Chapter 20 - Unwelcome Tidings
With Öldür's tainted axe still in her hand, Vezely's eyes scanned the fields which had fallen silent around her. Picking up the Variag's discarded weaponry from the ground, as well as pulling arrows from the bodies of dead Rohirrim, she checked to see if her suspicion of all of them being laced with poison was correct.
It was called Castis, a poison she knew well, for when she was a general and her second in command was Öldür, she devised using it in war to further decimate enemies even after the battle was fought. Its name in the West was "Mercy Sleep," for its common medicinal purpose was to ease the passing of those fatally injured, allowing them to drift off into a peaceful slumber before assisting in shutting down their vital organs. Yet the darker purpose, and one Vezely counted on, was psychological - to have men return from war with mere scratches only to fall into a deep sleep followed by inexplicable death. It would easily strike fear into enemies, especially if they held certain superstitions. She had used it in some minor assaults, having her men allow the other side reprieve in order for them to return home to their doomed fate. Afterwards, she would announce their deaths as punishment wrought by the Dark Lord for their disobedience; attributing Sauron a power he didn't have.
Fortunately, the effectiveness of the poison waned with each use of a soaked blade; the first slice into flesh providing the rush of poison needed to assault the victim and the closer to the heart, the quicker its effect. Upon discovering that all the Variag's blades and arrows were laced with it, she knew she needed to quickly inform the healers to prepare its antidote. There was one, and if applied prior to sleep taking hold, it would dissolve its effects; thus time was of the essence. Vezely ignored the now noticeable sting of the cut Öldür's axe put into her chest as she marched forward towards her companions, spotting them in council with the dead armies who stood before the gate of the towering White City. She watched as the ghostly forms disappeared, trying to keep her legs still moving below her despite a sudden heaviness taking hold.
Legolas turned to see her far afield, appearing alive, though bathed in blood, and walking with an axe in one hand. He presumed she was successful in her endeavor against her former second in command, for she mentioned in council with King Theodon that the Variags were axe wielders. Her eyes could see his smile, and he decided to move towards her, as she kept pace towards him. Yet the heaviness in her chest was spreading to her hands and feet. The axe slowly slipped from her grip, and she stumbled in mid step; her feet could no longer feel the ground beneath them. She tumbled on her knees and elbows causing Legolas's face to go blank and his heart to stop.
As he raced towards her side, he found her attempting to pick herself back up. "I am not done," she yelled at herself angrily through gritted teeth, the minimal strength in her hands grasping at the dead grasses in a determined attempt to stand. But the ground felt as if it was pulling her like a magnet - the poison was taking over. "I can still fight...I have not done enough," she spat pathetically during her failed attempts. The fear that she would not be allowed to continue her path to redemption overtook her thoughts.
Legolas fell on his knees beside her, turning her towards him, his one arm bracing her back. His eyes searched in confusion as to her injuries. He brought his other hand near the cut in her chest, wondering whether it went deeper than it appeared or if there was another injury unseen.
"Poison," she answered his voiceless query along with a release of breath, "It is Castis, Mercy Death, the Variags' weapons are soaked in it." Her eyes wandered from his as she scoffed angrily, "He used my evil against me;" a second heavy breath turned her anger into a look of dejection.
"Stay with me," Legolas replied hastily, not understanding her last words as he held onto emotional strength amidst his fear; trying to turn her focus back to him.
Her eyes wavered, she needed to fight the urge to sleep in order to try and save others lives, "There is still time for the others. For men with scratches or wounds farther from the heart, before they slumber. There is an antidote known in Rhun, of Florexian mixed with oil of Veron root..."
Gandalf, along with Aragorn and Gimli had also approached the area. Upon hearing this, Gandalf immediately commanded a man of Gondor to ride quickly and inform the House of Healing to prepare the antidote.
"...There is no time for me," her eyes grew sorrowful.
He shook his head, telling her strongly, "You will wake, you will heal," he would not believe this could defeat her; he wanted to trust that the Valar would protect her, that they would disallow the poison to take her life.
"If I do not," she rejoined quietly to him in Elvish, though weak she lifted her hand towards his face but found it covered in blood; stopping her from touching him. Her dark past consumed her thoughts, causing her eyes to fill with water, "It is as it should be for what I have done."
He took her wavering hand in his own and pressed it against his heart, telling her sternly, "You are not beyond redemption, nor unworthy of my love. Please believe this," his eyes reflected hers as tears also started to form.
Her lips formed a small smile and a single tear escaped from the corner of her eye, "All I know is I have lived more in my short time with you than all my centuries before."
He pulled her body closer to his own, kissing her foreword and speaking to her softly words of love and encouragement, "Do not give up on this life, Vezely, you are not done," for he knew she had thought her future hopeless in the weight of her past.
"Nor are you," she spoke determined even if just a whisper, fearful that he would despair, "Keep. Fighting."
As she slowly drifted to sleep, she heard him speak words of prayer to the Valar to protect and heal her. With his eyes yet clouded over, he picked up the once proud warrior in his arms, her head resting on his chest; cradling her as one would a child. With trepidation, he looked at Gandalf for words of wisdom, but unfortunately they did not come with comfort, "I cannot promise that she'll wake from this slumber. Elves are more resilient, but Sauron yet has a hold on her ability to heal herself;" a subtle explanation for the scars that remained on her wrists and the fact that her ear tip had not reformed itself.
Gimli and Aragorn displayed their condolences silently as Legolas carried Vezely passed them, each bowing their heads in respect for their companion and the uncertain fate of the warrior he held. Borrowing a disbanded horse near the gate, he would take her to the sixth circle, to the Houses of Healing - Minas Tirith's infirmary which was already filled with the wounded, as many more were being carted in.
An old healer met him at the door immediately, her tired eyes trying to assess where the one he held should be placed. Due the enormity of the tasks set ahead of them, the healers were trying to be as methodical as possible when placing the wounded - figuring out who they could save and who they could not.
"She is poisoned," Legolas explained, "By what is called Mercy Death."
The old woman's eyes showed what was now a pressing concern, having been informed just prior of this development, "I see. Come," she began walking, speaking as he followed her, "I am not aware of its effect on your kind, but if she is asleep, for us mortals there is nothing we can do. The antidote can be applied to her wound but it will only prolong the inevitable."
"I would appreciate that being done," Legolas spoke determined behind her, "To give her more time to possibly heal."
The healer stopped and looked upon the Elf's face; she could see in his eyes a great amount of dread. She nodded curtly, saying assuredly, "We will do so, you can place her here," leading him to an empty cot in a row of badly wounded men; most appeared as if they may never rise from them again. Legolas gently placed Vezely onto the cot, hating the thought and feeling of separating her from his arms. He gently adjusted her arms and legs, hoping to make her comfortable though he knew she was not conscious of her physical surroundings.
Before leaving, the old healer looked inquisitively upon the woman he so lovingly handled. She appeared young, and if not for being an Elf she would assume she had not yet past three decades of life. But more so she was peculiar; wearing man's trousers and a leather corset, with short hair and eyes lined in black. Like the men dying around her, she was covered in blood, but the majority of it was not her own. Stranger still were the black marking drawn on her arms and shoulders. In all her years of aiding Gondor's wounded, she had never come across such a sight in one of her cots. Returning her gaze to him, she spoke with unease on the added predicament some soldiers found themselves in, "What sort of monster would use such a poison on a battlefield is beyond comprehension. I will return soon with the antidote."
Her words caused Legolas to uncomfortably swallow what spit he had in his mouth as he looked upon the peaceful face of the one he loved. Monster, the word echoed in his head; her last words of it being her evil returned to him. He took her blood stained hand in his own, speaking to her softly in Elvish. "That is not you, Vezely. You are not defined by your past. Let your future define you."
The old healer returned and addressed her wound, as Legolas helped cleanse her hands and face of some of the blood that stained them. He knew there was little more he could do for her right now as she slept with the uncertainty of ever waking. He unclasped the leaf broach from his collar and removed his Elven cloak from his shoulders, placing the warm grey fabric on top of her as a protective blanket. He desired to idle by her side, watch over her as she slept, but knew he should help attend the wounded as they arrived, to lend any support he could. And thus he painfully left her side, returning periodically to check her breathing and temperature, fearing each time that he would find them changed.
Eowyn would be brought in shortly after, much to the surprise of all who knew her, for none had expected the white lady of Edoras to be lying on the battlefield. Especially not her brother Eomer, who found her unconscious nearby his uncle who had died, crushed under the weight of his horse. Physically it appeared that only her arm was badly broken, but the greater concern was the discovery that she had contracted the Black Shadow of the Nazgul, which, not unlike the poison Vezely's body was currently battling, also caused its victims to fall into a dark sleep they could never return from. Merry, discovered much later by Pippin in his unwavering search for his friend, was also brought in under a similar predicament. The two had brought down the king of the Nazgul, with Eowyn fulfilling the prophecy told by the Elf Lord, Glorfindel, that while no man could kill him, a woman could.
Finding herself overwhelmed with ailments, a skilled healer by the name of Ioreth, wished aloud for a king, stating that "The hand of the king are the hands of a healer." Attuned to this saying, Gandalf persuaded Aragorn to also tend the wounded. He would revive Faramir, Eowyn, and Merry with the use of athelas, a plant with healing powers that increased when applied by the hands of a king. Yet there was little Aragorn could do against the man-made poison already set upon destroying Vezely and many others who battled the Variags. Fortunately, the antidote was easily produced and quickly applied to all with suspicions of being cut with a Variag blade or hit by a Variag arrow; Eomer included.
The new king of Rohan had a small reprieve from his nearly broken heart when his sister was revived from her dark slumber by Aragorn, though he would mourn the death of his uncle and of his many men that fell. While Eowyn was being moved to her own room to recover, he would pass the line of cots of men who were either victims of the poison or of wounds too great to heal, finding Vezely amongst them. He stopped before her feet, staring sternly at her calm face while internally processing some truisms in his mind: he knew she aided his sister's objective of fighting in this war, which nearly took her life; while at the same time, she saved his own life on the battlefield. The former he would not easily forgive but for the latter. Legolas, who had been checking in on her throughout the day, came and stood aside him, querying the man's thoughts.
Keeping his eyes foreword, Eomer spoke steadily, "She saved my life and lost her horse in the act," these words were difficult to voice, for he had not seen eye-to-eye with the woman in the near past. Legolas had not known whether Gizik had fallen on the battlefield, though assumed as much when Vezely showed up without her. Turning to Legolas, who Eomer now knew the woman truly held meaning to, he spoke sincerely, "I hope she rises again so I can thank her for such assistance." He then briefly placed a hand on the Elf's shoulder, giving him a small nod of condolence before leaving to tend Rohan's wounded; desiring to lend them morale in their time of pain.
Legolas knelt beside her, checking her temperature and gauging her breathing as he did each time he checked on her, finding it had remained steady since she first fell asleep. It gave him minor hope that she might pull through and fight off the poison attacking her inside. He would continue this routine during the night and early into the morning, as he assisted Aragorn with healing others. Each time he would find more cots around her emptied, as more and more men had found death and were moved to another location.
That morning Gimli would stop by; saddened to see the once spirited Easterling-Elf appear lifeless before him, and even more so to see his Elf friend in grief. He found him seated by her side with his eyes closed while clasping her hand aside his cheek.
"Come lad," Gimli encouraged carefully, for they had been called by Aragorn to council on their next move against Sauron's forces. Legolas did not shift his position immediately, nor open his eyes. Hoping to add some levity to the situation, Gimli added, "She would scold you for lingering too long as such."
A small smile lit Legolas's face, knowing what Gimli said was true of her character. "That she would," he replied, kissing the back of her hand before placing it back down by her side and tucking it under his Elven cloak.
...Standing with arms crossed aside Eomer, Legolas felt slightly removed from the discussion as he felt detached during the night while attending the wounded. Emotionally, his heart was on the verge of breaking - the added uncertainties of the war here and in his homeland, and now of Vezely's fate, did much to dampen his once steadfast resolve. Yet he tried his best to remain present, contemplating as others the worth of Aragorn's suggestion to divert Sauron's attention. The revelation that Frodo and Sam had made it passed the gates of Mordor offered some hope, for the destruction of the One Ring was truly the only way to rid Middle Earth of Shadow. All knew forging an attack on the Black Gates of Mordor was a suicide mission; for the remaining forces of both Gondor and Rohan, even if they could gather those with minor wounds, were not enough to defeat over ten thousands Orcs that were said to be stationed within. Diversion-produced time would be their only weapon.
The majority of the afternoon was spent discussing the assault and assessing their numbers, thus Legolas would not return to check on Vezely until later in the afternoon. But he would return to the row of forsaken cots to find her not among them. His heart dropped, fearing the worst had happened.
"She was moved," the old healer who had assisted him the day prior spoke as she walked briskly towards him, "To the upper level, by request of Lady Eowyn." She was taking some clean linens to another room and thus stopped only briefly before him, saying encouragingly, "If may be of comfort to know, she has outlasted others who fell to similar malady."
Legolas did not know whether it meant she would recover, or if her body simply slowed down the poison's effect; if he should hope that she would awake while he was away fighting at the Black Gates or fear she would slip while he was gone. All ran through his mind as he ascended the stairs. The warden directed him to a small room, where he would find that her body had been bathed and clothes replaced with a cream charmeuse gown. No longer was she in an uncomfortable cot; instead, she rested in a four post bed, with fresh white linens and her head upon an equally soft pillow. Without blood and dirt covering her, she appeared as if she was simply napping away an afternoon. Legolas's mind wandered to thoughts of finding her such in a future life together. Of going to sit by her side and watching her eyes open to his, or laying next to her and also napping the day away. He closed his eyes as such thoughts momentarily brought his troubled mind comfort before regretfully reopening them to reality. He went to check on her temperature, finding it colder than before and her breathing slower. His Elven cloak was draped on the back of a chair nearby, and he again placed it upon her, underneath the two layers of bed linens she laid under; hoping it would again provide her warmth and protection. It was then that he noticed she was missing her rings, including the one that held special meaning to her - the leadership ring of her clan. He left to find out where they had placed them, asking a healer who happened to walk by with heightened concern. The young woman, a bit surprised by the Elf's abruptness and not knowing the answer, quickly scurried off to find out.
"Apologies," an older woman came to him a few minutes later with a small purple velvet pouch in her hand, with the young healer he verbally assaulted trailing behind her. "We removed them to have them washed of the blood and dirt they held, along with the jewelry lining her ears. Her clothes were not salvageable and her weapons are in another room, for there is no need for them in a place of healing."
Legolas nodded politely while accepting the pouch the woman provided him, "Gratitude for the kindness you have provided her."
The older woman then looked upon him questionably, "Are you her next of kin?"
He did not expect this question, "We are not related by blood."
"Apologies, she is your wife," she replied quickly, sorry for her mistake.
"She is not," he replied with some sadness while looking upon Vezely, mired with thoughts of such plans never coming to fruition, adding, "Though I would make her so."
The old woman realized the Elf's manner of sorrow was truly one of the heart, thus she tread carefully with her words and spoke softly, "We have heard soldiers are being gathered to leave for Mordor by tomorrow's dawn and presumably you will leave with them. Thus we must ask, if she is to pass while you are away, what are the proper burial procedures for your kind?"
Legolas closed his eyes momentarily, for to be asked such a question held a heavy burden as he realized he had not known Vezely well enough to have spoken to her about desired treatment after death. He only knew that Easterlings cremated their bodies and that perhaps she would want the same. Thus, he requested it be done, but for her ashes to be given to him upon his hopeful return. Although he did not voice his reason to the healers, internally he thought he would take her remains home with him, and bury them by the Forest River amongst his other fallen kin.
As the old woman and the young healer left, gratified to have received this necessary information, Legolas sat unsettled by Vezely's side, hoping he had not done her a great disservice by posing such delicate plans; despite the fact he knew quite well she held to no superstitions in these matters and often showed disdain for those that did. He touched her forehead again to feel her temperature, finding it slightly warmer than before he replaced the Elven cloak upon her. Breathing in a deep breath and finding relief in its release, he turned his attention to the velvet pouch in his hand. He searched and found the ring in question, looking upon the crude, geometrically carved image of a sun on its front, before slipping it on her finger. He held her hand, speaking to her softly, "Pull from all sources of your strength, keep fighting and I will do the same."
The afternoon turned to evening, and Legolas would leave her side to join his companions for dinner, telling them she was holding on, not mentioning that his own heart was doing the same. He would also discover Aragorn with similar worries of Arwen, as the Palantir had shown him troubling images of her death; not taken lightly following Lord Elrond's mention of her fate being tied to the Ring.
"We must set our mind to task," Aragorn remarked in confidence to his Elf companion fearing his emotional resolve, "I would have you by my side in front of the Black Gates, as a brother."
Legolas put a hand on his shoulder, determined to not let his companion down, "And I will be there as one."
He would spend the night standing by Vezely's bedside, guarding over her as if he was on night watch in the Woodland guard. The open window in the room provided a view of the night sky and the stars that sat in it, and he reminisced back to their first personal conversation together, where she asked him whether the stars ever lost their light. He wondered again if such an unfathomable event could happen, thinking in regards to her own light which had diminished so much in her lifetime. As the sun began to rise, these thoughts were replaced with one heavier - that he soon needed to leave her side and march with the others on the Black Gate.
He sat by her, trailing his hand from her forehead to the side of her cheek, and mournfully finding her temperature slightly cooler. "Don't stop fighting." he whispered to her. He would say another prayer to the Valar before kissing her forehead softly, leaving the room slightly after.
Having just said farewell to her brother, Eowyn, who was still relegated to bed rest, desired to watch the armies leave from the sixth level's terrace garden. She would come across Legolas leaving Vezely's room, and despite standing only a few meters from him he did not acknowledge her at first, for internally he was steadying his emotions. She smiled kindly at him, knowing his worries as she also held them for her friend. "I will watch over her while you are gone," she told him softly, turning his attention and engaging his weary eyes.
He nodded to her, replying before turning to leave down the stairs, "It would be most appreciated."
Hoping to encourage him on what would be an unforgiving march to Mordor, Eowyn called after him, "She is strong, I do not believe she will let this defeat her," causing Legolas to stop in mid-step and acknowledge he held common belief. Eowyn admitted again to feeling somewhat useless being left behind. Despite her injuries she still desired to fight alongside the others. Passing by Vezely's door, she wondered if her female companion in arms still stood, would she have helped persuade her brother and Aragorn to let her fight again? She didn't doubt it. With dampened spirits, Eowyn would stand on the terrace and wait for the line of soldiers to depart from the gates far below; the chill of the morning air did nothing but worsen her mood.
After Legolas regrouped with the others, he reminded himself that he was also strong, charged as a warrior at home and in the fellowship. Leaving the city upon horseback with Gimli seated behind him, Aragorn cloaked in Gondorian robes riding just in front him, Gandalf upon Shadowfax nearby, and the two hobbits perched upon the horses of others, he was prepared to face whatever end beside them. This was his oath. For the sake of the fellowship, for his people, for Middle Earth, and now for the one he loved, he would keep fighting.
Vezely found herself standing momentarily immobile in a wet landscape that looked like reflective glass, with crystal clear waters stretched on infinitely, mirroring the sunlit purple and pink clouded sky above. Where the horizon began and ended lay uncertain in her mind but for a muted, but perceptible shoreline in the south. Her boots were submerged up to the ankles; the warmth of the waters just became perceptible. A second later the water beneath her flowed forward and rushed backwards as she realized she yet drew breath; she began breathing along with the tide.
She remained dressed in her battle clothes though sans the sai she knew she once held on the sides of her boots. Her hands remained stained in the blood of men and Orcs, prompting her to kneel down and try to cleanse them in the warm water below, but somehow she could not get them parsed of color.
Once before she found herself here, when she was the edge of death nearly five centuries ago; after falling in an ambush against the Woodland guard in Northern Mirkwood. The realization that poison on Öldür's axe brought her back, stirred anger in her heart. Again her past deeds had resurfaced, and presumably caused more deaths on the Fields of Pelennor, while she fell to her own evil schemes. "Ironic justice," she scoffed sardonically in Easterling to herself, though along with her anger, she feared never returning and never seeing the one she loved.
Her eyes roamed her surroundings again, and while doing so she noticed its utter silence; even the water's movement against the shore did not make a sound. Such quiet reminded her of her time in the deserts of Rhun, but even then the sand would produce sound as the wind carried it along.
The movement of the water rushing forward below her, prompted her to start walking towards the shoreline; the features of which were muted from her eyesight. She shuffled her boots through the wet sands as the tide continued to rush back and forth. But when she reached within a few meters of the shoreline, she stopped, fearful of what going ashore could mean. She was not ready to leave her life behind, not when she had found her path. But the shore still remained unfocused before her, and she wondered whether a slightly closer view would dissolve this filter from her eyes. Yet when attempting to take one more step, her boots felt stuck in the sands below her. So she closed her eyes, adding darkness to the silence in order to make it less unsettling.