Beta: Chris
A/N: -peeks out from under the table- Uhm, hello, readers. I know this took long to be posted, but real life still has a hold on me. I ended university, I moved out of my flat, I am searching for a job, I have exams… you get the picture. Oh, and for the first time in six months I am again able to watch tv and my DVDs. So…-smiles sheepishly-
Ahem, anyway, thank you all for your wonderful reviews. I loved every single on of them. I will answer them right after posting this chapter. Hope you like it, it is a bit longer than the last few. –g-
Elvish terms:
Mae govannen: Well met
Mae govannen, ingem mellon nin: Well met, my old friend
Mellon nin: My friend
Rim hennaid: Many thanks
"Hope is the worst of evils, for it prolongs the torments of man."
(Friedrich Nietzsche)
Gandalf crossed the Loudwater at midday and entered the woods surrounding the hidden valley of Imladris shortly after. With the deep cliffs to his right and the forest to his left, he rode along the path, his grey hat drawn deeply into his face to fight off the cold wind. His tired horse stumbled on the rocky, snow covered ground, and more often than not Gandalf felt himself slide to the side in the saddle, his legs numb and his hands stiff.
But neither horse nor rider would stop in their restless march. Gandalf felt a sad darkness descend upon his heart, similar to the one he had felt not so long ago when he had read the urgent message from Elrond. He knew that it was not the poison alone he was battling, but time as well. Therefore, he ignored his hunger and thirst and directed his energy to the way before him. Sensing its master's hurry, the loyal horse trudged ever on, snorting heavily.
Soon, he would reach the small path that would lead down into the valley, and then it would be only an hour more before he would be able to see the Last Homely House. Already he imagined to see the warm glow of the lamps, smell the wax of the candles and feel the warmth of the many hearths. With an encouraging pat on the horse's neck, he pressed his heels down gently. "Come, my friend. Fresh hay and warmth is near."
As if understanding Gandalf, the horse nickered softly and then strode out faster. But it had hardly taken ten steps, when it suddenly stopped in its tracks and threw his head back, clearly alerted.
Gandalf frowned. He had not sensed any danger, but he had to admit that maybe he had been too concentrated on his feelings of darkness and despair to truly pay attention to his surroundings. Slowly, he let his hand move to the handle of his sword that he kept at his side. He was too near to the valley to fear wargs or orcs, but hungry wolves or bears were a danger. His horse snorted and pawed the ground before it flicked its ears right and left, listening.
Nothing stirred. His frown deepening, Gandalf tried to sense what had alerted his horse, but he could detect nothing evil. Why then…
Just as suddenly as his horse had become alerted, it calmed down again. It lowered its head and swished its tail, breathing out heavily. White mist clouded its muzzle for a second, and then the horse turned its huge head as if to eye its rider and tell him that all was as it should be. The horse snorted once more, and then began to shift its long nose into the snow to search for some grass that happened to survive the snow.
Relaxing his hold on his sword, Gandalf took a deep steadying breath and then let his gaze travel around the forest to his left. For some silent moments he watched the leafless branches of the trees, but then he huffed into his thick beard.
"Now, is this the new way to welcome travellers to Imladris?"
For a few moments nothing happened, but then a tall figure stepped away from a tree. The elf wore the colours of Imladris, and from the look of him he was part of one of the patrols that guarded the borders. The elf bowed respectfully, "Mae govannen, Mithrandir. We have been hoping to meet you soon on our borders, for Lord Elrond awaits you and has ordered us to watch out for you."
The frown on Gandalf's forehead deepened. "So, did he? Well then, I should be going."
"Indeed, Mithrandir, it was not my intention to stop you. I will send a runner ahead. There are fresh horses stationed around the valley. The next post with a fresh horse for you is just down the path." The elf gestures in the direction of the post and then bowed one more time before he vanished back into the forest, as silently as he had appeared. Gandalf stared at the spot where he had stood a moment longer, before he guided his horse forwards once more.
And as he made his way along the cliff and then down into the valley, he could not shake the feeling that the elf had acted…strange. There had been a sadness in his features that were rare for the otherwise joyful elves of Imladris. With a new pang in his stomach, Gandalf urged his tired horse onwards. The sooner he reached the outpost and changed his horse and then reached Imladris, the better.
To his dismay it took him almost five more hours to reach the cobblestone courtyard in front of the Last Homely House, and when he finally dismounted, the sun was already low in the sky. The snow in the courtyard lay thick, but Gandalf wondered about that oddity only briefly. Normally, the elves would shovel the snow away in case humans or other visitors who were not elves came here.
A stable hand took his horse and led the exhausted animal to the stables, while Gandalf took his wooden staff and ploughed through the snow towards the house. He grumbled under his breath as he stumbled and only his staff saved him from tumbling into the snow. His long cloak was crusted with snow now, wet and heavy, and already Gandalf mused about the lecture he would give his old friend for being so careless in the care of his house.
Reaching the huge front door, Gandalf was about to knock when the door was opened from the inside and Elrond greeted him. The moment the wizard saw his old friend, the fiery words died on his tongue. Elrond looked…tired. Tired and…old. Aye, old. It was the first word that came to Gandalf, and to say that an elf looked old was unusual. Elves did not look old, they looked…eternal.
Overcoming his surprise, Gandalf reached out his hand and grasped Elrond's forearm tightly.
"Mae govannen, ingem mellon nin."
Nodding, Elrond forced a small smile on his lips and then gestured for the Istar to enter. "Come, Mithrandir, leave the coldness outside, it is freezing."
Rubbing his hands together once he was inside, Gandalf suddenly had the odd feeling that it was as cold inside the house as outside, only that the cold was not due to the winter that knocked at the door.
Elrond led him to down the hallway, after a servant had taken Gandalf's wet cloak and heavy woollen tunic. Another servant silently handed him a warmed towel, with Gandalf used to clean his face and hands with. To his surprise, Elrond did not lead him to his private study or the Hall of Fire, as he used to do with his guests. Instead, they soon entered the kitchen, where Elrond asked for a bowl of hot soup and then began to prepare a tea.
"Sit, Mithrandir, you must he hungry and thirsty."
Gandalf's eyebrow would have vanished in his hairline, had the eyebrow not been so bushy. He watched in stunned silence as one of the kitchen staff handed him a bowl of warm soup, meeting his eyes only briefly, before the servant left him alone with Elrond.
The Lord of Imladris stood with his back to him, crushing some leaves and adding hot water into the cup for the tea. With a frown so deep that it rivalled the Crack in Mount Doom, the Istar sat down at the wooden table that was normally only used by the servants, warming his hands on the bowl of soup.
For a few moments he watched how Elrond fiddled with the cup, silent and stiff. When the elf sprinkled some tiny amount of salt into the tea instead of dried and crumbled honey, Gandalf knew that something was amiss. More amiss than he had felt already.
With a sad note in his voice, he asked softly, "So they are back already."
Elrond stiffened imperceptibly, and then seemed to deflate. His shoulders dropped, his hands stilled and he let his head hang forward for a second. Then, he nodded, "Aye, but they returned without hope."
Fear shot through Gandalf's heart at these words, "Estel, is he…"
"No, no. He lives and is resting in his room as we speak." Elrond assured him. Swallowing thickly, he gripped the edge of the kitchen counter tightly before he asked, no, pleaded, "Tell me you have good news, my friend. That you have found what you were looking for."
And then Gandalf understood. Elrond had not found a solution to the problem, had probably been forced to stand by helplessly while Aragorn and the twins suffered. He had built his hopes on Gandalf, and if he had looked into his eyes and seen a negative answer in them…it would have crushed him.
Gandalf stood up and walked slowly over to his friend. He laid a gnarled hand on Elrond's shoulder and squeezed comfortingly, "I have found the one who brewed the poison. And I have, maybe, found an antidote."
"Oh, rim hennaid" Elrond exclaimed and bowed his head even further. A long sigh left his lips, and to Gandalf it was clear that his news meant the world to the elven Lord.
Tightening his hold on Elrond's shoulder, he steered him gently over to the table, "Come, my friend, sit with me and tell me what has happened while I was gone."
Elrond wiped a hand across his forehead, seemingly undisturbed that it was not normal behaviour for him to let his feelings show that clearly, and then moved over to the table. Halfway there, he suddenly lifted his head and tried to turn around. "Oh, I forgot your tea." He was about to reach out and grab it, but Gandalf's strong hand on his shoulder stopped him.
"I think I will pass, Elrond."
Elrond gave him a puzzled look, glanced at the tea, frowned and then spied the open box of salt sitting close to the cup. Flinching slightly, he nodded. "Aye, that might be better."
A low chuckle was Gandalf's only answer and then they sat at the table to talk.
--oOo--
"Have you heard Dan? Mithrandir has arrived! Mithrandir!" Elrohir almost jumped up and down in his excitement. With a flourish he grabbed his brother's arm and pulled him to his feet from where he sat on the side of Legolas's bed.
"Mithrandir? Are you certain?" Elladan asked while he ignored his brother's strong hold on his arm.
"Aye! He arrived half an hour ago and is in the kitchen with ada! Come, Dan, come now. Legolas, you too!"
And with that, the younger twin dragged his brother with him to the door, threw it open and hurried down the corridor.. Legolas swallowed thickly, stood up from the bed and moved to the door.
His heart beat against his ribcage and his breathing quickened. So this was it, he thought detachedly. Either Mithrandir had the solution, or everything would be over. He took a deep breath and then turned in the opposite direction the twins had taken. Aragorn needed to know that Gandalf had arrived.
--oOo--
To the twins' surprise, they had met Elrond and Mithrandir halfway to the kitchens, their faces a mixture of hope and worry. Neither of the two had enlightened them, and so it was that they were as clueless as Aragorn, Legolas, Glorfindel and Erestor, who waited with them in the library.
Legolas, who had helped Aragorn to the library and now sat next to him on one of the soft sofas, scratched the back of his nose thoughtfully. He did not like this at all. From the confused looks on the faces of the twins, Glorfindel's brooding stare and Erestor's stiff form, he could tell that whatever they had been told, it had not been the happy news, they had been waiting for.
He shifted his injured shoulder slightly, ignoring the dull pain that greeted the movement, and leaned over to Aragorn. He whispered into the man's ear, not wanting to disturb the others' musings, "What do you make of this, Estel?"
Aragorn tilted his head to the side and took a deep breath. "Either Mithrandir has no news at all, or they are not as Ada has hoped. But they cannot be that bad either, otherwise Ada would not have asked us to come here, but simply told us in our rooms."
Nodding, Legolas glanced sideways at his friend. Aragorn looked pale and tired, but he seemed to be more relaxed than he had been in days. They had not talked about what had happened that night in the room that held the shards of Narsil, but Legolas felt that it had helped Aragorn to come to some understanding with his situation and his own feelings.
Truth be told, Legolas was a bit scared at the dull look in his friend's eyes and the fact that the man had barely eaten these last two days. He seemed to have found a calm acceptance of his fate that he showed on the outside, but every time Aragorn deemed himself alone and unobserved, Legolas could see the deep sadness and uncertainties in his eyes and face.
To let go on his strong hold on his emotions that night had helped, but now Aragorn seemed to draw even more into himself, so as if his one time opening had been enough for him to deal with the situation. With another brief glance at his friend, Legolas decided that it was maybe enough for Aragorn, but definitely not enough for him.
Just when Legolas was to speak to Aragorn once more, the door to the library opened and Elrond preceded Gandalf into the room. Both looked tired; Elrond from the constant worrying and Gandalf obviously from his tireless ride to Imladris. The wizard's beard was unkempt, his clothing crinkled. He walked over to one of the chairs that stood near the fire and, without asking permission, brought out his pipe, filled it and puffed away.
Elrond shot him a look and took a breath as if to say something, but then he closed his eyes and shook his head briefly. He let his eyes roam across the room, taking in the expectant faces.
"I see we are all here," he paused, then continued, "As you can see, our hopes have been answered and Mithrandir has arrived safe and sound."
Elrond gestured at the wizard, who bowed his head in acknowledgement. By now his head was partly hidden by a blue cloud of smoke. Considering the fact that Gandalf had only just lit his pipe and started smoking, it seemed already a bit foggy in the whole room.
Aragorn felt Legolas shift on the couch in a not too obvious attempt to move away from the smoke. Of course, he would not complain, but Aragorn knew that Legolas, and his whole family and maybe all elves in the whole of Arda for that matter, despised the stench of pipe weed. Well, make that hate from the bottom of their hearts.
A small smile tugged at the corners of Aragorn's mouth when he saw his brothers' scrunched up faces, and the look of thinly veiled disgust they threw the pipe. Although he smoked rarely, Aragorn liked the smell of good pipe weed, and if he was not mistaken, the one Gandalf was smoking right now was finest Longbottom Leaf from the Shire. He breathed in as deeply as his broken ribs allowed and almost immediately felt some of his tension leave him.
Aragorn leaned back on the couch, listening to his father tell them about Gandalf's journey to Tharbad. When his eyes found the wizard's, Gandalf blew out a perfect smoke ring, winked at him and lifted his pipe in a greeting gesture. And in that moment, Aragorn could not help the big grin that crossed his face. Trust the wizard to lift his mood in the most tense of situations.
Or, was it tense? With an inward start, Aragorn realized that he had been so focused on Gandalf that he had missed part of what his father had told them. He quickly glanced at his brothers and Legolas, but they looked as they had before, a mixture of sad, angst and expectant.
Legolas was so focused on his father's words that he had leaned forwards on the sofa despite the blue smoke from the pipe, although he seemed to swallow convulsively to suppress his coughing. Aragorn smiled briefly, then turned to his father.
"…Luckily the old potion maker told Mithrandir the basis for the antidote, and I hold the hope that together, Mithrandir and I will be able to brew some counter poison."
Aragorn blinked. Once, twice. Then he turned his head and looked around the room. Had his father not just said that there was a possibility that he would not die? That he could save his brothers and him? Why was no one shouting in joy? Or smiling, for that matter?
The hot knot of fear and tension that had taken up permanent residence in Aragorn's stomach and that had eased a bit at the mention of an antidote, suddenly knotted only tighter. His father's words reached his ears, and when he saw his face, he knew why none of the others were celebrating right away. Elrond looked grim.
"The bad news is that the basis for the antidote is lilies of the valley." Elrond paused to let his words sink in.
The twins shared a despairing look, Erestor sighed deeply, Legolas cursed so softly under his breath that not even Aragorn, who sat next to him could hear the words, and Mithrandir puffed out such a thick cloud of smoke that it actually hid his head. But what surprised Aragorn the most was the reaction of Glorfindel. The golden haired warrior looked grim and ready to kill another Balrog. Never before had Aragorn seen him so…determined.
Glorfindel took a step into the room, and his voice was strong when he spoke, "If you need lilies of the valley, we will find some."
For a moment, silence reigned, but then Elrond nodded. "I hoped you would say that. I know I have no stock of lilies in the house, for I do not use them. They are poisonous under normal circumstances and I have to confess, I never had the idea to use their poison to fight a poison." Elrond sighed, but then he continued like the leader he was.
"Glorfindel, I want you to send out your warriors. Comb through the whole valley, knock on every door, look in every shed and turn around stick and stone. We have to find some lilies, whether they be fresh or dried or used for pillow casing. I do not care."
A grim looking Glorfindel bowed low. "Aye, my Lord. I will begin immediately. May I suggest to ask the rangers to help us? They could go to some of the nearest villages and ask around."
Elrond seemed to consider that, then looked at Aragorn. "Estel?"
Tilting his head to the side, Aragorn thought about it for a moment. It was dangerous to send the rangers out in this cold weather, with hungry wolves around, but on the other hand, they were rangers. And, he thought wryly, Halbarad would never forgive him if he forbade him to help.
"Of course, I will go and speak with them."
A quick look at his son told Elrond that there would be no way around that request, and so Elrond nodded. "Good. In the meanwhile, Mithrandir and I will consult my books for anything new, and we will prepare all we will need when we find the plants."
Glorfindel left quietly while Elrond still spoke. To search the valley would take time.
"Elladan, Elrohir, I want you two to stay in the house. And no, you are not going to help the searchers. I want you close at hand in case the search is successful fast." It seemed as if the twins wanted to protest, but then they agreed.
Erestor left the library as well, muttering something about making sure that the ranges would be well equipped on their trip, and then it was only the twins, Legolas, Aragorn, Elrond and Mithrandir in the room.
When the silence stretched uncomfortably, Elladan piped up, "So, that's it? We find the plants, make the antidote and…live?"
"Aye, my son. That is the plan."
"Mhhm," was all Elladan answered, and Aragorn could tell that although his brothers looked less troubled now that they knew that there was a chance to survive, they did not quite believe it.
It was Elrohir who brought the point home, "So, lilies? Great. Just in case none of you has noticed, it is winter. Where are we supposed to find lilies in winter?"
"We will find some."
For a fleeting moment Aragorn thought his father might add 'or die trying', but Elrond did not, which was good, because it would have been too close to the truth. When none of his family or friends spoke, Aragorn got to his feet slowly, using the armrest of the sofa as support.
He took up his crutches and hobbled to the door, "I should speak with the rangers, then. They should leave as soon as they can and ere the weather turns worse. If it snows anymore the paths will be difficult to pass."
Before either of the others could say anything, he opened the door, slipped out ungracefully and made his way down the silent hallway. While he hobbled towards the rooms the rangers used, he felt a cold chill settle in his limbs. Was this not the chance to life he had waited for? Had his father not just told him that there was a chance, however small to be saved?
Aragorn knew he should feel elated, happy, joyful, maybe even a bit exhilarated. But, he did not. No, he felt as he had done before. He felt…indifferent on the outside and scared on the inside. Time and time again his brothers and Legolas had told him that Mithrandir was still out there, searching for something to help them, that there was still hope as long as Mithrandir was still out there.
And now, now the wizard was sitting in the library, smoking his pipe, and they were no step closer to survive this nightmare then before. Aye, they knew there was a way to be saved, but that only made things worse. To know that he could be saved but at the same time could not, just because Dagnir had chosen to act in winter and not spring or even summer.
Aragorn rounded a corner and slowly descended a staircase, clutching the wooden banister with one and his crutches in the other hand. His shoulder protested the weight it had to bear, but Aragorn ignored it. His burned hand was harder to ignore, and once at the bottom of the steps he leaned against the wall and massaged his hand lightly until the worst of the pain had passed.
The rooms the rangers had been given were on the ground level of the Last Homely House, and when Aragorn turned into the corridor the rooms were situated in, he hesitated. Why had he asked to speak with them? He probably did not even know half of the men. Although he was the Chieftain, he had not yet met all the rangers, let alone Dunedain, and he had not asked Halbarad who had accompanied him.
Suddenly Aragorn did not know if it was such a good idea to present himself to his men such as he was. Pale, battered, injured, poisoned…weak. But then, the sarcastic streak he had developed these last few days spoke up and told him that more likely than not it would be the first and last time he saw the men, and therefore it did not matter.
Grabbing his crutches tighter, Aragorn walked up to one of the doors and knocked. There was no answer, so he moved to the second door. When no one opened him, he frowned. Where were they? Before he could think of an answer, he heard faint voices down the hallway. One of the doors stood open a crack and when he drew closer, he could make out Halbarad's voice.
"Aye, that was Gandalf you saw. And no, I do not know what news he brought."
Another, deeper voice answered him. "Well, then go up and speak with the Chieftain. You know him better than any of us."
"But I cannot simply go up there and interrupt the Lord of Imladris, his counsellors and an Istar!" Halbarad sounded agitated, but Aragorn could tell that he ached to do just that.
"Why not?" one of the other men asked.
Pushing the door open soundlessly, Aragorn leaned against the doorframe. "Yes, Halbarad, why not?"
Halbarad swirled around startled and gaped at Aragorn for a second before he found his voice and blurted out, "Aragorn! Forgive me, I did not hear you."
Lifting an eyebrow, Aragorn glanced at the wooden crutches, then back at Halbarad, "Good I am no orc then."
The deep red that crept up Halbarad's face was enough to make the other rangers smirk, but all of them were watching Aragorn intently. Their eyes travelled over his heavily bandaged knee, the crutches, the bandaged hand and the still colourful bruises on his face. There was a bit of awe in the faces of the men who had not met him before, and sympathy and worry in those Aragorn knew a bit better.
Deeming that the rangers had scrutinized him long enough, Aragorn repeated his question to Halbarad in an attempt to lift the mood of the men before he told them the…bad…good news.
"So, Halbarad, why not?"
"Why not what?"
"Why can you not simply go up there and interrupt the Lord of Imladris, his counsellors and an Istar?"
Halbarad turned a shade paler and did not answer right away. Crossing his arms before his chest, he said, "Well, that would be rude, would it not?"
"Rude? Mhhm. I'd call it brave, but that might be a matter of perspective." With that Aragorn took up his crutches once more and hobbled into the room. Almost immediately Halbarad was by his side and helped him to sit down in an overstuffed chair that rested close to the hearth.
"Thank you, Halbarad."
"You're welcome," Halbarad said and sat down on the armrest of a chair facing Aragorn. "So, what news brings Gandalf, Aragorn?" It sounded as if Halbarad had been choking on the question and had needed to ask it before he suffocated.
Taking a deep breath, Aragorn gazed around the tense faces of the rangers. He had no doubt that they all knew what had happened to him and his brothers in the wilds, and what was at stake. So, without preamble, he began.
"Mithrandir has found the man who created the poison, but the man committed suicide immediately afterwards, out of fear of being hunted down by Dagnir." Here he paused, not sure whether the rangers could connect Dagnir's name to the broken body they had buried. When they nodded, he continued.
"Before he died, he told Mithrandir of the poison, what it did, what it consisted of and what the basis for the antidote is."
"So, there is one?" Halbarad blurted out.
"Aye, Elrond and Mithrandir think they could brew it once they have the right ingredients. And that is where the problem is. The basis of the antidote are lilies of the valley, which grow only in spring. Right now, Lord Glorfindel and his warriors begin to search the whole valley for any plants that might have been kept, whether dried, pressed, frozen in the snow or whatever. And this is where we need your help."
Pausing, Aragorn could tell from the grim faces surrounding him that the rangers deemed the news bad, not good, but he continued nevertheless.
"Lord Glorfindel and his warriors cannot search the valley and the surrounding human settlements at the same time. And furthermore, although the elves of Imladris are respected in most settlements close to the borders, the villagers will perhaps be more open to other humans than to elves."
An old, grey haired ranger scratched his bearded chin thoughtfully. Aragorn vaguely remembered the ranger as being an old friend of his human father, but so far his own duties had not allowed him to get to know him better.
"So, you are asking us to go out into the deep snow, leave the protection of the valley, risk the dangers of the wilds and angry villagers, and all for the very slim possibility that some old crone has kept some dried lilies, Captain?"
"Aye, that is what I ask of you."
The ranger tilted his head and then said gruffly, "Well, what are we waiting for? Let us get out there and find that plant." And with that, he got to his feet and grabbed his cloak. While he fastened it around his broad shoulders, he gave Aragorn a stern look. "And don't you die on us, my Lord, as long as we are away."
"I will try not to." Aragorn smiled at the man, suddenly feeling lighter than he had in days.
The other rangers bowed to him before they left to ready their horses and soon only Aragorn and Halbarad were in the room. An awkward silence settled above the two.
"Aragorn…" Halbarad began, but then he shook his head and simply embraced his friend tightly. "Don't you go without me, Aragorn. We will find lilies, I promise."
Patting Halbarad's back with his good hand, Aragorn pulled away and looked his friend into the eyes, "Do not promise what you cannot control to keep."
Eyes almost of the same shade as Aragorn's locked onto his. "Aragorn, promise me you won't let go as long as there is hope."
"Hal, I cannot promise what I cannot control to…"
"No!" With an agitated gesture of his hand Halbarad interrupted him. His voice was angry and determined when he continued, "Promise me."
"Halbarad…"
"NO. Promise!"
For long moments Aragorn gazed at his friend who stood in front of him. He could tell that Halbarad meant what he said and that he would not leave the valley before Aragorn had promised him to keep fighting. Now that his rescue was so close, Halbarad had found new fodder for his small spark of hope, and he would not let go of it. The testament, if nothing else, had shown Halbarad that Aragorn had accepted the possibility of death, and he was unwilling to leave without reassurance.
"I promise. And you know that I do not make idle promises and never promise something I intend not to keep," Aragorn said softly. And to his own surprise, he meant what he said.
"Good." With a formal bow to Aragorn, Halbarad left the room. He did not look back, and that was maybe for the best. Aragorn knew that, had he looked back, Halbarad would not have left at all, so strong was his desire to stay at his friend's and Chieftain's side.
With a tiny pang of regret, Aragorn confessed to himself that he felt a bit better now his friend would leave the valley. Because that meant that he would be not present should it come to the worst.
Aragorn leaned back in his chair and gazed into the fire for a moment. The elves would search the valley, the rangers would search the human villages that were situated near the borders of the valley, his father and Mithrandir would prepare the things they needed to brew the antidote, his brothers would most likely stare out into the valley, eager to be first to know when something had been found, and Legolas would sooner or later go looking for him. And he?
There was nothing he could do at the moment. Nothing at all. With a weary sigh, Aragorn got to his feet, swaying slightly when his knee would not move as he wanted it to. Leaning on his crutches, he hobbled out into the hallway. He would seek out Legolas before his friend came looking for him, and with a bit of luck, Legolas would be able to take his mind off the possibility that none of the searchers would find anything.
True to his thoughts, he met Legolas at the bottom of the same stairs that he had descended only a few minutes earlier. With a small smile, he greeted his friend and together they made their way over to the Hall of Fire. And when he had settled down in one of the soft chairs, with a warm fire whispering nearby and Legolas began to sing a song of Greenwood the Great, he felt almost at peace.
Aye, he felt relatively good for the time being. Valar, time being short.
--oOo--
They had searched. The Valar knew they had searched every house, shed and barn. Had knocked on every single door, window and wall to talk to the inhabitants. Once the purpose of their search had spread in the valley, many elves had joined the search parties, so that they would be able to complete the search more quickly and thoroughly.
Cellars had been searched from top to bottom. Attics had been turned upside down, boxes broken open, books shaken in the hope to find some pressed plants. Herb gardens had been freed of snow in the vain attempt to find something; kitchens had been emptied of herbal satchels and dried plants. None of the elves had complained, instead they had all started to search their houses as well.
Never before in times of peace had the valley seen so much activity at night. No house stayed dark, but they were all alight with the flicker of candles and fires. The red glow of torches bopping up and down the streets chased away the night, and light bulbs had been lit everywhere, rivalling the silver spark of the stars.
But, it had been in vain. When the night turned to day and the cocks greeted the rising sun, defeated troops of warriors returned to the Last Homely House, empty handed. Elrond spoke with each group, reassuring them that they had done the best they could, bidding them to go refresh and rest. With each report he heard, Elrond's expression became grimmer, the lines in his face deeper and his eyes duller.
When the last of the elven search parties returned with sad faces, Elrond bid them to go rest, feeling himself older than ever before. He knew the rangers were still out there, but he doubted that they would find anything. And, it would be days before they would return.
With a weary sigh, Elrond tucked a strand of dark hair behind his ear. He felt tired, of body as well as of mind, for he had not slept during the night, or much the last nights since his sons and Legolas had returned. Still, there were some things to do before he would rest.
He straightened his shoulders and glanced up at the railing of the wide staircase that led down into the entrance hall. There, on the top steps, sat Elladan and Elrohir, having listened to each and every report. They knew. When Elladan caught Elrond's eye, the older twin nodded understandingly. Elrohir tried to smile but failed miserably.
With a small, sad smile of his own, Elrond asked them with his eyes whether they needed him right now, but both twins shook their head simultaneously. Elrohir leaned towards his brother and rested his head at his shoulder, while Elladan wrapped an arm around Elrohir's shoulder in support.
Although he was thousands of years old, this simple gesture of brotherhood and love brought tears to Elrond's eyes. He swallowed thickly and averted his gaze. Now was not the time to break down, not yet. When he was alone in his room, with no one else watching, he would give in to the pain he felt in his heart, but not yet.
And with that decision made, Elrond turned and made his way over to the closed door of the Hall of Fire. He hesitated only a second before he entered. Aragorn had to know what the warriors had found, or rather, not found.
The great chamber was darker than usual, for not all of the hearths had been kept burning during the night and some of the burned down candles had not been replaced by new ones. In the dim light, Elrond saw Legolas stand at one of the windows, his face directed at the rising sun.
Aragorn was lying on one of the comfortable couches, a blanket covering him and his head pillowed on the armrest. He was obviously asleep, his breathing deep and his chest rising and falling in a regular rhythm.
Mesmerized by the peaceful face of his son, Elrond slowly made his way over to Aragorn and sat down on the edge of the sofa. He stroked the cheek gently and tucked a wayward strand of hair away from the relaxed face. Aragorn looked so young, so careless, almost free of worry and burdens when he slept.
The tears that he had fought to control only a moment ago threatened to spill again, and Elrond took a deep breath. He knew, as soon as he woke his son, he would have to tell him that the warriors had found nothing, and the relaxed face would crease and worry would replace the peace. But what would be the worst, would be the mask of acceptance and indifference that would slip over Aragorn's face, as it had done the last few days.
Oh yes, Elrond knew his son well enough to know that Aragorn tried to appear strong and brave. That he tried his hardest to not hurt his family. But Elrond had been able to see right through the man's barriers. Every father could do that.
Aragorn shifted in his sleep, and Elrond gently pulled the blanket up higher. Maybe he would let Aragorn sleep a moment longer. There was no need to wake him right now only to tell him that they had found nothing. And this way, Elrond could steal some more minutes with his youngest son, watching the sleeping face that was so free of worry and pain.
And so it was that Elrond did not even notice when Legolas slipped out of the room noiselessly, closing the door behind him and leaving father and son alone.
As soon as Legolas had left the room, he sought out the twins and quickly found them sitting on the stairs, talking softly. For a moment he did not know whether to approach or leave them alone, but then Elladan saw him and gestured for him to join them.
"Has Ada told him?"
"No, Estel is sleeping and your father did not wake him yet. I…I deemed it better to leave them alone for a while." Legolas sat down a few steps below the twins, wrapping his arms around his knees.
"Dan, Ro, the warriors found nothing, did they?"
"No, they found nothing," Elrohir said, and his voice was tight.
"The rangers are out there searching. Perhaps they will find some plants." Even to his own ears, his words sounded hollow. Still, Legolas had the unshakable feeling that as long as they kept hoping, there still was hope.
Without taking his head from his brother's shoulder, Elrohir said softly, "The next four days are almost up, Legolas. Tomorrow, to be precise. The rangers will never be back in time."
Ai, Legolas had not forgotten about the four-day limit, but he had fought so hard to ignore it. Now, having heard it spoken out loud, it sounded so…evil.
"I know, Ro. But you have survived the other attacks and surely this one will not be different."
It was Elladan who answered him, "Mithrandir told us that none of the other victims lived longer than five weeks."
Legolas needed not have been tutored in the art of counting to know that it had nearly been five weeks now that the poison had been taken. Valar, that made it so much more difficult to hold on to the hope he kept in his heart. Not enough that they can't find the fragging plant now they learn that their time is nearly up. -->.
"Then you will be the first."
"Legolas…" Elrohir's voice sounded tired and sad. "Perhaps…maybe it is time to accept that there is nothing we can do."
Anger flared in Legolas. With fiery eyes he turned and stared at the twins. Surely he had heard wrong. "What? How can you say that?"
Smiling softly, Elrohir sighed deeply, "Legolas, as long as there was hope, Dan and I would do all we could to think positive. But now, there simply is no hope left for us. Dan and I, we…we want to enjoy our last days before we leave. And, we hoped you would accept that wish, and…and help us."
Speechless, Legolas stared at the twins. They could not mean that! That was…that was…unbelievable.
"But, the rangers…"
"Legolas, the rangers cannot help us. Please, we know that Estel has already accepted the possibility of his death. Think about it this way, mellon nin. Hope was all that has been keeping us going these last weeks. And if we keep that hope alive, the inevitable end will be the more crushing. We stalk around this house with sombre faces, because we try so hard to avoid the unavoidable.
"None of us was truly willing to look the others in the eyes out of fear to see ones own hopelessness reflected in them. But if we let go of the vain hope, we will be able to live our last days here not in sorrow, but in remembrance of the good times.
"Legolas, please. I…we want to enjoy our last days with Estel. When the day comes and Dan and I go, we will enter the Halls of Mandos together, but Estel, he will…we will not see him again. Ever. I want to remember him happy and relatively at peace. And for that to be possible, you have to help us, Legolas."
It was too much. The acceptance in the eyes of the twins, the sad smiles, everything. With a movement that would have startled the twins had they not anticipated this reaction, Legolas surged to his feet.
"No! I will not do that."
"Legolas…."
"NO!" And with that, Legolas raced down the stairs and out the double doors of the Last Homely House before anyone could stop him.
Elladan sighed deeply. "Do you think he will change his opinion?"
"Aye. As soon as he accepts that it is only his stubbornness that hinders him from seeing the truth. And, he will not miss the chance to be with Estel…till the end."
Swallowing thickly, Elladan looked down at his brother. "Should we join Ada and Estel?"
"No, give them a moment longer. And, I do not want to move just yet. Let us stay for a few more minutes," Elrohir said softly, his eyes roaming the entrance hall, the colourful wall hangings that lined the walls, the high windows that let the sun enter and the intricately formed vases that decorated the shelves and tables along the wall.
No, he did not want to go yet, but take this view in so that he would be able to remember it for all eternity.
--oOo--
"So they found nothing, Ada?" Aragorn asked with hooded eyes, still lying supine on the couch. He had woken to his father's gentle touch, and he could tell from the look in his eyes that the search had been unsuccessful.
"Ah, my Estel. I am so sorry. I wish….I wish I could tell you differently, but…I cannot. No, they found nothing."
For a moment, Aragorn felt a rush of pain in his chest, but it faded almost as quickly as it had come. He closed his eyes sadly, but when he opened them again, they were void of the fear and desperation he felt.
"Do not worry Ada, you did what you could. As did we all."
The tears that Elrond had fought for so long suddenly spilled, and he enveloped Aragorn in a tight hug. "Oh Estel, I do not want to lose you, or your brothers."
Feeling his own tears prick at his eyes, Aragorn tightened the hug, "I will tell Elros that you love him dearly."
Elrond shuddered and sobbed into Aragorn's hair, and for a long time father and son held each other, unwilling to let go, to let the doom of man shatter the precious bond that they had created over the years.
--oOo--
The sinking sun reflected on the white snow that covered the trees and bushes surrounding the Last Homely House, painting the gardens in a glowing red and orange. The sky was already dark blue above the house, but in the distance it was still of a vibrant blue, where the sun had not yet hid her face.
In the family dining room, alight with candles and a warm fire that burned in the hearth, Elrond and his children, as well as Glorfindel, Erestor and Mithrandir ate their supper, and despite their best efforts to find Legolas, they had not been able to make out the Prince's whereabouts.
Aragorn was dismayed that his friend would seek solace instead of his company, but after speaking with the twins about what had happened, he understood Legolas's absence. Perhaps, had Aragorn spoken with Legolas about that matter, the outcome would have been different, but what was done was done.
"Estel, would you pass me the potatoes, please?" Elladan asked, and Aragorn obediently passed the bowl of roasted potatoes down the table towards his brothers.
Although the brothers had agreed to live the rest of their days not in brooding sorrow but try to lighten the mood, it would not work. They had tried to engage their father and Glorfindel in conversation about the twins' antics when they had been elflings, had teased Erestor about his paper-mania and had even quarrelled with each other. To no avail.
The mood at the table was subdued, if not morose. Being not very hungry, well, not hungry at all, Aragorn instead took up his cup of herbal tea and let his eyes roam around the table. Erestor was shoving his food from the right side of his plate to the left, then back again, while his father ate his way methodically from top to bottom. Perhaps to set an example, Aragorn mused.
Glrofindel stared at his food as if it was an enemy to kill, and with an inaudible sigh Aragorn glanced at his brothers, who shrugged their shoulders helplessly.
"Hrm, hrm." Aragorn nearly jumped at the sound of Mithrandir clearing his throat and quickly looked at the Maiar, who sat directly across from him.
"Estel, have I ever told you the story of the Hobbit lad I know and the dwarves that accompanied him?"
Speechless for a moment, Aragorn blinked in surprise, until he saw the twinkle in the wizard's eye. With a smile of his own, Aragorn answered, "Well, yes, but I would love to hear it again. After all, I was too small then to truly remember how the dwarves emptied the wine cellar and trampled across the vegetable garden of Erestor."
So Mithrandir leaned back in his chair, pulled out his pipe, lit it and began to tell the tale of the Hobbit who had come to Imladris in the company of dwarves. And while he did so, Mithrandir exaggerated the actions of the elves so much, that soon the twins were laughing helplessly, and after a while Glorfindel could no longer contain his indignation.
"I did not threaten to behead the dwarves should they ever touch the wine again."
"No, indeed," Erestor commented dryly. "You threatened to feed them to a Balrog…as starters."
This made the twins laugh even harder, and when Aragorn saw his father roll his eyes at another of Mithrandir's flourished explanations of how a certain elf Lord had bade the dwarves to Imladris again when their time allowed it, he felt something akin to peace steal over his senses.
A few moments later he caught Mithrandir's eye and mouthed a silent 'thank you'. Smiling, Mithrandir puffed on his pipe as if he had done nothing worth mentioning, while Glorfindel and Erestor debated with the twins, which of the dwarves had been the most hairy.
Aragorn soon joined the argument, siding with his brothers, of course. Seeing his sons and friends engaged in battle, Elrond leaned sideways in his high backed chair and said softly out of the corner of his mouth.
"Old meddling fool."
"Huh? Me?"
Elrond chuckled softly, but Aragorn heard it and turned towards him, eyes bright and lively. For a moment Elrond was taken aback by the life he still saw in those expressive grey orbs, and he smiled lovingly at his son. Aragorn nodded minutely and then turned back to the battle of words.
"Mithrandir?"
"Aye, my Lord Elrond?" Gandalf said between two puffs on his pipe.
"Thank you, my friend."
They talked long and happily, until suddenly the door to the dining room was thrown open. It crashed into the wall, making them all jump. Glorfindel automatically reached for his sword although he never carried it inside the house, and Erestor stood to protect his Lords.
But…in the door stood Legolas, hair dishevelled, eyes gleaming and cheeks red. For a moment he said nothing, but then he took tow large steps into the room.
"My Lord Elrond, they found it! Some elder elleth found some dried lilies of the valley!"
To be continued…
So, what do you think? As my wonderful beta said, it is not only 'doom and gloom'. –g-
BUT, this is ME!Anyone who knows me knows that I am evil. Very evil. Mhuwahahahahahah.
You think this is the 'nice happy ending'? The 'happily ever after' scene? The 'Thank the Valar this is the solution to their problems' ending? Yes? Then you do not know me. –evil grin-
Stay tuned. :o)