Author: Mirrordance
Title: Last Stand
Summary: The battle at the Black Gate leaves Legolas strange wounds that do not heal. He knows he is slowly dying & keeps it a secret, as he tours the fleeting mortal pleasures of the world before his last breath. He finds an unwilling coconspirator in Eomer
* * *
10: They Do Not Heal
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Rohan, 3019
* * *
Elf and man, admittedly friends after the storm, took their leave of each other and swore to one day actually will to see each other and have a meal or a lager (hopefully a meal, Legolas mused), rather than to have fate constantly arrange such things for them.
Up until 3017, however, it was word yet to be redeemed; life pulled them apart and tossed their ways across Middle-Earth with their respective duties. It would be these very duties that would bring them together once again.
The Prince returned to Mirkwood after quite a long stretch of months of travel, and coincidentally, a Ranger had just been tossed into the Mirkwood dungeons as a suspicious stranger.
Sure enough, it was Strider who had come through Mirkwood bearing a captive; the creature Gollum. Legolas was ushered into the dungeons to find the adan seated upon the ground with the creature singing and dancing around him, appreciating the irony that he now shared captivity with the man who caught him.
Naturally, Legolas vouched for Strider's character and arranged for his release. Although… that sorry sight of him being mocked by a noisy little ghoul was comical and one he would remember astutely for quite some time. He brought Strider to the healer's for some cuts and bruises, and he looked more ill at ease in the hands of these keen-eyed elves than in prison.
"These are not from us, I hope," Legolas said contritely, glacial eyes roving over the hurts.
"Oh, no," Strider assured him, "I saw the Mirkwood colors and surrendered right away. Some of these are from the foul little beast you've just seen, and then some are from a few orcs we've encountered along the way."
"I'm sorry for the suspicion," said Legolas, "We've learned to be cautious."
"I make no complaints," Strider told him, "Except for this business with the healers. The wounds are trivial."
"It pays to be cautious in this respect too," Legolas told him, though the prince looked to the older elven healers and dismissed them with a nod. His deft hands took over the stitching and bandaging.
"My father will see you this noon," Legolas said as he worked upon the Ranger's injuries, "Please be forthcoming with him. He will expect nothing less than to be told all that he wants to know."
"A fair request," Strider said, lowering his voice and looking over Legolas' work, "Since these things concern him too. The being who remains in your dungeon is called Gollum. And it is believed he's had the Ring in possession for quite a lot of time."
"The Ring?" Legolas looked up quickly, making Strider wince for he unknowingly tightened the pull upon his wound-stitching as well.
"Sorry," Legolas laughed, embarrassed, "Stop moving."
"Me?!" the Ranger exclaimed.
* * *
Aside from the insanity, aversion to the healers was one more trait he shared with his old mellon. The memory of 3017 was just one amongst many that reminded him of this very moment…
"You've a very thick head, don't you?" the healer Avia asked him testily. The elf stubbornly stood his ground, looming over her with a glowering expression. The two were testing their wills in his room.
"I will not suffer any more of your poking and prodding, ma'am," he told her for the nth time; Legolas hated having to repeat himself.
"Do not use that royal temper on me," she snapped, "I am no servant of yours. The King of Rohan is my master. And as his word stands I ought to keep you alive. Much as I may desire to strangle you right now."
"They are the most superficial of cuts!" he retorted, "You've seen them yourself. They need time, not your useless prying. Ma'am."
She glared at him, and released a frustrated breath. This was a will that cultivated itself over an age-long lifetime filled with struggle. It was cast in iron, written in stone. His eyes were steely and cold, and determined. Perhaps she ought to try a different tack…
"I will be honest with you, Prince Legolas," she said, more meekly, "You do not look well to me at all. Please. If anything should befall you in my care, the King will never forgive me."
The tone was unusual for the high-strung, high-prided old woman. It almost made Legolas smile. "Unbecoming," he murmured, teasing her.
Avia narrowed her eyes at him in irritation, "So now you try for charm. Come now, please. Stop acting like a child."
He frowned, wondering how he was going to escape her. And all of this. There was that blasted storm, and then running into Eomer, and then Butter died and it seemed as if the world was conspiring toward keeping him here. But the closer Rohan came to discovering his secret the more he desired to flee…
Footsteps outside his door alerted him to the arrival of the majordomo. Legolas eagerly welcomed the man before he could even knock.
"Enter," Legolas commanded, stepping towards the door and tossing Avia a jaunty smile, knowing he had just escaped her. For now…
"Lunch, sir," the majordomo said, "The King expects you."
"He must not be disappointed," Legolas said gravely, twitching a brow at Avia. She seemed unfazed.
"Oh, he won't be, I'm sure," she told him flatly, moving past him and out the door.
* * *
"I was thinking of leaving tomorrow," Legolas said tentatively to Eomer over the lunch he mostly just toyed with.
"At your pleasure," Eomer said, "I shall provide you with a good horse. Provided of course… You are well now?"
"Yes," Legolas lied, putting a big glob of admittedly delectable Rohan fare into his mouth.
Eomer was looking at him suspiciously, but bit his tongue over the issue. "I've waylaid you long enough."
"On the contrary," Legolas told him with a slight smile, "I'm always afraid I'm taking up too much of your time."
"We owe you much," Eomer guaranteed him, "Do not worry about being an imposition."
Legolas lowered his utensils, and Eomer looked at him pointedly. The elf hurriedly said, "Oh the food is incredible. It's just me. As I've mentioned before."
The King favored him with a sidelong glance before finally saying, "You do not look well, Legolas. You do not look as you used to. Not as… not as formidable."
"My journeys have made me hardier," Legolas told him, "The road was long. It is long still. And…" he laughed nervously, "I am getting old, you know."
"It's not that," Eomer said, "And you know it. I will not release you until Avia declares it safe to do so."
"I come and go as I please," Legolas retorted, that stubborn chin reflexively jutting up in reaction to the perceived imprisonment.
"I will not be defied here," the King of Rohan told him tightly.
"Last I checked you were King," Legolas snapped, "Not tyrant."
"Check again," Eomer said tersely, practically daring him to say more along the lines of their defiant conversation.
Legolas' eyes glinted dangerously, but he bit his tongue and reached for his goblet. He downed the wine in a large gulp.
"I must leave," he muttered.
Eomer took a deep breath. "Then let one of my men accompany you. Legolas, seriously. Something happens to you along this road of yours and Aragorn will never forgive me. And I cannot forgive myself."
"I've long been able to travel alone," Legolas pointed out, and the words sprung curiously heavily and slowly from his mouth. The world was slowing down, it seemed, and his body was beginning to feel heavier. With dread and mortification, he wondered if this was the end of his charade at last…
No, he thought determinedly, Hold on…
His hands clutched tightly at the edges of the table, an anchor in a world that seemed to be hurriedly slipping from him.
"Legolas?" Eomer asked him uncertainly.
The corners of his vision blurred into indistinct lines and blended, cloudy colors. He hurriedly rose to his feet.
"I'm sleepy," he declared, and made a brave effort to step away, except his legs helplessly folded beneath him and he fell back to his seat. Eomer rose from his own place and hovered over him worriedly.
"Tell me what's wrong," he said urgently, before exclaiming to his majordomo, "Get Avia—"
"No need, sire," Legolas heard the woman say as she appeared by the dining hall. "He was being stubborn. I just slipped something in his drink."
"What?!" the King exclaimed, "Oh for the love of all that is good, woman!" A string of curses in the King's native tongue. And maybe in a rather impressive smattering of three other dialects Legolas never heard before. Smart man.
Legolas' vision dimmed. He was not sure if it was more because of the drug or more because of his profound irritation.
* * *
It was his sense of touch that returned before anything else. He was lying in bed, and he knew he was in his own room from the familiar contours of the mattress. A thick blanket laid heavily over him, and for a moment he pondered shifting away from it— the layered comforter was a weighty burden over his chest, but the warmth it provided was needed and welcomed.
There seemed to be other people in the room, and he could hear them speaking in hushed tones. Instinct kept his eyes closed; the rule in capture was allways to be aware of the enemy before they were aware of you.
Capture? Enemy?! He suddenly realized, Who was I talking about?
"I do not understand it, sire," the familiar voice of a woman…
Avia, Legolas concluded, and Eomer.
He kept his silence and decided that he had indeed been captured, he was indeed imprisoned, and he was very much in the heart of 'enemy' territory.
Good as their intentions may be, he conceded grudgingly.
"He looks ill," he heard the King say.
"I've seen to his wounds sire," she said, "They are not supposed to be serious except… except… well. To put it plainly, they do not heal."
"What do you mean they do not heal?" Eomer asked.
"They just bleed," she replied, "They do not cease or close. They just bleed. As harshly now as when I saw to him days ago. This is not merely irregular for a mere man, this is even more of an anomaly for an elf. I've treated some in Helm's Deep, my lord. The gravest of their wounds I've seen at least partly healed in a day!" she exhaled, "These wounds of the Prince are comparatively far shallower, yet they do not cease. I do not understand it, sire. This defies all of my past experience, and anything I've seen in our books."
"What are you saying, Avia?' the King asked her.
"I…" she hesitated, "Maybe if he just had some bed rest. Kept from much movement, I don't know—"
"What are you saying?" the King pressed, "Do not mince words, Avia. I am no fool."
"If this does not cease," she declared, "He will die."
Thank you, Legolas thought wryly, knowing her cunning tongue just stopped short of saying he was actually already dying.
A silence fell over them and Legolas knew their eyes descended over his body. He felt pinned on the spot, and he kept his body still, fervently pretending to be asleep. The exercise was proving to be interesting. It felt as if he was already fleeing his body, forcing it to stay still even as his mind raced and flew.
Practice, his morbid humor decided.
"When will he wake?" Eomer asked.
"Within the hour," Avia replied, "Maybe two."
Great, Legolas thought, profoundly disappointed that he could not pretend and delay facing them for any more than two hours. He did not want to have to deal with their questions and their pity and their well-meaning worry. For the Valar's sake he set out to be alone precisely to avoid this ridiculous circus.
"I want to send for Elessar," Eomer said quietly.
Legolas could not help it. His eyes snapped open.
TO BE CONTINUED…
MASSIVE THANKS TO ALL WHO TOOK THE TIME TO READ!!!
THANKS ESP. TO MY REVIEWERS: noone, andruill043, silvertongue, tychen, grumpy, MSL, stoneage woman, platy, barbara kennedy, xiad rusco, cotume, amy, deana, amthramiel, dragonfly,
To silvertongue: wow, thanks :) I was worried she wouldn't be much liked. I'm glad that's not the case :)
To tychen: ok, I'll let the cat out of the bag… Aragorn appears in the last chapter or second to the last chapter of the story :)
To stoneage woman: as always I am astounded by your accuracy :) thanks so much for taking the time. I'll hopefully be better in the next few chappies :)
To xiad rusco: I'm sure it won't last too long!!! Good luck :)
To cotume: actually I've never heard of that show :) I'll have to look it up 'cos you sound happy, haha :)