CHAPTER III – EMBERS OF A MEMORY

Legolas sat and watched the fire slowly die down. The only other one up was Merry because it was his watch. Soon, though, the young hobbit would be waking Gandalf to take his turn. Merry was barely able to keep his eyes open, but it was not Merry that Legolas was concerned about; it was the fire. As he stared at it a horrible memory returned to him. He remembered the heat of the chambers, how claustrophobic they made him. The stench of charred flesh, the freakish screams of the Orcs and the agonizing screams of their victims, especially those of his brothers. Legolas twitched as a chill ran up his spine and felt tears begin to stream down his face. His breathing quickened and he began to sweat, unable to escape from the dark memory. He could hear them screaming his name; he remembered how desperately they held on, enduring the agonizing pain of the Orcs' whips and other devices. He could see it all, now. The fires burning in the caverns, his brothers, the Orcs… Legolas shook his head and returned to reality. He calmed himself down, taking slow, deep breaths, and tried to ignore the intense burning on his back.

Merry yawned. Keeping watch was definitely not a job for a hobbit who grew tired after a few hours of walking. He forced his eyes back open. Maybe it wasn't so much that he was tired, perhaps it was more that he was lonely. There was no one to talk to and Merry was a very talkative hobbit. There was no point in waking anyone, which would be unfair. So, he sighed and bore the silence. The only sound was the odd time the fire would crackle. Merry wondered what time it was, whether he should be waking up Gandalf or not. He guessed that it was time for Gandalf's shift and stood. Glancing over at the fire, he saw Legolas and a chill went up his spine. There was something about that Elf… When he looked closer he saw that Legolas' eyes were oddly concentrated on the fire. Merry tried to move towards Gandalf, but ended up moving the other way. Suddenly Legolas shook his head. Even by the dim light of the flames his pale face seemed to have become dramatically whiter.

"Legolas," Merry said softly, not meaning to say anything out loud.

The Elf looked up at him. "Your watch is over," he stated in a low voice.

"Are you all right?" the hobbit asked. He took a few steps closer, cautiously.

"I'm fine-" Legolas felt a sharp pain in his temples and it felt like his back had been set on fire. He cradled his forehead with his hand and bit back against the throbbing in his head.

"Legolas…"

"I said I'm fine," he repeated.

"No, you're not!" Merry snapped to his surprise.

Legolas looked at him with different eyes; eyes that none of the Fellowship had seen. They were softer, almost sorrowful.

"I want to know what's wrong so I can help," Merry said in a firm tone.

Legolas was about to reply when he felt a pain strike across his back, then another. His head pounded. "It's nothing that I can't handle."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes," he replied in a painful tone of voice. The wound in his shoulder was now throbbing, along with his head and the pains in his back that felt just as they did when the whip struck across it.

Merry wasn't stupid. He could see how much pain Legolas was in now. He stepped closer and kneeled next to Legolas, placing a hand on his shoulder. The Elf winced. "Legolas, please just tell me what is wrong so at least I can get someone to help."

"I'm beyond help," Legolas said so quietly that Merry almost didn't catch it. The Elf could hardly bear the heat of the blanket anymore, but he would not allow the hobbit to see his scars. They sat in silence for a few minutes.

Why won't he just tell me? Merry thought. Perhaps I should just wake Gandalf...

The temperature was unbearable. Legolas was uncomfortable, and the heat of the fire added to that of the blanket which pressed against his skin and pained his back worse. Darkness crept over his vision. Legolas fought his eyes back open once then succumbed to unconsciousness. He wavered to the left and collapsed. Merry caught the Elf in his arms. "Gandalf!" he cried. "Gandalf!!"

"What is it, Meriadoc?" the wizard asked, sitting up suddenly. "What's happened?" He stood up and kneeled next to Merry.

"I- I'm really not sure…"

"Go to sleep."

"But, Gandalf-"

"Go. To. Sleep."

Merry left reluctantly and crawled over Pippin to get to his bedroll.

"Gandalf…" Legolas said, his voice weak and desperate.

"I know, Legolas. Just be still," Gandalf said calmly. He thought for a moment. "I'll be back in a moment."

Legolas nodded.

Gandalf stood and went over to Aragorn's bedroll. He nudged the Ranger rather harshly.

"Gandalf?" Aragorn asked, his eyes still adjusting to the dim lighting.

"Aragorn, I need you to go to Legolas-"

Aragorn sat up with a start and scrambled out of bed to where Legolas was lying. "What's wrong? What happened?"

"Nothing, I'm alright," the Elf lied. "I've survived this before."

Aragorn opened his mouth then closed it again. Legolas had survived it before. He survived it every minute of every day, but Aragorn knew that if this continued that a day would come when the Elf wouldn't. "Legolas, how did this happen?" Aragorn asked, trying to hide the panic in his voice.

"The flames… they reminded me of…" Legolas stopped. He really didn't want to continue with his tale. Aragorn apparently understood as he did not press Legolas on. The Ranger forced himself to calm down.

"How do you feel now, Legolas?"

There was no point in lying. "I'm burning. I don't think it's the heat of the fire, Aragorn," he admitted gravely.

Aragorn nodded. "I don't know if I should move you. How much pain are you in?"

Legolas didn't reply. He drew in a sharp breath and held it for a moment. The pain was slowly starting to subside; either that or he was just going numb. A moment later he realized he hadn't gone numb. The pain of a thousand flames shot along his scars. He winced and let out a strangled cry. Aragorn saw this and took Legolas' hand.

"Na sel', mellon nîn be calm, my friend," he said softly. "Sel' dad calm down."

Legolas was breathing heavily and clutched his chest. He gripped Aragorn's hand as well. Thankfully it was just a outburst and the immense pain diminished, leaving only a dull throb. Legolas took this change to regain his breath and loosened his hold on the Ranger's hand, but did not let go. As soon as the pain had gone away, it returned, but this time it was no spell. The burning sensation on his back flared. Legolas cried out, waking everyone else at camp.

Merry, who hadn't really been asleep since the end of his watch, shot up and scrambled over Pippin and Boromir. He ran over to Aragorn and knelt on Legolas' other side. He was almost as frantic as the Elf was, and he didn't even know what had happened and couldn't find his voice to ask. Boromir had shortly followed him.

"What happened, Aragorn?" he asked, his voice shaking as he remembered the snaking welts on Legolas' back. He could see the pain on the prince's face. It was hard for Boromir to see his companion in such agony. Yet, somehow, the prince looked strong, like he was fighting a battle. This put Boromir somewhat at ease.

Again Aragorn opened his mouth but lost the words. "He's dying all over again."