Disclaimer: This story was written for enjoyment only. I do not own any of Tolkien's characters.
Author's Note: Thank you to all my reviewers and readers! Your kind words make writing this story all the more worthwhile! Thank you for taking the time to let me know that you are enjoying my efforts! :) I hope you enjoy this latest chapter! :)
Relesen Chapter 7
Elrohir dropped down beside the litter that contained his youngest brother's still body in stunned silence. The elf's eyes swept over the Man's inert form, and he felt his throat tighten with emotion. Swathed in cloaks, Aragorn's pale figure appeared vulnerable for a Human of his stature. "Estel?" Elrohir's voice trembled with unchecked emotion. "What has happened to you, my brother?" He continued, while allowing his hands to draw back the coverings to expose the wounds that lay hidden beneath.
"Elrohir?" Elladan called out expectantly, unable to control the alarm that laced his speech as he kept both of his arms wrapped tightly around Legolas' still struggling form. "What is it, brother?"
Elrohir swallowed hard, trying to regain some of his previous composure before answering Elladan, but he could not keep in check the tears that begun to pool behind the darkened depths of his eyes. Hesitantly he moved his hand toward the crook in Aragorn's neck, almost afraid to trust that the beat of life still coursed through the young Human's veins. He bit back a sob as he felt a faint throb, and his hand proceeded to moved downward toward the Man's bandaged laden torso, their fabric stained crimson with his blood. He did not bother to unravel their lengths, for he knew his brother's condition was beyond any aid he could render to him out here, as Elladan's disconcerted voice broke through the hazy silence that now enveloped him.
"Elrohir...brother, please, tell me of Estel!" Elladan pleaded. "Does he live?"
"Yes, Elladan," Elrohir answered, unable to keep the anxiety, that now threatened to overwhelm him, from his voice, and he was met by the sound of a harsh intake of relief from his older twin. "but he is grievously wounded."
"What?" Elladan spat out. "What has happened to him?"
"I'm not sure... not sure..." Elrohir continued, shaking his head in distress. "We must get him back to Rivendell...We must get him to father immediately!"
"But he will all right, brother?" Elladan pressed on, his heart sinking as he was met by Elrohir's ashen complexion. "He will live, Elrohir, won't he? Father will be able to help him?"
Elrohir's stricken eyes met with those of his older brother's as he shakily uttered the words that he most feared to voice. "I'm not sure . . . "
Quickly, Elladan averted his gaze, unable to control the emotions now coursing through his own body as he focused his attentions back upon the scrambling elf still within his hold. "Legolas," He breathed. "What happened to him? Who did this to our brother?" The elf within his arms did not respond to his inquiries, as he jerked and wrenched against the bonds that he perceived held him. Elladan was tiring fast from his effort to restrain the struggling prince, but he managed to reach one of his hands forward to grasp the chin of his friend, stilling his motions momentarily as he tried to gain his attention, while he issued forth these questions once again. "Who did this to Estel, Legolas? What happened to him? What happened to both of you, nin mellon?"
The Silvan elf's motions ceased. His eyes and face mirrored the deep anguish of his raven-haired companion's, as Elladan's words finally penetrated the deep mist that had been encompassing his brain. He opened his mouth to speak, but his words would not come, and his only response was a choked sob of grief. Elladan's face crumpled with remorse, while he watched Legolas weep openly at the recollection he had forced upon him, and he gathered the elf into his embrace. The Rivendell elf could not quell the rising tide of anger building within him, as he thought about who or what had caused his brother and his friend such anguish and pain. His now free hands clenched in reaction as they encircled the grief-stricken elf, while the blood that coursed through his veins increased in its rush as he vowed to himself that those responsible for these abominable actions would pay dearly for the grief they had caused.
While Elladan was grappling with these new found emotions, Elrohir began issuing forth orders to the elves surrounding him. The younger elf wanted do nothing more than gather Arargorn's prone body swiftly within his arms, and rush him back home upon horseback, but he knew his foster brother would not be able to withstand such an arduous journey, so the elf began making other arrangements. Immediately, he sent the other two riders, that had accompanied them out from Imaldris, back to the hall to alert his father to their findings and allow the Eldar time to prepare what would be necessary to treat the injured party's wounds. Then, he set about grasping the front of the litter, while he directed Bartara to do the same to its rear, as he prepared to set out on foot for the remainder of this journey. Finally, he turned to his brother to appeal to him. "Elladan, we must make haste! Please see to Legolas!"
The older twin turned stunned eyes toward his brother as he witnessed his departure. "Elrohir?" He uttered, but his exclamation was lost in the blackness surrounding them as the younger elf's and Bartara's figures grew faint and then disappeared completely into the darkened woodland around them. Elladan was at a loss for words as he turned his attentions back toward the battered elf within his embrace, before raising a comforting hand to stroke Legolas' hair and back, while muttering softly to his friend, "He will be all right, Legolas. You both will. Father will see to you." Elladan issued his final, choked words to the star lit heavens above them. "Dear Elbereth, he has to be all right! Please watch over my brother this night!"
Elladan then turned his attentions to the remaining sentry surrounding them. "Please, get my horse! I must get Legolas back to Rivendell!" Swiftly the elves encircling him complied with his directive, and immediately brought forth his steed. Gently Elladan made to stand bringing Legolas' trembling form with him, before shifting his weight to the elf closest to him for support. The raven-haired elf mounted his charge, as the immortal being, with whom he had entrusted Legolas' temporary care, lifted the Silvan elf upwards and placed the fair-haired archer upon his lord's son's horse. Elladan quickly clasped Legolas' shaky form to him, not trusting the Mirkwood elf's dwindling strength to keep himself upright upon their steed for the remainder of their journey, and with utmost haste, he galloped off toward Rivendell.
The household was in turmoil upon Elladan's arrival back at Imaldris, having only short minutes before received the news of the forthcoming discord. Household servants under their lord's explicit orders were readying for the wounded. Herbs and liniments were being fetched, blankets, sheets, and bandages prepared, and hot water and healing instruments readied. Elladan was just easing Legolas from his mount when a flurry of activity from behind him drew his attentions. Miraculously this cacophony heralded the arrival of his brother and Bartara and the litter they carried. Lowering the device down upon the hard marble floor of the outer passageway, the two elves in unison, quickly lifted Aragorn's injured body up into their arms and bore him off toward the entrance hallway. Elladan caught a quick glimpse of the back of his father's golden robes and his dark flowing hair as it swayed in movement as he met up with them, and turned to follow the two elves carrying his injured son.
Elladan swiftly turned his attentions back to his charge, and gently lowered Legolas toward the ground. The fair-haired elf stumbled before falling into him, his strength now completely spent. Elladan wrapped one of his arms around the Silvan archer's waist while dragging Legolas' other arm around his shoulder to support him, while they slowly made their way down the hallway before them, seeking out the room his two fellow companions had taken Aragorn to.
Legolas had not uttered a single word on their trip back to Rivendell, and presently as he clung to Elladan, he maintained this silence as they stopped outside the doorway that led into the room where Aragorn now lay. Aragorn's still figure had been placed upon a narrow chaise which allowed access from both sides. His father hovered over the Man, speedily removing the last remnants of the tattered tunic that covered his upper torso before reaching hastily toward a pair of sheers that lay upon a nearby table to cut open his son's soiled bandages Strain and uncertainty lined his face as he ministered to his foster son, while a flourish of activity milled around him. Several other elves filled the room ready to offer their assistance to the healer including his own son, Elrohir. Elladan with Legolas remained just outside the doorway, waiting expectantly for some word from his father. They watched as the elder healer moved from the Aragorn's left side to his right to free the blood soaked bandages from his Human son's second wound.
The healer's eyes focused with close scrutiny on the intricately dressed wound as he began to unravel its packing, while realizing with finality that Aragorn had been shot with an arrow and that a large piece of the shaft was still deeply embedded within his son's flesh. Reaching for a wet cloth, he used its moisture to loosen the dried blood adhering the packing to the wound and shaft as he made to speak out, before suddenly halting his efforts. A light of recognition dawned in Lord Elrond's eyes as he studied the wound and its protruding shaft more closely, and they moved instantly toward the door making the briefest of contact with Legolas' before he gained control over himself once more, and swiftly focused his undivided attentions back upon his son. Though his hands trembled slightly, his concentration remained steady, as he continued on with his healing ministrations, but the words he now considered were issued brusquely forth to those surrounding him.
"Elladan, quickly get Legolas to his room! He's about to collapse on his feet! I will see to his needs as soon as I can!" If his eldest twin was slighted by his father's curt remarks, he did not let on, and he proceeded down the hallway supporting his injured friend.
The Eldar's words to his second son would prove more forbidding and hurtful as he went on. "Elrohir, go and help your brother!"
"But father, I wish to stay with Estel." Elrohir interrupted.
"I don't have time to argue! Now go!" His father repeated, not bothering to turn and meet the pained look that filled the younger twin's eyes, as he only repeated his previous commandment. "Go!"
Elrohir hesitated, but he did not disobey his father's terse commands, knowing to do so would only hamper his efforts toward aiding his stricken brother, but the elf was loathe to leave Estel, while his life still hung so precariously in the balance. Tears streamed down Elrohir's face as he made his way out into the hallway, and he tried unsuccessfully to scrub them away with the back of his hand ,while he proceeded down the long corridor that led to the family's quarters. As he rounded the corner, he heard a loud commotion coming from the guest chambers, and he hastened his steps. Upon entering the threshold, he found his older brother a few short feet away from his Legolas. Elladan stared on in disbelief as Legolas used whatever reserve of strength he had left, and backed away from him, throwing up his hands to ward off his friend's advance ,while he shouted out at him through tear-stained eyes. "Don't touch me! Leave me be!"
Author's note: I hope I am not making Legolas' behavoir too out of character for the readers. Through my research I have found out that elves have more beauty than any other creatures on Middle Earth, but they also possess the most extreme happiness and sorrow. IMO with all Legolas has been through from the start, it is only natural that he would be experiencing this breakdown in emotions.
I also don't feel that it is bad or a sign of weakness for a man or elf to show their emotions through grief and tears. One of my favorite passages comes from a book by Jane Kirkpatrick entitled "A Sweetness to the Soul" in which she writes the following.*
"Of all the gifts he ever gave me, his willingness to share his tears, I count most precious. It was a gift I held with tenderness despite how frightened his crying made me. No man has ever laid his feelings on my shoulder. It is only later that I understood how a man of strength must be yielding too or he will surely break. I was pleased to be a person he chose to bend with." *
*A Sweetness to the Soul by Jane Kirkpatrick- Chapter 4-Panama Loss