CHAPTER XI - SUFFERING

"Gandalf!" Aragorn yelled just before he slipped and fell into the mud, winding him for a moment. He gasped for breath as he stood up, gripping his side. "There's something seriously wrong with him," he said, aware of how frightened he sounded. "We have to get him inside!"

Boromir and Gandalf came out of the cave (immediately feeling the dramatic temperature change) and followed Aragorn to Legolas's lifeless form. Gandalf knelt next to him, his old eyes running up at down the Elf's body. Seeing no signs of physical damage, he closed his eyes and placed one hand on Legolas's forehead. Slowing his breathing and clearing his mind, Gandalf entered his mind for a second, for he could bear nothing more. Screaming echoed through the whole of his being and Gandalf opened his eyes and quickly drew away. Aragorn and Boromir had placed themselves to lift Legolas up, but Gandalf raised his hand. "I don't know if he should be moved. That may only cause more him more trauma. Boromir, go back to the cave and get at least two blankets. Tell Gimli to stay with the hobbits."

"Yes, sir," Boromir said. He stood up and carefully ran back to fetch the requested blankets. He rummaged frantically through his pack until he finally found three blankets, one of them extremely thick. "Gimli, Gandalf asks that you remain here with the hobbits," he said and without even receiving an answer ran back out into the violent thunderstorm. He handed two of the blankets to Gandalf and spread the third across his open arms to protect them from some of the rain. Gandalf rolled the thinner one and placed it under the Elf's head. The thickest he laid over Legolas.

"I must speak with Gimli. Until then, I ask the two of you to remain here with him. If something happens, call for me."

"He's frightened," Boromir said quietly, almost so the rain nearly completely drowned him out and Aragorn did not hear him. "I wonder what he saw?"

"Nothing that Gandalf or Legolas wants us to see. This has never happened. I suppose that imagining that he was going to be back in a place so much like the one that left him bearing so much loss caused everything to resurface. It's different to see such horrors in one's dream than to see them when your eyes are open."

"I suppose this means I will never know the whole tale."

"You know about why they came to be in Mordor."

"But I must know what exactly happened."

Aragorn sighed. "Legolas told you that Orcs had been trespassing into his father's realm, that is why they had gone to Mordor. As they were leaving, they were ambushed. For ten months, he endured the torture of the Orcs. His brothers all died, except for Ithil. Haldir and his men saved them and took them to Lothlórien, hoping to find Galadriel, but she had already answered Thranduil's call and gone to Mirkwood. Lord Elrond was called too, and my brothers and I accompanied him. My brothers had gone to search for my father and I went forward to the palace. Shortly after I arrived, Elladen came rushing in with word that a group of Orcs had captured Elrohir and were coming to the castle to reclaim their prisoners. There was a battle in the Great Hall in which Haldir lost his younger brother. Ithil woke up first. Gandalf also arrived that night. Legolas woke the next day, but he was… You don't know true sorrow until you've seen someone look at you with eyes that Legolas had when he glanced up at me. It was horrible. Slowly, the princes improved. They ate some and they slept. That April, nearly six months after they had been brought home, Haldir and some other Elves returned to Mordor to retrieve the princes' bodies. Legolas insisted on accompanying them. Ithil couldn't bring himself to go. When Legolas returned home after that expedition, that was it. He stopped eating, stopped sleeping, basically stopped existing. They buried the bodies next to their mother. Their bones were broken and scarred and bloody. Oh Valar…" Aragorn put his hand over his mouth to rid himself of the feeling that he was going to be sick.

"It's all right, Aragorn. You don't need to say any more."

"Thank you."

"Aragorn, I'm so sorry."

"It was really hard seeing him in that kind of pain. That was the last time I saw him cry and I think that may have been the last time I cried. Mirkwood has stopped hoping because it only ended in sorrow last time. It was a tragic thing that happened. No Elf in Middle-earth has forgotten that year. Sometimes I think it may have been better if Legolas had…" Tears were stinging behind his eyes. He quickly brushed them away as they fell.

Boromir found it difficult to watch his companion experience such grief. He lowered the blanket to his shoulders and, as was a custom in Gondor, embraced Aragorn.

"My father always used to tell me that suffering cannot befall just one person, because it will always effect those that love him," Boromir said after he let go of Aragorn.

"That is very true," Aragorn replied, emotion still cracking his voice.

"My father also told me that it is those who love him and suffered will only love him deeper."

Aragorn nodded and took Legolas's hand and sang quietly to himself. "I' quel sul, i' for sul. I' quel elen, i' for elen…"

The rain only worsened as the night went on. Gandalf didn't return to them for nearly an hour after they had stopped speaking. He had explained to the hobbits, vaguely, just barely filling in the gaps of the story Legolas had given them, then left them.

"Somethin's wrong, Mr. Frodo," Sam whispered after the wizard ventured out into the storm.

Frodo blinked and returned his mind to reality. "Sorry, Sam. What was that?"

"Somethin's wrong. Boromir looked like he was comforting Mr. Strider. I wonder…?"

Frodo looked out into the rain, but it was so violent that he only saw sketchy silhouettes of those outside. When lightning flashed, he only caught quick glimpses of them; nothing that could be used for concluding.

"Only Legolas and Ithil survived out of fourteen princes?" Boromir asked, still astonished by that fact.

"They never found Calen's body," Gandalf replied, coming up from behind them. He placed his palm on Legolas's forehead again and slipped into his unconscious mind. Again, he saw images of Elves being tortured, dying, or lying dead, but he was not so hasty to leave the prince's mind again. The memories were so vivid that Gandalf could feel the heat of the flames and the burning of the whips. His back twitched.

Aragorn glanced up at Boromir then back at the wizard. "Gandalf?" he asked, placing his hand on Gandalf's shoulder. He suddenly stopped breathing as a picture of Ilmen plunging a dagger into his chest then of Redome vomiting and collapsing. He quickly drew his hand back, gasping for breath and feeling extremely nauseated.

"Aragorn?" Boromir asked, trying to get his attention.

Gandalf's head jerked back as he came out of his trance. "That certainly explains a few details. Are you all right, Aragorn?"

Aragorn nodded, his hand over his mouth, eyes closed in concentration. He swallowed hard.

"Perhaps you should go inside, Aragorn," Gandalf insisted. "You're not looking well."

"I'll be fine," he replied, pulling his hand a little ways from his mouth to speak. "I had no idea…"

"None of us did, my friend," Gandalf said. "He never did describe exactly what happened down there. Not their deaths, not their conditions, nothing. I'm not sure he should be accompanying us into Moria. Aragorn, honestly, you look pale. Go inside and sit by the fire. There is no point for you to suffer out here and feel sick. You're cold, as are you, Boromir. I suggest that we take shifts in waiting for him. I explained more thoroughly to Gimli about the situation."

Both Aragorn and Boromir shook their heads. "I cannot leave him now," Aragorn said.

"I'm too concerned to sit and do nothing," said Boromir.

"I can see that you are both just as determined as our prince. I will go back and make some tea for you." And Gandalf stood and left.

"What did you see, Aragorn?" Boromir questioned when Gandalf was out of earshot.

"I saw… Ilmen killing himself and Redome…Oh Gods…" he murmured, holding his hand tighter over his mouth.

"Aragorn, I know that you are worried, but you really do look sick-"

Legolas awoke violently, heaving for breath, eyes wide open in panic, though he wasn't seeing.

"Legolas. Legolas, look at me. Calm down. Please. You must come back," Aragorn pleaded, leaning over him.

"Do not be afraid, Prince. It is just us. No one is here to harm you," Boromir reassured him.

"Legolas, are you all right?"

He didn't answer.

Boromir glanced at Aragorn quizzically.

"Legolas?" Aragorn asked, reaching out to touch him.

The Elf scrambled to his feet, breathing hard, shivering violently. A shaking palm came up to his mouth and he looked as though he was about to be sick. He swallowed hard and looked at Aragorn. Rain and tears slid down his cheeks. Never before had he known such misery. He was sorry, he was upset, he was afraid, and he was alone.

"Are you going to be all right, Legolas?" Aragorn asked, standing.

He nodded.

"Come. Let's get you warm," he said gently, placing a hand on his shoulder.

Boromir followed slowly behind the other three. He had noticed a serious change in Legolas already and it perplexed and worried him. Earlier, when the Fellowship had only just begun their journey, Legolas held himself dangerously, with poise and perhaps even a sense of arrogance, but now… It was as though something had attacked him. Boromir could see the Elf's tears and saw how slightly he had flinched when Aragorn touched him. Possibly he needed time to accept it. For some reason, Boromir had believed that Legolas had never really felt as though he was safe; he was always on his guard. He never felt that Legolas returned the trust the Man had in him. Now, it was all flooding back because it had never truly been put to rest.

"Boromir!"

Everything quickly snapped back to reality and Boromir found himself running towards Aragorn and Legolas. The Elf had collapsed and Aragorn was trying to hold him up. Boromir took Legolas' other arm and slung it around his neck. They reached the cave and laid Legolas on the floor.

"We all need to rest after what happened tonight. All shall be explained in the morning. Meriadoc, you shall take first watch and Gimli the second. I do not think we should need more for dawn is only a few hours away," Gandalf said. "I shall return in time for our departure." And the wizard left without any more explanation.

As Gimli was laying out his blanket, Merry approached him. "Gimli, I can take the full watch tonight. You need the rest more that I."

The Dwarf was going to insist on taking his watch, but suddenly realized how tired he truly was and thanked Merry for allowing him the extra time to sleep.

All during his watch, Merry kept throwing sideways glances at Legolas. Whenever he did, he clearly recalled the last evening in which he was on watch with the Elf. Of course, the previous time he had been conscious, so at least Merry knew that there was someone that could come to the rescue if something did happen. After a while, the Brandybuck managed to convince himself that the chances of meeting someone this far nowhere were quite non-existent.

The dawn came quickly, with a bright, warm sunrise. Merry felt a drop of cold water fall onto his curly head and realized that he had fallen asleep near the end of his watch. He glanced around frantically to ensure everyone's safety, then found that…

"He's gone!" Merry squeaked, feeling his eyes widen to an abnormal size. "Oh no… Gandalf's going to-"

"What am I going to do?" asked the wizard, entering the cave, leaning more heavily than usual upon his staff and smoking his pipe. He also looked around and his eyes narrowed. "That Elf… Where do you think you're going, me dear hobbit?" Gandalf asked, thrusting out his staff to halt the young hobbit.

"I have to find Legolas!' he replied, obviously nervous by what his consequences could possibly be.

"You do not have to do anything."

"But, Gandalf, he's gone! What if something happened? What if he had another panic attack? What if he-" he lowered his voice- "hurt himself."

Gandalf thought for a moment. "If it concerns you that deeply, Meriadoc, I shall send Aragorn to search for him."

"But he's sleeping and he hasn't gotten proper rest all night," Merry protested.

"Nor have you. You may take rest now, I will take watch, and Aragorn will find our Elf. Does that sound fair?"

"Fine," Merry agreed reluctantly, walking to his bedroll, which lay next to Pippin's.

Gandalf waited until the hobbit was laid down to allow the worry to spread across his face. He immediately woke Aragorn, who quickly noticed the absence of the Elf. The wizard said nothing as the Man scrambled out of the tangle of blanket and nearly stumble out into the sunlight.

There was no sight of anything for miles. Aragorn could hear the blood rushing in his ears as he pushed himself to continue running. Where is he? Aragorn thought frantically, finally stopping to breathe. His heart was racing with panic and worry for his companion, some of it still a remainder from last night's incidents. He remained still for only another moment to allow his legs to cease their shaking. He had only been running for twenty minutes or so, but much of his energy was spent in allowing his body to keep up with how furious his mind was working. There were thousands of possibilities, and the most likely was the worst. Aragorn began to search again, but his lungs contracted quickly with the thin air of the early dawn. Gasping for breath, Aragorn saw a small forest of young trees, a very thin stream that ran a few feet in front of him running into the wood. Lacking any other ideas, Aragorn began to follow the water's path. Deep in his heart he felt as though he were on the right path, and this caused some of his fear to retreat, but then he thought about what he may find. Legolas' pale and terrified face flashed in his mind and Aragorn paused for a moment. Despite his efforts against it, he imagined Legolas dead. His feet moved voluntarily as his whole mind concentrated on desperate pleas to the Valar for his dearest friend to still be alive.

The stream widened as it ran deeper into the forest and in ended in a pond surrounded by tall grass. When Aragorn finally came out of thought, he found himself staring at small puddles of blood on the ground. The shock almost rendered him unconscious. This gave him a sudden burst of energy, enough for him to sprint and manage his way through the tall blades of grass that made a rather protective wall around the little pool. When he had almost reached the centre, Aragorn's thoughts almost ended his search, and then he burst through the to the bank of the water. What he found brought him to his knees. He liberated a sigh of relief, but remained as silent as possible and simply watched.

Legolas was bent over the stream, the bandage set aside with his shirt, neatly folded, revealing all the scars of his past. He had his blonde hair flipped over and was ringing it out, apparently through with washing it. When he threw his head back, he pulled his hair back into a quick ponytail with a piece of material from the bandage. The ice-cold water felt marvellous against his skin. Though he had felt nearly frozen last night after lying in the rain for only Valar knows how long, he had woke in a cold sweat and was hot as though with a fever once again. The hobbit had fallen asleep and Legolas slipped out and thankfully found the stream. He felt the need for solitude to arrange his emotions. Legolas splashed another wave of stream water against his face and breathed deeply. He glanced at his reflection in the crystal water. Farther upstream, he noticed a flicker of movement. Estel, he assumed immediately.

As soon as he thought this, the Ranger made himself known.

"Legolas, I've been searching for you. Merry almost fainted when he saw you were gone," he said lightly, making a conscious effort to not look at the horrible scars that covered his pale upper body. Then Legolas looked up at him and everything in Aragorn stopped- his heart, his lungs, his mind, everything. Aragorn had feared that Legolas would be still emotional from the past evening, but he was very wrong. He had never seen eyes so cold. A light in them pulsed with loathing and need for revenge. They were intense, alert, and pierced Aragorn's heart with fear and grief. "Do you need help dressing it again?"

"I do not believe it needs it," Legolas replied, his voice as icy as his eyes. He glanced down at the new scar and felt angry fire rise into him. Unlike so many times before, it did not pass. Legolas was not going to succumb to this. No. He vowed to protect the Ring-bearer and all who travelled with him, and protect them he would. He pulled his shirt back over his shoulders and gathered his knives. He walked past Aragorn with an air of determination, vengeance, and wilful Elven pride.

When they returned to camp, the other members of the Company were taken very much aback by Legolas' composure. He felt more dangerous now than he had when they had first departed from Imladris. Boromir glanced at Aragorn, who shrugged slightly, looking quickly back at the Elf. Sam had been cooking breakfast, which suddenly no one felt like having anymore except that Gandalf, just as surprised as everyone else, insisted upon it. He had intended on talking with Legolas before they continued to Moria, but he no longer saw the need for it. And there are some things that even Istari do not wish to become involved in.

They ate and packed swiftly, leaving no evidence that they had been there. Legolas brought up the back, an arrow already nocked into his bow. The hobbits felt just as much dread as they had the first week of travelling, and would not have continuously looked back at him had they not felt so compelled by his piercing gaze. Frodo was the only one who felt more worried for him than afraid of him.

All that day they walked, never stopping, and never speaking except for the habitual whispers between Aragorn and Gandalf. That afternoon they had left the grasslands and entered into rocky terrain, the Misty Mountains beginning to loom over them once again. The hobbits continued to lose their footing against the damp, smooth faces of the rocks. At last, when the night had already been upon them for sometime, they arrived. The Doors of Moria…