Aderthannen [Reunited]
Legolas slept for an entire day and night, yet it was neither true
sleep nor the deep repose of a healing trance. He scarcely drew
breath, his eyes lay sheltered under lids gone thin and nearly blue as
though bruised, a strange greyish sheen to the papery covers folded
over the glassy orbs beneath. His jaw was slack, as was every
other muscle of his body, and he was unresponsive even to treatment
that ought to have ravaged him with torment. The pulse of his
heart was sluggish and hesitant, reluctant to force the limited
resources still in his veins through his body. He seemed more
dead than living, so infrequent was his respiration and haphazard his
circulation.
Fearfaron would not relinquish him once the wounds had been cleaned and
dressed. The arrow wound was not serious, no vital organs having
been punctured, but the leg injury was deep and resisted closing to
such a degree that the healer had at last resorted to stitching.
She used a strand of Legolas' hair to prevent his body from rejecting
the unnatural knitting of the flesh. Realising the persistent
coma was due to the combination of blood loss, sorrow, and the long
years of deprivation the normally sturdy elf had weathered, she felt
the best medicine was Fearfaron's presence.
The carpenter held him, allowing none to enter the room but the healer,
and depended on Lindalcon to enforce the demand. While that might
have seemed strange confidence in a youth just nearing his majority,
the elfling proved more than competent. He cleverly employed the
human who had brought Legolas in, a most imposing figure with his
battle-gory garments, hastily bandaged wounds, and a mighty sword at
his side.
The Man strode back and forth between the wizard's rooms and the
Tawarwaith's doorway, before which Lindalcon had dragged two chairs and
set them on either side of the forbidden portal. Here Aragorn and
Lindalcon kept watch, trading stories of their times with
Legolas. From him the young elf heard the telling of the battles
Legolas had fought, Lindalcon listening in rapt attention, fascinated
by the way the mortal's hand so often found its way to rest in perilous
comfort upon the hilt of his elvish sword.
On the second day Legolas finally showed signs of reanimation and the
carpenter rejoiced. His foster son yet was mostly unconscious,
but became almost cognisant when the healer changed the bandaging on
his thigh. With the awakening of his nervous system came the
unfortunate escalation of discomfort, and Fearfaron was forced to rouse
him enough to consume various restorative potions.
Long after Ithil's advent upon the night's horizon, the healer declared
he had drifted closer to true healing repose. Legolas was during
most of the next twelve hours completely unaware of his surroundings
and remained hibernating in dreamless oblivion as his body tried to
recover.
When he awoke the room was completely dark yet he was pleased to note
the company of Fearfaron next to him on the bed, one hand wrapped
comfortingly around his as the other carefully applied a cloth, dipped
in water steeped with athelas, soothingly across his forehead.
Legolas sighed and turned his head lazily toward his foster-father,
gripping tightly to the carpenter's fingers as a vague sort of smile
tried out his lips to see if they were amenable to such an expression.
"Fearfaron?" his voice was rather stringy and faint, but clear none the
less.
"I am here, Legolas! You wake at last!"
"Has it been long?"
"Nay, I was just impatient."
"Fearfaron, I cannot see you; why is it so dark in here?"
Laughter followed this remark. "Legolas, you have your eyes
closed! I do not think you are really awake yet. Sleep
awhile more, I will watch over you."
And Legolas did.
When next he returned to consciousness, he knew he was fully alert for
the ache from his wounds was quite insistent and commanded his
acknowledgement. He drew a tight breath through clenched jaws
when he shifted on the mattress and aggravated the injury of his
leg. He stifled a groan and lay still after that, prying open his
eyes a sliver to take a look at his surroundings.
He was not in Fearfaron's talon and the elf was no where in the room
with him. With sudden apprehension Legolas recognised the
chambers where he had been taken for his recovery. He shoved
himself into a sitting position, grunting against the flash of stabbing
pain through his side and the burning fire of tearing muscle in his
leg, but determined to get up.
He was in one of the many guest suites in Thranduil's stronghold.
Before he could drag his peculiarly lethargic limbs to the edge of the
bedding and attempt to stand, the healer rushed out of a side door, no
doubt the bathing chamber for she was carrying a pitcher and a stack of
folded cloths. These she set aside on the floor and stopped the
archer from moving more, for already the bandage round his leg had a
rapidly expanding crimson stain upon it.
"Nay! Mind what I say, Legolas, you are not ready to get out of
this bed! Look, it is bleeding again already! Will you
destroy the mending your body has managed thus far? You must lie
back!" She leaned over and grabbed his shoulders round the back
and gently but firmly half tugged, half pushed him until he was propped
against the pillows at the head of the bed. She carefully lifted
the injured leg and placed two more pillows beneath it, then proceeded
to apply pressure to the bleeding wound.
The injured archer inhaled deeply and held the breath a few seconds;
every muscle pulled taut under the sudden weight upon the damaged
tissue, but did not cry out against the pain. He could tell there
was no point in complaining to the healer, one glimpse of her firmly
set jaw was sufficient indication that she considered him a difficult
patient at best.
No sympathy from that quarter!
The decrease in blood flow helped reduce the insistence of the leg's
flaring nerves and as the pain subsided his mind cleared; Legolas
suddenly noticed his clothes were gone. At first he frantically
tried to pull the covers over, but he was now mostly on top of them and
it was hopeless. He sighed a long-suffering breath of
resignation; she had probably seen him naked more often than anyone
else anyway!
Except Malthen.
A shudder and a groan passed through him and he dropped his head back
wearily on the pillows behind him, squeezing his eyes tight. He
resisted the urge to press against the growing ache in his chest.
He did not want to think about it, not now.
But the healer knew there was more to be repaired than sword gouges and
arrow punctures. She removed one hand from the bloody thigh and
settled the red-slicked fingertips securely over the locus of the
older, more serious injury and softly massaged it for him. She
remained as silent as the tears that traced silvery tracks upon his
skin, spilling from the corners of his eyes, hurrying past his temples
to linger at the barricade of his ears before slipping down into the
stuffing of the pillow.
It took a few minutes for the flows, both vascular and lachrymal, to
subside completely and then she had to cleanse the area, restitch the
pulled skin back together, and apply a fresh dressing. Crafting
the new join caused sufficient elevation of discomfort to return
Legolas' attention to the external gashes and away from the internal
rends. Legolas found he had ripped the fabric of the bedcovers
during the ordeal.
With the torn muscle once more sealed, the healer took up a clean cloth
and dipped the corner in the pitcher. Using the dampened rag, she
rapidly applied it to the old scar, removing all traces of her touch.
Only after the healer had completed these necessary tasks could she be
troubled to locate a light blanket. With a flourish she snapped
it open and draped it demurely over Legolas' nudity, one hand lightly
smoothing the fabric across his stomach, a bare whisper of contact, and
the other tucking it with extravagant care around his hips. She
held his gaze as she did this, presenting her patient a slightly
exaggerated intensity within both her touch and her expression.
Legolas was certain her eyes were much merrier than the solemn duties
of her profession called for, and that this amusement was at his
expense. She was only teasing, and he smirked, wishing he had the
strength to give her a shove in the shoulder with his toe. He
watched her gather the pitcher and the towels from the floor and carry
them to a side table where she set them out next to a basin. It
seemed strange activity for a healer, as though she expected guests to
come in, dusty and weary, wishing to refresh themselves. While
her back was turned he used the opportunity to wipe away the moisture
from his cheeks.
"What is your name?" the archer suddenly asked.
"My name?" she turned to him in surprise; few of her charges ever
really wanted to know for they were generally in too much distress to
care.
"I just think that I should know what to call the person who handles me
in such a brazen fashion!"
"Oh, I see!" she laughed brightly, which had been his intent, and
approached the bedside where she sat, drawing one leg up onto the
mattress while the other remained on the floor. "I am
Gladhadithen [Little Laugh]. Thank you for asking, but I will be
quite surprised if you recall it once you are well and strong again."
"I will not forget!" he insisted. He was reassured by her
confidence that he would return to full health. "Will it be long?"
"Aye, I think so," she sighed as she nodded and reached up to squeeze
his arm in encouragement. "Much depends on you. If you
possess true desire to heal, I believe Fearfaron's care will make it
so. The wizard seems as dedicated to your heart as he; and I
sensed a deep connection between you when I touch there." Her hand
drifted to let her fingers delicately follow the small outline of the
soul-wound's scar.
She frowned slightly as the archer shuddered under this brief
contact. Her curiosity had been aroused when she had first
examined the old injury, and judged the state of his grieving far
advanced. According to descriptions of such cases, he should have
died of the malady some time ago.
"Legolas, this wound is worsened from the last time you were under my
care, yet there are signs of attempts to strengthen you. How was
this achieved? Was it Mithrandir?"
Legolas nodded and closed his eyes to shut out her penetrating
gaze. These were things he did not wish to think about, to
remember. He focused on his friends instead and changed the
subject quickly.
"What has become of Fearfaron? Where is everyone else? Why
have I been brought into the stronghold? Is Aragorn all
right? Mithrandir had a very nasty leg wound also; how does he
fare?"
"Peace! One question at a time!" Gladhadithen granted him the
reprieve he so desired. She had no wish to disturb the small
amount of repair the wizard had somehow affected, though she definitely
had concerns regarding the methods he may have employed. She
decided this was something she could discuss with Mithrandir and
Fearfaron without involving Legolas in the conversation.
"You were brought here at my insistence! The Man said you had
lost a great deal of blood, and a quick inspection of your nearly white
gums confirmed this!
"The King could hardly protest in front of so many witnesses, for the
arrival of the troops brought word of the battle. The news spread
quickly and the courtyard was filled when you made your dramatic
entrance! You are quite renowned among the warriors now!"
She smiled lightly at the amazement this comment generated in his
gaze. "In fact, Thranduil was very conciliatory and put all his
resources at my disposal to aid you!"
If his countenance had held surprise before, Legolas was positively
dumbfounded upon comprehending this remark.
"I can easily tell you of your friends," the physician continued.
"The Man is healing rapidly for a mortal and sustained only minor flesh
wounds. He has been up and about for two days and has come in to
check on your progress when I allowed it. With Lindalcon, he
guarded your door until last night, when Fearfaron convinced them that
you would not be disturbed and sent him away for needed rest, and
hopefully a thorough scrubbing and clean garments, also!
"I do not believe the human trusts my ability! Twice he has
informed me that he was trained in healing by no less than Elrond
Half-elven, as though that name carries any weight in these
halls! The Man resides in the rooms next door, with
Mithrandir." Gladhadithen noted the archer's abrupt loss of
colour as she relayed this mention of the Man's connections, but made
no comment.
"The wizard is as cantankerous and troublesome as always, and trying to
direct his own treatment though he admits freely that he has absolutely
no skills for healing whatsoever! Even the mortal has become
irritated with the Istar's petulance over being bed-bound and refused
to interfere when I forbade Mithrandir to get up. Despite my
admonitions, I have twice caught him attempting to sneak out of his
quarters, using his staff as a sort of crutch! Claimed he had
urgent matters to attend and uttered that tired old threat about
interfering in wizards' business!"
This description of his two friends' activities brought a small but
genuine smile to the Tawarwaith's face, exactly what she had hoped, and
Gladhadithen continued her recitation in a less humourous vein.
"Fearfaron has been here beside you every single moment until just
minutes ago. He has not slept, guarding you diligently and
jealously, and might I say with some measure of trepidation. He
does not like that you are here, wishing to remove you from the stress
of unpleasant memories, no doubt."
"Aye, I have little desire to be under Thranduil's scrutiny
either! But where is Fearfaron, Gladhadithen? You have made
me uneasy for him!"
"Nay, do not be alarmed! He was called away, it is true, but not
for any reason that would be harmful to him! Much has happened in
the years you have been away, and Fearfaron has many friends on the
Council! Thranduil will not dare to raise his hand against him
now!"
"Thranduil need never strike to deal the severest of blows! And I
have no trust in the Counsellors!"
"Legolas, hear me! I know not what the meeting is about, but the King
and three of the Counsellors requested his presence. He did not
look fearful, and even seemed almost triumphant when he left with
Lindalcon! I did not tell you this to upset you, but to give you hope
and encourage you to stay now that you have returned. You have
allies among your people now."
The archer relaxed considerably on learning that Lindalcon was with his
foster father. Surely no one would act against Fearfaron in the
presence of an innocent. As for her suggestion of acceptance
among the Woodland folk, he retained his scepticism.
"Fearfaron told me to send for him as soon as you wakened, and I will
do so, yet I would have your word that you will not try to get out of
this bed again until that wound closes completely! Otherwise, I
will just let Fearfaron return when he is done, and face his wrath for
not fulfilling his request! Somehow, when I explain the
circumstances, I doubt he would be angry with me!" She smiled
pleasantly at him but left no room for rebuttals or resistance to her
demands.
Legolas did not mind; he felt comforted by her concern and her
assurances of his foster-father's safety. He would do anything
she asked to have the carpenter back by his side.
"I will obey," he said with a half-smile.
Gladhadithen had no chance to reply for a sharp rap on the door
interceded and she rose to admit the visitor. She exclaimed in
annoyance when she met the wizard's bold stare and the sheepish gaze of
the human behind him. It was upon Aragorn that she rested her
disapproving glare.
"There was nothing I could do! He threatened to use his powers on
me," he declaimed with an uplift of his shoulders and an imploring
expression upon his countenance.
"Stand aside, now, good healer!" admonished Gandalf, "For I am feeling
the strain upon this knee and I am sure the laceration will reopen if I
do not take my weight off it soon."
"Mithrandir! Aragorn!" called Legolas, smiling, though he could
not see them yet.
"Oh, by Nienna's tears, you are impossible," she grumbled and stood
aside to let him hobble in on the staff and his healthy leg.
"You, drag that chair over here and I will get the footstool," she
ordered the Ranger, and Aragorn did as she instructed, assisting the
Maia to sit as Gladhadithen cautiously lifted his leg and propped it up
against the support.
"Ah, that is better! I thank you, Gladhadithen," Gandalf smiled
warmly but she only scowled in return.
"Save your pleasantries, wizard, for I am not impressed! You have
specifically disregarded my instructions for the third time. One
would think you desired to remain a cripple," she scolded as she rose
from checking the binding over the torn knee.
"Oh, beware, Mithrandir, she will try to put a guard on your door next
time!" joked Legolas. "It is good to see you both." He smiled
from one to the other; relieved his friends were safe, if not
whole. He had kept his promise.
"Do not encourage him with levity, Legolas! I am the one who has
been his keeper, thus she blames me when he misbehaves." whined
Aragorn. He felt very light-hearted to see the beleaguered elf
again. After the intensity of the last several days and their
constant companionship, the separation had felt keen, and both he and
Mithrandir had remarked on how odd it seemed to be parted from him.
"Nonsense, I need no attendant to watch over me like a babe," the Istar
fussed. "I know when I am ready to move about or not."
"Never mind, it is useless for me to protest since you are already
here," Gladhadithen stated. "I am going to leave you three and go
see about a light meal for Legolas. I will send word to Fearfaron
that all of you miscreants are once more collected in the same
location, and I will return in one hour. After that, Legolas must
be allowed to rest again," the healer lectured them sternly and moved
toward the door.
"Under no circumstances is Legolas to try to get out of that bed!
The leg wound tore open again just moments ago. If he needs to
empty his bladder, find a pot." With that she left them, shutting
the door as she exited the room with a final, warning glance at each
one in turn.
"You have no idea how welcome is the sight of those bright eyes of
yours, Legolas! It is a joy to find you awake and clear-minded,"
Gandalf breathed out and reached to take the elf's offered hand, eager
to forge the inner link between them. "Neither Fearfaron nor the
healer would let me in here."
"Aye, I am truly pleased to find you alert once more," Aragorn
concurred. "Gladhadithen would only allow me in for a bare ten
minutes. I doubt that she believed me when I explained that I am
a healer and you had been under my care up to now," the Man complained
as he carefully sat on the edge of the bed.
Aragorn pulled back the covers, revealing only the leg that was
wounded, and critically eyed the bandage as if he could learn something
about the progress of the mending just from that. Satisfied that
Gladhadithen at least knew how to bind up a wound properly; he let the
drape fall back against Legolas, yet still raised worried eyes to meet
his friend's.
"That is far worse than you led us to believe out in the forest,
Legolas," he reproved gently.
"What would you have had me do?" the warrior demanded. "There
really was no time to stop and give it a chance to heal up, Aragorn."
"I know we were hard pressed, yet that you also withheld," Gandalf
admonished. "Why did you not inform us how serious the situation
had become? Surely, those Orcs were trying to destroy, not to
capture."
Legolas glared from one to the other in exasperation. "It served
no purpose to tell you; that would only encourage you to argue with me
about how to deal with it. My goal was clear, I knew the best way
to proceed, and that is all there is to it!"
"Mayhap your desire was not the same as ours, then," intoned the mortal
with a knowing look at the wizard. "I have had time to think on
this and discussed it with Gandalf. You could have easily made it
back to the stronghold unscathed, is that not truth?"
"My objective was to get you safely here, to keep you from being
destroyed. How different could your goal have been,
Aragorn? Our options were limited; what more do you think I could
have done?"
Legolas was frustrated. It mattered little what might have been
possible; were they not here? They had already endured the
conflict; there was no need to create more between the three of them.
"Would it not have been better for all to arrive unscathed?" Aragorn
pressed on softly. "I fear you chose a path that put you in the
most harm rather than the least."
Now the archer stared blankly at his human friend. Was he
questioning Legolas' commitment to the oaths he had spoken?
He
thinks I deliberately put them in danger in order to kill Orcs!
"Nay!" the wizard almost jumped as these thoughts flared through his
mind. "That is not it! Aragorn is chastising you for taking
the vows too far. As am I. If you had explained some of these
things to us, perhaps we could have devised another means to break away
and spared you some injury."
"Nay, Gandalf, that is not it either," said Aragorn in
aggravation. "I am trying to apologise for putting Legolas in
such a dire situation. Had we listened to his counsel initially
we would have made different choices. We inadvertently allowed
time for the foreign Orcs to draw closer. That was the nature of
the trap the Shadow hoped to spring.
"Had we honed in on the Central Mountains initially, we would have
faced less formidable numbers. Once we passed beyond that
decimated village, I think our fate was sealed and Legolas did all that
could be done to lessen the severity of the battle we enjoined."
The Woodland warrior smiled in appreciation and nodded.
"Although, I was quite happy to have the opportunity to dispatch so
many of the disgusting beasts. During the night battle, the
foreign ones succumbed to the traps easily."
"Then however did you end up getting pierced by a blade so deeply and
in such a difficult location?" Aragorn was curious, for the injury had
cut into a large vein. A human would have bled to death from such
a wound.
"I was forced to use some trees no longer free of the Shadow." The
Tawarwaith grimaced in sudden rage. That had been most alarming,
the speed with which those Orcs had swept into the area, surrounding
him. He had not expected it and had no time to go to ground and
seek unblemished trees. "They are known to willingly sunder their
branches and drop elves down in the midst of an Orc horde, and this
time I could not avoid landing on one of the disgusting demons!
Unfortunately, it attempted to dislodge me with its blade. That
was a most unpleasant fight; the closest I have had with Orcs in a long
time."
Before they could continue the discussion, the door opened and
Fearfaron entered, eyes gleaming with happiness, and he went straight
to the bed, virtually shoving Aragorn aside in his haste to climb up
and gather Legolas close to him.
Neither elf spoke and Legolas allowed his foster father to carefully
lift him as he slid next to him, cradling the injured warrior
cautiously against his chest as strong arms formed a protective
encirclement. Legolas released his hold on Mithrandir's hand and
wrapped his arms loosely around Fearfaron's neck, resting his head on
the carpenter's shoulder with a deep sigh of comfort and joy as he
closed his eyes.
The man and the Maia smiled indulgently and Aragorn moved to Gandalf's
side.
"I think you should return to your bed, Old One," he said and helped
the wizard up.
"Yes, I doubt they will even realise we have left," chuckled
Gandalf. "I am hungry; did that healer say something or other
about food?"
With a grin the human opened the door and escorted the Istar from the
chamber as Lindalcon came down the hall with a very large tray laden
with food enough for five hungry elflings.
This he took into the wizard's room, taking up only what the healer had
ordered for Legolas and a suitable portion for the carpenter, which he
carried to the archer's chamber and set on a table. Not wanting
to disturb the two elves, he suppressed his wish to speak with Legolas
and quietly left to join the wizard and the Man, closing the door
soundlessly in his wake.
"I have missed you; I have needed you!" Legolas tightened his
hold on his foster father. "Fearfaron!" The archer took a deep
breath to steady his trembling but it broke from his lungs as an
anguished sob and he could not stop the misery from overwhelming him as
he fought to speak of the horrible truth. "Malthen…" He could not
say more; grief stifled his words.
The carpenter squeezed him fiercely, for he could not bear for Legolas
to be so distraught. The mere mention of this hated elf's pet
name made his bile rise. He tried to console Legolas by rubbing
his back, but the tearing cries did not abate.
"What has he done? Tell me! Already I have much to hold him
accountable for; his betrayal of your youthful trust is as black an act
as any I have known among elf-kind!" he hissed venomously.
"Malthen and my mother," Legolas began again in choked and disjointed
speech punctuated with his desperate attempts to draw air. How he
longed for the instantaneous connection he was able to use with the
wizard!
"Valar!" Fearfaron swore and gnashed his teeth, for these few words
were more than sufficient. His adopted child's defeated voice
supplied the rest of the narrative. "How have you come to this
knowledge?" he demanded, still angry that anyone had dared reveal this
ugly truth and its bitter possibility to one already so beset by
despair and troubles.
"Erestor of Imladris. You knew?"
"That despicable coward!"
Legolas could not tell whether he meant Erestor or Malthen.
"Ah, Legolas! He confessed to me after I confronted him.
That was right after Ningloriel left." He felt Legolas stir and
helped him sit up a little so he could look into his eyes. The
carpenter flinched to see he had just dealt the archer yet another blow.
"What? He did not go with her?"
"Nay! The selfish creature had some further designs upon you,
which Mithrandir and I put a stop to at once. He is here,
Legolas; he rode in with Talagan's troops, for it is they which came to
your aid in battle."
Legolas writhed in the carpenter's arms as the first wave of agony hit
him, spreading out from the old wound, and he howled against it.
His thrashing did no good to the leg injury and Fearfaron clutched him
tighter to still the flailing limbs.
"Nay! I thought he was in the Undying Lands! Why is he
here? I want him gone! I want him dead! Oh,
Fearfaron! I want him!"
"Peace, Legolas, you must lie quiet! The injury is bleeding
again! Be still!" In vain did the carpenter struggle to
hold him down. Fearfaron's alarm grew, as the wild elf's cries
became harsher until his words were completely transformed into
incoherent screams and the grieving took hold with new malignancy.
The door banged open and Aragorn sped to the bed, Lindalcon behind
him. The young elf froze in horror at the sight of Legolas in the
throes of such extreme duress, staring at the bloody red blotch rapidly
soiling the covers.
"Go and fetch the healer!" snapped Aragorn and shoved the young elf out
the door, nearly knocking over Gandalf who was laboriously struggling
to reach the Wood Elf's side. The mortal wasted no time but
grabbed Legolas' injured leg and pulled it tight as he climbed up on
the bed and landed the weight of his bulk on the limb. He yanked
the tangled blanket back and pressed the heel of his hand down against
the pulsing flow.
Legolas tensed and drew a sharp breath, stiffening against the pressure
and the pain, in an all too familiar prelude to the next attack of the
malady. The spasm that rocked his frame was severe enough to give
the mortal a jolt where he straddled the torn leg, but the scream in
Legolas' lungs never left his throat. Mercifully, his body was
far beyond any means to endure such horrendous agony. A great
rush of air sped past his lips as his eyes rolled back and he became
limp and lifeless in Fearfaron's embrace.
Tbc
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