Chapter 8

Awakening: Reflections

Through the night, Kalan only stirred three times, shuddering and crying out in pain and protest. Heart wrenching pleas for the demons of his torture to stop, escaped his lips. Each time Legolas was there, soothing Kalan, bringing him out of the darkness with soft elven words and gentle, kind touches. Aragorn came in at intervals and they roused Kalan only enough to have him drink the herbal concoction of the Ranger. It was evening of the next day when Aragorn appeared again.

"It is time to move on, can he ride?" he asked.

"Perhaps, if the need is great. Where do we head?" Legolas asked. Aragorn told the story of Pippin and the palantir, and how Gandalf saved him. The hobbit was taken with the wizard to Gondor.

"The rest of us are going back to Edoras, from there, we shall see. But I wish for Kalan to return to Rivendell as soon as possible," he said, gravely. Legolas read *that* look and nodded. He looked down at Kalan's sleeping face and brushed the dark hair out of his closed eyes, noticing as he did so that the fever had gone down dramatically.

"Cuiv-de, Gildae. Elena sila tiri ar'run lindu ele lle,"[1] he whispered softly into Kalan's ear. The dragonling stirred and blinked his eyes open. He focused on the fair elf's face above him. At first he looked frightened and confused, but then with a quiet smile for Legolas, he relaxed slightly. "Quel undome, mellonamin."[2] Kalan nodded but did not respond. Kalan's eyes roamed the tent, almost fearfully. 'He still expects to see the orcs,' thought the elf, sadly. Kalan saw Aragorn, standing to one side and the man came over to him.

"Kalan, how do you feel?" he asked, kneeling down beside him. Kalan was silent for a time, then in a halting voice, he answered.

"I am not in – so much pain – anymore," he said, Aragorn nodded.

"That is good, do you think you can ride?" Kalan nodded, "Also good, but first you should eat and drink," he stood, poured another mug of his tea and brought it to Kalan. Legolas helped the dragonling to sit up, but Kalan still leaned against him, the elf did not mind. Aragorn made as if to feed the drink to him, but Kalan raised a slightly shaking hand and stopped him. He took the cup from the Ranger and brought it slowly to his own lips. Legolas supported his arms but he drank the tea himself.

After he had finished, Aragorn took back the cup from him, nodding. He next took some elven 'lembas' from his pouch and handed it to Kalan. He ate slowly and shakily, but he was determined to do it himself. He finished off the wafers and he looked a bit stronger. Kalan looked up at Aragorn and a flicker of the old strength flashed in his silver eyes. But it faded quickly, like a candle, sputtering out and Kalan slumped against Legolas.

"I am not an invalid, Aragorn, and I do not wish to be treated as such," Kalan said in a soft voice, but stronger than before. Aragorn smiled warmly and nodded.

"I know that, Kalan, I am just trying to help you," he said. Kalan closed his eyes, weariness overtaking him once more. Legolas laid a hand on his bare shoulder, gently rubbing down his arm. The action was meant to soothe, but Kalan suddenly became very aware of his naked body pressed back against the elf. The hand on his arm made him tense, and his tortured mind began to twist the elf's soft touches, making it feel more like grasping claws. Once more he was in the dungeons of Orthanc, the orcs surrounded him, over him, into him…

"Stop! No!" he jerked away from Legolas, startling both man and elf, but before he could run away, Aragorn had him in his arms, holding him tightly. Kalan struggled against the restraining arms, but Aragorn did not release him.

"Hush, Kalan! We will not hurt you!" he said to the almost hysterical half-dragon. He felt Kalan stiffen and his struggled ceased. Aragorn did not release him, "Kalan?" The youth went limp suddenly, his body shuddering.

"Amin hiraetha, amin…" his voice broke. Aragorn held him, saying nothing just gently rubbing Kalan's back, trying to soothe him once more. Aragorn caught the elf's gaze as Legolas watched him hold Kalan. Kalan's reaction to his touch had startled and frightened him, now his eyes held sadness and helplessness. Aragorn knew this was hard on the young elf prince; elves expressed their feelings through touch more than spoken word. It was new to Legolas to see his touch bring so much anguish to one that he cared for, even if it was involuntary.

Finally, Kalan quieted and he pushed against Aragorn weakly and he released him. He kept a hold on Kalan's shoulders watching him intensely, but the youth would not meet his gaze. "Kalan?" He raised the dark head with a finger under his chin. "Kalan, it is not your fault. *They* did this to you; they are the only ones to blame. And we will make them pay, Kalan, I swear to you," he said, vehemently. Kalan said naught, but his silver eyes told Aragorn everything he needed to know. Pain, fear, guilt, sorrow but under it all was a small flame, the old Kalan. Pride, loyalty, and now a small childlike, hesitant trust. Aragorn nodded. "Now, haw about we get some clothes on you, hm?" and he stood. "You can use one of my tunics, I shortened to sleeves, and I also have an extra cloak for you. But what to put on the bottom?" he shrugged. Legolas spoke up.

"I have an extra pair of leggings, you and I are near to the same size," he offered, and Aragorn nodded.

"I think that I could purloin some boots Rohan's supplies. I don't think Theoden would mind too much," he said with a small twinkle in his eyes. He handed Kalan the tunic, black with a thick weave, but lightweight. Aragorn taken thread and hemmed the sleeves about two inches. Kalan stiffly pulled it on over his head.

Legolas took this moment to step outside and retrieve his pack and the leggings. A familiar voice met him.

"Hail! Legolas!" The elf turned and smiled to the dwarf who came to greet him.

"Mae govannen,[3] Gimli, how art thou?" he asked.

"As well as can be expected, elf," came the answer then his face darkened. "How is Kalan?" he asked in a controlled voice. Legolas frowned.

"Perhaps your own answer applies to him as well. His fever has all but left him, but it is not the fever that worries me," his eyes flashed with anger. "He flinches from our touch as if we would harm him, and he is yet plagued by the orcs in his dreams, nay! Even awake he sees them, feels them," his eyes lowered, but not before Gimli saw the pained look of helplessness on his face. He placed a comforting hand on the elf's arm

"It is not from our touch that he shies away, but from the memory of the pain he suffered at the hands of the orcs. Just give him some time, Legolas, time heals all wounds," he said kindly, but Legolas shook his head.

"Nay, time will not heal this wound. On the outside, the cuts will close, but inside they will fester and poison him. He now fears that everyone will hurt him, he has forgotten the joy and love in life. Nor will he open up to us and share his pain," he paused. "No, Gimli, no amount of time will heal him. Time, like elves, means nothing to him for he can live till the end of the world. He needs healing that we cannot give him here. Aragorn hopes to send him to Rivendell as soon as he is strong enough. Lord Elrond is a great healer and has helped Kalan before. I only hope that this last torture did not break him beyond repair," and with that he took his pack and re-entered the tent.

Gimli stood there for a time, an unreadable expression on his face. He spoke in a low voice to no one but himself.

"It seems the Fates are determined to keep him in pain and alone. Well, no more, not with Gimli son of Gloim by his side," he looked up to the sky. "If there is any good and benevolent god or Valar listening, I plead to you on his behalf. Spare him this torture or if you will not, grant my comrades and I the power to protect him."

 [1] Wake up, Gildae. The stars are bright and they sing to see thee.

[2] Good evening, my friend

[3] Well met