Hola! YES! We finally DO get some answers now. Though, WARNING: this chapter is 16 pages long, sooo… ;)
Anywho! On we go…
Deana: Thanks! :D And hannon le ad, for the dictionary. "nodnodnodnod" LOL! :D
Sielge: Thanks!! :D Glad you're enjoying, Si!
Vicki Turner: Yes, Legolas is Lindo, you're right. :D Thanks so much for reviewing, Vicki! :)
Leralonde: LOL! Tease? ME?! Yeah, that sounds about right. :P Aw, thanks, I'm glad you think it's wonderful. "blush" thanks, Lera!
LegolasLover: "blush" really? You're a heck lot more patient than me… ;) Thanks so much, LOL!
Maranwe: Thanks for making the time to review, mellon-nin! :D No, this isn't the last installment of the series yet. There's one more after this :) Thanks again, Maranwe, and don't worry if you can't always review. I know you're busy, and I know you love me anyways. ;) LOL! Hannon le!
Dark Borg Drone: Forn, mellon-nin. Hannon le an tegol! (all right, my friend. thank you for posting!) :D
Nautika: "squeals" HIYA!! Great to see you again, Nautika!! Yeeah, sorry, it is kind of confusing to pick up on the middle after so long. But I'm so glad to SEE you here again! Mae govonen dan! (welcome back!)
Lady Laswen: "blush" Wow, COOL! I like being freaked out at times too. ;) I'm a Shyamalan fan too, so I guess maybe it's his fault. :P I never did see The Ring though. Any good? LOL! :D
Stridergal: LOL! Oooh I'm a caffeine person too. Mountain Dew! "nod nod" LOL! Yes, Bengwiil. Nasty, huh? :P
Elvingirl: Thanks!! Wow, Elvin, I'm so glad you like it! :D You're makin' me blush… ;) LOL!
Cassia: YOU'RE BACK! And you're front- you're BOTH HERE! :P LOL! Oh wow, I'm glad you're enjoying it! Yeah, it can get- umn, frustrating, at times, but it's getting there. ;) LOL! Yes, I've read the Secret Garden, and yeah, it's almost like taking that "cute little kids things" and putting it in my Bengwiil-infested world! "stares at sentence" gosh, it sounds really HORRIBLE when you say it like that. :P LOL!! Thanks for reviewing Cassia! "shivers with excitement" It's so great to have you back! :)
LOTRFaith: Thank! Yeah, Legolas is Lindo. Confusing, huh? I agree. :P LOL! Thanks for the reviews, Faith, thanks so much!! :)
Well, guys, I guess it's about time I actually POST this thing. ;)
So, here we go!
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Chapter 10
Your Story
Where did your story begin?
At the end of the broken string
Dwelling a tangle within
Whispering when sparrows sing
Where then did your story start?
At the end of the broken thread
Mystery alive in the heart
Wakening a past long dead
"Your Story" , Hannah/Siri
"When we were little, Legolas, we had a game we simply always played."
"What?"
"We called it: The Adventures of the Worthy Heroes of Greenwood the Great. A long title, considering that we were quite young when we first invented the game."
"How young?" Legolas put in again, shaking his head. "I don't remember a game like that in any detail-"
"Legolas," Edren broke in hastily but kindly, "if you interrupt like this the whole way, I shall never get my story out."
Legolas smiled in spite of himself. "Forgive me."
Edren shook his head. "I understand your confusion. You don't remember that make-believe world of ours in any detail, because…well…" He shook his head harder, refusing to continue that particular train of thought. "I'm getting ahead of myself. Just bare with me, all right?"
Legolas nodded, and concentrated on listening rather than speaking.
"These adventures always consisted of two major characters; Lindo, the Little Sparrow, named for his tendency to hide like a bird in the trees, and to sing like a spring sparrow from its concealing branches. The second 'Worthy Hero' who was without fail in the midst of these adventures, was Arasen, the Loyal Fawn. For he ran far faster than the sparrow flies, and yet he was not as clever as his songbird friend, so he stood as the loyal companion, ever and true."
Edren smiled slightly. "You were Lindo, Legolas, I think you have all ready comprehended that much."
Legolas nodded, and then responded slowly, as if in a dream, "You were Arasen."
Edren seemed to freeze for a moment. It couldn't be that easy. "You remember?"
In slow motion, Legolas shook his head. "Not as of yet…please, keep going."
Edren nodded quickly, and launched back into his tale. "There was another Worthy Hero who often spent time with the two of us. His name was Tiro-Lim, meaning 'Guardian of Sparrows'. He was always the one to protect us when we needed him, and be with us to make us laugh." Edren smiled distantly. "He could always…always make you laugh, Legolas. No matter what." He seemed to pull out of his deeper thoughts and surface once more.
"And then there was Bioren, the Follower. He was the one to always get us out of trouble with your father. Whenever we were caught playing in the prison cells or trying to taste-test his celebration ale, Bioren seemed to keep us from getting in trouble every time…well…almost every time." And Edren almost laughed at some unseen memory. "He followed us everywhere most times, and assisted in our make-believe, but more so he was there to tell us no when we were about to do something disobedient again.
"His heart was always in it, and yet he never was as whole-heartedly playful as Tiro-Lim. The both of them were so much older than us, like uncles more than playmates, and yet they always found time for us both. Anyway, one afternoon-"
"Edren…who were Tiro-Lim and Bioren?" Legolas shook his head, afraid of the answer. Because he knew it. Was he remembering or just guessing? It didn't matter.
"Legolas, you know," Edren interpreted the fear on Legolas' face. "They were twins. Twin brothers. Mornaeg and Minaeg."
Legolas nodded slowly, ashamed of his fear. "I know," he confirmed, shaking his head, trying to grip himself. Mornaeg and Minaeg. Not villains, not evil beings, but friends? How was he supposed to grasp that?
Edren could tell there was confusion on the young prince's face, so he trudged on into his story, laying a comforting hand on his friend's knee. "Stay with me, Legolas, keep listening. Try to remember."
Legolas nodded.
"One afternoon, Minaeg came to us in our hideout…I suspect since you found this list, you've all ready found that old hideaway."
Again, Legolas nodded, but said nothing, clinging to every one of Edren's words.
"I'm not surprised…it was only a matter of time that you searched the only likely hiding place in there, seeing that that room has been under suspicion so long."
Legolas just nodded a third time, waiting for the story to continue.
"Well, Minaeg came to tell us that he and Mornaeg were going on a hunt. It had been a very, very long time since they'd gone hunting, since their father had been attacked and killed by orc scouts once, causing their mother to leave into the deep of Mirkwood and fade forever. They never saw her again. So needless to say, we were both surprised, and worried when they told us they were off on a hunting trip.
"Mornaeg said it was because Minaeg- the older of the two by mere moments -had decided it was time for the two of them to face their fears. I think the decision was brought about because the anniversary of their parents' marriage had been a few nights before, and you and I had both found Mornaeg on his favorite balcony, weeping. We reported it to Minaeg, which of course at first, had made Mornaeg furious, but in the end, he felt it was for the better.
"'We will finally face the pain that fades with the year' Mornaeg told us. Though I, being older than you, tried hard to understand, you, being closer to Mornaeg than anyone save his brother, were very upset with it all. You ran out of our hideout, all the way down the stairs, where I called after you, but you did not turn. As Minaeg told me afterwards, he found you in a tree, hiding away like the sparrow you were. He finally coaxed you out of the branches, and you came to say farewell to them."
Legolas' mind was whirling. That was what he'd remembered in the hideout…those words of Minaeg persuading him out of the tree. Yet the whole story still sounded new to Legolas. The names were familiar, and yet he could not remember the events…it felt more like a favorite book he had not read in centuries, and only now picked up anew.
It wasn't his story. It was someone else's. It had to be. Shouldn't he remember his own past?
"After they left, along with several other hunters, you and I were worried, but still held out hope that it was an easy venture, and they had promised to return in at least a fortnight. Well, it did not go as we had hoped."
"I know," Legolas said swiftly, realizing he hadn't budged for quite awhile. His mouth all ready felt dry, like that of someone who has awoken from a deep slumber, and licks their lips for the first time.
"You know?"
"Morneag told me…to stall me from helping Estel when he was dying," he added bitterly, remember the story Mornaeg had so resentfully related to Legolas in the Great Hall…
"Several years ago, my brother and I, as well as several other elves, went on a hunting trip into Mirkwood. By some misfortune that I still don't quite understand, we were tracked by a pack wolves. That night, at our encampment, the wolves attacked.
"We did our best to fight them off, but one, the one that must have been the leader of the pack, managed to lock his teeth around my brother, Minaeg's, shoulder, and began to drag him into the underbrush. I shot several arrows at the beast, but he was too fast, and disappeared into the woods. So I chased him.
"I ran through the forest for what seemed like hours, though it was but twenty minutes. I finally found where the animal had decided to lie down and enjoy his 'meal'. I shot an arrow directly into his chest, but in his stunned pain, he lurched forward, landing on top of Minaeg, and digging his teeth into my brother's leg. His bight sank deep, so deep into his knee, and Minaeg cried out with a scream unlike any I've heard. And I never care to hear anything like it again. I kept up the fight with the wolf, shooting arrow after arrow into his evil hide, and then finally attacking him with my dagger. But every time I tried to approach my brother, the horrid animal would lunge forward, slashing Minaeg's flesh with his claws again.
"At last, I managed to thrust my dagger into the wolf's throat, and he lay dead before me. Reaching my brother, I found him barely alive. He tried to speak, but the blood from the runs on his cheek chocked him. He couldn't speak- I trekked through the forest, dragging my wounded brother with me the whole way, and at long last, found our hunting party again. We all made our way back to these halls as quickly as possible…"
Legolas shook his head. "It seems so far away…you would think I'd remember-"
"Keep listening," Edren encouraged, and continued. "Well, so you know of the unfortunate attack on Mornaeg and Minaeg while hunting. We were brought inside from our midnight romp in the top balconies with the news of Minaeg's wounds. We both found him in the Healer's with Prestomin, cuts and bruises marking him all over…I remember that fear unlike any other. I'd never seen an elf die since…since my father." Edren paused, thinking, and then, seamlessly, started again.
"I don't remember clearly how long it took for them to decide on a cure, but I do remember what happened whichever day it was. They chose Bengwiil. It was such a strange idea that neither you nor I fully understood, and Mornaeg and Minaeg didn't like talking about it. All we really knew was that people all over Mirkwood had begun to think of it as the magical cure for virtually everything. 'All you have to do is burn it and breathe, and pain is gone' they would tell us. But your father, at least, was uneasy about it as well, even though he used it often himself.
"But despite all this, they had officially decided that burning it was no good for Minaeg, who was dying more everyday. So they fed him one. Just one leaf…but it was enough. In hours, he was better, seemingly. Completely healed. He was happy again, and he was cheerful and wanted to play our games.
"I think you found it unsettling from the start, Legolas. You kept saying that Minaeg seemed 'a bit happy' to you. And it was true, Minaeg had always been the silent one, like a second father to you and me. He and Mornaeg being so much older than us, we looked up to them to be smarter than the both of us. Seeing him so happy worried you, I think, though you never said as much aloud. I was slower to believe it. I think I wanted Bengwiil to be a cure…maybe I…well, I won't dwell on the details, else the story shall never be out."
Edren smiled but Aragorn, who could see his face plainly, unlike Legolas who sat close beside him, could see more than a history streaming over the elf's eyes. It was more than a thought to him, but something in this tale played to his emotions in a very different way.
But Aragorn nodded unconsciously, his eyes never leaving Edren's face as Legolas' history, one that seemed to bring a whole new dimension to him, in Aragorn's eyes, was played out word by word. Be silent and wait, he commanded himself, and settled the back of his head to the night table he was braced against, ignoring the whirling sensation in his head that was coming back…
"I don't remember much about the days that passed during Minaeg's strange recovery. All I can recall vividly is what happened almost exactly seven nights after that recovery. Minaeg started acting strange. It started when Mornaeg and I went to visit him- you were on your favorite balcony watching the sunrise, Legolas. He was in the Healer's again, but you had asked not to come until your head was clear, so Mornaeg and I went instead. When we got there, we found Minaeg very ill. His eyes were strangely wide, and he was staring around the room as though the walls themselves meant to attack him.
"When Mornaeg tried to speak with him, Minaeg just shook his head and said, 'Stop! Please stop! Hauta han!' and his eyes tightened shut against the image of Mornaeg's face, and he shook his head over and over, covering his ears as though in a pounding headache.
"Mornaeg, completely shaken up by his older brother's strange actions, said no more and fled the room. I was terrified to be alone with Minaeg in such a state, so I went to find you, Legolas. I told you what happened, and you were as frightened as I. We made up our minds that we could do nothing for our friends, but let your father fix everything.
"We decided to hide away in your room and play make-believe. Fantasy seemed the only fallback now. The only thing that could possibly distract us from fear. So we went to your room, and played. But it was so half-hearted it felt even worse than before, knowing all the while that Bioren was acting strange, and Tiro-Lim afraid.
"Well, we were standing by your window, looking over the trees, silent, when Mornaeg came in. He had a casket of ale, and a burlap sack. Well, we took one look at the casket, and by the fact that it had hardwood for the cork, and metal rings instead of brass, we knew that it was the undiluted ale that your father keeps for celebration." Edren shook his head. "We were so stunned to see him up here, and so frightened by the ale and suspicious bag, we just froze, and said nothing.
"Then he said, 'Tell no one where I am…don't tell your father, Lindo.' He didn't even look at us, but climbed under the bed, and disappeared through the trapdoor.
"Well, you, Legolas, were braver, and climbed under the bed after him. I followed behind, but only stayed at the trapdoor's entrance, while you went down." Edren smiled ruefully. "I was a coward even then. Who knew?"
And before Legolas to argue, Edren spurred on, almost in a hurry to get through this part.
"I heard you ask him what we could do. He said the same as he had before. He begged you not to tell anyone where he was, especially your father, and pleaded that you and I both keep the secret as long as possible. You promised faithfully, as did I, from a distance, and so you then asked how Minaeg was doing, anyway. There was silence a minute, and then he said, 'I went to play the flute for him, like I used to when we were young…he didn't hear it. He couldn't hear a note of it. He is lost and…Ist-'"
"Istonal tulga." Legolas' voice sounded dead in his own ears.
'I know not comfort'
There was silence for a long moment.
"Do…do you remember?" Edren asked quietly.
Legolas didn't blink. Didn't move. He seemed completely frozen, staring somewhere just beyond the open doorway of the bedroom. His mind whirled with thoughts and questions that were answered as soon as asked. It took several long moments for him to realize the answer to Edren's question.
Yes.
He did remember…if only a little.
But instead of saying it aloud, afraid of losing the memory in the midst of Edren's surprise or Aragorn's inquiries, he began to speak, taking up the tale where Edren had stopped. "'He is lost, and thus istoal tulga.' After his words, he started to drink his ale down so quickly…I thought he was going to drown himself in it somehow. I was so frightened of him all at once…I turned and I climbed back out the trapdoor, nearly running straight into Edren.
"I told him I had to go to Minaeg. I had to…I had to make him hear Mornaeg's flute again. Edren tried to make me think better of it, but I was so terrified of doing nothing, that doing something foolish seemed much easier. So I ran as fast I could back to the Healer's, trying to think of what I would say to Minaeg the whole way there. When I reached it, I couldn't have ever been prepared for what I saw…" Legolas shuddered, and his eyes closed tight as his memory became steadily more and more vivid.
He was remembering.
He was REMEMBERING.
The story was slipping from 'tale' to 'past'. HIS past. It was impossible.
"Minaeg was dying. Prestomin, Uilin and even Tirniel, who was so inexperienced to be healing on his own, were around him, trying to keep him from fading away. They were scrambling around, whispering 'He must know comfort…any comfort…' But no one was as panicked as my father…he was moving everywhere…walking faster than I'd ever seen him. He was frantic, something he had not been for a long time. It frightened me even further.
"'He has to hear Mornaeg's flute!' I cried as loudly as I could, thinking, I suppose, that if only I could get my father and get Minaeg to agree to that, Mornaeg would come out of our hideout again. I felt so small…and useless too, before my father and all his Healers. What could I do? No one looked at me but my father. His eyes became wide, and he shook his head. 'Leave, Legolas, go now!' he cried at me. I couldn't go, not when I didn't understand why. 'Minaeg-' I started to say, but he cut me off. 'Minaeg is dying, Leoglas! Go now!'.
"Dying." Legolas' tone was horizontal with confusion. "What a strange word to me. I knew what it meant, and yet it made no sense. I don't remember anything about the run back, I only know that somehow I made it to Mornaeg's room…no." Legolas shook his head, his eyes opening for the first time in a long while, and he looked at Edren. "Not Mornaeg's room. It was my room."
Edren nodded.
"But that- doesn't make sense," Legolas argued half-heartedly.
"What was up till recently Mornaeg's room was indeed, your room, Legolas. It does make sense."
"But why-"
"I'll explain soon, I promise. But keep going with what you can remember."
Legolas nodded slowly, and with a sidelong glance to see how Aragorn was doing- the human was sitting comfortably against the bedside table, with a transfixed look locked onto Legolas and Edren -and then closed his eyes again…
- - - - - - - - - -
"Edren!" Legolas came running as fast as his small legs could carry him, panting for breath at the top of the stairs. Edren was sitting on the prince's bed, cradling his fist tightly against his heaving chest. Legolas' steps slowed. "What's wrong, Edren?"
The young elf bit his lip, then shrugged, opening his hand for Legolas to see. His index finger had swelled red, and the nail was lightly tinged in purple. "Pinched it in the trapdoor," Edren explained, shrugging again. "It's okay, though."
"How'd you pinch your finger?" Legolas shook his head, momentarily forgetting his reason in running so quickly back.
"I was in a hurry to get out," Edren said shortly.
Legolas shook his head again. "Well, anyway, we must get Mornaeg! Is he still here? Where is he?"
"Somewhere safe," Edren said placidly. "Somewhere to get away from pain." Slowly, he climbed off the bed, and knelt down on the floor, pointing to where the trapdoor was hidden beneath the prince's mattress. "He's down there, Legolas…he's down there."
Legolas knelt beside Edren, and studied his friend tensely. "What's wrong, Edren?"
Edren sighed. "I pinched my finger trying to get away from him, Legolas. I scrambled out the trapdoor, and was going so fast, I clipped my finger in the latch." He looked up, meeting his friend's eye. "Don't go down there…he's not himself, Legolas, he really isn't."
Legolas shook his head slowly. "I have to…"
"Why?" the other demanded almost incredulously.
"Because Mornaeg has to come see his brother. Minaeg has to know comfort."
Edren just shook his head, attempting to convey without saying, 'I don't understand.'
Legolas sighed, and bit his lip. He didn't want to say, he didn't want to talk about his fears. But he had to get Mornaeg…and he would doubtless need Edren's help. "He's dying…" he whispered at last, "he's dying, Edren."
"He is…?" Edren's eyes were huge with confusion. Dying…dying?
"I have to go down, I have to." Legolas shook his head. "I have to."
"I…I go with you, Legolas."
Legolas sighed, nervously eyeing the trap door, and then smiled slightly. "I know."
- - - - - - - - - -
"When we got into the hideout, Mornaeg's eyes were half closed, and he appeared to have drank almost half of what he'd brought with him. He hadn't, however, touched the Bengwiil we knew was in the burlap sack, and so Edren and I tried valiantly to bring him to his senses.
"When at last we got him to awake, he just stared blankly when we tried to explain about Minaeg. But he just kept saying, 'He can't see me…he can't hear me…I won't come.' and hard as we tried, he stayed where he was, and at last, he added, 'Leave my aching heart in peace! Do you wish to torment me even now?' and so we left him where he stayed.
"Well, I couldn't bare to sit and do nothing, though Edren and I both tried to do that, and hope for the best. I became too restless, and at last decided that I could help Minaeg by myself." Legolas shook his head slowly. "Foolish," he muttered, opening his eyes once more, as though he could see his past better now, and pictured it on the open doorway rather than behind his eyelids. Almost seamlessly, he continued.
"So I forced Edren to stay and make sure Mornaeg didn't come out or hurt anyone, and then ran ahead back to the Healer's. I suppose- I guess I thought I'd rather do it alone, for if I had realized just how much it all frightened me, I would have asked Edren to join me in seeing Minaeg and helping him. But, for whatever reason I thought I had, I ran alone back to the Healer's.
"That's what I really remember best, Edren…and it frightens me even now to recall. The thing is, I never knew it was real. It's my dream, Aragorn. It's that first Bengwiil-built dream…"
- - - - - - - - - -
Legolas came to a sudden halt at the door of the Healer's. Slowly, swallowing hard, he stepped through the oaken doorway.
The room reeked of something dreadful…something dead and awful. But what made it all the worse is that it smelled as though it was once sweet and good, or at least pretended to be so. It was sickeningly sweet, but Legolas pressed on to where he knew Minaeg was.
Still, the Healers rushed about, talking quietly, as though the crisis would not be as true if they didn't say it loudly. Thranduil stood by his patient's side, pressed a white cloth the elf's forehead, and whispering softly, clenching his eyes. White? No…Legolas recognized the cloth as one of the Healers' many bandages and rags, but this cloth was no longer white as once it had been.
It was green. A sickly, syrupy green.
Legolas clenched his fists to keep himself from trembling, and walked purposefully to Minaeg's bed. Hang on, Legolas, he thought, be strong for Minaeg. You can save him, I know you can!
Minaeg was struggling back and forth as if at sea, on his bed, and Thranduil proceeded to pull the rag away, and whisper softly.
"I h-hate…hate him, hate Minaeg…he l-eft he…he's go without what- when I…needed him to. A-and I hate, I hate him…" Minaeg slurred almost drunkenly through his shaking lips, and then swerved his head to the side, and his blank eyes met Legolas.
Legolas' silver gaze went wide as Minaeg fixed him with empty green pools of pain. Fear clutched the young elf's heart and would not let go. A cold shiver went up his back as Minaeg smiled slightly, and the smile was so unnatural on his face, it looked as though he were all ready dead, and then come ghostly back to life.
Legolas felt his feet move him unwillingly back a step, as Minaeg's dry lips parted again. "So you die too." Each word dragged out strangely long, as though there were far too many vowels in the labored syllables, adding again to Minaeg's appearance of madness. "I see it…see the blood on you, Lindo…t-to bad. That you will die too…and painfully."
Legolas' eyes grew even wider, and he backed up another step. "Adda," he whispered, but his voice wouldn't make enough noise for the word to be heard even in his own ears. And anyway, Thranduil was so busy mixing green plants into boiled water, and muttering things to the Healers, that he had not even noticed his son. He didn't even realize that Minaeg was whispering to anyone. Perhaps the elf had been doing it a great deal, and the king was past trying to understand it anymore.
Minaeg continued to stair, half-grinning as Legolas backed away, his eyes dancing over the youth's head, eyes, and eventually, his heaving chest, at which point the squinted, as though there was something in the elf's heart that should not be there.
He smiled again, cold and empty. "An arrow…tell me, is it Edren that has shot your heart?"
Legolas' mouth went dry. Arrow? He looked down at his chest, a small hand clutching at it wildly on impulse, but there was no arrow there, just as he knew there would not be. But Minaeg's words had muddled him so much, and his eyes haunted so completely, for a heartbeat, anything seemed possible.
He doesn't know comfort, Legolas remembered. Does that mean that he sees things that are not there? Like blood, like arrows? Like my death…? It scared him even more to think of it.
At that moment, Thranduil, who had been feeling Minaeg's heartbeat, looking concerned, pulled out the green cloth from a new mixture of ugly, stinking, boiled water. Silently, seeming still not to notice that Minaeg's eyes were fixed on a new visitor, he pressed the cloth against his patient's forehead.
Minaeg screamed. A high, piercing, almost blood-curdling scream of pain, agony, and anger. He sounded like a bird of prey who had been outwitted, shot down, an arrow in his throat.
All the breath Legolas had exhaled from fear, and in an attempt to keep from shaking, gushed back into his lungs full-force, coming out in a choked gasp which was half sobbing, as he watched Minaeg's eyes slam shut, and his lips purse in agony.
Thranduil looked up for the first time, and met Legolas' terrified eyes for a split-second. "Go!" he commanded urgently, "and do not allow your eyes to witness this."
"But- what is happening to him?" Legolas' shook his head, suddenly remembering why he'd come here. To help! "Can I-"
"You cannot help." Thranduil was clearly trying to be gentle, as he came around the patient's bed, to stand in front of his son. "Don't worry, Legolas. He is going to be just-"
"Mornaeg!" Minaeg screamed, his voice rasping and delusional. "Mornaeg, come back! Come back, Mornaeg, please, forgive me my brother! Teli ganna-teimpinin lin, Mornaeg! MORNAEG!"
'come play your flute, Mornaeg!'
Thranduil ran to his friend's side. "Mornaeg?" he questioned gently, then looked up, turning panic-stricken to Prestomin. "Where is Mornaeg?"
The Healer shook his head. "After he attempted to play his flute…I know not where he went."
Thranduil's eyes fell on Legolas. "Go find him, my son, please. That is what you can do to help!"
Legolas froze. Find him? But…he'd promised not to tell anyone-
"Legolas! Do you hear me? Bengwiil is- I don't kno why, but it- it's essential that Minaeg know any comfort we can give him, or he will die, do you understand?"
The words sounded like a different language in Legolas' young ears, though he nodded slowly, as though he understood them. "I…I can't get him, Father."
Thranduil shook his head. "Just try, all right?"
"N-no, I mean…"
"Leave my aching heart in peace! Do you wish to torment me even now?"
"I- I can't. I promised-"
"Promised who? Legolas, what are you talking about!"
The prince's hands started to trembled at his sides again, so he clenched them into palm-scoring fists. "Mornaeg's afraid of Minaeg, he says- he says that he needs to get away, so I promised not to say where he's hiding!"
"Have you told him that Minaeg is dying?!" Thranduil demanded.
"Yes, he knows, but that's why he's hiding." Legolas shifted uncomfortably from on foot to another. He wanted desperately to be helpful, to save Minaeg's life, but how could he turn on Tiro-Lim? Poor, hurting, Tiro-Lim. He wished he understood the whole situation just a bit better…then perhaps his decision would make a little more sense.
Thranduil came around Minaeg's bed a second time, and knelt to his son's level. "Legolas, whatever promise you've made, surely it is not worth the price of Minaeg's life!"
"Mornaeg…he's in so much pain, Adda. I don't want to hurt him, I don't want him to try and play his flute again…I…I'm afraid that Minaeg won't hear him…" Legolas' own words didn't make sense now, but rather sounded like unprecedented excuses rather than reasons. What was he doing? Why did he not just run down the hall and call out Mornaeg's name, hoping he would come?
He realized blankly that he was just too afraid to make a decision. Too confused. As his eyes locked on his father's, they asked for help. What am I doing? Tell me what way is the right one, show me which choice should be mine!
But Thranduil did not get a chance to respond.
Minaeg's voice gasped in with pain, as he shrieked slightly at the same time, and then fell immediately away. The room went completely silent, except the sound of Thranduil running to the bedside, his feet patting the floor quietly.
He gazed into Minaeg's face for a long while, then responding to something Minaeg whispered, that was not audible to Legolas, murmured, "It is all right, my friend. You'll be fine."
Minaeg, gasping slightly still for air, rocked his head from side to side a few times, in an effort to shake a 'no', and this time, his response was perceptible by everyone who stood stock-still in the room.
"Namarie, idher mellon-nin. I am sorry-I…I leave you alone…"
'farewell my dearest friend.'
Legolas couldn't see him, and yet he knew that Minaeg, through the eyes at least, was finally looking like Bioren, the Follower. The elf that Leoglas knew, not the madman he did not. He was going to be all right then? He had to be! But then…why did he say those quiet, sad words to Thranduil? They sounded so like last words, it was hard to think otherwise.
His trembling body at last slackened, and Legolas' questions were answered. Yes. Minaeg was to die after all. Legolas' fists released, and someone whispered in Sindarin some last words in Minaeg's honor. The whole room seemed to have died. All of it. The air, the walls, the people within it…everything.
This is what death felt like then? Legolas bit his lip and tried to bite back tears. The mortals of Middle Earth must be very, very unhappy beings, mustn't they…?
"He is dead," Thranduil whispered, in a voice that seemed to be in the same state. Then, all at once, he whirled around, facing, to the youth's shock, Legolas, with an angry glare. "He is dead!" he shouted. "Dead! And…a-and it is because of you!"
Legolas choked in a sob, and shook his head. What? What?
"You, you and your foolish stubbornness, your rash promises, you and your- your ignorance!"
"Adda-"
"Silence!"
The little elf just coughed loudly as though he had something stuck in his throat, and tears filled his silver eyes.
"Legolas, you do not know what you have done!"
His words echoed coldly around the room. Needlessly cruel words that hammered through ever crack and flaw of the walls. Unfair words. And they made something in Legolas' heart stagger back in disbelief.
"I- I'm sorry…"
"Leave! Now, go!"
"I'm sorry," Legolas pleaded, "I'm so sorry, Adda-"
"I said leave!" The king shouted, his voice thundering from the ceiling, and all around the walls. "Go!"
Legolas froze, his eyes locked on his father's. "Adda-"
"GO!" And Thranduil took a violent step towards Legolas, like a man trying to scare a stray animal away, and Legolas, tears spilling down his cheeks, gasped in fear, and whirled around. Pushing past Prestomin, he dashed pell-mell for the hallway, and slammed the door behind him, desperate to get away.
The young elf ran as fast as his legs could carry him off down the hall. A moment after he'd left the Healers', he heard his father's voice ring out after him. "LEGOLAS!" But the prince couldn't tell his father's tone, and was terrified to even consider going back to see why he was being called.
His breath panted loudly in his ears, his frightened mind too blank for intelligent thought. He thought wildly even so, his eyes darting over the walls that seemed to rush at him from either side, as though they meant to close in and crush him entirely. The whole atmosphere was that of blame. Even the taptaptap his small feet made on the stone floors seemed to be mocking him.
What? I don't understand, what! Where am I going. What can I do?
His heart beat with panic, and at last, a desperate thought struck him. I need help. Someone must help me! I have to- but my father hates me…he hates me! At last, tears still streaming down his face at that last thought, Legolas' voice cracked half-audibly from his throat. "Edren," he whispered.
All his fear flooding back, his feet picked up the pace once more, for at some point they had slowly slightly, and he bounded up the stone staircase. "Edren!" he shouted again, the name seeming to be his only comfort in the world. His feet pounded against the stone steps as he called again, his shouts cracking with sobs in his keen ears. "EDREN!"
He was almost there. Almost to his room. It seemed to have taken him years longer than ever it had before to climb those long, tall steps. Almost there. You're almost there, Lindo.
The door flew open, and Legolas stood in it's frame, panting and trembling all over. Edren looked up quickly, and came to stand next to the bed he'd been sitting on. "Legolas! What's-" Edren's tone slowed as he saw the pure terror and pain etched on his friend's features. "What's wrong," he demanded fearfully.
Legolas' mouth opened to respond, but he couldn't answer. Before he could even feel the air rush past him, he fell to his knees in the doorway, and covering his face with trembling hands, began to sob uncontrollably. It was only a half of a moment later, and Edren was hugging him tight, and squeezing his shoulder comfortingly. "Sh…Legolas, what's wrong? What is it? Please, please tell me, if you can."
Legolas, his voice still trembling with hiccups and sobs, raised his tear-stained face to meet Edren's gaze. "I- I- I- killed 'im I killed h-him!" he cried, coughing loudly, and gasping in a sob when the cough tore at his throat.
"Killed who, Legolas? Who?" Edren shook his head.
"I- I…Minaeg's d-dea- d-dead. A- a- and Adda s-said I- I killed him!" he choked falteringly. "I s-should have just g-gone and got Mornaeg- a-and- and then- then maybe-" And with that, he trembled against Edren again, his voice breaking down into inconsolable hysteria.
Edren rubbed his friend's shoulders comfortingly, but his face had frozen expressionless in wonder. Minaeg? Dead? How could he be. It didn't fit. It didn't make sense!
"H- he hates m- m- me, Edren…h- he hates me…" Legolas whispered miserably, pressing his forehead tight against the other's chest, and shaking his head over and over.
"He doesn't hate you, Legolas, it's not your fault," Edren responded quietly, clutching the prince's tiny hand in his own, and warming the fingers with his gentle rubbing. "Oh, Lindo, worthy hero of Greenwood the Great…it's not your fault. Believe me, mellon-nin."
Legolas did not respond for a long time, but rather let his sobs subside for awhile, and contented himself with being up against Edren, the only person he trusted anymore. At last, he sat up, his eyes red-rimmed, and his cheeks flushed, but his face no longer inconsolable. It was grimly resolute. "I have to go tell Mornaeg."
Edren sat back quickly. "No, Legolas. You can't! Mornaeg, he-"
"He has a right to know, Edren. And- and I should tell him. I was there to see Minaeg last, I must tell him."
Edren shook his head slowly. "Please don't, Legolas. I- I'm scared of him…he keeps yelling, I can hear him through the trapdoor. I think he's completely drunk!"
"Edren, Minaeg was his brother!" Legolas stood up with strength he'd doubted he had, and reached for Edren's hand. "I do not ask you to come with me, but I must go either way."
"Then I go too," Edren took Legolas' hand, and stood up. "I won't let you go alone."
Legolas could have smiled if he were not so cold and afraid inside. "Come on, then."
The two made their way in through the trapdoor, and came to find themselves standing in darkness. As they squinted in the pitch black, a light came from the corner of the room, glowing slowly and sickly. And as the two youths approached the light, they realized it was not torchlight nor a campfire of any kind. It was the burning leaves of Bengwiil, and the odor almost completely covered that of the Eucalyptus they had hung from the ceiling to remind them of a queen.
"Mornaeg?" Legolas whispered quietly to the elf that was inhaling the smoke wafting from the green pile of ashes. "I have something to tell you…" Legolas licked his lips, and watched Mornaeg carefully, but the elf stared blankly at the green-tinted flames as though no one but him was there.
With a final glance at Edren, who nodded encouragingly, Legolas pressed blindly on. "Mornaeg, Minaeg is- Minaeg…he is dead." The last word echoed soundlessly in Legolas' head over and over and over.
Dead. Dead. Dead. He is dead. Dead. Dead. Legolas' own tone of voice haunted him, and he stared searchingly at Mornaeg, every thought in him screaming that he could have said it better. But how many ways do you tell someone about death? You say it. But if only there were a way to tell without using that horrible final word. Dead.
After a dull pause, a light seemed to ignite in the other's eyes. He looked up slowly. Oh, he'd heard all right. Edren and Legolas started to back up gradually.
"How did he die?" The voice was low, and rasping. Nothing like the elven voice he usually had.
Legolas felt such a great swell of pity for his friend, that he took another step forward, and got down on Mornaeg's level. "The Bengwiil was too much for him, he was starting to fade…my father was trying to save him, and perhaps he may have, but…I would not tell him where you were, Mornaeg…I kept my promise, but because of that- Minaeg has died."
Silence ensued once more. Legolas was surprised at his own words, but not half as surprised as Edren, who drew a stiff gasp of worry at hearing them. Mornaeg seemed to need awhile to finish processing that statement. Perhaps it was a great many words to figure out when you're drunk, Legolas wasn't sure, but at last, Mornaeg spoke.
"You- you killed my brother?" His voice slurred slightly, and it was hoarse, as though it had gotten so by not speaking for so long.
"Yes, Mornaeg, I- I guess I did." Legolas said, feeling that it was the only heroic thing to do anymore. He lifted his chin just a bit, as though he could make himself braver that way, but realized a little too late, that to any glancing at him, it looked a little too much like pride, or at least purpose. Perhaps that was what had sparked Mornaeg off.
Before he could think, Legolas was flat on his back, and frantically shaking hands were squeezing his throat. The elf prince kicked out madly at the bigger elf on top of him, but Mornaeg was far too big for him. Just as his gurgling noises were starting to become faint in his ears, Legolas felt Mornaeg fall off of the youth, another pair of small arms wrapped around the older elf's neck.
Legolas sat up, feeling his throat, as though he weren't expecting it to be there anymore, and staring, dazed and wide-eyed as Edren strangled Mornaeg off of him. But though Edren's move was a good one, and had the element of surprise, he was soon pried off of Mornaeg, by the bigger elf's strong shoves, and Mornaeg lunged suddenly at Legolas again.
The elf prince flattened himself against the ground, and rolled as fast as he could away from Mornaeg's strangling hands, kicking up dust in the other's face the whole time. When he pulled himself to his feet, he felt suddenly disoriented, and tried to clear his head, which had been made dizzy by the rolling. He was now very close to the trapdoor, he realized, and the idea of running away entered his head for a moment, until he remembered Edren, and his silver eyes danced frantically over the darkness, still trying to focus against his dizziness.
Unfortunately for Legolas, this whole thought process took him longer than he meant, and he was suddenly thrown against the dirt wall by a seemingly invisible force. That is, until he was looking into deep, green eyes. "You killed my brother." Mornaeg's fingers snaked into Legolas' blonde hair. Grabbing it close to the youth's skull, and hauling the boy's head forward, he then proceeded to slam Legolas' head against the dirt wall. And then again.
Edren lunged against Mornaeg's back perhaps five times, once even biting the elf on the shoulder, but each time, Mornaeg pushed him aside, as though he were a troublesome fly. "You killed him…you killed him…he's dead." He slammed the youth's head against the wall with each sentence, till Legolas couldn't see straight, then threw the elf to the floor.
Legolas lay dazed for a few seconds, then was hauled to his feet, and shoved forward a full three paces, landing hard on his hands and knees. "Edren-" he whispered hoarsely, but he didn't have time to look around and see where his friend was. Mornaeg jerked him to his feet a third time, this time punching him in the stomach.
Legolas doubled over, and slumped, gasping, against the dirt wall just beside the swing. "Tiro-Lim," he moaned half-audibly. "Please…hauta h-han…mellon nin."
'stop it…my friend.'
Mornaeg's eyes were wide as he shook his head furiously. "Don't you- dare call me your friend, Lindo. Why- why did you not get me? Why did you not tell me he was dying! Now you've killed him, Lindo! I hate you for killing him, do you hear I HATE YOU!" Mornaeg was virtually spitting with anger as he towered above the trembling elf prince.
"Forgive me," was all Legolas could respond. "Please…?"
"Never will I forgive for this, Lindo, never! I'll- I'll kill you first!" Mornaeg's hand went to his belt for his dagger, but his hand was stopped. Edren threw himself against the other's back, grabbing Mornaeg's elbow with both hands, and jerked to the side violently.
Mornaeg shouted as something in his shoulder popped, and Edren let go, swinging around the elf's side, grabbing Mornaeg's knife, and standing protectively in front of Legolas. "You're drunk, Tiro-Lim, and Legolas, despite what he tells you, did not kill your brother! Bioren was attacked while hunting, and Thranduil tried to save him. It didn't work! It didn't work, Mornaeg, we couldn't save him! Leave Legolas alone!"
Mornaeg stood motionless before the two, his eyes blank of expression. "You should have told me he was dying," he slurred. "I could have shown him comfort. I could have!"
"But we did tell you, Mornaeg! We did! And you did not heed us, so it is the fault of you not Legolas, for it was you who made him promise to conceal where you were! Please." Edren's hand shook only slightly, as he added pleadingly, "Leave him alone."
Mornaeg's eyes ignited. "My fault?! It is not fault of mine, Arasen, it is yours and Lindo's! It is- it is all your fault! I…my brother…m-my…my Minaeg…my-" For a moment, Mornaeg looked almost pitiful, as reality came to his gaze, and he seemed to realize for the first time that his beloved older brother, everything he wanted to be, was dead. Gone forever. But it only lasted a fraction of a moment, and something in him said that anger was the answer.
Lunging to the side, away from his own dagger pointed at him, Mornaeg grabbed the swing, and swung it harshly to the side. The seat of it collided with Edren's head, knocking him off his feet, and clearing the way to Legolas once more. But the elf prince pushed himself hurriedly up, and staggered to the side, as Mornaeg swung at him with the swing seat as well.
Legolas screamed as the sharp, splintery edge of the swing seat dug deeply into the back of his hand; the only part of his body, luckily, that Mornaeg had managed to hit. Legolas sunk for a third time to the dirt floor, clutching his hand tightly against his chest, and clenching his teeth to keep from crying.
He felt Mornaeg closing in on him, but thanks to Edren, the older elf never got close enough to hurt the prince again. Mornaeg's scream was more of anger than of pain as Edren thrust the stolen dagger into the back his former friend's knee. The older elf crumpled to his knees, and Edren, not wasting a second more, ran to Legolas' side, hauled the prince to his feet, and raced with him to the trapdoor.
The two elves scrambled out as fast as they could, both being more than a little shaken, and slightly disoriented. Mornaeg, however, had not been so easily beaten, and was all ready catching up, cursing as he limped after them. "I'll kill you, Lindo! I promise it, I'll KILL you!"
As they closed and locked the trapdoor together, they caught a last glimpse of Mornaeg's enraged face as he tried to make it to daylight in time. But they shut it, locked it, and lay on their stomachs, beneath the bed, panting, their hearts pounding in their ears louder than Mornaeg's fists against the trapdoor.
Silently, they finally climbed out from under Legolas' bed, and came to stand in the room once more. It seemed at once so quiet, for Mornaeg had all ready stopped shouting and pounding from beneath the trapdoor, and the only other sound was the frightened breath of two boys, and the almost silent wind stepping in and out of the open window.
Something had to be said.
"Legolas…I'm sorry about Minaeg. But you kept your promise, and you have done the right thing, all right?" Edren's tone was soft and kind, but Legolas was not listening to it as he stood beside his window, and gazed over the Mirkwood trees.
"I'm sorry, Edren…" he whispered, gripping the curtains in his uninjured hand. "I'm sorry that we won't play Worthy Heroes again…I'm sorry- that Bioren is dead." His breath shook as he inhaled, and he trembled all over at the after-shock of adrenaline burning through his chest and stomach.
"There is nothing to forgive, Legolas. You did nothing wrong. There are those to blame, but you are not among them, all right? Legolas?" Edren's voice shook uneasily as he stepped towards the window, his eyes fixed on the back of his friend's head.
But the prince did not look. His eyes stared blankly over the treetops of Mirkwood, as his fingers clenched and unclenched the curtain absently.
"I've never killed anything before, Edren…not ever. It feels strange, knowing that…that because of your actions, a living thing isn't there anymore. I never realized I had that kind of power, and now I know, I don't want it."
Edren shut his eyes painfully. He'd never, never heard these sort of words from his friend! "Please, Legolas, please!" He whispered, shaking his head. "You did not kill Minaeg. Listen to me, I beg you."
You can't have killed him, Legolas. I don't want it to be true, you don't want it to be true…I bet you're wrong. Can't you be? Isn't that still possible?
And yet, though Legolas heard his friend's words, felt his thoughts, they meant nothing in his ears, and echoed blankly over his mind. All he'd seen and heard this day was enough to convince him of his fault. He had concealed needful information from his father, and when Minaeg's need had been most dire, he had easily given up on bringing Mornaeg to him.
He was weak, he realized. How could he forgive himself for being so weak…?
"My father hates me," he said blankly.
Edren's eyes opened. "He doesn't hate you. He's angry and hurt as Mornaeg is. But your father would never, never hate you, Legolas, you must see this at the least!" His voice was pleading. He didn't understand how such circumstantial anger could convince his friend so thoroughly that he was to blame! "Please," he whispered again, "hear what I say, and know it is true. Do you trust me, Legolas? I- I am still your friend…"
Legolas at last turned, and his eyes were sparkling with tears, his cheeks all ready streaked with them. "I trust you more than anyone, Edren. Yes, you're still my friend but- but now perhaps I ask you not to make me yours. I don't deserve your friendship anymore, Edren." A silver tears slid down Legolas' cheek, slipping into the corner of his mouth, and leaving behind a glistening trail. "I have blood on my hands now, mellon-nin. I guess…I'm a murderer."
Legolas' knees buckled, his own words too much for him, and as his eyes fluttered shut, he fell to the floor.
Edren rushed to his friend's side, screaming his name on impulse, and fell beside him to find the prince completely still. Legolas Greenleaf was unconscious for the first time in his life.