CHAPTER VII - MISERY

Legolas had been reluctant to sleep. He was afraid that the memory would come back, and rightly so, except this time the dreams were much more vivid than usual. The minute he closed his eyes he saw the battle that had been going on downstairs after he had been brought home…

Haldir cut swiftly through any Orc that dared to challenge him. He killed with more precision than he ever had. It was a sick little game of revenge, except the bet on the line was death. He wasn't paying attention to anything around him anymore. When the battle was over he was hardly aware. His tears had stopped long ago. Soberly, he approached the stairs and lifted Rumíl's body into his arms. He ascended the stairs, again losing track of where he was. After what seemed like hours of thought he found himself in the corridor of the princes' bedchambers. The realization of his brother's death hit him then. A tear slipped down his cheek. He choked on the lump that had formed in his throat and collapsed to one knee. A suppressed cry escaped his lips. Haldir's other knee gave and he bowed over Rumíl, crying.

"Haldir?" asked Lord Elrond as he came out of Ithil's room.

Haldir heard him in the back of his mind, but didn't do anything about it. He choked again on his sobs and held his brother tighter. He heard Elrond's footsteps as they walked off to wherever. Someone returned a moment later; an Elf.

"Elbereth…"

It was Orophin. Haldir felt his heart tear and a few more tears fell down his cheeks.

"Haldir, mani marte? Haldir, what happened?"

"It was my fault…" Haldir replied quietly.

Orophin still looked a little confused. He knelt down in front of Haldir and put a hand on his shoulder. "Rumíl's death is at the fault of the Orcs."

"I should've been protecting him…"

"You did."

Haldir shook his head. "If I had been more concentrated on him-"

"Then it would be you who would be dead."

Haldir looked up, his face scarlet from failed attempts to stop his tears. He stared into Orophin's eyes then looked away. "I'm sorry…" He bowed his head again and allowed himself to cry. Orophin swallowed hard and squeezed Haldir's shoulder in reassurance. It nauseated him to see his younger brother like this and, though he felt the need to stay as moral support, silently left Haldir and Rumíl in the hall…

Aragorn was feeling rather exhausted after the battle (even though he had fought in larger, more critical ones). However, it subsided the minute he walked into Legolas' room. The air was warm and sultry, as though Legolas' health had permeated into the air. Aragorn sat on the edge of the mattress and brushed aside a lock of the prince's hair. Legolas tensed slightly. Aragorn drew back his hand and rubbed his eyes. Why was he so tired? He had hardly noticed that he had wavered until he saw Elrond gazing down at him. "You should get some rest, Estel."

"I'm not that tired," he lied, sitting up.

"Rest would still be good for you."

"We can set up a cot here if you'd like, so that you can remain with Legolas," said the Elf-lord.

"I can sleep on the floor, Ada-"

"Nonsense. I'll be back in a moment."

Aragorn shook his head at his father's persistence. Elrond returned shortly, finding his foster son fast asleep on the very edge of the bed. The Elf-lord smiled. He draped the blanket over Estel, but did not move him. The next morning, Aragorn was still asleep and ended up not waking until noon. He was greeted by Galadriel, who had come to inspect the healing of Legolas' wounds. "Good afternoon," she said.

"Good… afternoon?"

Galadriel smiled weakly. "Yes, Estel, afternoon."

"How is he?" Aragorn asked, after a moment of watching her tend to Legolas.

"He's… he's improving," she replied, taking time to carefully choose her words. Legolas was improving, that was true, but he was not beyond the line of danger yet- no, not at all. Galadriel feared that it would be worst when Legolas was conscious, able to recall everything, relive the horror he had experienced in the bowels of Mordor. A small piece of her heart wished that this would be the end of Legolas' pain forever. "You really should get back to sleep, Estel. I believe that you are going to need to be rested for whatever comes next.

Aragorn shook his head. "There is too much to be concerned with for me to fall asleep now. How is Haldir?"

Galadriel's voice was more forlorn now than it had been when she vaguely replied about Legolas' condition. "He is not well, at all. He feels so much guilt. I think that Haldir believed that it was his duty to take care of everyone, especially those he cared about. With his brother and Legolas… I think it's just too much of a learning curve for him. Maybe not too much, but all of it was so abrupt. He can't stand the fact that there's nothing he can do for them. He's feels so responsible…" Galadriel put her palm to her forehead, suddenly looking very distressed. Her hand moved down to her mouth and she began to cry. Aragorn slid down the mattress and put his hand on her shoulder.

"Do you want me to fetch someone?"

Galadriel hastily wiped away her tears. "No. I'll be all right. I think I just… need to think."

"I insist you take a rest. I will tend to the others for you."

"That's all right, Estel. Really."

Aragorn gazed directly into her eyes. "I believe that you are going to need to be rested for whatever comes next."

A faint smile crept across Galadriel's face and she nodded. "I'll just finish up here, then I think I'll go for a walk."

"Where's Haldir?"

Galadriel tilted her head in the direction of the corridor. "Thank you, Estel."

"Of course, hiril nîn," Aragorn said. He stood up and bowed slightly the left. The hallway seemed darker than usual, partially because there was no sunlight that day. The candles lighting the hall were burning down and a few had gone out. Aragorn glanced over to the window and saw Haldir standing there; back perfectly straight, staring out into the rain. Walking up and standing next to him, Aragorn noticed how blank the Elf's eyes were. They were still an intense, pale blue, but were so emotionless it was almost frightening. "Haldir," he said, trying to get Haldir's attention. Aragorn wasn't sure whether he had been ignored or if Haldir was so detached that he didn't hear him. "Haldir," he repeated, slightly louder.

"What?" Haldir demanded in an icy tone of voice.

"The Lady Galadriel tells me-"

"Well she's wrong! No matter how much you pity me, tell me that it wasn't my fault, it always will be!" Haldir snapped, facing Aragorn and glaring at him. "I don't need to be lectured or tended to, so you can keep your pathetic, unwanted explanations to yourself and leave me alone." This, he said in a less harsh voice, but still sounded extremely hostile and unemotional. He turned his gaze back to the window and was silent. Aragorn nodded slightly then returned to Legolas' room. Galadriel was just leaving when he entered. He could feel the atmospheric changed just walking over the threshold.

"I heard what he said and apologize for his words," she said.

"No need. I understand."

Galadriel nodded and left.

Aragorn resumed his seat on the edge of the mattress. He placed his hand over Legolas' and hoped that, wherever his mind was trapped, that he was aware of the need for him to be all right, and soon…

Haldir felt guilt for many things, but not for the things he said to Aragorn. He did not need anyone to look after him, he especially didn't need to be treated like a child. He was over three thousand years old, so you would think that everyone would realize that he could handle grief, he just needed time and solitude. For some reason or another, though, everyone felt that he needed them to be there, that he was too blinded by tears to even look after himself. Haldir had made it this far, knowing more sorrow than any of the Elves in Lothlórien except, perhaps, Galadriel. His mother's death, the tragedy of too many battles, the suicide of his father, witnessing the murder of his wife and daughter, the mortal conditions of two of his dearest friends, and now the loss of his younger brother. Each time he grieved immensely, and every time he came out alive. Haldir firmly believed that to overcome his emotions, he simply had to harden until he became like ice and the feelings of misery and grief would be unable to pierce him. It would take time for him to heal from his most recent loss, and for him to overcome his feeling of responsibility for Rumíl's death, but he would come out alive as always, and would add another layer to his shield. Haldir lifted his chin and gazed up into the cloudy night sky and felt him heart become icier…

Elrond, Aragorn, and Elladen scurried back and forth across the hall for days. Thranduil had not permitted the Mirkwood healers to do anything, partially because they were still tending to those who had fought in the Great Hall and the other reason being that he knew they would be doing nowhere near as good a job as Elrond, Elladen, and Aragorn. Haldir had vanished for a few days, but they tried not to worry. He had taken Rumíl's body and buried him in the forest where the floor had thus far been undisturbed. When he returned he assumed the duty of watching over Legolas. There was nothing Elrond, Elladen, and Aragorn could do for him anymore and Haldir knew that their skills would be greatly appreciated with the other healers. Galadriel had offered to stay with him, but Haldir insisted that she try to take her mind off of the princes and heal those that could be healed.

Minutes crept by like hours, but eventually transformed into days, which turned into weeks and there was no sign of life from Legolas except for the occasional hiss of pain. Haldir was sure that he was going to go mad with anxiety. He paced across Legolas' room, which could only keep one busy for so long as it was a rather tiny room. One night, when it was so silent it was eerie and it was particularly cold and rainy, Haldir used his last resort and literally got on his knees and begged the Valar to let Legolas live.

"Beleg Valar, nîn kyerm tanya lle Leith mellon-nîn tuulo' ho mori kaimel. Ro cael um n'umanat (?) a' ant sina naik. Leith mellon nîn…" Might Valar, I pray that you free my friend from his dark dreams. He has done nothing to deserve this pain. Free my friend… That was the first time in many weeks that Haldir had spoken and the first time in centuries that he had prayed. He glanced over at Legolas, but did not see any immediate improvement. With a sceptical sigh, he rose back to his feet. Almost as soon as he did this he heard frantic coughing from across the hall. He sprinted into Ithil's room and found him lying on his left shoulder, gasping for breath as though he had just returned from an almost-fatal battle. "Galadriel!!" Haldir yelled. He heard his voice ricochet off the marble walls and echoe on the stairwell. "GALADRIEL!!!!" It took a few moments- maybe even minutes- before they came. Aragorn and Thranduil burst through the door, followed by Elladen and Elrond, and finally a very weary Galadriel. Ithil began to cough again.

"Sel' dad, Ithil," Galadriel said, taking his hand. "Aragorn, fetch a cloth and some cold water, please."

"Of course."

It took nearly a half hour for the healers to get Ithil partially alert, and once they did he began to spill his tale, though only in small, broken phrases.

"Mordor… the Orcs… Isilme…" his eyes suddenly grew wide and horrified. "Isilme!" Ithil sat up, much too quickly due to his injuries. Thranduil sat on the mattress opposite Galadriel and took his son's hand. Tears were forming in his eyes. Ithil sounded like a frightened young child. His shoulders began to tremble, but he didn't cry. His eyes widened and he threw his head back and screamed. He remained there for a moment, gazing unseeingly at the ceiling then wavered to the left and collapsed in Thranduil's arms. Ithil's breathing was heavy and ragged, his entire body was shaking with terror. Finally his eyes fluttered open again, revealing frightened, sorrowful, sapphire eyes. He stared up at Thranduil as though he had not seen him in ages. "Ada…"

"Yes, Ithil, I'm here. Calm down. You're going to be all right," the Elf-king said, more so to convince himself than encourage Ithil. "Everything's going to be all right."

"Ada…"

Galadriel handed the damp cloth to Thranduil and left. She ran down the hallway and down the stairwell to the Great Hall, with Aragorn close behind her. With great effort she pushed open the doors.

"Mae govannen, hiril nîn."

Aragorn's jaw dropped.

"Mithrandir…" Aragorn breathed. He retreated a step in his shock.

"Where is he?" the wizard asked swiftly.

"Upstairs," Galadriel replied. "Thank you, Mithrandir."

He nodded and, at a brisk walk, went up to Legolas' chambers. Aragorn want one step behind him, not taking his eyes off the Istari. They finally entered the dark, stifling room and Gandalf approached the prostrate Elf. Aragorn felt suddenly nauseated when he saw fear and defeat flash in Gandalf's old eyes. He leaned against the doorframe and waited anxiously. Gandalf stood there for a moment and just stared at Legolas' face. To Aragorn it was an age before Gandalf moved and he was feeling extremely sick with worry.

Up until Gandalf came, Aragorn had, with some effort, convinced himself that Legolas was going to be perfectly fine and once this was over everything was going to go back to normal. Now that the wizard had come though, anything he said would have Aragorn firmly believing it. If Gandalf said that Legolas was going to die, then that would mean that Legolas was going to die, no ifs, ands, or buts. Aragorn didn't think he could remain sane if Gandalf said that.

Finally Gandalf placed his hand on Legolas' forehead. Aragorn thought he had been waiting for him to move, but when he did, Aragorn felt his stomach lurch and retreated into the hallway. Calm down, Aragorn he told himself repeatedly. Once, though, he noticed that the voice was not his own. He had long since slid down to the floor and, now, looked up. There stood Galadriel with a faint smile on her face and tears rolling down her cheeks.

"What?" Aragorn asked, his voice shaking. "What?!"

Galadriel opened her mouth to speak, but only inhaled sharply. A weak smile flickered across her tired face. Aragorn wasn't sure whether it meant that Legolas was all right or that she didn't want to reveal her sorrow.

"Oh my Valar…" Aragorn breathed, guessing that Legolas was dead.

There was hardly a second of silence until: "Calen!!"

Aragorn's chest contracted. Legolas was still alive. He stood up and stumbled into his companion's bedchamber.

"All is well, Aragorn," said Gandalf, turning to face him. "He's just a little bit shaken. Perhaps if you stay with him for a while; I must speak with Galadriel."

Aragorn nodded, unable to find his voice, and took Gandalf's place beside Legolas' bed. "Suilad, mellon nîn. It's far beyond good to see you awake. How do you feel?"

Legolas stopped staring at the ceiling and glanced at Aragorn with the most sorrowful eyes the Man had ever seen. Aragorn's heart shattered into pieces so small that they could easily pass through the eye of a needle. Tears began to sting behind his eyes. "I can only hope, mellon nîn," Legolas said hoarsely.

"They were late to be tended to by healers," Gandalf said, leaning heavily upon his staff as he, Galadriel, Elrond, and Thranduil sat in Ithil's room.

"That would be at no one's fault but mine, Mithrandir," said Haldir from the doorway. "My brother and I went first to Lothlórien only to find that Galadriel had departed sooner than planned. We rode to Mirkwood as fast as we could, but lost a good number of weeks in doing so."

"You did the right thing, Haldir. No healers but a select few-" with a side glance at Elrond and Galadriel- "could have done anything for them, but…" the wizard fell silent for a moment and carefully chose his next words. "The lost time has shown itself greatly in their health. Ithil seems in better condition. Legolas, however, seems to have poison behind his wounds. I believe that the poison has been there for quite some time and, though it is a rather small amount, has caused and is causing severe damage that is aggravating his wounds. There is naught more that I can do for him."

Galadriel and Elrond bowed their heads. "There is naught that we can do, either."

"Is he going to…?" Thranduil asked after taking a deep breath to calm himself.

Gandalf placed his hand on the Elf-king's shoulder. "I am truly sorry, but your sons will die."