Disclaimer: This story was written for enjoyment only. I do not own any of Tolkien's characters.
Author's note: Thank you once again to all my readers and reviewers! The next chapter is short. Being away from story for a while made writing it a little difficult. I thought it best to let this scene stand alone. I hope you enjoy it! :)
Relesen Chapter 9
Legolas' body shook all the more in confusion as Elrond continued his compassionate ministrations until at last the Silvan elf could no longer hold back, and he spoke out. "Why? Why do you do this for me? You who know the truth? You who know that it was my arrow?"
The fair-haired elf pulled away, his bright eyes searching to find the reproof and the condemnation he knew most assuredly would lay within the depths of Elrond's own. He was shocked to find neither as the elf lord once again closed the distance between them and continued his efforts at healing.
Stupefied, Legolas reached a hand out to grasp Elrond's forearm stilling his motions as he continued in anguish. "It was my arrow . . . my arrow!"
Elrond's countenance remained unaffected by this confession, and he answered quietly "Yes, I know."
"Then why?" Legolas choked. His voice shaking and he was unable to continue on.
Elrond's eyes darkened as he studied Legolas's torn features. He had determined hours before that the arrow within Aragorn's flesh was not orc made, but was that of his son's closest companion. He had discerned in these earliest hours that some tragedy must have befallen the pair. His inner heart knew it could be no different, and if such certainty had not filled his soul, then his mind would have reached to same conclusion the moment he had set eyes upon Legolas' bedraggled form as he stood outside Aragorn's sickroom leaning heavily upon Elladan's arm for support. There had been no malicious intent in what had happened between the two. Though in his being he knew this, Elrond's mind could not get past nature's tendency to question the events that had taken place. Using the much garnered restraint he had attained during the many of years of his existence, he shelved these thoughts for now and answered succinctly. "You are injured, Legolas, and you are in need my care."
"But it was I . . . " The Silvan elf answered. His voice breaking as he finished up with. "If he should die . . . "
Elrond tried not to blanch at Legolas' words, doing his best to school his features. Aragorn's condition was perilous at best, and what Legolas had voiced might still come to pass. The elf lord's reaction did not go unnoticed by the distraught elf, and he spoke up again. "Aragorn? Is he? ..."
Elrond hesitated, but realized he could not keep the truth from Legolas. "I was able to remove the arrow, but his condition is grave."
Upon hearing his words, the Mirkwood elf backed away from him. "Then everything was for naught and it is I who must bear the fault for this." As Elrond moved toward him in protest, Legolas lifted his hand forward to ward off his progress. "No! No! Please do not touch me! Don't you see that it is I who should bear the reproof of these actions? If I hadn't acted so hastily . . . If I hadn't behaved so stupidly . . . "
"I do not hold you responsible, Legolas!" Elrond interrupted, but the elf lord's proclamation went unheard, doing nothing to hinder the self recrimination that Legolas heaped upon himself. Elrond looked on mournfully as the elf before him drew back into himself, shutting himself off from all that surrounded him, while allowing remorse and regret to take an even deeper hold upon his heart. Elrond finally fathomed the extent of Legolas' injuries, and it alarmed him greatly. Physically with proper care and a few days' rest, the Silvan elf would make a full recovery and be back upon his feet, but emotionally the wounds Legolas had sustained might prove to be the most lethal of all, and there was little he could do to aid him. His talents lay in healing the body, whereas the spirit that flourished within was of a completely different nature. A whole body would do Legolas little good if he were to let go of his spirit. For though the two were not bound to each other, without the spirit the body would soon dissipate.
Elrond felt powerless to help as he looked on at Legolas shrinking form. There was no such healing salve among his compilations of herbs and remedies that could offer such a cure. He had been privy to this information before through great personal tragedy of his own. For the power to heal such wounds lay only within the sufferer themselves otherwise regret would just eat away at their soul. The depths of pain felt could not start to be unfurled until the bearer of such burdens was ready to share them. As Elrond looked on, he prayed that this time would come soon for Legolas before it was too late.
Author's note: Thank you once again for all your kind words and suggestions! They are greatly appreciated. Before, I stated that I thought I could conclude this in about 2 to 3 more chapters. Now, I'm not so sure. There shouldn't be too many more, but I can't give a specific number. I guess fan fiction and WIP's in particular are like that. Sorry!