than that you are the only one who can cure this poison. Will you come?”

 

“I shall,” the eagle shook his head. “But I have not been called upon for many years, and I do not know who you are, nor your companion.”

 

“I am Aragorn, son of Arathorn.” Aragorn’s voice was suddenly filled with a pride that was most unlike him, for his true name was often hidden from those outside his family. Yet he spoke with no fear. “And this is Elladan, one of the sons of Lord Elrond.”

 

“Lord Elrond? I know that name. You are familiar to me,” Kathalion said to Elladan, who looked astonished at the eagle for speaking to him in such a way ~ right inside his head. “Yes, I remember you, though I doubt you ever knew me, or even if your father did. I never did more than healing.”

 

Matthius suddenly nudged Kathalion’s side, and as the eagle turned to look at him, he read the glimmer of urgency in Matthius’ eyes. Quiet understanding passed between them, and Kathalion walked closer to the two travelers. “We must go. The inflicted doesn’t have much time, does he?”

 

Aragorn nodded painfully. “Yes.”

 

“Then we must leave, and quickly. But,” the eagle locked them both in a serious glare. “that doesn’t mean I trust you.”

 

Aragorn looked rather stunned, but recovered. “That’s fine. I’ve not given you a reason to trust me.”

 

Kathalion gave him a brief nod, then lept onto Matthius’ back. “Let’s leave this cave.”

 

<~~^~~>

 

Aragorn awoke to choking, thick air. The room around him was on fire! Swiftly he kicked out of the blanket he was wrapped in and stummbled out of the burning house. Outside was in chaos ~ people were running everywhere, and screams rent the air. Aragorn suddenly saw what had frightened them so. Orcs were running through the camp, killing everyone they could find.

 

Aragorn turned on his feet and ran for the thicket of the trees. His legs were unsteady and he tripped over something. Falling hard on the ground, he let loose a small cry of pain. He had cut his hand on a jagged rock. Looking back at whatever he had tripped over he froze and let out another cry of dispair. He had fallen over a dead man’s legs.

 

Frightened now he ran for the trees, but suddenly he was picked up and wrapped into someone’s arms. His mouth was quickly covered to avoid him crying out in surprise, and Aragorn looked at whoever he had been picked up by.

 

“Mother!”

 

Gilraen shushed him quickly. “Quiet, Aragorn!”

 

Holding her child tightly in her arms Gilraen ran for a small abandoned tent. All the air around them was filled with the smell of smoke and death. Dying cries filled the wind. Gilraen pushed Aragorn through the tent entrance and crawled in after him. Picking him up and holding him close, Gilraen sheilded the small child  from the tent entrance and everything seen beyond it.

 

Orcs were roaming freely through the remainder of the camp, searching for any hidden survivors, burning the remaining tents. Gilraen fearfully looked out at the blood-infested camp and knew she could not hid herself and her son for much longer. They were going to be discovered.

 

Picking up a small torn blanket from one corner of the tent, Gilraen wrapped Aragorn in it and placed him in the farthest corner where he couldn’t be seen. For a moment she wrapped him in her arms and held him close, in a way only a mother could. Aragorn was confused. What was she doing?

 

“Aragorn, I will not let them find you. I’m going to run out of the tent and let them follow me, so you can live through this. My son, if I make it I will return, but if not . . .” her voice caught. “ . . . never forget how much your parents love you!” she kissed him on the cheek and then set him down in the corner. “Don’t move from there until the orcs leave. I shall try to return.”

 

“Mother, don’t leave me . . .” Aragorn wiggled out of the blanket slightly and reached for her. “Don’t go!”

 

Gilraen only pushed him back again. “I will not leave you alone. Don’t make a sound Aragorn! Don’t let them find you!” With that, she turned and ran out of the tent entrance. Aragorn immediately heard the loud cries of the orcs, and peeked out through the entrance.

 

Gilraen was running for the woods, and some of the orcs ran after her. They caught up to her and she fell to the ground. The orcs lifted their scrimintars high and swung down  . . . Aragorn hid behind the tent flap, tears streaming down his face. Successful squeals of pleasure blackened the already dark world Aragorn had entered into. Another dying cry echoed through the camp.

 

“Mother . . .” he whispered, and then again curled up under the torn blanket. Gilraen was right, for the orcs never found him. She had died to save her only son.

 

Still sobbing, he fell into a fitful sleep, whispering softly to himself. “No, no, no, no, no . . . no . . .”

 

***

 

“NO!!”

 

“Aragorn?!”

 

They hadn’t been walking for more than ten minutes before Aragorn began to get the memories again. Already the previous experience was horrifyingly ####### his already burdened spirit, but this was to much. Aragorn stopped walking and buried his face into Arien’s neck, treacherous tears forming in his tight-shut eyes.

 

Elladan had jumped at the sudden outburst. Looking back fearfully he saw Aragorn lean heavily against Arien, again whispering to himself. Elladan barely caught the muttered words. “No, no, no, no, no, no, no . . .”

 

The elf let go of Hísië’s reins and swiftly ran up to the man, stopping the small group.

 

Aragorn clenched his teeth and gripped Arien’s mane tightly. Elladan again said his name. “Aragorn? What’s wrong?”

 

Aragorn blinked but did not start walking again. “It won’t go away . . .”

 

“What? Aragorn, what do you see?”

 

“Hang on . . .” Kathalion flew of Matthius’ back and over to Aragorn’s side. “Are you reliving old memories?”

 

Aragorn lifted his head and looked at the eagle, his hair obscuring much of his face, but Kathalion still could see his weary, tear-filled eyes. “Yes. Yes, I-I keep seeing . . .”

 

“Seeing what?” Kathalion’s voice was soothing and gentle. Soft tears slipped down unnoticed from the man’s eyes.

 

Aragorn paused, unsure if the eagle would understand. But he still spoke, more for Elladan’s sake than Kathalion’s.  “My parents.”

 

Elladan sucked in his breath sharply, understanding the depth of meaning in those words. Kathalion did not miss the reaction and right away knew what it meant.

 

“This cave is filled with the song of the Valar. It’s why the air moves, and never stops, and why this cave is so hard to find. But often, when one visits they discover that they are reliving moments of their past, and for some, they can receive memories that would never have otherwise been recovered. Like you, Aragorn. You saw your parents, ones I assume you don’t remember.”

 

“Yes. I don’t remember them. They were both killed when I was very young. I was raised in Rivendell.” Aragorn’s grip on Arien’s mane tightened even more, and Elladan’s hand was suddenly on his shoulder. Kathalion nodded, understanding. Though it was hard for him to trust anyone, he was not heartless, nor unmoved by another’s pain.

 

“Aragorn, please kneel to the ground.” The man slowly slipped to the floor, looking at the eagle mournfully. Kathalion sighed. “Just try and relax. I can help you.”

 

Aragorn’s eyes shut and his head bowed. Kathalion leaned his head forward and drew close to the man until he was inches from him, and did not move. Matthius stood stone still and watched quietly, having seen this before, but Elladan was confused, and he too knelt on the floor next to Aragorn, watching his every move.

 

Kathalion shut his eyes and concentrated hard. It had been long since he had done this, for few were ever affected by the power of the cave. Elladan and Matthius watched him freeze and shut his eyes.

 

Aragorn was shuddering slightly until he got the sudden feeling of being doused with cold water. He gasped at the suddeness of it, but it quickly faded away, and he could feel the air begin to swirl about him comfortingly. The visions and memories that had been attacking him unceasingly stopped. The vision of his mother vanished.

 

Kathalion took a short breath and looked up at the man. Aragorn opened his eyes and stared at him. “It’s gone.”

 

Kathalion nodded slightly. “They won’t haunt you again in the cave. I gave you the protection you’ll need to keep them away.” He rustled his feathers and opened his wings, flying back the Matthius. He settled again on the dragon’s back and looked behind him, watching Elladan help Aragorn rise to his feet. “Are you going to be alright?”

 

Elladan did not loosen his grip on the young man until he again stood by Arien’s side. Looking him in the eyes Elladan only gave him a look of peace. Aragorn nodded, grabbing Arien’s reins again and taking a step forward, responding to Kathalion, and thanking Elladan. “Yes. Thank you.”

 

There was no answer as Matthius again resumed the lead, Kathalion silent on his back.

 

<~~^~~>

 

Several silent hours passed as they walked through the cave. Though Aragorn feared about his memories, they never returned. Elladan stayed very close to Aragorn, but did not ask any questions. Aragorn gave him the assurance that, though as devistatingly painful as they were, he was not going to dwell on something he could not control.

 

They had the cure.

 

They were unhurt.

 

What more could he ask for, other than a safe recovery for Legolas when they returned?

 

As they reached the entrance, the sun was pouring out through the hole, welcoming them back out into the world. But they soon found that the light was not the only thing for them to say hello to.

 

Right when they were close enough, Hísië whickered loudly and balked as Elladan pulled her forward. That could only mean one thing.

 

The orcs were still there.

 

Matthius began whiffing harshly out of his nostrils, uneasy and angry. Kathalion turned around and called out at Elladan and Aragorn.

 

“It’s not going to be easy to get out. There are orcs out there.”

 

“Yeah. We know.” Aragorn pulled Arien forward, smiling grimly, shaking his head. Matthius shook his head and gave Kathalion a stern glance.

 

“I can hold them off long enough for you to escape.”

 

“I know you can,” Kathalion’s voice suddenly was filled with a sly joy. “You’ve been waiting for this, haven’t you?”

 

Matthius only smiled slightly. He’d been waiting decades to fight something. Eagerly he bounded forward. The others followed.

 

Cautiously they left the cave and into the ground surrounded by the rock wall. No one was there, but they could hear the extremely agitated yells of the orcs tearing apart the little island trying to find them. They knew what they hunted was there . . .

 

“They still haven’t stopped looking for us,” Aragorn whispered to Elladan. “Those orcs are more stubborn than most.”

 

Elladan only shook his  head, then turned to Kathalion. “How do you want to do this?”

 

The eagle clucked slightly at the walls around them. “Matthius will have to leave first through that hole, and we follow. He can keep any orcs who even *want* to fight busy and we can escape from right under them.”

 

“Wait . . .” Elladan turned to Aragorn with a look of irritation. “We don’t have any of our equipment! We’re going to have to get it all back.”

 

Aragorn groaned. “That cuts it really quick, El.”

 

“We can do it.”

 

Kathalion turned to them. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll keep my eye on you and follow you through the trees so I won’t be seen.”

 

Elladan only noddded, and walked to the hole, Aragorn right behind. Matthius turned his head to the eagle on his back and said only, “Farewell, my friend.”

 

Kathalion only smiled and touched the dragon’s nose with his beak. “I’ll be back before you know it. Farewell to you, my friend.”

 

Matthius nodded, and then turned around. He was ready to bolt through the hole, energy flowing through him. Kathalion left his back and flew to the top of the rock wall.

 

“Matthius! The orcs are headed for the wall. Get ready!”

 

Matthius was automatically tense and ready, nostrils flaring slightly. He couldn’t wait to begin.

 

Elladan and Aragorn were right behind him, ready to lead their horses out, vault on their backs, and ride bareback to the place that Elladan had hidden the rest of what they possessed.

 

Right then it was like all time had just stopped. Matthius was glaring out through the hole, his every thought on the orcs whose voices were growing steadily louder. Both riders behind them stood ready with their weapons if they needed them. Kathalion stood motionless on the top of the rock wall, watching the orcs carefully, waiting for the moment to fly away and leave them behind.

 

Then suddenly Matthius roared so loudly it shook every tree to its base and ran out through the hole.

 

The orcs were close enough. It had begun.

 

Aragorn followed the dragon out of the rocks and mounted Arien. For a split second he waited for Elladan to catch up, then turned Arien around and bolted, not looking back. He had no need to worry about any of his companions.

 

When he reached the side of the island he pulled Arien to a quick halt and dismounted; seconds later Elladan joined him. When Elladan headed for a particular tree, Aragorn did finally look back. What he saw made him smile.

 

Matthius was having the time of his life. He ran after the orcs and scattered their groups, fought with his legs, neck, and tail, snapped at them, and blew his flames. Using his fire carefully, he only set the orcs ablaze, but never the trees. The orcs tried to attack him back, but soon the few that tried were following the ones that had begun the retreat. Matthius joyfully followed them, bellowing out his anger with his joyious roars.

 

Elladan walked to a tree and knelt at its base, moving aside layers of leaves, brush and moss, smiling to himself. “Still here.” He mumbled, as the cover began to disappear and a large hole was revealed, cleverly hidding all what they had brought. He pulled everything out, and they both expertly reloaded their horses.

 

There was no sign of Kathalion. The eagle had told them not to worry, so with a quiet answer of thanks to Matthius, they entered the water.

 

Once they reached the opposite bank, they turned around and waited.

 

Kathalion didn’t appear.

 

“Do you think he was caught?” Aragorn scanned the trees carefully, but he could find no white-black-blue blur of an eagle anywhere.

 

“Wait,” Elladan leaned forward in the saddle, then gasped slightly. He pulled the bow off his back. Aragorn too saw what Elladan’s far-seeing sight had granted him.

 

Kathalion burst out of the trees, followed by two orcs. Swinging their scrimintars they kept the eagle close to the ground, but could not get him under their control. Kathalion fought back with his beak and talons, and both orcs were bleeding. But he was not gifted in the art of warfare, and both riders knew he would not keep them away for much longer. Elladan didn’t wait. He set an arrow in his bow, aimed, and loosed it. One orc fell down dead.

 

Again Elladan loaded his bow, but Aragorn stopped him. Kathalion’s frantic flapping had put himself in front of the orc, unknowingly protecting him this time. There was no way Elladan could get a clean shot, and he didn’t want to endanger Kathalion.

 

Aragorn sat battling with himself for a split second, then gave Arien a swift kick in the sides. The stallion bolted forward, back into the water toward the fight. As they reached them, Aragorn drew his sword.

 

The orc saw him too late. Instead of trying to fight, the orc stopped moving, allowing Kathalion to get away, and stood there with a horrified look on his face. The sight in front of him was terrible. Arien was sending sprays of water to either side, headed right for him at a gallop. Head bobbing with the rythmn of his feet and whiffs of mist coming from his nose, he looked more like a deadly dragon than an angry stallion.

 

 Aragorn was no longer a man on his back. His sword was held high and his face rigid, his hair flying up and down with the movements of the horse under him. Eyes blazing with an untamed wrath and jaw set tightly Aragorn brought Arien right next to the orc and his sword swung upward ~ he was alive, more alive than he had been in the past several days. He was no longer a young inexperienced ranger, he was unable or incapable of pain by the sword ~ invicible like a war-hardened elven-lord. The orc at least had the state of mind to cry out as the blade flashed, but it did him no good. He was dead before he hit the ground, whether of the wound he now gained in his chest, or the shock that had engulfed his entire being, none be sure.

 

Aragorn turned Arien around and they again entered the water. At one point, he looked back. “For Legolas,” he whispered to the orc, then faced forward and never looked back again. At that moment he looked every bit the king he could be ~ filled with the honor and valor of his ancestors of old.

 

He reached the edge of the bank and stopped next to Elladan. Elladan had watched the man bolt to Kathalion’s rescue, and though he had not seen Aragorn’s face, he had seen the orc’s. Sheer terror. That’s what he had seen. He contented himself to say nothing, but only gave Aragorn a slight look of approval before turning Hísië around.

 

Kathalion flew up to them, and flying in place, he gave them a look of awe. “It has been long since I have seen the skill of elves and men, but it seems that it has not failed yet. Thank you, my friends.” Unlike Elladan he had seen Aragorn take his turn, seen the way Aragorn had moved. He could still see the look of majesty in the young man’s eyes.

 

“My friends?” Aragorn echoed the words, then extended his arm, so Kathalion could land. The thick leather of his jacket protected his arm against the thick sharp talons wonderfully, and he gently stroked the feathers on the eagle’s chest. “Does this mean that you trust us now?”

 

Kathalion nodded slowly and heavily. “You have proven your quality. I am now in your debt. Thank you.”

 

Elladan grinned. “Your trust will not be misplaced. We will not betray you.”

 

“Of that I have no fear.”

 

Aragorn nudged Arien to a walk, and placed Kathalion in front of him in the saddle. “Let’s get out of here.”

 

Kathalion looked back at the island that had been his home fondly. They could all still hear Matthius bellowing his pleasure at the fight and the chance to leave the cave. Then he turned, and said only, “Let us leave. And tell me of the inflicted one.”

 

<~~^~~>

PART 9

 

They traveled almost non-stop as before, back to home. Elladan and Aragorn pushed their horses as much as they dared, but at the close of the seventh day after they had left Rivendell they could push them no father. Picking a clearing surrounded by thick trees, they readied for a few hours of rest. With only a few more hours left to home, they figured they would be safe, though staying made Elladan in particular increasingly uneasy as time went on.

 

During the fast ride back, Aragorn had kept Kathalion in front of him, and told the eagle of Legolas, and how he had been inflicted. He answered the eagle’s questions about Valkenor and Moran, for he had not seen them in a long time ~ since he had moved to the island. When Kathalion would ask of Legolas, he soon discovered the devotion Aragorn put in the friendship he and the elf prince shared. He would risk anything for him. Anything . . .

 

Darkness wrapped around the world and the hour grew late. As they settled around a fire, Aragorn noticed how Elladan kept looking behind them with worry etched on his face. When Aragorn asked him, Elladan only shook his head.

 

“I don’t know,” Elladan continued, looking vaguely back the way they had come. “but something out there is making me very uneasy.”

 

“What do you think it could be?” Aragorn began to gently stroke Kathalion’s feathers.

 

“No idea. But I can guarantee it’s something we’d rather not have around again.”

 

Kathalion nodded with the statement. “It’s true. There’s something out there. I’ll try to keep a watch out for danger, since I have a debt to replay.”

 

Elladan leaned forward and placed his hand on the eagle’s head. “Thank you for trying to help us.”

 

Aragorn turned his attention to his older brother. “How long do you think it’s going to take us to get back home?”

 

Elladan opened his mouth to respond, but never got the chance. Kathalion let out a small screech and leapt to his feet. Both Aragorn and Elladan jumped at the sudden movement, and watched confused as the eagle spread his wings and took off into the air, disappearing over the trees in seconds.

 

Aragorn slowly turned to Elladan. “What wa-“ he didn’t get the chance to finish. Kathalion burst through a tree, sending leaves everywhere, and quickly flew back to them, speaking before he even hit the ground.

 

“They’re coming! Quick, we need to get out of here, they’ll be here in a few minutes, go ge-“

 

“WHO’S coming?!” Both Aragorn and Elladan shouted at him, stopping the eagle in his wild haste. He landed and began again, but didn’t talk any slower.

 

“The orcs! The orcs we got away from! But they’ve got something with them, a terrible dark shadow follows them ~ quickly, we must leave!”

 

“What terrible dark shadow?!” Elladan asked, watching as the eagle moved toward open packs and began to fill them again.

 

“Ah, one not living mortal or immortal would ever wish to see! He is hunting for us, and he can fill one’s heart with cold fear. A demon!” Kathalion franticly began to pull one bag toward the horses, who were snorting and pawing the ground. “He’s a demon!”

 

It was as if someone had zapped them both stupid. Both Aragorn and Elladan seemed to be rooted to the ground, staring at Kathalion struggling with his burden. The eagle glanced at them a moment later, dropped the bag, and screeched loudly at them, breaking the trance they were in.

 

“Are you going to just stand there and stare at me?!” he shouted at them, making them both jump. “Hurry!”

 

Aragorn and Elladan ran to the eagle and helped gather the remainder of their possessions and binding them to their horses’ backs. At first, both animals protested, telling their riders in the only way they could that they were well worn and scared. But faint shrill screams of orcs could be heard,  frightening them into a still silence. One look from Aragorn and Elladan told them the seriousness of the situation. The trust the elven horses had in their riders went very deep, and both animals allowed themselves to be burdened again, listening to the shrieks grow slowly but steadily louder.

 

Just as Elladan tied off the last bag, he felt a fresh icy chill wash over him like a wave. For a moment he didn’t even move, trying to fight the shadow in his mind that was growing larger. He griped the soft mane tightly, then moved forward and buried his face in Hísië’s neck. After a few moments, he stood straight again and looked over at Aragorn. The ranger stood next to Arien, and the two brothers made eye contact.

 

“We’re never going to get away from them now – they’re almost here.” Aragorn looked worriedly at where the voices of the orcs were now in full throttle, barely a moment away.

 

“Let’s release the horses and fight them. We can’t have them following us. At least the horses and Kathalion can survive if we don’t.” Elladan leaned over again and spoke softly in elvish, and he told the horse to run to Rivendell quickly.

 

Rivendell . . . even the name sounded like a dream. A place of refuge,  a forest of peace, a house of healing. How desperately the two riders wished to follow their steeds, but it was not to be so. It was an unspoken rule that pertained whenever one went out on a journey of danger ~ bring nothing back that could destroy what Rivendell had become. They were on the front lines of fear, and going home was no longer an option. They had to rid themselves of the fear that threatened first.

 

The two riders released their horses, shouting after them, “Noro! Noro lim! Noro lim!”

~Hurry! Run! Run!~

 

Kathalion began to speak again. “You can’t fight him! Go and hid quickly! They will not be so kind as to let you go free or kill you without torturing you first. Get out of here!” he again spread his wings and flew after the horses. “I’m going to get help, if I can. They’re coming!”

 

Aragorn froze for barely half an instant at the eagle’s words. Go get help? What about Legolas? If they didn’t get the cure to him by that night . . . Aragorn shuddered at the thought. But soon he could give his heart no heed.

 

Dark flashes of the orcs could be seen now, running toward them with horrible speed. Around them the darkness grew, not only from lack of light outside but the horrifying cold they both felt within. Both Aragorn and Elladan put themselves in the ready position, weapons out ~ the one thing they hadn’t sent home ~ and prepared for the fight.

 

Elladan aimed and fired the first arrow, catching one orc in the neck. It caused a chain reaction – the orcs fired back with almost dead accuracy, nearly getting Aragorn in the face and Elladan in the stomach if they had not moved in time. Moments later the two groups collided, and the fight was on. It was so close that Elladan had to drop his bow and draw his sword. Many long, grueling minutes passed as both Aragorn and Elladan dodged, parried, and slaughtered the large orc party. It seemed that the old group that had been following them had found some new orc soldiers to help them.

 

At one point, not long later, as Aragorn slashed one orc in the chest and shoved him away, a heavy rope appeared from somewhere behind him, landing about his neck. Left with no time to react, the ranger could do nothing as the owner of the rope pulled it tighter than a noose, making Aragorn fall flat on his back gasping for breath. That was all the orcs needed, and they held him flat on the ground. Several more had to come to keep the struggling human down. A ragged cry burst from Aragorn’s throat as he twisted and kicked, trying to loosen the terrifying grips of the orcs. It was useless. There were just too many.

 

Elladan tried to stay close to the man, but soon after the fight had begun they had been swept apart. Now, unable to find him, panic allowed his eyes to see a small but growing crowd of orcs. In the midst of them he could see Aragorn trapped in their midst. He ran to help, but in his moment of hesitation he forgot what he was doing. One large and stocky orc about ten feet away saw this and began to run towards him. He slammed into the elf’s side, knocking him off balance and making him fall to his knees. The moment he hit the ground he knew they had lost.

 

<~~^~~>

 

The orcs stripped them of their weapons, bound their hands, and surrounded them, jibbering loudly, while they knelt on the ground before them.

 

The captian smiled. He knew they wouldn’t be able to avoid them for long. As he glanced around his orc soldiers, his hidden anger was raised, for the two warriors had killed nearly all of his soldiers, there was only a handful of them left. Though the new orcs that had be recruited were loyal, he didn’t trust them. He prefurred the orcs that he had trained himself, though the beings were still miserable to deal with.That was the way it always went. He and the few that remained were done with being killed so easily and brushed aside. That was why they made their deal ~  an exchange for one of the old powere of the Valar for their freedom from bondage. The orc captain grinned widely as his soldiers began to speak loudly, causing the two beings to tremble at the talk. With any luck, the pain they had endurred would be taken out on these two. The play would loosen their hate well.

 

“Ha ha!” one laughed loudly, making the captives shudder at the sound of his hideous voice. “Look at him! It’s been long since we’ve played with an elf! He’s very fair, this one.” The orc reached out and gently stroked Elladan’s cheek with one long claw. Elladan flinched slightly at his touch, but shrunk a bit closer to Aragorn, protecting him.

 

“This one is quite young. He’s no elf.” Another added, tugging at Aragorn’s dark hair, making the human shrink farther to Elladan. “He’s a human!.” Catching on to the obvious closeness the brothers shared, the orcs began to annoy them both – poking, jabbing, and pulling at them, making them both flinch and cower together.

 

Then all at once they stopped as one orc proclaimed, “I wonder what we’ll be allowed to do to them. Give ‘em a good beating I hope.”

 

Loud calls of agreement followed, and others began calling out other suggestions for torture. They had been chasing these two long enough ~ they wanted their revenge, and no doubt they would get it.

 

“Let’s use that new poison that Master came up with!” another yelled out, earning himself lots of excited cheers from his fellows.

 

“I know! We could use the special whip!” This was met with almost complete silence, as each orc let loose a malicious grin while thinking about it. The evil smiles did nothing to ease the fear in either of their captives. Neither of them understood why they were waiting anyway. Aragorn’s head was right near Elladan’s shoulder, and he could feel his brother shudder, and them suddenly gasp in horror.

 

The air around them was so cold, but somehow Aragorn knew it was something else. Slowly, the laughing orcs began to part as something drew closer from the shadows of the trees.

 

An immense shadow had come forward and joined the edge of the orc party. All the orcs became silent and backed away respectively, revealing what they had caught. When they had parted, both Aragorn and Elladan recieved a good look at their capturer.

 

He was hooded and cloaked entirely in black. They could not see any part of him other than his hands, thin sallow skin stretched over long fingers, and yet looked anything but brittle. And his eyes ~ seen very well through his hood, glowing slightly ~ as red as blood. When Aragorn saw this, he looked over at Elladan in recognition and fear. The dream ~ he had seen this . . . demon in his dream.

 

Suddenly, he got the feeling that he was being thrown backwards, even though he wasn’t moving. It was as if he could feel someone prying through him, searching out and reading his thoughts and memories. He was almost incoherent with anguish and intense cold, but next to him Elladan was in agony. He had leaned forward and shut his eyes, almost wheezing as he tried to get back under control. His bound hands were shaking hard. Aragorn leaned forward, grasped one hand and squeezed. He quietly held still as Elladan began to discontinue his normal blood flow.

 

The demon watched them quietly, trying to figure out who they were. But it was like something was protecting them, but what, he did not know. They both had a special light about them, and the demon despised it greatly. He wanted answers, and no doubt he could and would get them.

 

“Who are you?” he asked in a hauntingly low, dark hiss. Both the figures on the ground convulsed at the sound of his voice. Neither one at first moved to respond, but then Aragorn sat up slightly and answered in a low whisper, not looking at the demon.

 

“We are hunters from Rivendell. I am called Strider, and this is …” Aragorn cut himself off as Elladan snapped up his head and stared at him pleadingly, and Aragorn suddenly knew why. He had to keep both their true names a secret – his for obvious reasons, and Elladan’s because neither one of them wanted to know what a demon and a party of orcs would do if they found out they had one of the sons of Elrond.

 

“Er… this is Sadron.” Relief flooded through Elladan’s face as he relaxed ever so slightly. That was way to close for comfort. Aragorn had simply given Elladan the first name that had popped into his head, giving him some cover. It wasn’t like any of their capturers cared about their names, though. The demon watched the exchange, but didn’t pay much attention to it, instead thinking about where Aragorn said they were from. Rivendell, he thought. So that is why they are surrounded in light. They’re from the house of Elrond. As he grinned to himself, if one could have ever seen his face they would have trembled where they stood. This could get interesting. With any luck the orcs will be able to have a little fun with them. They may need the convincing.

 

The demon turned to them again, still speaking in the same low voice. “I have been sent to search for that which I know what you both possess, since you were seen with it. I will only ask you once, and give you a chance to leave us unharmed. But I will warn you now. I will know if you lie about this.

 

“Where is the eagle?!”

 

Both of them froze in heart-stopping alarm. Aragorn looked at Elladan closely, not knowing what to say. They had both promised to get the cure to Legolas if they could, and not bring any danger back to Rivendell. They couldn’t tell him, for they truly didn’t know themselves. It was not going to be an answer without some painful conciquence. And yet Elladan gave him a look of determination, and mind made up, Aragorn looked up at the demon with an intensifying, yet worried exspression. He would gladly accept death for his family, the one thing they both held most dear.

 

“We don’t know. When you came he flew away from us. He only said he was going to get help. We don’t know more than that.” Aragorn’s voice sounded small and weak to the demon.

 

“That’s not everything though, is it? I can tell you are holding something back. Now. Tell me!” the demon moved closer to the two brothers, making the air around them feel old, stale, and incurably cold.

 

Aragorn did not respond, not knowing what to say. He may not recognize the truth, but he would surely recognize a lie. What are we going to do? He already thinks I’m not telling the whole truth. But I truly don’t know more than that!  He looked down at the ground and gave Elladan a tightening squeeze as he stared at the forest floor. What could he do anyway?

 

They would die first before giving in.

 

There was no way Aragorn was going to surrender his friend’s only hope to the works of darkness, even if he knew where Kathalion had gone, but judging by the joyful looks of the orcs and the infuriated hissing from the demon because of his silence, they were going to pay dearly for it.

 

Two orcs ran to Aragorn, seized him roughly, and dragged him to his feet in front of the demon. Two more did the same with Elladan, and they both were forced to look into the deadly fire in the demon’s eyes.

 

His heart was hammering so hard Aragorn was sure the demon could hear it, but the cloaked horror barely paid attention to him as he barked out orders to his orcs.

 

“Do what you must, but do not kill them.”

 

Triumphant yells sounded as both Aragorn and Elladan were roughly dragged into the midst of the orcs. The ropes on their wrists were left alone, and their ankles were bound so they couldn’t get up. Then dividing into two small groups, the orcs fell on their captives like ravening wolves.

 

Immediately as the vicious attack began, Aragorn recalled one time when he and Legolas had gone through a human town not long ago. As they prepared to leave, they had passed by a small bar, from which loud yelling could be heard. Suddenly the door of the bar had swung open and a large group of men came running out, carrying in the midst of them one lone and unlucky young man. Before either of them could do anything, the men had surrounded the young man and began to brutally beat him. And as quickly as it had begun it ended, leaving the poor man lying in the street . . . Aragorn remembered this as he was now in a very similar situation, as the orcs surrounded him on all sides. Instead of then being the onlooker, he was now at the mercy of his captures . . . if they had any.

 

Aragorn tried to shield his face to ward off serious blows with his arms as the orcs around him began to try to tear him apart. Weaponless, totally helpless, flat on his back surrounded by these filthy monsters that were after his blood was beyond terrifying. Yet with all his might he concentrated on not admitting to any physical pain by crying out. Many orcs had picked up large chunks of wood off the ground and used them to their advantage, turning the ranger slowly and painfully black and blue.

 

One orc, noticing how protective he was of his face, poked a companion and roughly moved his arms aside. The other could get full shot of him, and using a smoldering torch like a club, he harshly beat Aragorn upside the head with it. He not only began breaking and bruising the skin, but also burned the flesh with the hot coals. Another orc took his torch ~ of which had just gone out ~ and walked behind Aragorn. He moved the man onto his side and buried the burning chunk of wood into his back. Finally responding to the pain that lanced through him, Aragorn let out a heart-piercing cry.

 

Overjoyed at finally breaking though his silence, the orcs continued to make sure he would never be able to fight back or even crawl away from them once they were done. Amidst the kicks and punches he was receiving, he felt white hot pain shoot through him again as one orc buried his rough knife into his leg, tearing into it as if to remove the muscle. He didn’t even have time to react as a steel-toed boot contacted with the back of his head, mercifully turning his world and his senses black.

 

Elladan too had tried to shield his face and had curled in on himself, preventing his face, chest, and stomach from gaining any injuries. But he had to leave the rest of himself unprotected, and now all were in serious pain. One orc was currently using his club on Elladan’s arm in the same place, bruising it far into the bone, and if for much longer, breaking it critically.

 

Suddenly among the horrible orcs he could smell something ashy and hot coming closer to him, and he hesitated to look and see what it was. When he finally did, he had no warning as the orcs around him stopped their beatings, grabbed his arms and legs, uncurled him, and trapped him eagle-spread to the ground. He struggled helplessly, but he was unable to move.There were just too many. Then he saw what the orcs were planning on doing to him. One orc held in his hands a lit torch and was moving closer to him, the flames dancing off the orc’s evil grin.

 

Struggle as he might Elladan could not free himself of the filthy hands that held him down. The orc walked up to him and stood over him. He then turned his torch upside down, and aimed it right over Elladan’s sternum, and in a move filled with force, pushed down. About a second before impact Elladan froze, shut his eyes, grit his teeth, and tried to prepare his body for the unavoidable. But there was no way he was prepared for the pain that shot through him when the searing torch made contact. Screaming a cry of absolute pain the torch burned him for several moments before the orcs released their hold, and in disgusting humor watched Elladan curl in on himself again, pressing his hands against the large wound. As he did so he screamed again, as his hands were also burned as they held together the ragged, torn pieces of flesh.

 

<~~^~~>

 

At a slight call from the demon the harsh beatings ceased. The orcs kicked the two fallen figures on the ground together and backed away. Aragorn was still unconscious. He was about five feet away from Elladan, his body slumped over and his face in the ground. Elladan moaned from the combined forces of pain that covered his body, mostly now from the burns on his lower chest and hands. Among that and the dark, painful bruises and gashes that covered him, he had a badly bruised arm, and one leg that had been cut open badly. He wasn’t breathing very well, and it was hard to move. For a moment he listened to the orcs jabber and brag about the injuries they had delivered to themselves and the demon, then turned his attention to the human a few feet away.

 

Aragorn wasn’t moving, still knocked out from the kick to the head. Elladan slowly dragged himself closer, intensifying the headache he had received from his injuries, and made it to Aragorn’s still form. Not wanting to increase any pain in either of them, Elladan quickly tore two pieces of his tunic away and quickly bound up his burned hands, and as gently as he could, lifted Aragorn halfway off the ground and into his arms. He moved aside the tangled, sweaty dark hair and had to bite back a cry of shock.

 

Ugly, deep, split open and bleeding gashes and burns marred his brother’s face. Dark purple-black bruises covered his exposed skin, and Elladan was almost afraid to find out what his clothing hid. He quickly inspected his brother with his hands and eyes. Aragorn had received a minor concussion from the kick in the head, three broken ribs, deadly burns on his face and back, and on his left leg it looked as though one orc had tried to remove his calf muscle, rendering the leg useless and almost unbearably painful. The ranger was almost inrecognizable. He was breathing badly like Elladan, gasping as the elf lifted him off the ground. Elladan turned Aragorn inward and held him tightly. It hurt him deeply to see the young human and himself like this, but worse was not being able to do anything about it.

 

Wincing inwardly from the pain in his hands and lower chest, he glanced up and glared daggers at the demon and his orcs. He gently shook the human in his arms, trying to wake him up. Aragorn groaned and stirred, weakly clutching at the tattered remains of Elladan’s tunic. Elladan quieted him quickly, not wanting to draw attention to themselves.

 

 “Shh, tithen muindor. Tampa, dina esta, na nefach. Na nefach.”

~ Shh, little brother. Stop, stay silent, I am here. I am here”

 

“El, … I-I … can’t feel m-my leg … I can-can’t bre-breathe … very well …” Aragorn started to gasp more heavily, wrapping his arms around his mid-section. As he did so he hissed sharply – he had touched one broken rib. Elladan moved his arms away and gripped his hands tightly.

 

“It’s going to be okay. I’m not going to let them hurt you again, not if I have anything to do with it. Stay with me Estel, stay with me …”

 

“It hu-hurts…” Aragorn murmured, and tightened his hold on Elladan’s torn tunic

 

“Iston renaeg. Garor…”

~I know it hurts. Hold on…~

 

“Hey, the young one’s awake!” a rough voice entered the conversation. An orc got very close to them and poked Aragorn in the side. Aragorn moaned in pain and Elladan glared at the orc fiercely.

 

“Get away from us!” he whispered to the orc, but spoke with such power that the orc backed away a few steps in fear.

 

“Good, good…” said the demon darkly. “It’s about time. I’m glad he is.” Elladan could tell he was telling the truth, but also knew the demon’s reasons would be far different than his own. He cradled Aragorn’s head against his chest, pain forgotten, silently fearing what the demon was going to do next.

 

“Please,” he begged the demon in a soft voice. “Please listen to us. We don’t know where the eagle is. Let him go at least, please!”

 

“Ha!” cried the demon. “You do know where he is, don’t you, elf? Do you really think I would waste my time if I were not sure?”

“He was at first, but right before you came he flew away. We know no more than that. Please, just let him go!”

 

“Liar! You do know where he is, or at least where he’s going. You’re hiding something from me, I can feel it. And if I don’t find out very soon, you will regret it! Tell me where the eagle went! NOW!!”

 

Elladan’s voice broke slightly as his cracked sobs began to surface. “We cannot tell you what we do not know!”

 

“My patience is gone.” said the demon, glowering at Aragorn and Elladan in a voice mixed with annoyance and delight. “Seize the young one!”

 

Three orcs gleefully answered the call, running over to Elladan and trying to get to Aragorn. Even in his weakened state Elladan managed to protect Aragorn for a few moments. More orcs came to help, and bodily forced Elladan to release his hold by nearly knocking him out with a blow to the head. Aragorn was in no state to fight back, and cried out to Elladan as they dragged him away.

 

“Maethach. Hantach. Uuyech er, idra muindor nin! Eail gosta anim!”

~ You tried. Thank you. You are not alone, my dear brother! Do not fear for me! ~

 

“Ú-awartha i arad, an i tinnu, egor pada i guruthos nîf-ned anannch lîn!” Elladan called back at the human. “Bellch le! Bellch le!!”

~Do not forsake the day for twilight, nor tread the shadows before your time! You are strong! You are strong! ~

 

The orcs brought Aragorn to the demon. After glaring at the weakened human for a moment, the demon barked out orders in the black language. The orcs dragged Aragorn to a large tree and tied him securely to it, pressed up against the trunk with his hands over his head, rendering him even weaker than he already was. The demon reached into the black folds of his cloak, searching for something. Once Aragorn was in place, the orcs roughly tore off the tattered remains of his tunic and cloak, baring him to the waist. Dark purple-black bleeding bruises were revealed, decorating his back in horrifying patterns. Aragorn groaned loudly at the rough treatment.

 

“NO!” Elladan yelled as he recognized what they were about to do. “Please, leave him alone! Take me instead, but leave him alone!” he got away from the orcs guarding him and made it about five feet before being caught again. The demon, finding what he was looking for, walked in front of Elladan and revealed it for what it was ~ a thick multi-thonged whip. The demon shook the heavy leather in front of Elladan, allowing him a closer look. Entwined in and sticking out of the leather thongs were bits of sharp rocks and blades. This whip would not only lacerate flesh – it would destroy it.

 

“NO, please! He’s too weak – he’ll never survive a beating like that! Please, take me, kill me, but do it to ME! Leave him alone! You’ll kill him! You’ll kill him!” Elladan struggled against the orcs that held him, tears streaming down his face. The demon turned to him, watching him sob and struggle.

 

“Don’t you know the greatest way to destroy someone’s will is to attack his heart? The only way I can break you is by making you suffer, making you wish that it was only a dream. And only to find that waking is so much worse ~ worse than you even dared dream. You have made this quite easy for me since I know you hold this human in some value, but for the life of me, I could not begin to guess why. And,” the demon looked at him carefully as Elladan gave him a terrified look. “Just for you, I’m going to finish him nice and slow. Then maybe you’ll talk, and tell me the truth.” The demon’s voice had no pity, only a cool silence and hate that bit through Elladan like a knife. Through his tears Elladan gave him a look of such hatred that some of the orcs in front of him backed away like whipped dogs. Elladan ceased to struggle, and had to watch as the demon positioned himself behind Aragorn.

 

Estel . . . Elladan visibly flinched as the demon put the whip into motion.

 

The first sight would forever haunt him. It was thrown with almost no effort, but it didn’t make it un-painful. Left behind was the expected harsh whip burns and gashes, only it was worse ~ much worse. As the sharp leather snapped, Elladan fell to his knees and stared at the ground, wrapping his arms in front of him, and let the tears fall. One orc guard next to him didn’t like him not watching, and so he grabbed a fistful of Elladan’s long hair and jerked his head back, forcing him to watch. Every move now was his to cherish forever, watching Aragorn groan under his breath, gripping the rope that bound him so hard his knuckles turned white, watching the strikes become harder and faster each time. Then as the beating intensified, Aragorn could no longer bear it in silence, and let loose a gut-wrenching cry.

 

Elladan felt as though someone had torn his heart in two. He watched each strike fall, watched his brother’s back turn even more red, raw, and bloody from the abuse, listened to each of Aragorn’s cries, and with each small silver tear, let Aragorn know how much he cared.

 

<~~^~~>

PART 10

 

“Illusions never change

Into something real

I’m wide awake and I can see

The perfect sky is torn

***

I’m cold and I’m ashamed

Lying bound and broken on the floor.”

 

~Natalie Imbruglia “Torn”

 

<~~^~~>

 

Finally, after many harsh strikes, the demon stopped his beatings. Elladan hadn’t counted but he knew it had been many. Too many. The demon ordered the orcs to cut the human free. Once the ropes had been severed, Aragorn fell to the ground and rolled to his side, sobbing silently. The orcs that had been guarding Elladan allowed the elf to run to the fallen figure on the forest floor. When he reached him, Elladan gently turned him over and lifted him up, so that his back wouldn’t touch anything. He placed Aragorn across his knees, stomach down, and carefully examined the damage. There was no pattern of the whip as one might expect – Aragorn’s whole back was one large mass of bleeding, crisscrossing, broken skin. The multi-thonged leather had bit deeply, leaving with the thick lacerations deep gashes from the rock and blade bits that had been woven in. He was bleeding badly. Aragorn was only vaguely tethered to reality, yet he still cried out when Elladan moved him. The hot anger that had been building in Elladan suddenly burst into flame.

 

“If you ever do anything like that to him again, I swear you won’t live to do it again!” he seethed, making the demon stop and stare at him.

 

The demon didn’t move for a moment, then stepped forward and angrily grasped a chunk of Elladan’s hair, lifting the elf’s face to meet his own. Even as close as they were, Elladan still could not make out a face.

 

“Don’t give me more of a reason to kill you than I already have.” He hissed, glaring at both the elf and the human. “You obviously still haven’t learned a lesson. I have a plan for you, and it’s one you won’t be able to handle for very long, considering what you have to deal with!”

 

The demon turned to the orcs behind him and selected four of them. He pointed to the two brothers as he spoke.

 

“Take them, bind them, and secure them separately in that small cluster of trees over there. If they are still alive at dawn, bring them to me.”

 

The orcs grinned horridly and walked over to the captives, arms out, hands clenched. Having no power to fight back, Elladan had to allow the horrible creatures to bind them again. Aragorn no longer had the power to stand on his own, the orcs lifted him by his arms and dragged him away, taking great pleasure in tapping the human’s bleeding back and listening to him sob in pain. Elladan couldn’t take it anymore . . . he couldn’t . . .

 

“Estel, estel uuye morn na naeg! Ú-awartha sí erui nin!”

~Hope is not darkened by pain! Do not leave me alone!~

 

The orcs around him growled in displeasure at hearing the clear sounds of the elven language, and one backhanded him sharply as punishment. Elladan grimaced and let his head hang as he limped along until the orcs stopped. They bound the two brothers a few feet from each other in the trees, carefully checking the ropes and knots to make sure they would not come apart, and left them. The trees rang with their horrible laughing as they walked away.

 

The orcs stayed close by in case they tried to escape, but all of them knew there was no chance of release under their own power. Once left alone, Elladan knew why the demon wanted them out here. Away from the warmth of the fire, the early winter winds set in, ready to make the night a living nightmare for those who were unprepared. Elladan thought about it for a moment. Neither of them had tunics of any good use, (Aragorn’s taken, and his so torn it may as well not be there) both of them had been badly beaten by the orcs, then Aragorn severely whipped, and himself emotionally scarred from just watching.

 

Well, he thought. If we’re going to make it at all we’d better do something. Kathalion’s still out there. Keep hope alive. That’s all they needed. Hope.

 

Elladan looked over at Aragorn. The young man had his arms stretched out away and bound around the tree behind him, tied so tightly that his hands were turning white and his wrists red. His head fell forward and his hair obscured his features. He sagged forward against his bonds, and did not move. Then Elladan noticed something, and when he realized what it was, he cried out softly in despair. The tree behind and the ground around Aragorn was glistening and wet. Elladan didn’t need the faint fire-light to know why ~ he could smell it. Blood. Aragorn was slowly bleeding to death. The earth around him was turning into mud with his own blood.

 

He had to get free. Elladan pulled and tugged at the thick ropes that bound him, only to find out that the orcs had over done their job. He couldn’t get them loose at all. He twisted and struggled, but the ropes held firm, refusing to free him. He had been bound just Aragorn had – backwards with his arms wrapped around the tree trunk. He yanked wildly, but nothing could free him.

 

“Estel! Estel!” trembling, Elladan watched Aragorn closely. The human still did not move.

 

“Estel . . “ he barely whispered it, and again treacherous tears formed and fell down his cheeks, but still, Aragorn did not move or respond, unconscious from the torture and pain.  He’s going to die! He’s losing too much blood too fast, and I can’t help! I swore Ada I would protect him, why can’t I go through with it? Why must he always be hurt?! Why can I never help him escape harm?! Elladan began to sob harder in pain and failure. Ah Elbereth, please . . . please spare him! Don’t take him home! . . . Matho foech . . . I am sorry Aragorn. So sorry.

 

But despite everything, even as he allowed his grief to swallow him whole, Elladan began to sing softly, not really knowing why he was. Singing wouldn’t help them escape. But it could wake the human near him, or give comfort to his failing heart.

 

 

Man innas im car ir estel na haim?

~ what would i do when hope is lost?~

 

Ir bal dartha sui hrîw hesk

~ when despair lingers like a winter's frost~

 

Bal a dúath noro cam ned cam

~ despair and darkness go hand in hand~

 

Eg o estel car ha awartha i dôr

~ aside from the hope when it forsakes the land . . . ~

 

 

Elladan’s beautiful, clear voice rang out softly in the surrounding trees. He didn’t dare sing to loud for fear of the orcs, or the demon’s wrath, but only loud enough to touch the ears of the limp and broken yong man near him. The song seemed to mix with the wailing of the wind that tore around him.

 

 

Gûr aphad auth, sui daw innas i arad  . . .

~ death follows battle, like night does the day~

 

Car pân estel haim ned i enedh uin dagor

~ when all hopes are lost in the midst of the fray~

 

Ilf nor nûr, sui rûth a naeg

~ emotions run deep, like anger and pain~

 

Niiir mab gar a nîr dant sui ross . . .

~ grief takes hold and tears fall like rain . . . ~

 

Melethmin haim, dan i or-auth

~ loved ones are lost, but the battle was won~

 

Naru agar lib, lim gar haithin . . .

~ red blood was spilled, so many have gone . . . ~

 

Arad ring a hûn norn

~ days are cold and hearts are hard~

 

Haru anna a ind gwaen

~ wounds are dealt and souls are marred~

 

Lith an lith, ast an ast

~ ashes to ashes, dust to dust~

 

Pada i men, a lend min innas garo

~ walk the road, and travel we must~

 

Dûath can, a calad innas thinna . . .

~ darkness calls, and light will fade . . . ~

 

 

Elladan bowed his head and continued to let the tears fall from his clenched eyes. The light is fading, but it is not gone yet. Oh, Estel!

 

 

Sui min pada i râd tan amarth garo ekhant.

~ as we walk the path that fate has made~

 

“My Estel . .  gerin meleth an le . . . le linnathon!”

~ . . . I love you . . . to thee I will sing!~

 

 

¨          ¨          ¨

 

“I'll never let you down
Even if I could
I'd give up everything
If only for your good”

 

~Three Doors Down

<~~^~~>

 

 

“Breathe . . .” he thought, pumping his wings harder, lungs heaving.

 

“Breathe . . .”

 

“Keep breathing . . .”

 

Kathalion had been flying for a while now, ever since they had been attacked by the orcs and the demon. He had long since left the two elven horses behind, trying to reach Rivendell quickly. But it had been long since he had needed to fly so far so fast, and was becoming quite winded as he got closer. The only thing that kept him going was the sharp joyful cries of the orcs, signaling the human and elf’s capture. He needed to get help fast.

 

He shook his head, shaking away the terror of such. Orcs had no mercy for their captives, but they are easily stopped when done the correct way. But the demon . . . he knew a demon would be much harder to stop.

 

I must be getting close, he thought, and as if to answer him, faintly he could see the outline of Rivendell, just ahead of him. Joyfully he put on a last burst of speed and cried aloud, swiftly flying for the large estate.

 

¨          ¨          ¨

 

Elrohir looked up from his book over to the still form on the bed. Still nothing. No movement. Nothing. He didn’t know how much longer he could take not knowing what was going on with his two brothers. He sighed deeply, and tried to find some source of hope.

 

A knock sounded at the door. Elrohir had gotten quite used to the frequent visits of his father, and sure enough, Elrond entered the room. There it is. Thought Elrohir, relieved.

 

“Has there been any change?” Elrond asked, though he knew the answer.

 

Elrohir set down the book he had been reading and shook his head. Legolas had not woken in almost two days, finally succumbing to the poison that coursed through his veins. Now hardly alive, he slept deeply, not responding to anything Elrond did to wake him up. Fear gripped both Elrond and his son, afraid that Aragorn would not get back in time, and even if he did, Legolas would not awaken so the two friends would even be able to say goodbye.

 

Elrond sat down on the bed and placed his hand on Legolas’ forehead. Still no change – Legolas was still as frigid as snow. Wincing and shuddering violently was a common trait to him now, but over the last day or so it had slowed, and in the past few hours, stopped all together. Horrified at this, Elrond came more often. Indeed, he barely left.

 

The first few days had been a total fight for survival. True to his word, Elrohir had not left Legolas’ side, and both he and Elrond had practically lived in the prince’s room. Legolas had scared father and son well more than once. Aside from the terrifying cold, limp body and constant shivering, Legolas would continue to have seizure-like fits, anywhere from two to five times a day. Thankfully Elrond and Elrohir could handle that, but the consistency of it was robbing Legolas of his strength, so quite often he slept, and would only wake a few times a day, and only for a very short while.

 

When he was awake, Elrohir would talk to him, trying with all his might to keep Legolas’ will and heart alive with hope. He did not talk a lot, if at all, but when he did he would tell Elrohir that he would not give up ~ especially when they spoke of what Elladan and Aragorn were doing for him.

 

Elrohir adjusted his position in the chair he was in, and thought about the last time Legolas had woken up ~ their last conversation. Legolas had been so weak he no longer could even raise his head, but not weak enough to not make a last request.

 

***

 

Elrohir moved forward and grasped Legolas’ hand firmly, brushing away the long golden hair from the prince’s face. Legolas weakly tried to hold Elrohir’s hand, but he found he could not. He looked at the elf he had known for so long and spoke in a mere whisper.

 

“If. . . if I don’t make it,” he said, his eyes locked with the twin just above him. “Know how grateful . . .  I am . . . to all of you . . . for your . . . friendship and . . . great brotherly love . . . Always know . .  how dear you all . . . are to . . . me . . .”

 

Legolas faltered for a moment, shutting his eyes and inhaling deeply, then continued, watching Elrohir’s eyes slowly fill with tears.

 

“Tell Aragorn . . . how dear he . . . and his friendship is . . . to me . . . and how much . . . I shall miss him . . .” Legolas’ words were becoming softer and more spread apart as he slowly began to lose consciousness. “He has forever . . . changed me . . . in a way . . . I never . . . thought . . . possible . . . Tell him . . . I know . . . he was . . . meant . . . for great . . . things . . . Tell him . . . he is . . . the brother . . . of my . . . heart . . . I . . . will . . . miss him . . . “

 

Legolas shut his eyes and rolled his head to the side, but continued his soft whisper, now so low Elrohir had to lean forward to hear, “I . . . love . . . you all . . .” he again inhaled deeply, and spoke one last time, no longer speaking to Elrohir.

 

“Estel . . . come . . . back . . . to . . . me . . . Estel . . .”Legolas’ head sunk a little in the pillow as he completely faded away.

 

***

 

Elrohir couldn’t take it much longer. All the fear, the fact that he knew nothing of how his brothers were doing was heavily burdening his already failing spirit. He stood up quickly and walked past his father, not looking the elder elf at all and began to pace the room. Elrond immediately got up and followed his son.

 

“Elrohir,” he stopped the young elf, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Come here.”

 

Elrohir slowly turned and allowed Elrond to lead him to another chair on the far side of the room. “Get some sleep son.”

 

“Ada, I-“

 

“No, do not speak of it now. Just sleep. I know you haven’t really slept since they left.” Elrohir sighed and leaned back. In minutes his eyes were unfocused and gentle, even breathing rolling from his lips. Elrond picked up an extra blanket and covered Elrohir with it. He stood silent for a moment, a range of emotions playing over his face, but a moment later he turned and took Elrohir’s spot next to the bed.

 

The room was almost eerily quiet. Legolas lay silent and still under several thick quilts, so pale and unmoving. Elrohir’s even breathing could scarcely be heard by the elven-lord’s sharp ears. Elrond sighed and his eyes slid half shut. Worry that Aragorn and Elladan were going to be too late absorbed his attention. It was the last night. Where where they?

 

*CRASH*

 

Elrond and Elrohir both jumped about five feet. Elrond had nearly knocked his chair over.

 

*THUD*

 

Regaining control over himself he pulled a long knife out of his boot and headed for the doorway. Small crashes that sounded like glass echoed outside it.

 

“Ada?”

 

Elrond looked over to where Elrohir had been peacefully sleeping, and saw the slight fear, but determination, flicker in his son’s eyes.

 

“I don’t know. Come with me – let’s go find out.”

 

Elrohir pushed the blanket on him aside, unsheathed his knife that hung on his belt, and followed his father.

 

<~~^~~>

PART 11

 

Kathalion had reached the outer walls of Rivendell. He flew around it once, unsure where to go. He had to find the lord of Imladris quickly, before he ran out of time. He too soon got sick of wondering ~ he had to hurry! Making a quick decision, he picked a window, flew high in the sky, and like an arrow streaked for it, swift and sure.

 

Impact was worse than he thought. The glass of the windows were thick and hard, but thicker and harder was Kathalion’s beak, shattering the window as he went through. The glass cut through him as easily as butter, and most of it followed him to the floor of the hallway he had just invaded. Glass fell around him and ahead of him, making his landing on the floor anything but pleasant.

 

He hit the ground hard and rolled, smacking into the wall with a loud THUD. He shook his head, then slowly got up and moved away from the treacherous pile of jagged glass that covered the floor, shaking the smaller pieces from his back and wings as he went.

 

He looked down the hallway, bracing himself for the stampede he was sure would appear.

 

Nothing came.

 

I wonder if I even woke anyone up? He thought, cautiously walking down the hallway. About two doors down he saw the handle slowly turn, the door cautiously open, revealing the glint of a white blade.

 

Stupid question. Kathalion thought, rolling his eyes heavenward and backing away.

 

<~~^~~>

 

Elrond slowly opened the door, blade in front of him and peeked out. A cold gust of wind greeted him in the face, directing his attention to the large elegant window, now completely destroyed, pieces of glass littering the floor. Opening the door wider he allowed Elrohir a peek too.

 

“Stay in front of the door,” he whispered. “Protect Legolas, until we know what’s going on.” Elrohir nodded, and watched his father step out into the hallway. “I don’t think we’re alone. I can sense another presence,” Elrond said, quietly observing the glass-covered hallway.

 

“Lord Elrond?” the voice was strong and sincere.

 

Elrond jumped again, this time in true fear. What in the name of the Valar was that?! That voice had not been spoken aloud, but right inside his head. Elrohir gave him a confused, and even a little fearful look.

 

“Do not fear. I will not harm you.”

 

Confusion replaced Elrond’s shock-induced fear. The voice was deep, but not harsh, very clear and calm. Elrond then noticed a slight movement from behind a table, and a beautiful, if not cut up black-blue eagle head poked out, watching him carefully.

 

Elrond breathed a sigh of relief. It was just an eagle. An eagle that could read minds, and was telepathic. He stopped. Wait a minute . . .

 

“Who are you?” he asked the eagle, who had fully stepped out from behind the table. He was mostly white, with his head and tail a blackish-blue color.The eagle looked at him, and still spoke the same way.

 

“I am Kathalion. I have been sent here by your sons, to heal the one called Legolas.”

 

Bewilderment crossed the elf lord’s features. This eagle . . . is the cure?

 

“But I must hurry. The elf I understand doesn’t have much time, and there is something of great importance that I need to tell you.”

 

The eagle limped toward the doorway, passing both the stricken elves. He entered the room and headed for the prince’s bed. Elrond recovered and pushed Elrohir after him, following Kathalion to Legolas. Elrohir kept shooting his father confused looks, but Elrond paid no attention.

 

Kathalion hopped onto the bed and began to uncover Legolas carefully, relieving the prince of the layers of blankets. When Kathalion touched him the elf was so cold. Nodding to himself, he turned to the elf lord, who seemed to have gotten over the shock of talking to an eagle this way.

 

“How long has it been since he awoke last?”

 

“Nearly two days.” Kathalion looked relieved, but wary.

 

“Good, good. Much longer than three and you would have lost him completely. Stand back please, and cover your ears! I’m going to wake him up.”

 

Elrond backed away from the bed, pulling Elrohir with him. When they had done what he said, Kathalion turned to the unconscious prince. He placed his beak next to Legolas’ ear and screamed so loudly that all of Rivendell shook from the cry. It took several moments for the sound to fade.

 

That was loud enough to wake the dead,  though Elrohir, ears ringing, watching astonished as Legolas began to twist and turn, shuddering violently again, and open his eyes. Kathalion looked at him and smiled, but didn’t say anything.

 

“This should not take very long to take effect.” said Kathalion.  Turning his attention to the shuddering elf, he recalled the way Aragorn had spoken of him. The essence of a true friendship, if ever there was one. “It’s alright, young one,” Kathalion gently nudged Legolas’ head affectionately with his beak. “I mean you no harm. You’re going to be just fine.”

 

Kathalion moved his head and placed it over the elf’s jerking chest, right over his heart. Thick, pearly tears began to fall from Kathalion’s eyes, splashing onto Legolas’ skin. Elrond and Elrohir moved over to the chair nearest to the bed and watched in silent wonder at the scene in front of them. Elrond watched the tears carefully. There was no tearstain as one might expect on the skin, but the tears were being completely absorbed. After a few minutes Kathalion moved to Legolas’ throat and repeated the process. Then to the arms, the legs, his back, and sides. Every tear that was shed was absorbed into the skin like a sponge takes in water.

 

As Kathalion neared being finished, both the elven lord and his son noticed a change in Legolas’ features – the skin changed from a sickly white to pink again, the violent shuddering slowed and eventually stopped altogether, and his face . . . Elrohir almost could not believe his eyes. Legolas’ eyes were once again the vibrant blue he knew so well, filled again with hope and life. His features no longer contracted in spasms of pain, but was now fully relaxed and softened, color returned to his cheeks and lips, growing darker and fuller as the elf got healthier.

 

Finally Kathalion backed away a little, and watched the elf carefully as Legolas began to breath deeply, as though he were breathing for the first time. Slowly he regained the power to move his limbs. When he moved his hands for the first time of his own accord in days, Legolas was filled with such inexpressible joy. Elrohir moved from his spot next to Elrond and sat next to Kathalion. Slowly he leaned forward and touched Legolas’ arm with his fingertips. No more than twenty minutes ago the skin was as cold as ice, but now . . . Elrohir trembled slightly at the warmth that now radiated through Legolas’ body. Legolas carefully propped himself up with one elbow, got into a sitting position, and pulled Elrohir into a tight embrace. It was almost as if he had never been poisoned.

 

“I was so afraid,” said Elrohir. “that even if Estel and Elladan made it back with a cure it would have been too late, and you would not even have been able to say good-bye . . .”

 

“It’s going to be alright now,” said Legolas softly, and as he did so, he reached out to the silver eagle, and place one hand on his head. “Hannon le, mellon nin.” He whispered to the eagle, gently stroking the feathers on his head. Healing this way had always weakened him for a while, but it had been so long since he had been in the company of elves. Kathalion relaxed for a moment, enjoying it, but then he realized something. Legolas patted him much like how Aragorn had only a short . . . while . . . ago . . .

 

Aragorn! Elladan!

 

“Kathalion? What’s wrong?” Elrond too had moved form his spot to the bed and had seen the eagle freeze in terror.

 

“There is something I need to tell you of your sons, as it needs to be acted on immediately.” Kathalion whispered, ashamed of himself for almost forgetting so easily. Elrohir broke the embrace and turned around to face the eagle, and all three stared at him, understanding and responding to Kathalion’s tone, giving him fearful looks.

 

Kathalion sighed deeply, then faced them. “They were taken.”

 

Silence. No one spoke. Then Elrond spoke up, his voice filled with pain.

 

“Who took them? Where are my sons?”

 

“Orcs, and a . . . a . . . oh dear Illuvitar, . . . a demon.”

 

<~~^~~>

 

Elrohir hurriedly prepared his horse and led him out of the stables. Once outside, he looked around. The grounds around Rivendell were alive with activity. Torches were lit and elves were running everywhere. A few minutes later he saw Elrond heading toward him, Legolas following slowly behind.

 

“There’s been a sighting.” Elrond said as he stopped in front of Elrohir, and waited for Legolas to catch up. He looked slightly annoyed above everything else, probubly because Legolas was not resting like he would have liked.

 

“A sighting? Of what?” Elrohir asked as he threw the reins over his horse’s head and looked at his father carefully, apprehension written on his face.

 

“Coming from the south, or as of the last report. It is two horses, both riderless, carrying supplies.”

 

“And . . .you don’t mean that they belong to-”

 

“They belong to Estel and Elladan. It has been confirmed. They should be here soon. Some of our watchers are bringing them.”

 

Elrohir was stunned. “What’s going to happen?”

 

Elrond sighed. “I don’t know. I have sent for Mithrandir, but I don’t know if we’ll be able to find him in time for either Elladan or Estel. We need to get out there and find them.”

 

Legolas finally caught up with them and gave Elrond his piercing glare. “I’m riding with the others.”

 

“Legolas, no! You have not gained enough strength for such a ride, you aren’t ready for a battle.” Elrond looked pointedly at the way the prince had limped to them, and how one arm was wrapped lightly over his midsection. But if Legolas noticed, he gave no heed. He dug one hand into his pocket and pulled out a piece of paper ~ the very sheet of paper Aragorn had been working on so intently the first night Legolas had woken. But that felt so long ago, a lifetime ago. Legolas handed the paper for Elrond to see.

 

The elf lord unfolded the one crease and smoothed the parchment in his hands. Once he was done, he could only stare at it.

 

It was a drawing, a detailed sketch of the elf prince himself.  Elrond was amazed at the detail ~ Elrohir, the artist of the family, could have done no better. In the drawing Legolas was kneeling on one knee with his knives in hand, in a protective kneeling stance. He was looking at a dark shadow somewhere deep in the trees. Yet the part that confused Elrond the most was a fallen figure at Legolas’ side ~ a dark haired being who wore no shirt, and bore several marks of mistreatment. The look in Legolas’ eyes in the picture was filled with pain and intensity. When Elrond looked up at the Legolas in front of him, his eyes held no difference from the picture.

 

“They are both out there, risking their lives for me,” Legolas said in a low, pain filled voice. “I need to get out there and help in any way I can. Some of my strength has returned, I can handle a ride in the dark. But please Elrond.” Legolas looked the elf lord directly in the eye. “I will never forgive myself if they both be lost and I stayed behind and did nothing to help, and . . .” Legolas gestured toward the picture. “I think Estel needs me.”

 

Elrond sighed. He knew that look, and he understood the fear the prince concealed within. “All right, but I want you to stay with Elrohir, do you understand me?” Elrond gave Legolas back the parchment.

 

Placing the sheet of artwork back inside one pocket, Legolas nodded. “I will stay with him.”

 

Just then several elves on horseback ran out of the woods and toward the great home of Rivendell. In the midst of them were two riderless horses; both of which looked annoyed and upset that they were being herded like cattle, rather than the war horses that they were.

 

“Come.” Said Elrond, leading the way to where the horseman had stopped. “We must see if they bring any news.”

 

The other two followed him, and Elrond went over to one of the elves and began to talk quietly to him. But Elrohir and Legolas’ attention was soon riveted as a loud commotion broke out in the middle of the ring of horseman.

 

The two horses were beside themselves with fury. They didn’t seem to understand why the elves wouldn’t let them go back the way they had come, and they were neighing and twisting in anger. Legolas quickly recognized one of the horses – Aragorn’s stallion Arien was making more of a fuss than the other. Legolas ran up to the horse, grabbed his bridle, and quietly soothed him. The stallion calmed at the elf’s clear familiar voice, having heard it several times before, but was remained on the edge of barely controled patience. Eyes wide, he pranced on his feet, desperately wanting to go back the way he had come.

 

Elrond nodded to the elf he was talking to and walked over to Legolas. “I’ve been told that they both have been quite a problem on the way home. They desperately want to go back. They didn’t like the idea of leaving their masters, but they know how to be obedient.”

 

Legolas stroked the stallion’s neck and nodded. “He wants to go back – you can see it in his eyes. He feels guilty for leaving his master behind.”

 

Elrond nodded. “Have the supplies and equipment removed, and take him. He could help you find Estel and Elladan, if you listen to him carefully.”

 

“That I will.” Legolas immediately began to pull off the bags, then the saddle, and the horse’s bridle. The stallion stood quietly, and when Legolas mounted with slight difficulty, he gave a small whicker of appreciation.

 

Elrond continued. “Go with Elrohir and try and find what you can. I will get the rest of our warriors together and follow as soon as I can. Good luck!”

 

Legolas nodded, easily turned Arien around and rode to Elrohir. “Come, Elrohir!” he called to the elf as he mounted his own horse. “Let’s go find the rest of our family!”

 

Elrohir nodded and grinned, then kicked his mount into a canter. “We ride!”

 

<~~^~~>

 

Elrond watched the two riders disappear into the forest, then turned and checked on the rest of the uproar. As he did so, Kathalion saw the elf lord and flew to him.

 

“Are they going?” Kathalion still talked in his normal manner, but Elrond was now used to that.

 

“Yes. I could not hold either back, not even Legolas. They have wills of iron, both of them. But right now Legolas seems to show that more than Elrohir – he would ride even though he is not nearly close enough to his normal strength.”

 

“He feels terrified. I can tell.” said the eagle. “He will never give up hope that Estel and Elladan live, but the old fear will never leave him. He must be strongly connected with Estel to take such a risk.”

 

Elrond nodded. He had seen the young elf’s resilience to giving in to fear, but it did not stop the fear from haunting him. Nor would the connection between them be severed, not while they held to hope.

 

“I just hope that nothing will happen that will destroy his hard inner strength.”

 

<~~^~~>

 

A strange rider entered Rivendell not long after, bent low over his horse’s neck. He slowed, and stopped on the outer edge of the commotion, and watched the excitement with an experienced eye. He dismounted and led his horse closer to the elves that were preparing to leave.

 

He stopped one of the elves in his haste and asked for Lord Elrond.

 

“He is over there, next to the stables, sir.” The young elf said as he recognized the rider and pointed in the right direction. “He will be very grateful you have come.”

 

“Thank you.” He led his horse over to the stables, and quickly found Lord Elrond talking to a familiar dark blue and white eagle.

 

“Lord Elrond! Is that Kathalion?”

 

Elrond turned in surprise at the newcomer, and the surprise quickly turned to joy and relief.

 

“Mithrandir! It is good to see you! I need your help!”

 

<~~^~~>

 

“Mithrandir, what are you doing here? I sent for you only a short while ago.”

 

“It seems that your messenger found me quite quickly. About a week ago something told me that I should come and check on you and your family, and make sure you were all right. It also gave me the feeling of haste, so I came as quickly as I could.”

 

“Thank you Mithrandir. I do have great need of you right now.”

 

Mithrandir listened quietly to what Elrond had to say, which surprisingly did not take a large amount of time. Elrond told him everything that had happened and what they had found out about the poison, the cure, Kathalion, Moran, and Valkenor, and what was going on that very moment.

 

When he was finished, Mithrandir did not speak for a few moments. When he continued to do so, the elf lord pressed the wizard. Even though he knew it was unwise, fear can make one impatient.

 

“Mithrandir, what should we do? I know little of this demon, for Kathalion could tell me nothing useful.”

 

Mithrandir looked his old friend in the eye, and sighed. “Then I suggest we go find out.”

 

Elrond gave him a look of bewilderment, but then gave him a grim smile. “You are better versed in dealing with these kind of dark powers. Tell me what I should do.”

 

“Go prepare yourself. We shall ride and do what we can.”

 

<~~^~~>

 

Minutes later Elrond and Mithrandir were outside, ready to battle if needed, leading their horses to the center of the small group of elf warriors. Kathalion flew up to the elf lord and the wizard one last time.

 

“I must bid you farewell, my friends, and I pray the Valar will help you find what you seek. Send my thanks to Aragorn and Elladan, for they have taught me much in the short time I knew them. Farewell!”

 

With that Kathalion lept into the air and was swiftly far away from them. But right before he disappeared, he let loose a loud, echoing call that sounded both mournful and hopeful at the same time. As the sound faded, Kathalion was gone.

 

Mithrandir and Elrond, along with the small group of elves sat listening to the echo die almost as if in a trance.

 

Finally Elrond mounted his horse with remarkable ease and spoke aloud to the elves.

 

“We need to take great caution into this expedition. I’m not sure what we are going to face when we get there. Remain as silent as possible, and when we near the site we will leave the horses behind and sneak up on our enemies. Be ready when I call. Now,” he paused, and looked at Mithrandir. “Move out!”

 

Quietly now the elven riders urged their mounts into a careful run, as swift and silent as shadows moving through the trees. Elrond and Mithrandir quickly took the lead. The fight had begun.

 

¨         ¨         ¨

PART 12

 

“I've put my trust in you
Pushed as far as I can go
For all this
There's only one thing you should know . . .”

~Linkin Park

 

<~~^~~>

 

Legolas bent low over Arien’s broad neck, whispering to him softly. Off to his side he could see Elrohir urging his horse onward. They had been going quite fast, and Arien needed no prodding, for he felt ashamed for leaving his master and wanted to get back quickly to help. Legolas had long since noticed how the stallion’s limbs shook from fatique, but that did not stop him.

 

A few minutes later Arien pulled to an abrupt stop, nearly un-seating Legolas. Elrohir noticed, turned, and came back to them, giving the prince a confused look.

 

“I don’t know. He just stopped.” Legolas said, rubbing the horse’s neck and talking to him quietly, but still, Arien did not move from where he stood. His ears were ####### forward, listening intently and testing the wind, searching for a familiar smell.

 

Then all at once he seemed to have found it and sprang away, going in a slightly different direction than they had been, ignoring Legolas’ voice and commands. Legolas did not persist, for Elrond had said the horse would be useful in finding Aragorn and Elladan, and now that seemed to be kicking in.

 

Arien flew through the trees, breathing hard, and yet barely made a sound. The ground beneath them was soft and springy with dew, easily hiding his normally heavy footfalls. Legolas hung on tightly as the horse galloped away, praying to find something, and that Arien would get there in time.

 

A short while later Legolas felt Arien slow his canter to almost a walk, then stop altogether. Arien turned his head and looked at Legolas wistfully, and nicker at him almost too softly to be heard. Legolas knew they were close, so close that Arien had stopped to avoid any mistakes. Legolas quickly and quietly dismounted, and waited for Elrohir to dismount when he caught up to them.

 

They left the horses in the trees with the assurance that they would not go anywhere, and began to head in the right direction, following the now still fresh trail of Arien and Hísië. It was easy to follow since there had been no intention of hiding it, even in the dark. For the next short while they slowly picked their way to where their family members were.

 

It wasn’t long until both of them received the familiar twinge of dread creep over them, and soon they could both hear sounds that did not belong to the forest. They knew what they were. Soon they were close enough to see them. The orcs had built a large fire in the middle of a clearing and gathered around it, while many continually glanced over to one cluster of trees with looks of glee. The demon remained outside of the gibbering, but rather contented himself to only watch the cluster carefully, then look up at the sky. To an observer, he watched with hate and distrust.

 

Legolas and Elrohir moved forward as silently as shadows, not alerting any of the enemy to their presence. When they felt they could go no farther, they hid behind many thick bushes.

 

“Well, what do you want to do?” Legolas asked, nodding toward the clearing and it’s occupants. Elrohir watched them without speaking for a few moments, and then turned back towards the prince.

 

“They keep looking at that cluster of trees,” Elrohir began, nodding in its direction. “I don’t think it will take to much effort to guess why.”

 

“But why would they leave them over there? They aren’t near the orcs at all, they just tied them up in the trees and left them?” Legolas looked astounded that the orcs could have made it so easy for them.

 

“No, they’ve done something to them. They’ve both probably been beaten, then left in the cold to freeze, or they already . . .” Anger and fear rippled over Elrohir’s features, adding to the tension that was already building in Legolas’ heart.

 

“Come,” Elrohir said, gesturing Legolas to come with him. “Let’s go see if we can find out what they’ve done. Then we’ll know how badly they’ll need help.”

 

Legolas nodded, and they both crept forward. Crawling on all fours like spiders, slinking like snakes, they made their way through the grass ~ around the trees, under bushes, until they had made it to the group of trees that caused such interest to what remained of the orc party.

 

Even before they got there they could both smell something odd and sweetish, but horrifyingly familiar. Legolas looked behind him at Elrohir when he first noticed it, and Elrohir nodded and urged him to go forward faster.

 

Legolas increased his speed, but still barely made a noise. Elrohir followed him carefully, up until they could see through the dense trees and what they hid.

 

Legolas waited for Elrohir before he looked. The sweet, but sharp smell was almost overpowering to his keen nose, and he knew that Elrohir could smell it just as well. When Elrohir was next to him, at the same time they peeked out through the tree trunks and into a living nightmare.

 

Both Elladan and Estel were bound to the trees with their arms behind them and knelt on the ground as best they could with their legs on either side of the tree’s base. Elladan was closer to where Elrohir and Legolas were, and they could see him much better. His eyes were shut from the torture and emotional damage he had gone through. Now he was wandering through the hazy clouds of his mind, forced to relive everything he had witnessed and endured. His hair covered much of his face, but both the on-lookers could see the hidden tearstains, plus the bruises and gashes that lined his face, neck, and arms, and through the large rents and tears in his tunic. He sagged against his bonds, and did not move.

 

Legolas heard a strange whimper next to him, and looked at Elrohir. Elrohir’s face was suddenly drawn and tight, and he was trying to hold in his emotions; but Legolas did not miss the pain-filled cry that sounded like a sob of a lonely traveler on a hill far away. Legolas reached forward and gripped Elrohir’s arm tightly, and did not move as Elrohir gripped him back.

 

After a few moments Legolas tugged at Elrohir’s arm, jerking his head toward Estel. The young man was more hidden from their view in the place they were in, and he wanted to find out how badly his friend had been hurt, and judging by how Elladan looked, he feared the worst.

 

Legolas carefully made his way over to where Estel was. Again the sharp sweet smell grew stronger as they got closer. Legolas did not even wait for Elrohir this time, and quickly he peered through the trees and at the human.

 

He slapped his hand over his mouth to keep from alerting the orcs with his barely retained cry.

 

What he feared the worst was there, only so much more . . .

 

Legolas was right behind Estel, and could see his back clearly. It was layered with nothing but thick and heavy whiplash marks. It looked as though the demon had beaten him so hard there was hardly anything left. The sweet smell had now come into full clarity – Estel had been bleeding badly. The skin was horribly broken and inflamed, and in some places aside from the whip marks still held the marks of the orc beating. Legolas reached around the tree and touched one of his hands. It was a pasty white and frigid to the touch from the tight ropes that bound him back. He had not moved since the orcs had left him there.

 

Thoughts of the paper in his pocket came back, and Legolas moaned. “Estel . . .” Legolas whispered as he gripped the human’s hand tightly. How did he know?

 

Elrohir reached around on the other side and latched onto the young man’s other hand, leaned forward, and rested his head against the tree trunk. Moments later, he looked over at Legolas, shame and anguish written on his features.

 

“What are we going to do?” he whispered to the prince. Legolas knew what Elrohir was thinking. How were they going to help either of the captives? The orcs and the demon were continually glancing over to where they were, so there was no way they could free either of them without alerting someone. They were already playing with fire as it was. Helplessness crushed both of them.

 

“We need help.” Legolas said as he tightened his hold on Aragorn’s hand. “We can’t do this alone. Elrond is coming. We’ll have to wait for him.”

 

“But Legolas!” Elrohir whispered back a little harshly. “They need help now! Look at them! We don’t even know if they are still alive!” his voice choked at the thought. “We can’t even find out, not really, not without getting caught. We’re stepping too close to the line as it is.”

 

Legolas sighed and shut his eyes. Elrohir was right. They couldn’t get caught, that wouldn’t do Elladan or Estel any good. But not knowing if either of them were even alive! The very thought and uncertainty was maddening.

 

“Wait . . .” Legolas said as he noticed something. Had he seen him move? He looked back over at Estel and carefully watched his back. The entire length of it was bloody, red, and raw, and he could see the ranger’s back shine and flicker slightly. Then, ever so gently, he felt one of the man’s fingers twitch in his hand.

 

“He’s still alive! I felt him move slightly.” Legolas could not keep the slight relief out of his voice, but with it came panic. Time was slipping from them, life slipping from Estel as they waited.

 

“We have to do something!” Legolas hissed at Elrohir. He now understood fully that they needed to do whatever they could. “I’ll not sit here and wait, they need help now! Both of them are tarrying to close to the end, we need to get them away from here, and fast!”

 

“What do you want to do?” Elrohir asked, not angry, but harsh. “We can’t get caught!”

 

“I don’t know. . .” Legolas thought for a moment. “We need to draw the orcs and the demon away for a moment so that we can free them.”

 

Elrohir was about to respond when they heard a strange groan. Both their heads snapped around and looked at Elladan, who had shifted uneasily in his semi-conscious sleep. Elrohir immediately forgot what he was going to say as he quickly rushed over to his twin’s side behind the trees and whisper desperately.

 

“El? Elladan?! Please, my brother, say something!” Elrohir said and waited with hope-filled terror for a reply.

 

At first Elladan did not react, as though he were trying to register what he had heard clearly in the depths of his foggy mind. When he decided it was not a dream, he turned his head slightly toward Elrohir’s voice and cracked his eyes open.

 

“Elrohir?” the word was but a whisper, but at hearing the sound of his twin’s voice again, Elrohir thought a part of his heart would burst with joy.

 

“Elladan! You’re alive!” Elrohir reached forward and tightly grasped his twin’s hand. Elladan broke out of the daze he was in and tried to hold onto Elrohir’s hand, but after so long without blood flow his hands were beyond feeling.

 

“Elrohir? Elrohir, we need to get out of here! The orcs and the . . .” Elladan froze, remembering something, whipped his head around to the right and looked for Estel. He again saw the human slumped over and not moving, but his left hand was covered by another hand.

 

“Elrohir, who is . . . Legolas?!” Elladan strained his eyes to see the partially hidden elf in the trees.

 

“Yes, Elladan, it’s me.”

 

Elladan could only stare at him as well as he could through the trees in disbelief.

 

“You . . . you’re . . . ?!” Elladan still could not believe that he was really seeing the prince.

 

“Yes! Yes I do stand before you. I have not come from the Halls of the Mandos to haunt the living, I am yet alive.”

 

“Elladan, it is Legolas,” Elrohir said, “and Ada is on his way, but we have a problem. Elladan, we need to know – what happened? What’s wrong with you and Estel? What have they done to you?”

 

Elladan put his head down at the mention of the past, and spoke so quietly that both Elrohir and Legolas had to lean in closer to hear him.

 

“They were the ones that we had been running from, the ones we rescued Kathalion from. Obviously you know that story since Legolas is here. Once we got away, we thought we had lost them entirely. We rode long and hard until we stopped here, to rest the horses and ourselves. But something remained with us – some evil shadow stayed behind us, and though it caused worry to even Kathalion, we did not dwell on it as we should have.” Elladan stopped for a few moments as he tried to recollect his thoughts and breathe deeply. “They found us. If Kathalion hadn’t been alert they may have overtaken us. We sent our horses ahead and Kathalion told us he’d bring us help . . .”

 

Elladan continued to tell them everything the demon and the orcs had done to them, all their conversation, everything that had transpired. His voice grew weary and pain-filled, but never stopped until he had relieved the whole story on the other two. It was as if he knew that once he had told the story, he would be able to handle it better.

 

“ . . . Then they bound us in these trees, and as much as I tried I could not free myself and help either of us. I could not help him. He hasn’t spoken, nor even moved. It took only a few moments for me to realize what had really happened to him – he was bleeding. Bleeding badly. I couldn’t help him!” Elladan again hung his head as grief began to overtake him. “Now I do not know even if he still lives. The uncertainty has been nothing short of maddening for my heart. Legolas!” Elladan turned his attention to the prince again, pleading with his eyes. “Does he still live?”

 

Legolas had maintained a tight grip on Estel’s hand throughout Elladan’s story, horrified at the turn of events that had taken place. But now he gratefully could give Elladan some comfort.

 

“He still lives, but is to close to the edge to be of comfort. We’ve got to get you both out of here.”

 

“They have not hurt me so badly that I can be of no use,” Said Elladan, as he tried to sit up better in his bonds. “If you can get me free I swear I will fight to the bitter end with you.”

 

“We have no doubt of that my brother,” said Elrohir. “but we have a problem. We don’t know how to get you free without attracting attention. Those orcs and the demon are constantly looking over here; we don’t know how we’re going to release you without them knowing. Do you have any ideas? Both of you need to seek some help and care for your injuries, and we cannot do so with you both bound as you are.”

 

Elladan suddenly looked over toward the mountains ~ a small pink glare was forming in the clouds. It was nearly dawn.

 

“There is nothing you can do without some way to kill the demon and his orc party.” Said Elladan, his voice heart-breakingly soft. “It is nearly dawn ~ the demon will call for both of us soon. We need help that is beyond either one of you to give on your own!”

 

“I will not just sit here and watch you both die! I will not!” Legolas hissed at him, horrified at the thought. “I’m going to do something to help you or die trying.”

 

“Hold it Legolas.” Said Elrohir, piercing the prince with a strong glare. “You will be of no use to us dead. Help us think of a plan.”

 

“We need Ada, Elrohir!” said Elladan. “We can do nothing until we have a worthy force to fight the demon with. You told me he was coming. Just pray he comes swiftly.”

 

“All right.” Said Elrohir. He looked over at Legolas quickly, giving him a well-known glance. “Legolas?”

 

Legolas sighed with anger and regret. “All right. We will wait.”

 

Though, it wouldn’t be long before Legolas would hate those easily uttered words. Soon a riot went up amongst the orcs, as though they were waiting for a command. The demon turned to the quickly rising sun and faced the orcs.

 

“Bring me the prisoners!”

 

The orcs let loose a loud cheerful cry and many ran for the little tree grove.

 

“Legolas, come on! We need to get away from here! They cannot see us!” Elrohir whispered urgently, casting a long, heavy look over the captives. Legolas couldn’t move, frozen in place.

 

“Legolas, NOW!” Elrohir hissed as he moved toward the prince and grabbed his arm. Legolas fell into step with the younger twin, but only far enough to hide behind some nearby bushes before turning around and watching in painful silence. The orcs roughly cut an unconscious Aragorn and a horribly weakened Elladan from their confinement in the trees and drug them back into the clearing. Aragorn was too far-gone to try and resist, and Elladan wasn’t risking anything, wasn’t risking more pain for either of them at the fault of himself.

 

Legolas pulled his elven knives from their sheathes and clenched them tightly in his hands, as though they were his only source of resistance, the only way he could keep from running out into the clearing like a madman. He knelt on one knee, crossed the blades in front of him, bowed his head, and shut his eyes. Elrohir sat next to him, right there, and yet so far away.

 

<~~^~~>

 

Elrond leaned low against his horse’s neck, following Mithrandir closely. They were so close ~ they had to be. Mithrandir had been going much slower than when they had started, the situation much more serious. But then his sharp elven hearing picked up a sound coming from up ahead of them. Moments later, Mithrandir heard it too, and brought the small company to a halt.

 

It didn’t take long for Elrond to recognize the sound ~ it was hoof beats. And not unfamiliar hoof beats either.

 

“Mithrandir, horses approach us, and they are some of our own!” and sure enough, they could see two distinct darkened shapes running toward them, steadily growing more clear.

 

Arien left the other horse behind as soon as he saw the elf lord and made a beeline for him. Stopping next to the Elrond’s side he nudged his leg hard and urgently, whickering softly. Understanding the stallion’s gestures, Elrond dismounted, and began to follow Arien on foot into the trees. It was as if he could read the horse’s mind, and knew that he could no longer ride. One by one, the elven warriors and the wiszard followed suit. They all slunk through the grass so silently and swiftly not even an owl could know they were there.

 

Elrond put his hand on the hilt of his sword, an old habit, as he followed his youngest son’s stallion, who apparently knew just where to go.

 

<~~^~~>

 

“So! Have recent events made you want to tell the truth now?”

 

Elladan was the only one alive enough to answer, but he just couldn’t. He was too wrapped up in what was happening to Estel. The demon didn’t really mind that he was being openly ignored. What was happening to the young man was more intreaging to watch then try to break the elf just yet. Besides, it was happening without his help anyway. The orcs obviously thought the man was trying to feign unconsciousness, and were trying to wake him.

 

Flinching hard and none too desecretly, Elladan watching with sorrow-filled heartache and fear as he watched them shake and slap the human. But he couldn’t do anyting! They’d kill him without a second thought, and Estel would be left without his protection. They’d put an end to him so slow it would make the toughest warrior tremble in horror. He wouldn’t risk that. Inwardly, he prayed for help, for release, for . . . his father.

 

<~~^~~>

 

Arien continued right through the forest, Elrond and the others right on his heels. The stallion often lifted his head to test the air, and increased his speed as much as he dared. Something was happening, and he wasn’t the only one who could sense it.

 

Elrond could also sense shreds of evil in the air, and stayed in step with the stallion. He could see and hear things that were still distant, but not unrecognizable. He moved swifter, dreading what he might find waiting for him. Looking forward, he could see firelight.

 

¨     ¨     ¨

PART 13

 

“Some bonds are just too strong
To break in the end.”


~ Plus One

 

<~~^~~>

 

Legolas grit his teeth so hard he nearly broke the skin on his lips. The human’s unbidden cries were circling in his head, driving the elf insane. Elrohir still sat by him, not really feeling the same pain, but knowing what it was. It burned them both, scars left behind that could remain unhealed.

 

Then something caught the corner of his eye and he turned his head, seeing somethng in the distance coming toward them fast.

 

“Legolas,” Elrohir whispered to the prince. Legolas did not react, but Elrohir continued to speak, somehow knowing that the prince was listening. “Legolas, something comes to us.”

 

Legolas lifted his head and looked in the direction Elrohir was pointing. He too could see it, and they both knew who was coming. Legolas did not even wait ~ he was on the move, heading right toward help, Elrohir right behind him, leaving the firelight and its dancing shadows behind to the source of hope.

 

Once they knew they were safe from the demon and his orcs, both elves broke into a run, barely touching the ground it seemed as they raced to the elven lord. Elrond left Arien and the others behind as he too raced forward, meeting them a short distance inbetween.

 

“What’s going on? Where are my sons?!” Elrond could sense the evil, the danger they were all in ~ it showed in his voice. He watched both of the young elves carefully while they filled him in on all the new events. When they had finished minutes later, Mithrandir had joined them and Elrond was far from calm and composed. Rather, he was filled with fury.

 

“Let’s go. We’ve got to get them out, and I’ll not leave them there to get tortured farther!” Elrond hissed at the group, then turned on his heel and walked quickly to the small group of warriors. Speaking quietly in elvish, he directed them to surround the clearing and wait for a signal to begin open fire.

 

“Wait for the signal!” he called quietly after them as they began to circle the clearing. Elrond gathered Elrohir, Legolas, and Mithrandir together, taking them along with him as he hid in the shadows. Before he entered his hiding place though, he drew his sword quietly and held it in front of himself with both hands.

 

¨     ¨     ¨

 

The orcs had gotten fed up with the human’s lack of response, and irritated, threw him roughly to the ground. Elladan was quickly at his side, gathering the young man in his arms, tearless cries racking his body. He was going to snap. He couldn’t take it anymore . . .

 

“You still don’t understand, do you? You have no idea how long we can drag this, and believe me, we will. But in the end I shall get what I want.”

 

Elladan shook harder and turned his head away from the demon, trying very hard not to cry out. He wanted to run, wanted to scream, wanted to get away from it all, but he couldn’t. This was no dream, it was real, and he would just have to see where it would take him.

 

Then suddenly he heard a small rustle in the brush. He turned his head slightly to see what it was. The demon wasn’t paying attention to what his surroundings were doing, directing full attention to the elf and human. Elladan looked through the thick branches and saw a hidden face.

 

“Ada?” he whispered, trying to believe. But it was true ~ Elrond was right there, watching him.

 

Then he saw Elrond mouth something to him. “It’s all right. I’m here. We’re going to get you both out.”

 

Elladan nodded, then went back to his slouch, so he wouldn’t bring attention to his father or anyone else. But inside himself, he suddenly felt like he could fly.

 

And then as if to add to his growing hope, he felt Aragorn move ever so slightly in his arms.

 

“Estel?” Aragorn moved again, and blurily opened his eyes.

 

“Estel! You are alive!” Elladan pulled the human close for a moment, but immediately let go as Aragorn let loose a groan of pain. Once it passed, Aragorn looked the twin in the eyes and whispered, “Don’t let him take you. Fight him. Fight back.”

 

“Now that you live my brother, I cannot fall again.” Elladan was filled with an indiscribable courage, and as he looked up at the demon with his eyes filling with fire, a voice entered his mind ~  words that were not his came unbidden to his lips.

 

“You are a coward!” Elladan hissed at the demon. The demon turned his full attention to the elf again, his anger growing.

 

“What did you say to me?!” he raged at the fair being, stepping closer to him as if to scare him. Elladan didn’t flinch.

 

“You are a coward. A coward! You use your power to attack, manipulate, corrupt, and destroy those that are weak-minded and those that are innocent. That is not power. Those are the works of a weak mind. And that’s what you are ~ a weak coward!”

 

The demon screamed at him in fury, a wail not unlike the cry of a Nazgul. He seemed to grow in stature, and the darkness around him grew, even blocking some of the firelight.

 

“Do you call this the works of a weak-minded coward?! See!” the demon raised his hands to the sky and began to speak softly in a black language. The sky above them at once grew dark and dreary, filling with clouds heavy with rain. Thunder rattled and boomed in the distance, and lightning flashed in the once star-brightened world. Thick, heavy rain began to fall, pouring down in sheets. The fire in the clearing quickly went out, though with the repetitive crashes of lightning it was as if it were still there. Elladan’s eyes flashed along with the bolts of fire.

 

“Yes! You have always been and will always be a coward! I am not weak and neither is my brother who you have so mercilessly beaten, and human though he is his body, mind, and spirit are more powerful than yours. You are weak! You are a coward!”

 

The demon screamed again. “You stand alone, foolish elf! You are alone! Who will come to your aid? That man? He is as good as dead! You think you can withstand me alone? Let me show you true power!”

 

The demon raised one hand to the sky as before, and a bolt of lightning roared loudly and jolted to the earth, falling into the demon’s hand. The demon held the fire in his hand like a ball, brought it down until it was in front of him, and began to shape it with his hands, until the lightning had taken the shape of a dense circle filled with white flame.

 

“You are too much of a free will to keep. You will never back down to the master. And for that, Elf of the Firstborn, you will die!” the demon took the fireball, reached back, and prepared to launch it at Elladan.

 

“NO! No they do not stand alone!” Elrond, Elrohir, and Legolas burst out of the trees and into the edge of the clearing, quickly killing a few of the unsuspecting orcs that were close to them. The demon could see his attackers clearly ~ Elrond the most visable, standing in the middle of the three, armed in silver mail and completely covered in a black cloak, his sword held in front of him in a ready position, prepared to strike. “I raise my sword to their defence, and take care of you!”

 

The demon backed away in surprise, the fireball going out in his hands, but then ordered the remaining orcs forward to fight the new-comers. The three elves were immediately in a world of their own, attacking the beasts with such fury that even Elladan had to wonder a little. He lifted Aragorn up slightly and dragged him away from the battle. Once he was away from danger, he laid Aragorn on his stomach gently. He then stood quickly.he ran to Elrohir, who threw him a long knife, and joined the attack. Several elves armed with knives and swords burst from the trees, cutting down the orcs with horrifying accuracy.

 

The demon backed away to the edge of the clearing and watched his orc party try to overpower the elves. It would have been easier to try and lift a mountian. Everywhere the orcs were falling, and with each death the demon grew more deathly cold.

 

Then suddenly out of the trees there came a great form in the rain, wind, and lightning. It was a horse, the demon knew that immediately, a stallion filled with a raging fury. Arien had been watching them, ignored by everyone, and unresrained he decided to make his own attack. He ran to the demon, wanting to bring death to the one that had caused his master to walk down one of the harshest paths of torture.

 

But sadly, the demon saw him coming. Putting one long-fingered hand into his cloak, he drew a long black knife, and waited for the stallion. Arien stopped right infront of the demon and reared high, lashing out with both forelegs. The demon sidestepped the attack, waited for the stallion to get back on all fours, and threw the knife in an unavoidable score.

 

<~~^~~>

 

“I’d give up everything

If only for your good . . .”

 

~Three Doors Down

 

<~~^~~>

 

“ARIEN! NOO!!” someone close by yelled out the horse’s name. Arien screamed in agony and roared at the demon, catching the demon’s wrist in his mouth and bore down on it, breaking it as he turned away.

 

The demon too yelled out in pain ~ he was not immortal, and flesh and bones was as much a part of him as any other being. He clenched his broken, bleeding wrist to him and watched, even through his pain, triumphantly as Arien staggered toward his master, the knife imbedded in his chest.

 

Aragorn watched with painfilled eyes as his stallion tried to get to him, but the horse’s stumbling fell short, and he fell to his knees a few feet away. Aragorn crawled to him and immediately tears began to flow like before. The wound in Arien’s chest was deep, and deadly. Aragorn knew enough about wounds to know that his stallion was not going to make it. No amount of medicine, care, or love could save him. Blood was literally gushing from around the knife, gushing life.

 

“Arien, please, no! No . . .” Aragorn sobbed out as he reached him, wrapping his arms around the horse’s head and crying into his mane. Arien pulled away and one last time, nuzzled Aragorn’s cheek with his muzzle, whickering softly in pain and assurance. Aragorn embraced the horse tightly, stroking him the way he always had, whispering over and over again to the stallion, telling him how much he loved him. And then all too soon the shuddering in the stallion’s body stopped, and Aragorn knew he was dead.

 

“Arien . . .” Araogrn whispered to the now still body, looking into the unseeing grey eyes with horror and disbelief. He couldn’t believe it. Arien was gone! Dead! Just like that . . . such pain at the sudden loss tore apart his heart, and with tear-stained eyes looked up at the demon with indescribible, maddened hurt ~ the look of death to his foe. He was going to pay. Aragorn gently put Arien’s head down on the rain-soaked earth, and respectively closed his eyes for a moment, bowing his head.

 

Aragorn raised his head and watched dizzy pain as his family fought for him. Elrond was the closest, no longer the elder elf that moved with care, but now wrapped up in a death dance, moving with grace and power, a warrior at the height of his strength. He was locked in a struggle that he would never stop fighting. The orcs were no match for Elrond’s state of mind, and were quickly cut down by the elven lord’s wrath-driven sword.

 

As he watched, out of the corner of his eyes he saw the demon move slightly, and turned his attention to the dark shadow. The demon was again searching for something in the depths of his cloak, and then, laughing slightly, pulled out something that glinted in the lightning. Aragorn saw it, recognized it, and froze in heart-stopping horror.

 

The demon had drawn another knife, and pulled it back, ready to throw  ~  right at Elrond.

 

Elrond’s every thought was in the battle he was in, unsuspecting the demon’s intentions. Aragorn didn’t even think, the thoughts of his heart and will taking over. He weakily struggled to his feet, left Arien’s side and ran in an almost drunken manner, putting himself between the demon and the elven lord. His injuries made it more than painful, but his will gave him the strength to do it. The demon didn’t even realize he was there until it was too late ~ the knife flew through the air and struck with a sickening thud. Aragorn again fell to the ground.

 

 “ESTEL!”

 

Legolas had regained much strength in the short time since he had been healed, but still was not up to complete health. He had hung behind the others, and contented himself to help Elrohir against the orcs, being the twin’s backup in any time of need. In which case, he had been watching the human out of the corner of his eye, and had seen the whole scene play out before his eyes. It was as if it had come from one of his worst nightmares.

 

Horror-struck, he had watched Arien’s attack, the stallion’s death, and then Aragorn’s bold rescue. Legolas saw the man fall to the ground as the knife buried itself in his ribs, abandoned Elrohir, and ran to Aragorn’s side, no longer able to stay away from him. The prince dropped to his knees and turned Aragorn over, and felt his throat squeeze shut. Never before had he seen someone he cared for so unrecognizable. Aragorn’s face was almost beyond recognition, his split skin marring his familiar face.

 

Aragorn could hardly breathe ~ it came in at first deep and hard, but ending in a pain-filled gasp. His eyes were only half open and glazed over. His skin was so pale and cold, and his injuries contrasted sharply against him. And Legolas knew ~ knew the man’s time was also short.

 

<~~^~~>

 

“There’s always another

wound to discover

There’s always something more you’d wish he’d say . . .”

 

~Vertical Horizon

 

<~~^~~>

 

“No . . .” Tears stung the elf’s eyes. “No, Aragorn please, don’t go . . . don’t leave me . . .”

 

Aragorn shakily looked up at the elf and reached for him with trembling fingertips. “Le-Legol-las . . . b-be s-strong-g mel-lon nin, I-I ha-have n-ever left-t y-you, I-I don’t-t w-want t-to n-now . . .” Legolas felt the icy fingers touch his cheek, and he reached up and grasped the freezing hand in his own.

 

“Don’t go, please don’t let go . . .” The tears Legolas had been holding back for so long finally were released. The sorrow that he already felt for Arien had now increased to immeasurable limits.

 

“I-I am sor-ry Leg-golas, b-but-t . . . I-I can-can’t f-figh-t any-anymore-ore . . .”

 

“No! No don’t give in, Aragorn please! I may never see you again . . .” Legolas pulled the man closer until their foreheads touched, silent tears falling down his face. “Don’t give in ~ you must fight it! Please . . .don’t leave me alone!” A few of his tears gently landed on Aragorn’s face.

 

 

So many times had they been steps away from death’s door, and each time managed to pull through . . .

 

 

“Le-Legolas . . .” Aragorn again touched Legolas’ face with his hand that Legolas had clenched in his own. “D-do y-you ha-have st-re-eng-th e-enou-gh to-to le-let m-me s-st-stay-y?”

 

 

Weaker men would have long ago given up the ghost, weaker elves would have left for the sea, but never these two . . .

 

 

“Yes! Yes my friend, I do . . .” Legolas moved Aragorn’s head into the crook of his arm, cradling it tightly against himself. “Yes.”

 

 

Hard and bold in body and mind, they refused to give up. They both had each other to hold on to, never stopping the long and difficult fight, because they both knew there was something more, something beyond the pain.

 

 

“But-but will y-you ha-have stre-nn-g-thh en-ough to-o let-t me g-go?”

 

Legolas’ breath stopped in his lungs. He shut his eyes and hung his head, leaning his forehead against Aragorn’s chin. He sat listening to the cries of battle, the howl of the wind, and tasting saltwater amidst the rain. He felt Aragorn slowly begin to shake harder. He was dying, had been dying for hours, his strength that was higher than a normal man’s was failing ~ but he wasn’t going to go, not until Legolas was ready.

 

It was only a few moments before Legolas lifted his head slightly to respond, his clear voice choked with emotion. “Yes Estel, I do.”

 

 

. . . and for a split second he was at peace ~ he was going . . .

 

 

“I-I w-wi-will wh-wai-wait f-fo-for y-you-u  . . . Le-Lego-las . . .” Aragorn began to shudder violently, his breath hitching harshly in his throat. “T-tel-ll m-my . . . f-ath-er . . . El . . . and El . . . I  . . . I . . . .” Aragorn’s voice failed him, and could not say anything over his closing throat. Legolas pulled the man closer, burying his face against Aragorn’s shoulder, feeling the man’s quickened heartbeat against his own chest, and quietly sobbed. Aragorn seemed to sink in his embrace.

 

“Estel, know this,” Legolas said gently into the man’s ear. “Wherever the stars may lead you  . . . or wherever death may take you . . . may a part of me remain with you, to protect you from harm.”

 

All at once the shuddering quickly stopped, the man’s ragged breathing ceased to flow through him, and the soft beating against the elf’s chest was no more ~ Legolas could no longer feel a heartbeat.

 

The elf prince choked out a last whispered plea. “Estel, please . . .  don’t leave me.”

 

Legolas slowly drew the man away from himself and looked at him softly. Aragorn’s eyes were closed, his mouth slightly open without breath. His features now softened and calm, released from the harsh convusions. Pain lines smoothed away to nothing.

 

Legolas couldn’t breathe.

 

Lifting the man’s head with one hand he gently kissed the cold forehead, shutting his eyes in unimaginable pain. He rose the other shaky hand and covered his friend’s still face with it, leaned his forehead against his wrist, and sobbed out a whispered call of release.

“Hiro îth . . . ab 'wanath. Gerich veleth nín.”

As he sat for a moment battling with himself,  he felt a strange sensation in his hand that covered Aragorn’s face, the one that was touching bare skin. It was as if he could feel something invisible leaving himself and entering the man, but what, he could not tell.

His mind would only register one thing. His pride and joy, what made him well known throughout the elven lands. Another part of his life that was bound to him.

Legolas slowly looked up and stared at the demon, of whom wasn’t paying any attention to them. Tenderly he laid the human on his side, his eyes dark and dead. “I will avenge you, my friend,” he whispered, then stood, picking up his elven blades.

<~~^~~>                                                                                                                                                                               Part 14

“Would he will be your anchor when the dark unfolds
Would he always love you the best that he knows?
Would he give his life up
To be all that he can
. . . is that how you measure a man?”

~ Clay Aiken “Measure of a Man”

<~~^~~>

Elrond cut down his last orc and yelled out for the hidden elves. “Leithio i philinn!”

From all around the clearing arrows were fired and the remaining orcs fell to the forest floor. Only the demon remained, alone in the middle of this strange turn of events.

Elrond stood straight and tall with his sword out in front, watching the demon with an experianced eye, waiting for any sign to begin. Elrohir and Elladan came and stood on either side of their father, ready to help fight. The demon one last time reached into his cloak and unsheathed his sword, pulling the long black blade from his hip and holding it in the ready position with one hand, now unable to use the one Arien had broken.

Then out from the side of the trees something came running, stopping Elrond in his advancement. Legolas had again joined them in the fight. Standing in front of the other elves, Legolas stood ready, both knives gripped tighly in his hands. The demon held still for just a breath ~ he could see in the young elf’s eyes the look of death ~ a death meant for him.

“Get out of my way, you fool,” the demon hissed harshly at him. Legolas didn’t move from where he stood, but widened his stance and held his blades firmly in front of himself. He wasn’t backing down.

“You have killed something dear to me,” Legolas said softly, though his voice was filled with strength. “I am here to avenge that death. You won’t walk away from me alive.”

The demon sighed almost lazily. He glanced amused at the elf and his injures he still bore from the long forgotten orc fight. “You must really want to die, then.”

“Without him, part of me is already dead.” Legolas refused to say more, and began to advance slowly.

The demon made no sign, but held his sword in his good hand, then suddenly leapt forward with a yell. Legolas met him in the middle, his knives flashing against the demon’s black blade.

It was like a dance. Each step looked planned and came out fierce and graceful. It was haunting to .watch. Both of them were constantly in motion, twisting and attacking each other with such skill.

“You may kill me,” Legolas ground out through clenched teeth, fighting faster and smoother than ever. “for right now I would welcome death. But this I swear to you, Servent of the Enemy, you shall draw your last breath before I draw mine.”

The demon continued to struggle against him, but with his useless wrist and Legolas’ fearless attack, he knew he could not win so easily. It was as if Legolas’ injuries were no longer there, left behind at Aragorn’s side. Though his leg would buckle under him and his ribs burned, he gave them no thought. His every thought on the moves he had practiced so many times. They came to him so easily it was as though his body had a mind of its own and did not wait for the elf to command. But he also fought for death ~ an unspoken plea to release him so he would not have to endure the pain of Aragorn not being there. He would avenge his friend, and then do nothing but plead for someone to end his life.

The look of no fear in the elf’s eyes and moves was worrying the demon more with each passing strike. Each time their weapons sand as they clashed against the other, Legolas became more bold, more daring, more reckless, but remained unbeatable. The demon had never met his likes before, nor found an equal in battle. But now he seemed to have found his rival ~ for nothing could stop the young elf’s want for revenge or his want to die.

Legolas twisted and dodged, parried and blocked every blow the demon gave. Thrust inward, outward, block, spin around, block, stab out, withdraw, downward cut, he would mentally coach himself, recalling all his time, effort, training, injuries, accomplishments ~ it had all brought him here, to fight and not be beaten.

But then it happened. The demon brought his sword down hard, nearly bringing Legolas to his knees in order to block it without falling, and the elf’s weak leg collapsed under him. The strain had been too much, and Legolas had not noticed until it was too late. He dropped to one knee and his endless dance of death faultered as he tried to recover. But that was all it took.

Before he knew what was happening the demon slammed the pommel of his sword right on the top of Legolas’ head and the elf fell backward, nearly to the ground as blackness claimed his vision. His dizzy head was thrown backwards, completely exposing his torso ~ his elven knives loosely gripped in his hands. The demon’s sword swung downward again, cutting deeply into the elf’s shoulder, touching his collar bone, and down into his chest.

Triumph was in the demon’s laugh as Legolas cried out in pain ~ one knife fell to the ground and the elf gripped his left shoulder tightly, blood flowing from the deep wound. Biting anguish ripped though him and his vision blurred. He had failed . . .

The demon laughed again loudly. He knew he’d win. What could the elf do now? Walking up in front of the fallen form he again lifted his sword. At least the elf would not interfere with him again.

“You must have really wanted to die, young one,” said the demon, his voice ringing with malice and delight. “You fought bravely, but still so foolish. It’s too bad you didn’t fulfill your oath. You will be the one to draw your last breath before me, just as it should have been. You are a disgrace to your friend.”

Legolas’ head snapped up, pain written in the tense lines of his face, but there was a strange gleam in his eyes. It was so bright it made the demon stop for just a moment, as if to figure out why the face carried no guilt or hurt in its light.

Then suddenly, Legolas smiled.

But it was no kind, friendly smile. This one was filled with such slyness and a hidden secret that it made the demon wonder. Confused, he watched the elf for a mere second longer, then let his sword fall.

It never made it.

Right then Legolas was back in front of the black shadow, knife in hand, and buried the shinning blade right under the demon’s ribs. The demon screamed in fury, but Legolas gave no heed. He was done with this one. He dug the long blade inward, sinking it to the hilt of the knife.

Legolas’ gaze was woven with hate . . . hate and such pain. “I . . .” he said slowly, pronouncing each word carefully in a low, deadly whisper. “HAVE . . . NOT . . . FAILED . . . HIM.” Tears came with each uttered word. The demon crumpled to the ground, withering slighly in agony. Legolas shoved the blade inward farther for a moment, then wrenched it out. The demon let out another anger-filled cry.

Then from out of the shadows of the trees another figure appeared, and walking into the clearing. He stopped just ahead of Elrond, watching the demon with a stern look in his eyes. He held his staff out in front of him. Mithrandir began to speak in an ancient language, and the tip of his staff began to glow like a star.

Legolas clenched his shoulder tightly, pain almost blinding him, but he stood and walked back over to Aragorn. As he left the demon he picked up both his elven blades and took them with him. One was stained heavily with dark black-red blood. Mithrandir would finish what he had started. But now, he wanted to be with Aragorn. To mourn in finalizing failiure, that he, once again, had stopped nothing.

For a brief moment Elrond looked for Aragorn and Legolas, and found them together apart from the group. Legolas was holding the man in his arms tightly, but was making no sound. Gravely worried for them both Elrond turned his attention back to demon, wanting to finish with the demon and take care of his family.

The demon hissed at the sight of the staff that Mithrandir held, and the storm grew more harsh. He was gripping his side, but the blood continued to flow. He was dying on his feet, but refused to go down. “Leave this place, Maiar. You are a fallen people, and even if you kill me, you cannot withstand the Dark Lord forever.”

“But we can, and we shall,” said Mithrandir, his staff now glowing to the likeness of the rising sun. “for as long as we have the strength to withstand it. We will never back down and let your master rule over us without a fight. And as for you,” he said in a voice filled with a majesty and power that would make a Nazgul second-think his actions, “you will not be around to help Him.”

The light that emitted from Mithrandir’s staff began to shape itself into a large writhering coil of light, and took the appearance of a striking snake. The white snake opened his mouth and hissed loudly at the demon, and then at a muttered command from Mithrandir, struck forward with the speed of a lion, falling on the demon with a wrath-filled cry. As the two collided, a huge burst of light exploded from the spot, so that none, not even Mithrandir, could see the final destruction of the demon. When the light finally faded, both the demon and the snake where gone.

All was quiet for a few moments, as the wind blew away any remaining physical memory of the demon. The rain at once slackened to a light drizzle, but did not stop all together, and the lightning faded into the distance. All grew dark. Once the shock and recovery was past, Elrond again searched for his son and Legolas. Finding them, he ran to them with the twins behind him, to the place where Legolas held the man close.

As Elrond neared, an unknown fear suddenly gripped him. Legolas was not talking to the man, but rather had buried his face against the man’s shoulder. Nor was Aragorn moving anymore, but now laid still in the elf’s arms. Elrond’s eyes drifted over to a strange shape on the ground not far away from the two friends and recognized it ~ it was Arien, and the stallion moved no more. Elrond’s heart seized, for Estel had loved the horse deeply. He turned his attention back to Legolas and his son, his voice filled with apology, and confusion.

“Legolas? Legolas, what is wrong?” Elrond stepped forward and knelt by the prince’s side, waiting for him to respond. He could not see either of their faces, for Legolas’ was hidden against the man’s shoulder, and Aragorn’s was under the elf’s arm. Then Elrond realized that Legolas was shaking . . . crying.

“Legolas?” the elf lord’s voice was no longer filled with concern, but now shook with fear. Legolas slowly lifted his head, his tear-filled eyes meet Elrond’s, and Elrond knew. He didn’t need to hear it said out loud, he could read it in the prince’s eyes, could see it in his actions. And with that, everything froze in Elrond’s head.

<~~^~~>                                                                                                                                                                         PART 15

You don't have to worry, you know I'll understand
I wanna help you through it, anyway I can
I'm gonna be here for you, take me by the hand
Break through these skies of gray . . . don't hold back

~ Jennifer Paige “Let It Rain”

<~~^~~>

Legolas carefully lifted the still ranger up and placed him in Elrond’s arms, then turned away and stood, unable to watch any reaction. Clenching his shoulder and chest again tightly, he started to walk away. All he could think was that he wanted to run away, run forever. His own taunting thoughts ran wild, that it was his fault, his fault Aragorn had died! He knew he could have prevented it, if only he had been quicker. He made it several feet before he could no longer had the strength to stand. He fell to his knees and covered his face in his hands. The vision of Aragorn floated in front of his eyes.

His fault . . . his fault . . . Oh Aragorn! Why? Why did you do this for me? Why did you give me something I can never repay? Oh Matho foech . . . I am sorry. I am so sorry.  Heartbroken, he mourned in complete and consuming grief, so strong he could almost feel his spirit wither with the intensity of it.

A deep, familiar voice entered his thoughts. Would you have done any different for me, my friend? Would you have let me die if you knew I had a chance? The soft, comforting voice wrapped around the elf like a strong embrace. Legolas continued to sob, recognizing the sound that so often brought him peace. It was as if Aragorn was right in front of him, trying to calm him like so many times before. And then, as if by magic or his secret call, there he was. Legolas tried to reassure the man as much as himself.

No. No, I would have gone, I would have tried to save you. Aragorn please. Please forgive me. I never wanted to bring you death. Forgive me. I am so sorry. Legolas pleaded with the man, begging for the release from his pain. In his mind Aragorn knelt in front of him and embraced him, letting the prince bury his face against his shoulder and cry, quietly soothing the prince’s whispered apology.

You do not need my forgiveness, my friend. You will always be worth my life , and I gave it freely for you.  Could we have tried this again I would have done nothing different. Nothing. You know why I did this for you. You have always known. I would risk everything, even my own life, for the one who has opened my heart, and opened his in return. You know this well. Do not forget.

With that, Aragorn faded from his view, but the strong embrace he was in did not go. Then Legolas realized he was being held tightly by someone else who was softly crying with him. Legolas looked up through blury eyes and recognized Lord Elrond above him, the warrior that had become a father again, his own heart breaking. His eyes again shut and he relaxed against the elf lord’s shoulder, trying to find the power to let go.

Elrond had watched the prince walk away from him and collapse to the rain-soaked earth, and while his heart felt broken and torn in two, he knew Legolas needed as much comfort as did himself. So, gently giving his twin sons their younger brother, he walked over to the prince and wrapped his arms tightly around him. Right away Legolas had begun to sob harder,  and hugged the elf lord back in such a manner that was most unlike him. The elder elf did not let go, kneeling in the mud with the prince. Elrond wanted him to know that he did not blame the prince for Aragorn’s death, and did not want him to suffer alone in darkness.

“Iston . . .” Legolas whispered in elvish. Elrond had hardly any time to react before he said it again. “I know. I know my friend. I believe you Estel, and I always will. Thank you mellon-nin. Thank you.”

Legolas looked over Elrond’s shoulder and over at the two indentical figures hunched over a third. Elladan was holding Aragorn tightly, while Elrohir sat next to him, one arm around his brother and the other around Estel, as if he where trying to hold the two together. Even when he wasn’t looking at it, Legolas again began to shake with pent up sobs when the silent form of his friend came into his view.

Elladan couldn’t take it anymore. So much pain he too thought he could have prevented, and all too soon he had leaned to the side toward Elrohir, shuddering slightly. Elrohir let go of Aragorn and wrapped his arms around his twin, letting his brother lose all his pain, while he too shed tears of his own. Aragorn slipped to the ground next to them, his head falling to the side facing Legolas.

And once again, Legolas heard a voice that no one else could hear, one so familiar.

Legolas, do you trust me?

My friend, why do you ask questions that have never needed answers?

A deep laugh. I shall never know.

Will I see you again? Will I find you?

What does your heart tell you?

Yes . . . yes I shall. I will trust you like I always have.

Than we will find each other again. I’m so lucky to have a friend like you.

Aragorn?

Yes?

Thank you. Your sacrifice was of the purest kind my friend.

And worth everything I gave. I repeat, you were worth giving my life for. You always will.

Legolas looked at the man again, but this time he did not fear the sight, and suddenly a strange thought came to him. Carefully he left Elrond and moved forward, placing his hand over Aragorn’s heart. He wasn’t even sure what he was doing, but he knew that it would do something ~ it was as if he could feel something, some strength leaving him and entering the man. It became so intense that Legolas could feel himself slowly weaken. After a few seconds he shut his eyes and waited.

Thump . . . thump . . . thump . . .

The familiar beating suddenly played its tune against his hand. Legolas froze as he listened to it again take it’s normal rythmn under his fingers, taking its normal course.

And as if to answer Legolas if he had any uncertainty still, Aragorn’s chest rose slowly as air again rushed into his lungs.

“Aragorn?” Legolas moved forward until he was inches from the man’s face and whispered his name. Aragorn opened his eyes slowly, and lifting one arm, placed a hand over the one that covered his heart, grinning slightly.

“Legolas.” The word was so soft . . . and so missed.

“You live. You still live.” Legolas’ voice was filled with barely controlled joy.  Though he was still horrifyingly injuried, he still lifted one arm and wrapped it around the elf despite the pain it caused. Legolas clutched him back, both laughing and crying at the same time.

"Estel . . . Estel . . ." Legolas didn't have the power to release the man. He could not make his heart believe ~ Aragorn was alive!

Even in his pain Aragorn began to soothe him. "Shh . . ."

"Estel, no, do not speak . . ." Legolas pulled the man back and again kissed him on his forehead. "My friend, do you know how much I love you?"

Aragorn shook his head and closed his eyes, leaning against the prince for support. Shaking his head again, he whispered back softly, "As much as I do you." Legolas again held him as close as he could, making no sound save those of joy.

Moments later they were surrounded by others ~ Elladan, Elrohir, and Elrond reached them first and soon no one could even see Aragorn anymore. Legolas let go of the man to let his family have their own reunion, and backed away next to Mithrandir to watch them rejoice.

“What happened, Legolas?” Mithrandir turned to the prince and looked at him closely, his eyes searching for an answer. “How did he come back?”

Legolas smiled slightly as he watched Aragorn stand wobbily on one leg and firmly embrace the elder twin. Elladan completely broken down at his sudden lose, and then regain. “I don’t think I shall ever know.”

“Hmm . . .” the Maiar mumbled to himself, a familiar glint in his eyes. Legolas saw it and gave him a small, slightly forced grin.

“All right then, keep your secrets.” Mithrandir only smiled, contemplaiting what he had just thought of. The two turned back to the quieted noise ~ Elrond had again taken over, as one elf brought him his bag of medicines. Directing Aragorn into the right position, began to take care of his wounds until further examination could take place. As soon as it was done, the man was lifted up and gently placed on a horse for transportation home. Just before he left, Aragorn called out softly to Legolas. “Come my friend,” he said, weakly reaching out to the elf, beconing him forward. “We must go home.”

“Yes,” Legolas walked to the side of the horse and gripped his friend’s hand, following the leaving group of elves, and Aragorn’s adopted family. “We can go home.”

<~~^~~>

“In the mirror of your soul
I know that you know
You are not forsaken
Hey butterfly open up your weary eyes
and realize
It's a trip we're taken
and the world will turn around again
and your shattered heart is gonna mend
in the end.”

~ Clay Aiken “Shine”

<~~^~~>

Once they had returned both Aragorn and Elladan were whisked into the healing wing for treatment. Legolas and Elrohir followed and helped out as Elrond and Mithrandir took care of the starving, untreated wounds and infections that racked their bodies. Soon after the inspections began Aragorn had to be given one of “Ada’s special teas” to keep him quiet and unmoving ~ the pain of his injuries was too great for him to bear awake. Elladan managed to remain awake and silent the whole time with Elrohir and Legolas next to him, but the bite of the clensing and care for his own inflictions kept him still and silent.

Legolas remained completely silent about his own injury, though it throbbed to the point of breath-taking. Soon his breath came out in deep, yet short gasps, and Elrohir noticed much faster than Legolas would have liked.

Ignoring the familiar plea of “it’s just a scratch” Elrohir took matters into his own hands and took care of the wound himself. After an opinion from his father, he cleaned the large slash with a special salve and sewed it back together carefully, binding it with soft fabric until the wound was well on its way to heal.

Elrond and Mithrandir were light and so gentle with the care they distributed that neither of the weary survivors complained at any action that needed to take place. Aragorn didn’t even wince in his sleep as Elrond took care of his back, not even when the elf lord washed it with cold water, and had to stitch it back together. Nor did he cry out when his leg had to be clensed, sewn back together and splinted tightly. Elladan was as quiet as an owl when Mithrandir took care of his bruised arm and the burns on his chest and hands, though he shut his eyes and ground his jaw in the attempt to remain silent.

It was a few hours before Elrond and Mithrandir declared their work done for the night. Both Aragorn and Elladan were taken to their own rooms and left with the warning that they were not to move from their beds for several days. Neither objected to the new rule, glad only that they were alive and healing, safe at home.

As soon as each of them were settled in their rooms Elrond sent Legolas and Elrohir to their own rooms and told them to get their own rest. Before they did so, they visited both the injured.

“Thank you.” said Elladan as they bade him goodnight. “Thank you for what you’ve done for me.”

“It is well that we can see you alive and on the mend, El.” Elrohir smiled brightly at his brother.

“And again yourself.” Legolas gave Elladan a gentle squeeze on the shoulder and stood with Elrohir. “Mear fuin.”

“Mear fuin Elladan.”

“Mear fuin.” Elladan relaxed against his pillows and fell into an unrestless, but light sleep.

In Aragorn’s room, the young ranger had to be proped up on several pillows to keep him comfortable. He lay on his stomach with his upper body on a mountain of soft pillows, his arms hanging on either side. He had fallen into a very light sleep, but awoke with Elrohir and Legolas’ entrance and waited patiently until they had come up next to his bed and knelt to speak to him.

“How you feeling, Estel?” Elrohir asked him while gently laying his hand on the man’s bruised cheek. Aragorn smiled slightly at him. On the other side of his face there was a large ragged burn that covered one eye and most of his cheek. Elrond had told him that he would heal in time, and possibly bare no scar to remember it.

“I’ll live, even if I can’t move right now.” It was true, for the only thing Aragorn could move without pain was his eyes.

Legolas knelt next to Elrohir and placed one of Aragorn’s hands in his own. It was so warm and scarred. Gently, he traced the marks with his fingertips, while Elrohir talked to the young man.

“It looks as though you won’t be able to hunt all winter, Estel. Nor will Elladan. What am I going to do without the two of you to keep me sane with Glorfindel and the rest of the elves?”

“Oh, you know you’ll find a way, my brother.” Aragorn smiled happily at the attempt Elrohir was giving to lighten his spirits. “Besides, I’ll probably scare most of the game away with my loud breathing, right?”

The elf froze. “Why is it th