Disclaimer: All Characters and facts related to Tolkein's works are his.
Muddled Minds
Chapter V – Moral Dilemmas
The deep gashes across his chest burned and were bleeding badly. The man saw the elf's body slump. Giving a guttural grunt and a shrug of his shoulders he turned to return to his cave.
A soft whimper reached his ears and stopped him in his tracks. In the dimming light of the sun, his sharp eyes caught sight of a thin dark river running along the crazy pattern of veins on the bark of the tree before dripping off onto the ground to mingle with the growing pool of blood that was forming around the dead warg's body.
The man hesitated as he had before in the cave when attacking the elf with the spear.
He loathed the idea of lugging the being all the way back home, but something compelled him to do just that. Perhaps he had been alone just too long and longed for more company than the walls and shadows in his cave. Whatever the reason, he turned back and laboriously brought the elf down from the tree.
He slung the elf over his shoulder, not un-gently and made for the direction of his home. The darkness mattered little for he knew the way around these woods as well as the back of his hand.
The elf remained unconscious even after they had arrived at the man's secluded adobe.
The cave dweller placed him carefully on the sandy floor of the cave. He collected his small pot from a corner and filled it with fresh water from the pool. Blood continued to ooze from the wounds he had obtained in the warg fight and he felt weak and light headed.
Black spots had appeared in front of him and he blinked, trying in vain to clear his vision. He closed his eyes and rested against a pile of furs, losing himself quickly to sleep.
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Steam from the boiling pot of water was rising up and filling the small space where the man and elf lay. Despite this, the man had begun to shiver.
The warm tendrils of water vapor stroked Legolas' sensitive skin and he blinked. He almost bolted from where he lay when he saw the man so close by. He remained completely motionless save for his eyes, watching the man intently, afraid that he would wake at any moment.
The man was shivering and muttering words under his breath. His hands were balled into tight fists. Deep furrows had formed on his forehead in distress.
He let out a low moan. So soft, that it was almost lost on the air immediately.
Legolas edged forward and reached out his hand to touch the man's forehead. He was burning up. The gashes across his chest must have gotten infected.
The man made another sound of pain and Legolas automatically whispered elvish words of comfort, surprising even himself.
This was the man who had forced him to dwell in a place secluded from the wind and his beloved trees and stars for a little under two weeks.
This was the man who had brutally twisted his spear into his leg leaving a hole there which even now hurt like mad.
This was the man who had used the bleeding elf to bait a warg so he could do battle with the beast.
This strange human had done many odd things some harmless and some far from it, and now he lay on the ground suffering a raging fever.
The elf felt compelled to stay and tend to the man although the opening to the cave was like a gaping mouth that screamed at him to get out of here right now.
He cursed his own foolishness and bemoaned his active conscience, dragging himself towards the prone body of the man; he tore off another piece from his undershirt and dipped it into the cooling water. The fire was beginning to go out and the bubbles on the surface of the water had receded.
Tenderly, he began to clean the man's wounds. His own fingers shook slightly from weakness, but he did the self imposed duty as well as he was able.
He spotted his pack in a dark corner of the cave and pulled it towards him. Fumbling around in the dark, he tried to determine which herb was bramble.
His fingers were pricked against a thorny stalk and he grabbed hold of the small herb. He broke the dried blossoms off with his fingers and crushed them. He then laid them to the wounds of the injured man.
They were said to heal wounds if put without any delay. Legolas had doubts about their virtue when applied such a long while later, but decided it was worth a try. He pulled one of the pieces of fur over the man and settled down on the other side of the cave.
His eyes lit up as he realized he still had lembas in his pack. He took it out in triumph and un- wrapped it happily.
He was just about to place a wafer of the Elvish waybread into his mouth when he stopped and sighed heavily.
He crumbled a portion of the way bread and used the last bit of water to moisture it, forming a smooth paste. He fed it to the man who swallowed reflexively. He hoped it would help the man recover for Lembas fed the will and gave strength to endure and to master sinew and limb.
As though he was handling some precious treasure, which in his opinion he was, he wrapped up the rest of the waybread and put it back in his pack.
TBC…
I know this ended rather abruptly, sorry! And Sorry too for the awfully long wait. I'm going to be even busier this week, what with school and all…
BTW, I do not live in the US, which is why term has started for me. I live in a sunny little island called Singapore.
Reviews are encouraging….