Chapter 28
Legolas could have described his return to consciousness similar to the pleasant experience of slogging through a waist-deep swamp of thick mud. Darkness cloyed at his mind; sound was first to return to him. Voices buzzed about him. Pain came next. It shot through his side, ricocheted in his head and lanced back down to his knee.
There were hands. They were the same rough texture, but handled with a forced gentleness and concentration. A sharp pain lanced through his side again and he arched his back and tried to escape the sting. Dynamite exploded in his skull and he heard someone emit a loud groan, and absently recognized himself to be the one to have made the sound. The buzz of voices rose in volume in urgency as he moved. More rough hands pushed him down and he stilled; it hurt too much to protest.
The pain stung again and he reflexively jerked away from it. The hands reappeared and stayed this time as the stings continued periodically.
"He shouldn't be awake so soon!"
"Are you sure you gave him enough, Aldor? He's elfkind, so mebbe it works different."
"I gave him enough for nearly two men!"
Legolas squirmed again as throbbing replaced the numbness in his limbs.
"Ho! Hold him there, I need to finish stitching this 'fore he wakes."
"Too late," a gruffer third voice commented, "he's already awake."
Legolas pulled his laden eyelids open with far too much effort than should be necessary. Bright lights shone unkindly in his face and the world blurred and spun threateningly about him. He immediately squeezed his eyes shut again to escape the nausea. Another moan escaped his lips.
Estel?
"Oh, move off, boys! You're a sorry sight for sore eyes. Let me get to the child 'fore you scare the little fawn with your unkempt, scruffy faces; lest he think you bears."
The deeper voices grumbled a protest but the latter female voice effectively shooed them out of the tent with a last blast of air.
It took much less effort to pry his eyes open a second time, and Legolas was grateful for it. Any precaution had abandoned him until now. He knew not what his situation was, and his last memories were fevered and fuzzy.
The face that met him was not Estel. In fact, it wasn't even a Man. It was a dwarrowdam; a female dwarf.
Despite legend, she did not have a beard; this one didn't anyways. The dwarrowdam had a round, full, pleasant face her cheeks were flushed and hair disheveled during her care for her unexpected elven patient. Though she had no wrinkles save the laugh lines around her eyes, Legolas could tell she was older. About 55 in human reckoning.
He let his eyes wander the tent. The prior flapping of the canvas had informed him of his general accommodations, but he knew that might change depending on whether he would still be considered a guest or not.
A low wooden shelf filled with medical supplies and his weapons was the only thing— besides the cot he was laying on— in the room he could see.
"My, my, I had been wondering what color those eyes of yours were. At first I had been guessing a deep, rustic green, like the towering pines near the mountain, but then I thought you looked too bright and cheery to have such dark eyes. I finally decided on a nice light blue." Her voice was rolling and strong, and the refined words she used clashed with her lilting accent. She talked very expressively and her merry eyes twinkled with a young mischief that was usually extinguished in others her age. "Now I can see I was right." She smiled widely and looked to the ceiling of the tent, reminiscing. "Like a clear river or sky of snowy clouds about to shower on us folk below." Her gaze returned to him. The smile seemed glued permanently to her face.
Legolas thought she seemed pleasant enough, but much was deceiving that way. He remained cautious and scrambled to a sitting position when she reached for him. The movement sent more waves of agony through him and he gasped, the color draining from his face. Pressure began to build in his head and the world briefly spun again.
The dwarrowdam recoiled and fidgeted in distress. The ever- present smile flipped and her glistening brow creased worriedly.
"Oh child, I wouldn't hurt you!" She must have noticed his arms stretched out behind him to keep himself propped up had begun to tremble violently, and bustled over to catch him right before his arms buckled.
"Oh, here I go muttering unsavory poetics while you poor creature—" he didn't hear the rest.
Once his head stopped spinning, he reached for his side. The stitches were not what he was used to, and he could almost call them crude, if they had not been so neat.
The dwarrowdam fidgeted nervously in protest when he fingered his wound but came no closer. It seemed she was used to being in control, but was trying to be sensitive.
Estel? Where was he?
Her voice appeared at his head. "Do you have a name, little fawn?" She was notably more somber and he wished he had imagined the small prick of disappointment that he had saddened her.
The pressure throbbed in his head and he didn't respond. He was starting to get worried about his silly human, but did not want to betray his relations to him, lest whosever custody they were in would use them against each other. It felt strange to say he missed Estel and was rather uncomfortable and worried without him.
"Child? I know you can speak."
The throbbing continued. He wrinkled his brow crossly. Everything was too bright, too loud, too rough...
He flinched away from the cloth soaked in cold water when it landed on his forehead, and immediately regretted it as his aches and pains became more prominently known once more.
"Now come, star. You will have to talk soon. Healer Aldor needs to know what poison you managed to get into yourself here." She rubbed the coarse cloth over the dark veins running over him in concern.
It was then he realized he was shirtless and this was in fact a female dwarf. Elleth healers did care for him as well, but he clumsily pulled the covers up to his chin to try and hide the light flush that dusted his cheeks nevertheless.
The dwarrowdam laughed. It was a clear, pleasant sound, like a rushing spring or a tolling bell welcoming home battle-weary soldiers. But it was loud and that caused Legolas to recoil crossly. Too loud, too bright, Estel get me out of here!
The pulsing traveled down through his whole body and intensified, leaving him gasping for every throb. Strangely enough, his side was completely numb and he now clawed at it.
A thought sprouted in his mind. He fought the swimming murk, and tossed his head in frustration. The voice was back, ringing in his ears and stunning him. He could not recall the thought, but knew it was a very important one.
The blanket was whipped off him and the rough hands prodded his side. He could feel blood leaking through the stitches. The blurry shape of the dwarrowdam frantically wrapped a bandage around his middle and tugged it tight before rushing out of the tent with a cold blast of air.
He grasped the thought. His caretakers did not know what kind of poison was in him. They treated him how they knew best for any other kind of poison until he could tell them what happened. Venom needed nearly the exact opposite treatment than most basic poisons. It needed to be drained out of the victim and not trapped inside. The anti-venom helped separate the venom from the blood to prevent drastic blood loss. The black veins running over his skin had darkened. The venom had nowhere to go.
Another blast of cold air signified several persons' entrances.
He cast a spinning glance to his weapons on the shelf and immediately knew what he had to do.
Clawing at his side, he tumbled off the cot. The voices rose in pitch and he squeezed his eyes shut for a moment to ward off the pain. The hands grappled his arms but he pushed them away and began to drag himself to the shelf, keeping his eyes fixed on the blurred shine of silver. His limbs trembled violently and his movements were sluggish from the trapped venom.
It seemed to have taken ages of fighting before he felt the cold yet comforting hilt of the dagger in his hand. Someone was dragging him up and others were trying to wrestle the weapon from his grasp.
Legolas angled the knife to himself and managed to cut the bandages away. The voices rose again and he gritted his teeth in attempt to keep hold of his consciousness and ready himself for the shocking pain of re-opening the wound.
The arms holding him tried to haul him back onto the cot, but the elf was making it anything but easy. Someone was about to succeed in tearing the blade away from his hand and he stamped hard on any available limb. It ended up being the right move, for the pressure on his hand disappeared, but he had used his bad leg for the kick and it pained him mercilessly.
The elf surged forward again, but only ended up tumbling over the body of the very man he had just kicked. He crashed to the ground and the knife went skittering from his hand. He heaved in great gulps of air and couldn't stop a cry from escaping him. He lay still as possible, his heart racing as it became harder and harder to breathe. Spots danced in his vision as it cleared somewhat and several faces came into view. He felt more bitter venom rising from his throat but valiantly prevented himself from coughing, for that kind of pain would undoubtedly send him reeling into unconsciousness.
"He's mad!"
"Should we carry him back to the cot?"
"Give him a moment."
"He'll fight again."
It was the dwarrowdam this time. "Ai! Blood is running from his mouth!"
"That ain't blood. It's almost black."
"It's the blasted poison! I don't know what on Arda it is!"
Blinding pain exploded in his side even as he lay still as his body's defenses wore out. He screamed until his throat was sore. It sent him reeling to the tiniest brink of awareness and the only thing he saw was a blood red haze covering his vision. The roaring of blood in his ears masked the racket of the men and dwarves shouting for supplies. It felt like he was separating from himself, and that was when he knew he needed to complete his task or it would be the last thing he ever did. The venom was consuming and paralyzing him from the inside and it was only a matter of time before his system shut down completely.
Resolve rose, and numbing himself against the pain, he lunged for his knife.
oOo
The scream was the end of the line for Estel. He had been listening to the pathetic cries of his elven friend for the past few moments and could now bear it no longer. His plan of getting both of them to escape was rubbish now but he couldn't let Legolas suffer any longer.
He pushed out of the chair he had previously been tied in and swung the rope across one of the vigils' faces, effectively stunning him. The other man lunged at him, but Estel swiftly stepped away at the last moment and left the attacker to crash to his own devices. Wielding the knife he had snatched from one of their belts, he ran towards the tent he knew his elf was being so called treated in.
Mere seconds after he barged in, he caught a glimpse of the glint of steel and blackish blood spilling over Legolas' white skin. One sight stopped him from stabbing everyone in the room, and that was the blood-stained elven dagger pointed downward and clenched in the elf's hand.
Estel slid to the elf's side, hands trembling so that he dropped the knife. The other occupants of the tent gathered around him but did not touch them, obviously in shock at his sudden barrage.
Legolas' eyes were closed and his face ashen. The lips of the wound had remnants of stitches in them and were an angry red color and inflamed, though it was hard to tell with all the blood gushing out of his side. Most of it was venom, but not all of it.
Someone in the tent had let out a cry when the elf had turned the knife on himself and Estel could hear the words 'mad' and 'elf' being muttered along with a few oaths.
Aragorn turned towards them crossly. "Well! Are you simply going to let him bleed out into the earth? Let's get him up!"
They seemed stunned for a few moments that this boy had begun to order them around, then decided he was right and made a move to help.
They gently bore the limp form of the elf back up onto the cot. One of the humans settled down beside him and mopped away the blackish blood from the afflicted area. "Hildor?"
"The knife was clean, master. No worries there."
The Adan bending over Legolas grunted in reply and barked out orders for another needle to be strung for him to seal the wound back up.
"Do you think that is wise?" Estel inquired.
The Man looked up at him, an impatient question in his eyes.
"Well, don't you think all the trouble he took to reopen it meant something?" he prodded.
The Man looked to Hildor who was standing near the foot of the bed. The black-bearded dwarf standing at the entrance harrumphed into his beard and crossed his arms.
"He's mad," Hildor stated, his tone blunt.
The Healer nodded as if this were the only logical answer and took the proffered needle from Hildor.
"Wait!" Estel pushed past the dwarf and rushed to the Healer's side.
"He's losing blood!" the black bearded dwarf said urgently, casting an angry look to Estel for interfering.
"Nari is right, move off boy! I don't have to be doing this right now!" the Healer said angrily.
Hildor narrowed his eyes and stalked closer to Estel. "You're not even supposed to be here, boy, so I suggest—"
He was cut off with a sharp cry from the Healer who had just begun to thread the needle through a lip of the wound. A pale hand was clenched around the Man's needle arm, stopping him from stitching the elf back up.
"Don't," Legolas rasped, and let out a rattling cough that sent more of the black venom splattering on his lips. "Let it drain."
Legolas was right; his veins had begun to lighten back to their original color.
"Legolas!" Estel cried happily as he ran up to his friend. Hildor made a move to stop him, but was stopped by Nari's meaty arm. He looked questioningly down at the dwarf, who only shook his head.
A small smile spread on the elf's face.
"But the bleeding!" Estel suddenly blurted.
"I would rather lose blood than have this venom devour me from the inside." Legolas rasped out another weak cough.
"But you've lost too much already, star!" said the dwarrowdam worriedly. She had been staying out of the way in the corner of the tent, wringing her hands and repeatedly wiping the blood off Legolas' knife in anxiety.
Legolas clutched his side and peeled away the cloth he had been holding to it to soak up the blood to check the color. The cloth came away nearly completely black. Only thin trickle of scarlet seeped out. That was good. The bulk of the poison had already left his system. Now was a good time to seal the wound back up. There was still a bit of venom left but he would rely on the strength of his body to clear it. He did not think he could afford to lose anymore blood in his uncertain condition. He had not enjoyed the doorstep of Mandos one bit.
"That's quite enough now," said the healer in a clipped tone. "I don't intend to watch you bleed to death. Not on my watch."
Legolas had been about to ask just that, but he let the healer take charge anyhow. Trying to ignore the familiar sting of the needle, he closed his eyes and wished his nausea away. He was asleep within the minute.
Estel watched his friend worriedly beside the cot. The dwarrowdam had taken leave of the tent to help with meal preparations and undoubtedly gossip about what had happened with the two strange newcomers.
The young human shot a glare at Hildor who was eyeing him suspiciously from the opposite side of the tent. The dwarf, Nari, had been standing at the entrance of the enclosure, warding off any humans searching for Estel and informing them that their captive was just fine under his care. Aragorn appreciated it, and hoped Hildor was no exception for the dwarf, for Aragorn had no intention of leaving Legolas' side.
Nari let out another harrumph. "I must take leave, Master Aldor. You will manage fine without me, I imagine?"
The healer looked up from tying the last knot in the newly wrapped bandages and smiled wryly at the dwarf. "Quite fine, thank you. Off to battle those buzzards for that gold again?"
Nari rolled his eyes. "I say we just let you blasted Men have it. I've lost track of how many centuries we've been squabbling over it. I'm tired of this fight."
Hildor raised an eyebrow. "A dwarf denying that he wants a claim to a hearty pile of gold? My, this is new!" he laughed.
Nari growled at the mens' laughter, then just shook his head and took leave of the tent.
Aragorn looked curiously after him. "Dwarves and Men live together in this town?"
Hildor answered. "Not exactly. The dwarves lodge here during the trading season to be closer to Laketown. There's no room there, you see."
Estel nodded thoughtfully. "Then what is this fight over gold?"
This time the healer, Aldor, took up the tale. "The wealth was placed here several centuries ago. At the time, it had been placed under the custody of the Men living here. They were forbidden to use it and were paid a certain amount yearly in turn to keep it safe. It was just a small pioneer town at the time, you see, and it had been a harsh winter. The town had not yet developed trade with any other settlements yet, and were vainly looking for ways that they would not to starve out in the winter. But that was when a party of dwarven merchants passed through and gave the people the food and supplies they needed to outlast the winter if they could, in turn, stay a few weeks, and would ask for repayment later. The dwarves then continued to lodge here nearly every winter and eventually someone remembered what had happened previously and asked for payment in the form of the gold. We, of course, would not part with it, for it was not ours to give away, but the dwarves then countered that it was their own doing the town did not die off that first winter, and that they brought trade to us as well. That was true, of course, but we did not relent, claiming the gold was not ours and we had no right to give it away, which we don't."
"Mostly because it is rather a handsome sum," intervened Hildor with an impish grin spreading across his weathered face.
Aldor rolled his eyes. "Yes, that too, now hush and let me finish. Anyhow, it is still unknown to this day who the gold belongs to, for the documents entitling this town to the wealth had been destroyed in a fire. The town counsel meets every year on this matter, but the conflict on who the gold rightfully belongs to has never been solved. Nari is one of the head chairmen for the dwarves."
"Do you have any idea on who sent the gold in the first place?" Estel asked curiously.
"None," Hildor said quickly. Too quickly.
"Oh come now, man! He's just a boy! If we don't tell him now, he will pester us ever-more. I don't even see why we bothered to take him in the first place," Aldor said, which was entirely true. Estel had a strange inkling that there was more to this century-old conflict than meets the eye, and would very much enjoy pestering these folks, now that he knew they were not hostile and meant them no harm.
"You took me because I would not leave my elf," Estel said rather matter-of-factly, his chin tilted up in what could be called defiance. "And you wanted to help him."
Hildor burst out laughing. "Your elf is he? It doesn't seem like you have been taking very good care of him I'm afraid."
Estel gave him a sour look.
Aldor looked up from the concoction he had been mixing as if lost in thought. "Where did you find this elf anyways?"
"Uhh, I wandered into a uh spider's nest in Mirkwood, and he saved me," which, in it's entirety was not all that wrong, though Estel would have liked to argue that it had really happened the other way around. But then they would know he was lying for sure.
"Is your family part of that troop that went crashing through there a couple days ago?" asked Hildor. "They're mad too, I say. Angering those creatures with their useless pointy sticks. Elves is bad luck." He have a disdainful sniff.
"It was more like a couple weeks ago," corrected the healer absently. "It was spider's venom then," he mused to himself quietly. "Strange thing, it is. I have never seen it before." He looked down at Legolas in a new light. He was curious.
Estel wrinkled his brow. Did he mean the human rebels? Most likely. "No sir, I had just been passing through," he said slowly. Hildor huffed and rolled his eyes in a 'yeah, right' gesture. I am rather young to travel alone I suppose, Estel thought in irritation.
The Edain in the room whirled abruptly when Nari crashed through the entrance, panting. "By Mahal's glittering anvil! I don't know why I hadn't thought of it before!" he cried.
"Pray tell, master dwarf!" Aldor said.
"Look! By my beard, look! This is what I found in that dratted elf's quiver!"
Estel growled softly under his breath at the prospect of these strangers snooping in their things, but leaned forward to take a peek at what lay in the dwarf's hand.
Nari held his hand out flat, a shining gold coin with a simple crest of leaves stamped into it. Estel recognized it as the standard imprint on elvish currency, but said nothing.
"That's very nice, Nari, now get to the point if you will," said Hildor impatiently.
"Remember that thief that had managed to get away with a small pouch of that gold last decade? And he decided to make a run for it and managed to get himself tripped and spill the gold all over the street? Well it was nothing like what our gold pieces looked like, and I ain't never seen anything like them until I saw this. You better get that elf up quick, 'cause we just 'bout cracked this nut!"
Hildor had made a small sound of protest when Nari had begun his rampage of words, and Estel guessed it was what Aldor had been wanting to tell him earlier.
Before anyone could get a word in edgewise, Nari was out of the tent, clutching the gold piece excitedly.
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:c so sorry guys. I know I'm really slacking.
Next chapter is about halfway done so it shouldn't take so long 3:
Thanks so much Scribbles! You give me confidence.
Anywho, thanks for the RandR :D owo"
