notes: Gah! Sorry for the long wait in updates! But *incoherent screeching* We're almost to climax #1! I'm really excited guys. It's going to be SO MUCH FUN. So let me know what you think!
Chapter 37
The eighth day of the sixth month, year 1050, Third Age.
The next day dawned grim and dark but early. Legolas woke with the dawn as he always did, and though he could not watch the sun rise, still he went out to the orchard and sat in an apple tree while the air around him turned from grey to purple to blue, then back to grey.
He spent the time lost in thought. What would the day bring? Would Lady Galadriel be successful in calling Elrond's fëa back from its wanderings? Would Elrond return unscathed and whole. Would Elrond return at all?
At last Legolas climbed down from the tree and went inside. Radagast was in the kitchen, cooking enough breakfast to feed a small army—which, Legolas supposed, he was.
Legolas perched in a chair at the table and watched Radagast cook for long minutes, until there came movement in the doorway. Legolas looked up to see Lord Celeborn walk into the kitchen. He was clad in a soft, open-collared shirt and loose breeches, with sturdy boots and a belt. His silver hair hung loose around his shoulders.
"Good morning, young Legolas," Lord Celeborn said with a smile, going over to the table and claiming a seat there as well.
"Good morning, my lord," Legolas replied. "How do you fare this morning?"
"Well enough," said Lord Celeborn. "And you?"
"Well enough," said Legolas with a tight smile.
They lapsed into silence then, watching Radagast work. After a moment, though, Lord Celeborn surprised Legolas by asking, "And what of your father? How does he fare?"
"My father is well," said Legolas. "Well, well enough," he amended with a wry smile. "I have not spoken with him for nearly a month now."
"I am sure he has worried himself nearly to illness over you," said Lord Celeborn.
Legolas shrugged, feeling uncomfortable with the avenue of their conversation. His father was not distant, or unkind or uncaring, but he could be aloof at times, and to those who did not know him well, he often seemed cold. Legolas knew better—knew how loving and warm his father could be—but he was not sure he would ever believe his father would worry over anyone enough to make himself ill.
"You do not believe me?" Lord Celeborn asked, seeing Legolas's face.
Legolas shrugged again. "It is not that I disbelieve you, precisely," he said carefully, not wanting to insult the Lord of Lothlórien. "But I am not entirely sure that you know my father well."
Lord Celeborn looked sorrowful very suddenly. "You are right," he said slowly, heavily. "These last few millennia I have not known your father well. My wife… Well, our people, are very reserved when it comes to those outside of our borders. Unfortunately, that has grown to include even old friends."
"Old friends?" Legolas asked, raising his eyebrows. "You mean you knew my father?"
"Oh, I knew him well," said Lord Celeborn. "Once upon a time. Back in the Second Age, during the War of the Last Alliance. Once Oropher—your grandfather—died, and your father took over command of the troops from Eryn Galen, he and I worked together closely and often, along with Elrond."
"Really?" Legolas asked. "I knew my father and Elrond were friends, but I never knew the beginning of their friendship."
Lord Celeborn laughed. "The beginning of their friendship was long and hard," he said. "Your father was angry and bitter and hurting after the death of Oropher. Elrond...fought hard to help him, whether your father wanted that help or not—and whether Elrond truly wanted to give that help or not either. It was not in his nature to watch anyone suffer as your father was suffering, however. That made your father very angry with Elrond for a very long time."
"They did eventually come to an accord, though?" Legolas asked. "I mean, I assume they did, as they are friends now."
"Aye," said Lord Celeborn. "They did. Their friendship was a slow-growing thing—but eventually they did become friends. Your father even saved Elrond's life, at the risk of his own life. He claimed it was in reparation for Elrond's aid—but I suspect it was simply because your father cared about Elrond and did not want him to die at the hands of Orcs."
Legolas smiled grimly. "That does sound like him," he admitted. "Giving one reason for something, in order to hide the true purpose behind it."
"Your father is many-faceted and multilayered," Lord Celeborn agreed. "He rarely says and means the same thing—or, at least, gives an entire truth or sentiment."
Legolas laughed. "You do know my father," he said.
Lord Celeborn smiled, though there was little mirth in the gesture. "I hope he will forgive us for having gone for so long without contact, only to drop in unannounced and unexpected."
"He will be fine with it. He will have to be."
Following the sound of the new voice, Legolas looked up to see Lady Galadriel breeze into the kitchen. She was dressed in a long, high-collared shirt embroidered in blue and belted at the waist, her sword hanging from it opposite a purse. She wore breeches and boots like her husband, though her golden hair was braided back, away from her face.
Lord Celeborn smiled up at his wife, then shifted his chair to give her room to sit beside him at the table, across from Legolas. Lady Galadriel pulled the third chair around the corner of the table and sat down gracefully beside her husband, offering first him, then Legolas, a soft smile.
"Fair morning, Legolas," she said when she turned to look at him.
"Fair morning," Legolas replied, offering a smile of his own.
"So," said Lord Celeborn, "what is the plan for today?"
"Breakfast first," said Lady Galadriel. "Then I will tend to Elrond."
"Do you think it will work?" Legolas asked, looking at Lady Galadriel grimly and giving voice to his worries.
"That I do not know," said Lady Galadriel. "I have never tried to call someone back from the brink of a Morgul wound before. Only Elrond has, and succeeded."
Legolas's heart sunk into his stomach. "I see," he said.
"But fear not, Legolas," Lady Galadriel said, "for not all hope is lost. Elrond's...unique bloodline may offer us some advantage."
"You mean his part-Maia and part-Man heritage?" Legolas asked.
Lady Galadriel nodded. "Especially the part-Maia aspect of his bloodline," she said. "Though Men have proven to be most hardy as well—though that has not seemed to matter so much when it comes to Morgul wounds."
Radagast took that moment to breeze into the kitchen, juggling a pot and a tray filled with freshly baked bread, as well as four bowls with spoons. "Breakfast is ready," he announced, placing his burdens down on the table, then claiming his own seat at the head of it.
They dished up the oatmeal, studded with fresh blueberries and strawberries, mixed in with lumps of sugar and butter, then began to eat greedily. It was, as everything else Radagast cooked, delicious.
Silence reigned throughout breakfast, each person lost to their own thoughts on the dire situation. Legolas found it difficult not to fear or lose hope, in spite of what Lady Galadriel had said. If she had never successfully called someone back, why would she be able to do so now, even with Elrond's unique physiology? Was his part-Maia blood truly that powerful that it would offset Lady Galadriel's previous failures—assuming she had even tried in the past?
When at last breakfast was finished—it felt like it took longer than it had, at least to Legolas—they quickly washed the dishes while Radagast bore the other two pots of oatmeal and remaining three loaves of bread out to the warriors camping on his lawn. By the time he returned, the dishes were dried and put away, and they were ready.
They filed into Elrond's room in heavy silence. Brave Heart rose and limped out upon seeing them, though she halted in the door and turned around to watch as the Elves and Radagast arrayed themselves throughout the room, Lady Galadriel sitting on the edge of the bed beside Elrond.
She lifted a hand and placed it against Elrond's cheek, turning his face toward her. For a terribly long moment there was nothing—no movement, no sound, no breath. Lady Galadriel closed her eyes. She began to whisper, then to murmur, then, abruptly, to sing.
The Song she Sang was echoing and haunting. It was a Song of summoning, of calling, of entreating. It begged Elrond to return to his body, to follow her voice, to find its way home. Come, she called, cried, Sang, come home, my son…
Nothing happened.
Elrond remained unconscious, his body inert and still. His eyes remained closed, his breathing remained shallow, his hands remained flat at his sides. He did not so much as twitch.
Come, Lady Galadriel Sang again, until Legolas could only hear what it was she was meaning rather than the words she spoke—heard her heart, it seemed, rather than the consonants and vowels coming from her lips. Come, Elrond Peredhel, she bade, return to your body, return to your friends—return to me. Come to my voice, come to those who love you, forsake the darkness besetting you and holding you prisoner.
Still, nothing.
Come! Lady Galadriel commanded. Come, and leave behind the darkness imprisoning you!
Only stillness, only silence.
Lady Galadriel ceased to Sing. Instead she turned Elrond's head up towards her one final time, and then she spoke.
"If you can hear me, Elrond," she said, sounding desperate, "then hear me. You are more powerful than the darkness holding you at bay. You have the blood of the Maiar in your veins. So wake up and use it."
Nothing.
Lady Galadriel slumped back. "I have done all I can do," she said.
"Now what?" Legolas asked, breaking the silence.
"Now we wait and see."
end notes: So what did you think? Comment and let me know!