Chapter 4
The words flowed over him; he heard them but paid no heed. He absorbed himself with feeling. He was surprised how badly his hand hurt. The breeze was cool but not cold, and in some other place, and some other time, would have pleasured him greatly. He could feel his hair against his hands and face, the smoothness of the pebbles under his knees. Then he noticed the voices had stopped.
He tried to retreat inwardly, but could find no green meadow in which to escape. His inner world of peace was gone. The darkness that he found in its place was as a Being, which reached out to grab him with powerful hooks. Pain and suffering was in its wake, filling the blackness with a red glow.
A mighty voice called his name, "Legolas!" It was here for him! It was going to take him away, to a place of eternal pain and unbearable suffering. He could not bear the thought. He ran from it! Somehow, he escaped! It was gone!
Legolas jumped up from the ground gasping for air as he mentally disconnected from the world of darkness, which seemed to want to seize him and take him screaming into a pit of evil. He looked at the Gurth-Oneth, eyes wild and barely suppressing a scream. Terror had him and he did not recognize his Companions.
This was not the action that they were hoping for. Each Elf held their hands out, palms front, hoping to show that they meant no harm. This was not going to be easy, if Legolas was not going to come willingly.
"Legolas! Do you not know us? Do you not know me? We are friends. We have been together for many countless years. We are going to take you back to your home, your father Thranduil and the palace. Help and Healing awaits you. There is no need to fear." Alnaron would not let him lose this contact.
A strange thought entered Legolas' mind at this point. Something came from deep in his memories or subconscious that bubbled up to the forefront. Something troubling and painful. What was it? Yes, he had it. There was something wrong in what Alnaron had just said. It seemed very important. His voice was tight as he asked, "What of my mother, Silwen, and Naurdril? Are they not at the palace?"
With a deep sadness showing on his face, Cirion bowed his head and said softly, "Elbereth."
Alnaron moved closer to Legolas, only to see him back away from the approach. Alnaron stopped a few feet away, and with his arms outstretched said, "No, Legolas. They in Mirkwood no longer."
The hands went back to cover the face of the Prince of Mirkwood. He forebode the answer, but had to hear it just the same. "Then were do they dwell?"
Alnaron went up to Legolas and gently took him by the wrist. If this was somehow source of the problem, it had to be handled carefully. He placed his left hand upon the right shoulder of Legolas. "Do you not remember what occurred to Silwen, Naurdril, and your mother, my Liege?"
The fire burned in Legolas' eyes, but he could not answer. He didn't know? He should know! What was it? He tried to remember, but the answers would not come.
Alnaron began, "On the day of our Vows." but pain pierced his heart. He whispered, "Silwen, my Beloved." He thought this would be easier, but the grief was only thinly covered, ever to be re-exposed. "Silwen and Naurdril did not survive when Orcs attacked your family while traveling to the ceremony."
Legolas closed his eyes again as the words penetrated into his soul. He remembered them as soon as they were uttered, but not before. Such was his denial. Legolas could not look at Alnaron. His lips moved but no sound came forth. Then, suddenly, "It was my fault! I was there! I did not save them!"
Alnaron's grip on Legolas tightened. "No, Legolas! Many were taken that day. To be attacked on such a day of joy- . The House of Thranduil was unprepared for battle, but all fought valiantly. No one is to blame, my Lord. Your Mother chose the Gift of Mandos. Her heart went with Silwen and Naurdril; she never recovered." Alnaron lowered his head and fixed his gaze on a silver ring that he wore. "Silwen's ring of Promise will stay on my hand as she will remain in my heart. Legolas, you are not the only one who aches for them."
The glaze seemed to lift from Legolas' stare. He focused on his friend before him. "I - I remember now. I remember what happened." Then his eyes regained a shine that brought worry back to his Companions. His voice rose to an excited level. "But I was just with them. My brother, my sister and Mother! At the palace! All was well!"
Alnaron's frown deepened as this pronouncement registered. He was turning his head to address Ancaleb, when out of the corner of his eye, he saw massive black forms silently getting ready to pounce from the shadows.
"Wargs!" shouted Ancalab as he and Cirion swiftly grabbed their bows and put arrows to string.
A fey mood seized Alnaron when he saw that Legolas had not reached for his weapons, but had dropped to the ground.
"It's my fault! I let this happen!" Legolas closed his eyes as he felt the teeth go into him.
TBC
The words flowed over him; he heard them but paid no heed. He absorbed himself with feeling. He was surprised how badly his hand hurt. The breeze was cool but not cold, and in some other place, and some other time, would have pleasured him greatly. He could feel his hair against his hands and face, the smoothness of the pebbles under his knees. Then he noticed the voices had stopped.
He tried to retreat inwardly, but could find no green meadow in which to escape. His inner world of peace was gone. The darkness that he found in its place was as a Being, which reached out to grab him with powerful hooks. Pain and suffering was in its wake, filling the blackness with a red glow.
A mighty voice called his name, "Legolas!" It was here for him! It was going to take him away, to a place of eternal pain and unbearable suffering. He could not bear the thought. He ran from it! Somehow, he escaped! It was gone!
Legolas jumped up from the ground gasping for air as he mentally disconnected from the world of darkness, which seemed to want to seize him and take him screaming into a pit of evil. He looked at the Gurth-Oneth, eyes wild and barely suppressing a scream. Terror had him and he did not recognize his Companions.
This was not the action that they were hoping for. Each Elf held their hands out, palms front, hoping to show that they meant no harm. This was not going to be easy, if Legolas was not going to come willingly.
"Legolas! Do you not know us? Do you not know me? We are friends. We have been together for many countless years. We are going to take you back to your home, your father Thranduil and the palace. Help and Healing awaits you. There is no need to fear." Alnaron would not let him lose this contact.
A strange thought entered Legolas' mind at this point. Something came from deep in his memories or subconscious that bubbled up to the forefront. Something troubling and painful. What was it? Yes, he had it. There was something wrong in what Alnaron had just said. It seemed very important. His voice was tight as he asked, "What of my mother, Silwen, and Naurdril? Are they not at the palace?"
With a deep sadness showing on his face, Cirion bowed his head and said softly, "Elbereth."
Alnaron moved closer to Legolas, only to see him back away from the approach. Alnaron stopped a few feet away, and with his arms outstretched said, "No, Legolas. They in Mirkwood no longer."
The hands went back to cover the face of the Prince of Mirkwood. He forebode the answer, but had to hear it just the same. "Then were do they dwell?"
Alnaron went up to Legolas and gently took him by the wrist. If this was somehow source of the problem, it had to be handled carefully. He placed his left hand upon the right shoulder of Legolas. "Do you not remember what occurred to Silwen, Naurdril, and your mother, my Liege?"
The fire burned in Legolas' eyes, but he could not answer. He didn't know? He should know! What was it? He tried to remember, but the answers would not come.
Alnaron began, "On the day of our Vows." but pain pierced his heart. He whispered, "Silwen, my Beloved." He thought this would be easier, but the grief was only thinly covered, ever to be re-exposed. "Silwen and Naurdril did not survive when Orcs attacked your family while traveling to the ceremony."
Legolas closed his eyes again as the words penetrated into his soul. He remembered them as soon as they were uttered, but not before. Such was his denial. Legolas could not look at Alnaron. His lips moved but no sound came forth. Then, suddenly, "It was my fault! I was there! I did not save them!"
Alnaron's grip on Legolas tightened. "No, Legolas! Many were taken that day. To be attacked on such a day of joy- . The House of Thranduil was unprepared for battle, but all fought valiantly. No one is to blame, my Lord. Your Mother chose the Gift of Mandos. Her heart went with Silwen and Naurdril; she never recovered." Alnaron lowered his head and fixed his gaze on a silver ring that he wore. "Silwen's ring of Promise will stay on my hand as she will remain in my heart. Legolas, you are not the only one who aches for them."
The glaze seemed to lift from Legolas' stare. He focused on his friend before him. "I - I remember now. I remember what happened." Then his eyes regained a shine that brought worry back to his Companions. His voice rose to an excited level. "But I was just with them. My brother, my sister and Mother! At the palace! All was well!"
Alnaron's frown deepened as this pronouncement registered. He was turning his head to address Ancaleb, when out of the corner of his eye, he saw massive black forms silently getting ready to pounce from the shadows.
"Wargs!" shouted Ancalab as he and Cirion swiftly grabbed their bows and put arrows to string.
A fey mood seized Alnaron when he saw that Legolas had not reached for his weapons, but had dropped to the ground.
"It's my fault! I let this happen!" Legolas closed his eyes as he felt the teeth go into him.
TBC