Hello, here is the new chapter. Originally these were two chapters, but after re-reading them, I decided that they individually were too short and without much content. So I edited them and combined them in this chapter. Have fun reading! Reviews are much appreciated. :)
Chapter 10: Relief without salvation
It had been four days and Aragorn still hadn't woken up. Every day the healers coaxed teas and potions down his throat that would strengthen his body, they massaged his limbs and washed the sweat from his feverish body. Through all this time, Legolas never left his side for long amounts of time, wanting to be there when he woke up. If he woke up…
The healers, King Thranduil, Merenor and even Silien talked to Legolas, trying to make him understand that maybe, maybe Aragorn would not wake up at all. The young human had lost too much blood, his body had gone into shock and shut down before help had arrived, and the fever that had set in the day after the attack was sapping his strength. But Legolas would not heed their words. He would listen and nod, thank them for their kind words and comfort, and then turn his attention back to his still friend, their words already forgotten.
And really, he thought, he knew Aragorn better than they did, he knew him better than anyone in the Palace. It did not matter what they said, for Aragorn was stronger than they thought. He was a strong young man, a fighter, a warrior. He would pull through this and emerge stronger than before. Legolas was sure of this. Aragorn would not leave him now, not after all they had been through.
But despite his faith in his friend, Legolas sat down the morning after Aragorn had been found and wrote a long, sad letter to Lord Elrond. He wrote of the attack, of Aragorn's condition, and his own guilt in not having warned the young man of Lithdal. He left nothing out, embellishing nothing. He only wrote the truth, and it nearly broke his heart to write to his lover's family that he had not been able to protect Aragorn from harm. He sealed the letter and brought it to the room that housed the carrier falcons. He knew that a carrier pigeon would not be able to make the journey across the Misty Mountains in this weather, but he hoped that a falcon would be able to brave the cold and snow.
After that, he felt a bit better, but he knew that he would only feel well again when Aragorn finally woke up. His own injury was healing nicely, and he rarely felt dizzy anymore. The healers ordered him to lay down a lot and to take it easy, and for once Legolas did as they asked. He stayed in his chair beside Aragorn's bed, either sleeping or staring at Aragorn's pale face, doing practically nothing that could aggravate his injury.
Outside of the healing rooms, life went on. Rumors spread through the Palace like the plague, and one piece of gossip was worse than the other; but none of them came even close to the truth. But no matter what rumors the elves chose to believe in, they all felt very sorry for Legolas and the young guest from Rivendell.
With Legolas sitting at Aragorn's side, unmoving and practically deaf to the outside world, the task of unraveling the mystery of what had happened that night was placed upon the King's shoulders. He wanted to know what had happened to his beloved son, and what had caused the former messenger to attack Lord Elrond's son. And Thranduil knew that as soon as this news reached Rivendell, not even the deepest of winters could keep the twins, Elrond and probably even Glorfindel from riding to Mirkwood. He better had some answers before they arrived.
But although the King wanted answers, there were other things to contemplate first. And talking to the captive had no haste. The healers told him that Lithdal had woken up and was faring well. The injury was not serious, and he was already eating and drinking again, as if nothing had happened. Lithdal would go nowhere, Thranduil knew. He would get his punishment and the King his answers. But first, Thranduil wanted to talk to his son. He wanted to hear his side of the story, for surely there was more to the story of Lithdal, Aragorn and Legolas, than his son had told him so far. Thranduil would never forget the sight of his son kneeling beside the unconscious human, holding his face in his hands and calling him his 'love'. Never before had the King seen such love, devotion and stark fear cross his son's face, not even when he had been together with Merenor, so many many years ago.
As a father, Thranduil knew that Legolas had deep feelings for Elrond's son, and now that he thought back over the weeks that the young man had resided in the Palace, he remembered scenes and snippets of conversations, touches and smiles that clearly showed that Aragorn cared for Legolas, too. Had Thranduil looked better, he would have seen that his son and Aragorn were more than mere friends.
Deep down in his heart, Thranduil was happy for his son. Legolas was not an elf who could stand to be alone for long periods of time, and from the moment that Legolas had been old enough to have relationships, there had barely been a time that he had not been seeing someone. His relationship with Merenor had lasted the longest, and Thranduil had been sad when their relationship had ended. After that, Legolas had found joy in many different places, but never stayed long. Thinking back, Thranduil tried to remember Legolas's last lover, but he could not come up with either a name or a face. With sudden realization, the King realized that Legolas had not engaged in any affair since the day he had come home from Rivendell and told him that he had met a young man named 'Estel'. At that realization, a warm feeling settled in Thranduil's stomach, and he knew that his son had found someone he truly cared for, someone he truly loved.
And whatever had happened in Imladris last year, whatever Lithdal's reasons for nearly killing his son were, Thranduil wanted to hear the story from his son first, and not from Lithdal. Legolas deserved that, as did the young man who lay in the healing rooms, pale, feverish and at death's door.
But although Thranduil knew he did the right thing, his heart was heavy as he made his way to Aragorn's room. He knew not how his son would react, and he feared that Legolas would not talk to him, blocking off his emotions and crawling deeper into the cocoon he had created around himself since the hour he had laid eyes on the injured young man. Thranduil hesitated momentarily at the door to the healing room, but then pushed his hesitation aside. Upon entering the room, Thranduil felt his heart constrict in his chest. His son looked almost as pale as the human, with dark circles under his eyes. He looked thinner, too, although it had barely been four days since the attack.
Thranduil softly closed the door behind him and made his way over to stand behind his son. Placing a hand on Legolas's shoulder, Thranduil gave him a gentle squeeze. "How is he?"
"No change." Legolas said softly, his voice steady but weak. Thranduil saw that he clasped Aragorn's hand with his own, gently stroking the unmoving fingers.
"Legolas, ion nin, we need to talk." Thranduil pulled a chair over and sat down, watching his son's face. Legolas sighed, but he nodded his accord. Apparently his son had anticipated this particular conversation, and was not shying away from it.
"What do you want to know, ada?" Legolas asked softly, sharing a quick glance with his father before fixing his gaze back on Aragorn's face.
"Everything, my son." Thranduil gently said and leaned back against the back of his chair. He could see the emotions flash across Legolas's face, too fast for him to read. When Legolas did not answer immediately, he waited patiently. He knew that it was not an easy tale for his son to tell, and he would give Legolas all the time he needed.
Deep immersed in his thoughts, Legolas dipped a cloth in the bowl of water that stood on the nightstand, pressed out the excess water and then gently placed it on Aragorn's feverish brow. The young man did not acknowledge the touch, and Legolas sighed deeply.
"It all began last spring, when Lithdal came to Imladris, bearing your message." Legolas began in a small voice, his fingers unceasingly stroking Aragorn's. He had told his father about Lithdal before, but Legolas had so far not told his father that he himself harbored feelings for Aragorn, too. Feelings, that Lithdal was jealous of, and that this was the real reason that the elf had tried to kill him. Thranduil listened quietly, reading between the lines when his son evaded a topic or was brief about it. But from what he could tell, Legolas adored this young man, and blamed himself for his current condition. When Legolas ended his tale, his eyes glistening with tears, the King placed a hand on his son's back and began to rub soothing circles.
"Legolas, do you love Estel?" He asked softly, for this was the one thing his son had not yet said with so many words. He had spoken of deep feelings that Lithdal was jealous of, but there had been no word of love so far. But Thranduil wanted to be certain.
Swallowing thickly, Legolas nodded his head minutely. His voice was barely above a whisper when he spoke, "Aye, I do love him ada. With all my heart."
A warmth spread through the King at those words, for he was glad that his son had found someone he loved and cared for. It was rare in these dark times. But he also felt his heart constrict in sympathy and worry. Deep blue eyes strayed to the still form on the bed, and the King knew that should the young man die, it would break Legolas's heart.
"Ion nin, does he reciprocate your feelings?"
A sob, "Yes."
"Oh, Legolas." Thranduil wrapped his arms around his son's shoulders and held him close. He could feel the slender shoulders shake in his embrace, and he wished he knew what to say to make his son feel any better. But there was nothing to say, and so the King gave comfort by simply being there for his son when he needed him. They sat like that for many minutes, both elves lost in thought. When Legolas finally broke the silence that lay heavy on the room, his voice was muffled by his father's shirt, "We wanted to tell you the morning after the Winter Solstice celebrations. I promised Estel to tell you."
"Why did you not tell me sooner, son?" Thranduil asked gently, stroking his son's long hair. Absently he noticed that it had lost its glow, and was now of a dull shade.
"I was afraid, ada." Legolas wiped his eyes and pressed his face against his father's strong chest. "I did not know how you would react to Estel and me being lovers as well as friends."
Thranduil sighed inwardly at this confession, wondering why his son would think that he would dislike the relationship. Of course, Thranduil was not overly happy that Legolas had to fall in love with a human, but that did not mean that he resented his son's love. Thranduil said as much, "Legolas…I am glad that you found someone you love. And Estel seems a decent and smart young man."
"But, are you not angry because he is human, ada?" Legolas asked, his face still buried in his father's shirt.
"No, I am not." Thranduil shook his head and resumed his stroking of Legolas's hair. "You are young, my son, and you will have many a year yet to live on this Middle-earth. Of course, I expect you to one day marry some fine elleth (female elf) and bear me some grandchildren, so that our line will continue through the ages of this world." The King felt Legolas stiffen in his arms, but he went on, knowing that he must say what he wanted, that Legolas needed to know the truth, "Estel is young also, and will have many years ahead of him. So, why should I resent you the few years of happiness you will have with him? Your time together will be but a blink of an eye compared to your whole life, Legolas. There will be time for a marriage and grandchildren later, after Estel is long gone."
"You cannot mean that!" Legolas broke free from his father's hold, his eyes wide with disbelief. "I love him, ada. How can you speak so callous of him?"
"Ion nin, I only speak the truth." Thranduil said and reached out a hand to touch his son's cheek, but Legolas moved away, out of his reach.
"Ada, you speak of him as if he was only some lofty fancy to me, like some childhood friend that I will forget as soon as I lose sight of him. I love him, ada! And I plan on staying with him for the rest of my life." Legolas nearly shouted, very agitated at his father's words.
"No, Legolas, not till the end of your life." The King said sadly. "Maybe till the end of his life. He is mortal, Legolas, and he will leave this world someday."
Tears shone in Legolas's eyes, but his face was set in denial. He knew that his father was speaking the truth, but so far, he had never thought about it that way. It was a truth he had expertly managed to ignore. "That may be true, but after he has left me, I will not be together with someone else. I could not."
"Legolas." Thranduil sighed and bestowed a sad smile on his son. "I remember you saying almost the same words when you were together with Merenor. And now look at you, you have found a new love in Estel."
"But…" Legolas wanted to protest, but his father shushed him.
"I don't say it is wrong, Legolas. The heart often decides its own course of actions, and we have no other choice but to follow along. I am happy that you found Estel, and I hope that your life together will be a happy one, especially in these dark days. Enjoy your time with Estel, Legolas, for as long as you can. Take happiness out of every day you are granted."
Tears streamed down Legolas's face and he bowed his head. Thranduil quickly closed the distance between them and hugged his son close to his chest. "Shh, Legolas. I did not want to upset you, but I only thought it right to speak the truth. Ahh Legolas, I wish it was different. But look at your mother and I. We thought we had all the ages of this world to be together, and then fate intervened much too early."
"But I love him so much, ada." Legolas whispered brokenly.
"Then show him your love every day, Legolas."
When Thranduil left the sickroom, he felt his heart clench in his chest. He meant what he had said to Legolas, and he did not regret being frank with his son. He knew that once Aragorn died, Legolas would find new love, that was simply the way things were. Elves were not meant to be alone, their lives were just too long to spend them in solitude. And furthermore, Legolas needed to produce an heir someday, there was no debate about that. But that did not have to be today or even tomorrow or in a hundred years. Thranduil would not stand in his son's way regarding his relationship with the young man. If Aragorn even lived to have a life with Legolas, Thranduil mused darkly.
And while he made his way down the corridor that led to his private study, he thought about the things he had learned today, and the things he still had to do. There was an elf in the dungeons, after all, and he needed to…speak…with him.
…………………………………………………………………………………………………
The corridor that led to the dungeons was lit by red torchlight, and his footsteps echoed off the stonewalls. Thranduil was not sure what awaited him in the cell that held Lithdal, and he had taken two guards with him as protection, just to be sure. The guards would wait at the end of the corridor, near enough to intervene if necessary, but far enough away so that his conversation with the captive would not be overheard. The King knew not what Lithdal would say once he was being face to face with him, but whatever it was, Thranduil would not jeopardize that any more rumors spread through the Palace.
Nearing the cell, Thranduil beckoned the two guards to leave him, and they did as they were asked. They took up positions at the end of the corridor, their spears at the ready. The door to the cell was of course locked, but Thranduil had no intention of opening it anyway. Instead, he slid the metal plate to the left, revealing metal bars as thick as fingers. Behind them, Thranduil could see into the small cell. There was no source of light, no lantern, no torch, and it took a moment or two for the King's eyes to adjust to the light.
When his eyes were accustomed to the darkness in the cell, he could make out the slender form of the prisoner, leaning against the back wall with his legs stretched out before him and crossed at the ankles. His light hair flowed over his shoulders, and once the King could make out his features, he saw that Lithdal was far from looking haggard or afraid. Instead, the elf was smiling. When their eyes locked, Lithdal gave a mock bow with his head, "Your Majesty."
Thranduil growled deep inside his chest, but he knew the sound would not carry to Lithdal. He was not here as a father, but as the King of this realm, and as such he would have to behave himself. Taking a deep breath, Thranduil pushed his roiling emotions to the side and looked down at Lithdal.
"Lithdal, I have come to you on this day to give you the chance to speak in your defense, and explain the circumstances that have brought you to my dungeon cell."
For a moment, Lithdal's smile faded and he looked almost angry, "Dungeon, you call it. A room of waiting, I say. I have waited long, I can wait longer."
"The only thing you are waiting for is your trial." Thranduil said coldly, his eyes fixed on Lithdal's face.
"My trial…" Lithdal mused, his smile returning. "I wonder what the accusation will be?"
Thranduil felt his hackles rise, for one second unsure what to say. What would the charge be? Lithdal had not been banned from the Palace, so he had not broken any laws by entering it. There was no proof that it had been him who had attacked his son. And Aragorn was still unconscious, and no one knew when – and if – he would ever wake up. And even if he did, would the young man tell his tale? Would he be strong enough to tell it in court, with the whole realm able to listen to it? Thranduil had his doubts that the young man he had got to know would do that. Valar, who would?
If possible, the smile on Lithdal's face widened at the King's silence, "My visit here has not gone unrewarded. While I wait, I have enough sweet memories to indulge in."
Thranduil felt his composure flutter and he balled his hands to fists, for he knew that Lithdal would not be able to see it. "Speak plainly now. Why did you try to kill the Prince?"
The smile faded once more, so fast that Thranduil almost flinched, "I take it he is not dead then. Otherwise I would be dead already, I guess. Or banned from the realm."
"Answer my question." Thranduil growled, his hands tight fists.
But Lithdal was silent, and did not answer the question. Seeing that he would gain no more information from the elf, the King snapped the metal plate back into position and strode down the corridor. He had barely gone three steps when manic laughter echoed from the cell, loud and shrill. Without a backward glance, the King left the dungeon, the two guards following him silently.
But if he had learned one thing from this visit, it was that Lithdal was not only crazy, but also very clever. Without Aragorn's statement, there would be no proof, and therewith no way to convict Lithdal of any crime. The elf who had tried to kill his son – twice now – would go free.
………………………………………………………………………………………………….
The pain was not the first thing Aragorn registered upon awakening. And neither were it the slender fingers that gently stroked his own, or the well-known voice that called him name. No, when Aragorn awoke after six days of being oblivious to the world, it was a feeling of ice cold fear shooting through his stomach that jolted him awake. And the first thing that raced through his mind was the memory of the things Lithdal had done to him. Aragorn had been unconscious numerous times in his life, and so far he had always been fuzzy upon waking up, confused and unsure of what had happened to him. Not now. He remembered every moment, every touch and every kiss. His stomach churned.
"Estel? Can you hear me?" Legolas's worried voice reached his ears, but Aragorn's heart was pounding so fiercely in his chest that he barely heard him. Pictures danced behind his closed eyelids; of a half-naked Lithdal, of himself covered in his own blood and still aroused…Bile rose in his throat and his breathing quickened.
"Estel?" The fingers stopped stroking his hand and a moment later a cold hand was pressed against his forehead.
It was too much for Aragorn. This simple touch brought back the night of his attack, all the touches and caresses, the sighs and sounds. Without opening his eyes, Aragorn turned to the side and was sick over the side of the bed. His stomach quickly emptied, the little the healers had been able to trickle down his throat splattering onto the floor.
"Estel!" Legolas's voice was panicked now, sounding so loud in Aragorn's ears. "I need a healer in here!"
His eyes still closed, Aragorn tried to calm his breathing, but every time he inhaled, he thought to smell Lithdal's body, and his stomach churned violently again. But there was nothing more to spit out, and so he heaved dryly, shivering all over. And as if that was not bad enough, a red hot pain spread from his stomach all the way down his legs and up his chest. His whole body seemed to be on brightly burning fire. He was breathing too fast, and his hands and legs began to tingle. Aragorn felt his mind drift away to darkness again.
But suddenly, there were hands on him, many hands. A wet cloth was placed at his mouth, and strong hands turned him onto his back before a cup was pressed at his lips. He swallowed reflexively, and the cold liquid ran down his throat. He could feel it all the way down to his stomach, and he heaved again.
"Keep him on his side in case he throws up again." There were voices above him now, and more hands. They kept him down on the bed, on his side, making it almost impossible for him to move. Aragorn felt the pain in his stomach recede and also the sickness passed slowly. Whatever the healers had given him, it seemed to work. But all of a sudden, Aragorn felt so very tired. So tired. The voices around him dimmed and he heard them as if through a dense fog.
"He drifts away, turn him onto his back!" A voice commanded to his left, and a moment later Aragorn found himself being turned over so that he lay flat on his back once more. The movement aggravated his wound, and pain shot through his body. For a moment, Aragorn was wide awake, his head clear.
"We need to wake him up properly. He must not fall asleep again." The same voice ordered, and Aragorn groaned inwardly. He wanted to sleep, to forget. If they kept him awake, he would be forced to relive that horrible night. Aragorn wanted to forget what had happened, he did not want to wake up!
But the healers would not allow him to escape. Strong hands shook his shoulders, voices spoke loudly in his ears, and cold water was splashed onto his face. With every shake of his shoulders and drop of cool water on his face his mind became more and more alert, and Aragorn felt himself turn away from sleep and towards full wakefulness. Why would they not leave him alone?
A very persisted hand kept gently slapping his cheek, and Aragorn turned his head to the side to avoid the slight pain and the nuisance. Surely they all knew what had happened to him, what Lithdal had done. They knew that Lithdal had touched him, had kissed him, misled him and nearly…Aragorn could not bring himself to end this trail of thought. Again, his stomach churned, although it was already empty. What would they think of him? Would they pity him or rather shun him?
"Estel, wake up!" The same commanding voice reached his ears, and Aragorn knew that there was no way he could fall back asleep now. Where he had been barely conscious a moment ago, he was truly awake now. So, he took a deep breath and forced his heavy eyelids open.
The room was dimly lit, with a fire illuminating the few pieces of furniture it held. Some candles stood on a small table at the head of the bed, and a candelabra hung from the ceiling. At first, Aragorn had trouble focusing. All he saw were grey shapes that were moving around him. He blinked sluggishly a few times, and the grey shapes turned into the faces of healers, standing around his bed and looking down at him. Between all the faces, Aragorn could make out the face of the Master healer, Thurinir.
"Welcome back, Elrondion." Thurinir said, smiling down at him. "You gave us quite a scare, young man." The elf patted his arm, then said something to the other healers that Aragorn could not understand. And he did not want to. All he wanted to do was get back to sleep, so that he would not have to live with the memories of what had happened to him. But before his eyes had even half closed, a hand shook his shoulder and Thurinir's deep voice spoke loudly, "No Estel, you must not go back to sleep. Stay awake."
Aragorn blinked up at him, tired and exhausted and unwilling to comply. One by one the healers left the room, and Aragorn was alone with the Master healer. He had not the strength to argue with him. The wound in his stomach ached terribly, and his limbs felt very heavy. Why would they not let him sleep and escape the burning feeling of shame that filled him?
"Legolas, keep him awake while I prepare some tea." That was Thurinir's voice, and only then did Aragorn notice that there was someone else in the room with them.
"Aye, of course." Legolas said, his voice coming from Aragorn's left. A moment later, Aragorn felt slender fingers touch his shoulder, before they clasped his hand. A thumb began to stroke his palm.
Slowly, Aragorn turned his head to the left. When his eyes focused on Legolas's face, he almost recoiled under the intense stare that Legolas bestowed upon him. There were too many emotions swirling through the elf's eyes, and Aragorn could not read them. Afraid of what Legolas would think of him after what had happened, Aragorn turned his head away and closed his eyes. Almost immediately, Legolas's hand was under his chin, turning his head back towards him.
"Estel, open your eyes. You must not fall asleep again, you heard Thurinir." There was worry in Legolas's voice, mixed with relief, and Aragorn pried his eyes open once again. "Aye, that is better Estel, much better." Slender fingers stroked his hair away from his forehead, but instead of enjoying the touch, Aragorn felt his body stiffen. When Legolas caressed his cheek, Aragorn could not help but jerk his head away. The memories of Lithdal's touch were still too fresh in his mind, too close.
"Estel?" Legolas asked, his voice full of concern and confusion. "Are you sick again?"
Aye, Aragorn felt sick to the stomach, and his wound hurt. But more so his heart ached terribly, and it seemed to bleed profusely. He felt used and dirty, soiled and full of shame. How could he ever face Legolas again? How could the elf stand to touch him after what had happened? It was just too much. A sob rose in his throat, and he had not the strength to keep it inside. Soon, another sob followed, and a tear found its way down his cheek.
"Oh, Estel no." Strong hands hugged him, and Legolas's weight was pressed against him. But the gesture that had been meant to give comfort, only served to shatter Aragorn's heart more. For he was convinced that, as soon as Legolas had heard the full tale of what had happened that night, he would not be able to stand to touch him any longer. How could he, now that Aragorn was damaged beyond repair?
A few moments later, Thurinir returned to his bedside with a cup of lukewarm tea. Aragorn managed to drink it, and a few minutes later he fell asleep. Neither Legolas nor Thurinir tried to keep him awake this time, and Aragorn was grateful. He hoped that when he woke again, they would have left him alone, so that he could wallow in his misery, alone.
When he awoke next, he was indeed alone. Once the fog left his mind, he heard soft voices coming from the doorway, and he could see that the door was not closed, but had been left slightly ajar. Aragorn could not make out the voices, but he had no doubt that at least one of the speakers was Legolas. The elf had been at his side when he first woke, and surely Legolas had not left him…yet.
Too his surprise, the thought that Legolas had sat with him while he had been unconcious, warmed Aragorn's heart. Maybe Legolas did not care about what had happened. Maybe Legolas did still want to spend time with him, hold him…still loved him. But oh, how could he?! Aragorn swallowed thickly and suppressed a sob as the memories of that night flooded his mind. He felt so dirty, so used. Every moment of the night played before his closed eyes, and Aragorn could smell, feel and remember all the things that had happened between him and Lithdal. Had his stomach not been empty already, he would have been sick again.
How was it possible that he had not noticed that it was not Legolas with him, but Lithdal? How? Aragorn could not find an answer, and the longer he lay in bed, pondering those thoughts, the more he began to think that maybe what happened had been his own fault. For surely, if he loved Legolas as much as he thought and despised Lithdal as much as he always said, then he would have recognized Lithdal at the elf's first touch?
Estel knew that he had done something stupid. Something unforgivable. How could he not have noticed that it was not Legolas?! He did not deserve any pity.
Aragorn retreated so deep into his own thoughts that he never noticed the return of Legolas to his beside. Only when the elf laid his slender hand on his brow to feel his temperature did he become aware of his presence. Without conscious action, Aragorn jerked his head away and his eyes snapped open. For a tiny moment he imagined Legolas to be Lithdal, and the fear and abhorrence he felt towards Lithdal was reflected in his eyes.
Hurt flickered briefly across Legolas's youthful face, but it was quickly replaced by understanding and realization. "Shh, Estel, calm down. It is only me, Legolas. You are safe now." Legolas sat down on the edge of the bed. He took a cloth, wetted it in a bowl of water that stood on the nightstand, pressed out the excess water and then placed it on Aragorn's still feverish brow. A smile tugged at the corners of Legolas's mouth and he clasped Aragorn's sweaty hand in his. "I was so afraid, Estel."
Unable to hold the gaze of Legolas's piercing blue eyes, Aragorn looked down at the blanket. He could not face Legolas, too much had happened and he felt…soiled…somehow. Unworthy of Legolas's attention.
"How long have I been asleep?" He finally asked, his voice scratchy.
"Too long, Estel. It have been almost seven days now."
"Seven days?" Aragorn asked with shock. He knew that the wound he had received was serious, but seven days was a very long time. Very few men woke up after having been unconscious for so long.
"Aye, Estel. I feared you would not wake at all." There was pain in Legolas's voice, causing Aragorn to glance briefly at him. To his surprise, there were unshed tears in the elf's eyes. "I was so afraid, Estel. There was so much blood…" Legolas's voice broke, and he wiped his eyes with the back of his hand.
Aragorn pondered this for a moment. When he first woke, he had been too tired and upset to ask any questions. And while he still felt extremely tired, he desperately wanted some answers.
"How bad is my wound, Legolas? Why have I been unconscious for such a long time?" He asked timidly, almost afraid to hear the answer. So far, he had not tried to stand or even walk. What if the injury had caused permanent damage to his legs by severing a muscle or sinew?
Having regained his composure, Legolas answered, "The wound was very deep and bled a lot. When we found you, you had lost a lot of blood and had gone into shock. Had we found you sooner, the healers could have prevented you from slipping away so deep, but we came too late. The blood loss and shock caused your body to stop functioning properly. That is why it took you so long to wake up."
Aragorn absorbed this information, and while he now had the answer to that question, the answer brought new questions, as well. "Who found me?" Aragorn hoped that it had not been Legolas, oh please, not Legolas….
"I found you." Legolas said, squeezing his hand. Before Aragorn could reply anything, Legolas continued, "When I woke up and realized that something was amiss, that Lithdal had been in my room, I just knew that he would go to you. I tried to get to your room as quickly as possible, but…" Legolas's voice broke and he had to clear his voice before he was able to continue. "I met my father in the corridor, and he alerted the guards. Merenor and Silien heard his call and came as well. Together we broke down the door to your room and then I saw Lithdal on the floor and I…I panicked and then we found you and…." Legolas stopped and took a deep breath. "I'm so glad you woke up, Estel."
Aragorn was not sure what he should think, but the thought that Legolas and the King had been there when he had been found was terrible. What would the King now think of him? Surely he would think him to be a weak and pathetic human child! That was not the way Aragorn wanted Legolas's father to think of him. Even if it was probably true…
As if his thoughts reflected on his face, Aragorn felt Legolas squeeze his hand more tightly. "Are you alright, Estel? Do you need something?"
Shaking his head, Aragorn closed his eyes for a moment. Tiredness was creeping upon him again, and he knew that he would fall asleep soon. But there was one more question that he needed answered, before he could do that. With a small voice, barely audible, he questioned. "And what about Lithdal? Is he…dead?" He did not manage to keep the slight undertone of hope out of his voice. With Lithdal dead, everything would end there and then.
It twisted Legolas's heart in his chest to tell his friend the truth, knowing how much it would hurt the already weak human, "No, he is not dead. He was brought to a cell in the dungeons, where we will keep him for the time being."
Aragorn's face paled a little, but he said nothing. He simply nodded his head, then turned onto his side, facing away from Legolas. He was asleep in mere moments. Legolas sat by his side, holding his hand, and feeling that something had changed between them, but unsure what it was. Or how to fix it.
…………………………………………………………………………………………………...
(A few days later in Imladris)
Elrond was sitting in the library, a heavy old tome resting on his legs and his fingers holding the book steady in his lap. It was a very old book, and it had been in his possession for hundreds of years. The pages were yellow with age and well worn, for the elven Lord had read the book many more times than he could count. He was just to turn another page, when there was a soft knock at the door. A servant entered, carrying a small leather tube.
"Lord Elrond, a messenger falcon arrived from Mirkwood this morning." He handed over the leather tube, bowed his head and left the room. Elrond carefully replaced the heavy book on the shelf, before he turned his attention to the leather tube. While he broke the seal and opened the small tube, he wondered why Estel or anyone else from Mirkwood would send a message, risking the bird in the process. While the last winter storm had hit Rivendell almost a month ago and the weather was freezing but fine, the same could not be said about the weather in other parts of Arda, especially in the Misty Mountains.
While Elrond removed the parchment from the leather tube, a frown appeared on his face. Indeed, why would someone send a letter from Mirkwood? He opened the letter and his heart beat faster as he recognized the neat handwriting. Why would Legolas write to him and not his son? His eyes quickly scanned the letter and his face went pale. When he reached the last line, his hands shook so hard that he almost tore the letter. For a moment, Elrond sat motionless in the chair, too agitated to do anything more than stare at the letter in his hands. Thousands of thoughts raced through his mind. How could Lithdal have found them? Why had the guards in Mirkwood not stopped him? What about Estel? How seriously was he injured? And even more horribly, was his son still alive? After all, it had taken days for the messenger falcon to reach Imladris, so much could have happened in that time.
Fear and anger mixed in Elrond's heart, and for a moment all he wanted to do was saddle his horse and ride to Mirkwood. But one look out of the window was enough to dismiss this wish. It was in the middle of winter and not even an elf could make the dangerous journey over the mountains. The only way would be through the gap of Rohan, but that journey was full of dangers, too. And it would take way too long to reach Mirkwood that way. No, the only thing he could do was wait for another message, and then cross the mountains in spring. Elrond fisted his hand around the letter…spring was weeks away yet…
Suddenly, the door to the library was thrown open and the twins rushed in. It was Elladan who spoke first, his face a mixture of surprise and excitement, "Ada, we heard that a message from Mirkwood arrived this morning."
Slowly, Elrond turned his head to look at his sons. When the twins saw the grave expression on his face, they immediately sobered, "Ada, what is it? What happened?"
"Come here, my sons." Elrond said and held out the letter. "Read for yourself."
The twins read the letter, and when they finished, both of them had paled. "But…but how?"Elrohir finally exclaimed, his voice shaking. "I mean…there are guards all over the Palace, and Legolas would protect him, and…." His voice faltered and he looked at his father and brother in turn, his eyes expressing his helplessness.
"I don't know, my son." Elrond said and got to his feet. "And from what I can tell from reading the letter, Legolas does not know either. All we can do now is wait." He wiped a hand across his face, looking deeply worried.
"Wait?" Elladan's eyes snapped to his father's. "We cannot just wait and see, ada." He began to pace the room agitatedly, the letter clenched in his fist. "Estel is hurt and no one protected him! We don't even know if he is still alive!" Elladan reached a table and slammed his fist against the wood, making the whole table wobble dangerously. "I won't wait here while my little brother fights death! I am going to Mirkwood."
Elrohir exchanged a quick look with his father and saw his own emotions reflected in his eyes. They both knew that going to Mirkwood was no option, no matter how much they both wanted to do just that. Grimacing in shared pain, Elrohir made his way towards his brother, "Elladan, I want to go to Mirkwood as badly as you. But we cannot."
"Who says we cannot?" Elladan burst out, his eyes flickering towards his father, daring him to speak.
"Brother, I hurt as much as you do. And believe me, all I want to do right now is journey to Mirkwood and bring our little brother home." Elrohir said beseechingly. "But Elladan, it is winter and we cannot make the journey now. If we go now, either the cold or the snow will kill us, and you know that." Elrohir made another step towards his brother, afraid to upset him even more.
"But, I cannot just sit still and do nothing." There were unshed tears in Elladan's eyes, and he looked at the floor to hide them.
"I fear that is all we can do." Elrohir said, and having finally reached his brother's side, he drew him into a hug. Holding his trembling brother against his chest, Elrohir soothingly rubbed his back.
"I should have gone with him, Elrohir." Elladan said, his voice muffled by his twin's tunic. "He should never have gone alone."
"But he was not alone, brother." Tears gathered in Elrohir's eyes, and he let them fall freely. "Legoas was with him. And if I know one thing about Legolas, then that he loves our brother dearly. He would rather die than let something happen to Estel."
Sniffing, Elladan broke free from his brother's hold. Where there had been tears before, now only steely determination showed, "But Estel is hurt, and Legolas was apparently not able to stop it."
"We don't know the whole story yet, my sons." Elrond interjected, still looking pale, but focused now.
Elladan looked at the letter in his hand, and then towards his brother and father, "As soon as the snow melts, I will go to Mirkwood. And I hope Legolas has some good answers for me."
"For us." Elrohir said, locking his gaze with his brother's. "For I will go, too."
"As will I." Elrond said, surprising his sons. "I want to see my youngest son. And I want some answers, too."
…………………………………………………………………………………………………...
The days passed slowly in Mirkwood. The healers ordered Aragorn a strict bed rest due to his injury and the blood loss, and Aragorn obeyed, either sleeping or dozing. At night, the healers would give him some sleeping tea, so that his sleep was uninterrupted, and Aragorn took those teas gratefully. He knew not whether he would be plagued by nightmares, but he had no intention to find out. The horrible things he saw when he closed his eyes at day were enough to let him fear the things he would see at night, when all lights had gone out.
Legolas never left his side for long, and when he was not there, a healer sat with him. Once a day, Silien would pay him a visit, bringing him books or something to eat, the King came regularly to ask him how he felt and once or twice even Merenor came to see him. Aragorn would talk little, pretending to be asleep or too tired for a conversation, and his visitors went along with it. They never stayed long, saying few unimportant things, before they left him alone again. It was just like Aragorn wanted it to be.
He did not want to talk about what had happened, he wanted to forget it instead of being reminded of it day by day. And he did not want their pity; in fact, he thought that he did not deserve it. It had been him who had not locked his door, who had let Lithdal inside, who had let himself be blindfolded, touched, kissed and...no…he did not deserve their pity.
Ah, sometimes Aragorn wished that he could leave the bed, just to walk away from all the stares and the whispered conversations, and the secret looks that his visitors shared when they thought he would not see it. He hated it. He wanted to go somewhere where no one found him, where he could be alone with his thoughts and feelings. Just for an hour, a moment of peace and quiet. But it was not to be, for his injury was serious and his recovery slow. It would be days ere he was allowed to even leave the bed, and surely weeks before he was allowed to leave the healing wing.
The fact that Legolas almost never left his side did nothing to help Aragorn in his current state of mind. While the elf never said a bad word to him and did not press him for answers concerning that night, Aragorn just knew that Legolas wanted to know what had transpired as badly as everyone else. Of course they wanted to know what had happened in his room, but he was not ready to tell them. Especially not Legolas.
While a part of Aragorn wanted Legolas to leave, another part wanted him to stay. He loved Legolas with all his heart, and the presence of his friend and lover by his side reassured him that he was not alone. With the days passing, Aragorn felt more and more ashamed of himself. After all, was Legolas not only staying with him, because he had not the courage to tell the elf what had really happened between him and Lithdal? If Legolas knew the whole story, Aragorn was sure, Legolas would leave him. How could Legolas ever forgive him what he had done?
He was selfish by not telling Legolas, Aragorn knew. But the small part that wanted Legolas to stay, did not care in the slightest.
It was almost a week now after Aragorn had awoken. It was late in the afternoon, and Aragorn knew that healers would soon come to give him his sleeping tea. Aragorn hoped that they would come soon, for the day had been worse than the last few. His wound ached horribly, and he felt slightly dizzy and sick to the stomach. Silien and Merenor had visited him, and Legolas had not left his side since breakfast. Aragorn was tired and in pain, and the constant task of avoiding questions and stares, and the fear that the question could fall any moment was taking its toll in him. He wanted nothing more than to sleep right now.
He lay on his side, facing away from Legolas who was reading a book, when there was a knock on the door. Knowing that Aragorn would ignore it, Legolas bade to enter, and a moment later, the King entered the room. He looked tired and worn, and there was a hard edge around his mouth. The King closed the door behind him and came over to stand beside his son. He looked at Aragorn who had not even turned around to acknowledge his visitor, and then exchanged a worried look with his son. Legolas shrugged his shoulders helplessly, his eyes showing his deep concern for his lethargic friend.
Clearing his throat, the King sat down on the edge of the bed, careful not to jostle Aragorn. "Estel, are you awake?" His voice was soft and full of true concern. Aragorn nodded, but did not turn around. In principle this was a grave insult to the King, but Thranduil did not mind, and Aragorn was just too hurt and too tired to care.
"Good. There is something I must tell you." The King said, staring at Aragorn's back for a moment before he exchanged another look with Legolas. From his father's expression, Legolas knew that whatever it was his father had come to tell them, it was not good.
"I was just informed," the King began, his voice steady but his words coming a bit reluctantly, "that the prisoner has made a formal request of being released from the dungeons. He says there is no evidence of him having committed a crime. He wants to be set free immediately."
Shock tore through Legolas, and he stared at his father with wide eyes. This could not be true, it was preposterous! Legolas said as much, albeit with slightly less civic words. His father nodded gravely and wiped a hand over his face, "I fear it is true, ion nin. He has been in this cell for almost two weeks now, with no specific accusations being made against him."
Legolas got up from his chair and paced the room in anger, "But he nearly killed me, ada!"
"Can you prove that it was him?" His father asked in a calm tone, but his eyes were showing his anger at Lithdal.
"It was him, no one else would want to hurt me." Legolas grabbed an empty cup from the nightstand and twirled it absently in his hands. "I did not see him but it was him, we all know that."
"Yes, we do, but we have no proof, Legolas." Thranduil gazed at his son, his look conveying his anger at him being hurt, and his anger at Lithdal for wanting to be set free. "And we don't yet know what further happened that night." The King turned his head and looked at Aragorn's back.
While they spoke, Aragorn did not move, but both elves could see the slight trembling that set in and the slumped shoulders. Father and son exchanged a quick look, and then the King placed his hand gently on Aragorn's back. The young man stiffened, but did not jerk away.
"Estel, you heard what I just said?" The King queried with a soft voice, not wanting to startle the young human. A nod was his only answer. Encouraged by this, the King continued, "Estel, I know that this is very hard for you, and under any other circumstances I would not press you now. But Estel…we need to know what happened between you and Lithdal. Can you tell us?"
Both, father and son, held their breaths. This was it. The question that everyone in the Palace wanted to be answered had been asked. For a long moment, Aragorn neither said anything nor moved, but then he nodded timidly. His voice was barely above a whisper when he answered, "I don't want him to be set free." Both elves heard how difficult it was for the young man to utter this sentence, to show this weakness and vulnerability.
Legolas and Thranduil breathed a sigh of relief and Thranduil could not help but smile, "Neither do we, Estel, and we will do what we can to keep him locked up. But, you understand that, although I am the King, I have to abide by the law, don't you?"
Aragorn nodded again, but did not turn around. When he next spoke, his voice was still very soft, but concern swung in it, too, "He nearly killed Legolas? I did not know that."
"He entered my room and hit me over the head with a water jug." Legolas explained while he sat down again. "But I am fine, nothing to worry about."
"Good." Aragorn said, and the trembling in his body lessened somewhat. Legolas knew not if that was a good sign, but he was willing to believe so.
"Estel, are you ready to tell us what happened?" The King asked hesitantly, not sure whether it was good to push the young man, but knowing that it had to be done.
Aragorn took a deep breath, and then nodded, "Aye."
To be continued.