OK, contrary to popular belief, I'm still alive! I just got a little side tracked with school and work. Anyway, thanks for all the positive feedback for the last chapter. On that note...
La KimmyCat: So you're one of them (see pet peeve #2 in profile)! Oh, well... I guess I'll forgive you since you gave me such a flattering review. Thanks a bunch! ^_^
anonymous: I've written! I've written! Now you can find out what happens!
Alfarin: Aha! Another one of them... (Like up top, see pet peeve #2.) Ha! Just joking... Anyway, if you liked the last chapter, you should like this one because it's just as long if not longer...
ZeroCool: Aww, dude, I love you!! Thanks for the positive mention of my story in your own profile bio! You are seriously my new best friend! I'm reading your story as we speak!
Sky Wolf: Awww! I'm blushing! You really do love me! You've made my day, seriously!
Hermione Eveningfall: Good use of the verb 'to pine'! Two brownie points for you, girl! ^_^ But just between you and me... don't get your hopes up too high...*hint hint wink wink nudge nudge know-what-I- mean...*
Toni: Thanks...
Fairylady: Patience, my faithful reader. Patience... *doing a bad imitation of Mr. Miagi from karate kid* Things will start to pick up...
Spades: You forgot about me!?!?!?! Oh, that hurts! Just joking... Thanks for the review!
Eck: Thank you. I really needed that. Some of my favorite stories are so well written that when I read them and compare them to my writing, I seriously feel inferior... But your review made me feel better... at least until they come out with new chapters... ^_^
So there you go, usual disclaimer: LOTR is not mine and never will be and I just have to learn to accept that... at least that's what my psychologist says...
So enjoy another one of my infamously long chapters!
~~~~~~~~~~
Pain was what finally drug Legolas from out of the dark abyss of unconsciousness. It was a searing, unrelenting pain that the words of no known language could fully describe or encompass. So potent was its strength, it seemed to devour the very hope of ever escaping from its grips. Ripped from his dark and terrifying dreams where the full force of his agony could not follow, Legolas drifted beyond the borders of his misty dream scape back into the realm of consciousness.
Slowly fading into awareness of body and mind, the elf hovered on the edge of where dreams and reality melded and flowed into one another in an intricate and deceptive mosaic of what is and what exists only in the farthest reaches of the mind. Consciousness had long ago became a distorted concept to Legolas. In his sufferings he had drifted through many shifting shadows of darkness, caused by fever and poison. Time and space had little meaning to him.
Numerous times he had startled awake in a heavy daze of pain and sweat, to only immediately sink back into a thick muddle of troubled dreams. Several times he thought he had heard a voice speaking to him gently from somewhere beyond the fevered delirium that burned his body. It was strangely familiar but unplaceable, soothing him into another maelstrom of sleep with some bitter taste on his tongue. But he had cared little of this as the bitter taste and gentle but strong voice faded from recollection and memory as he once again fell into a dark void of restless sleep.
Sluggishly pulling his mind from out of the black desert of unconsciousness, Legolas slid heavy eyelids up from over the gritty surface of his eyes. Blinking slowly in blindness, the first sense to fully return to the disoriented and half conscious elf was the searing pain that laced itself through every sinew and muscle of his left arm and chest until it felt as though his very bones burned with poison and fire. Lethargic and drugged, he could do little more in his stupor then just whimper helplessly in torment and misery.
~It hurts...Make it stop...~
Laying in a daze of pain, Legolas fought the overwhelming urge to let himself slip into another bout of tormented sleep. Dark and frightening the nightmares of his fevered mind had been, and he was reluctant to return to them just yet.
~Why isn't there any light... I can't see... Where am I?~
Immediate darkness met his eyes as he slowly returned to the living realm. It was late and the moon's pale face hung high overhead in the sky. Legolas tried to blink his blurry eyes into focus, but it felt as though cobwebs had been spun in front of his vision. Lucid enough to know he was truly awake and not in another hallucination, the elf clenched his throbbing arm weakly. Focusing on his surroundings he slowly recognized the large bed he lay in and the darkened room in which he had lived for three long and lonely days since falling under the poison coated blade of Gimli.
Laying helplessly in a daze of pain and sleep, Legolas suddenly felt overwhelmed with a burning heat. Cocooned tightly in the soft bedding of the deep and pillowy bed, the sick elf panted torridly. Feeling suffocated to the point of panic, he weakly kicked the many sheets from his sweat drenched body.
~Get off me!... I need air!~
Salty sweat dripped into his eyes and stung his vision as he peeled the last thin sheet from off of his gaunt body and threw it to the side with disdain. Legolas then flopped back onto the mattress with no strength left to keep himself up. Drenched in this cold sweat, Legolas shivered violently as a gentle breeze blew into the small room through a nearby open window and chilled his exposed damp skin. Too weary and exhausted to pull one of the sheets back over himself, Legolas shuddered with cold. But while he froze, his forehead burned with fever and perspiration continued to dampen his lusterless white skin.
Legolas' labored breathing drowned his hearing with his lungs' torment as he struggled to pull himself away from the brink of unconsciousness. He could feel the sharp, acidy sting of bile biting the back of his throat as his stomach heaved weakly, empty of anything to throw from it. Slowly the retching contractions of his stomach tapered off. Mind numbed by pain and sickness, Legolas looked around him in the moonlit room. It was empty and filled only with the shadows and sounds of the night.
The elf's heart sank at this, feeling abandoned and alone in his pain and misery. For some reason he had half expected to find someone there by his side. Who he expected to see he could not say, but he thought he faintly remembered some presence at one time or another beside him. There was an chair sitting close beside his bed, but it was empty and cold.
Settling his fevered head back onto the cool cover of his pillow wearily, Legolas listened passively to the still silence and calm of the deepening night. Loneliness weighted down his heart before the poisoned pain of his arm all of a sudden crept back into his mind with renewed intensity and stole his attention away. It was as if hot needles had suddenly been driven into his flesh, boiling his blood.
~What evil have I committed to deserve this!?~
His mind reeled with pain as Eronel's curse exploded into a new threshold of intensity. Legolas could do nothing more then roll to his side in agony with a moan, still clenching his poison seeped limb. Gasping with shock, Legolas shivered with pain and cold, his blood pumping through his arm like liquid fire.
But through the mind consuming throes of indescribable pain, there came to Legolas' ears the soft whisper of a distant voice like that of one searching for someone who is lost.
*Legolas... Legolas, my dear prince, where are you?*
It was musical and sad, and seemed to radiate from the very air itself. Female it was in tone. Distracted from his pains by this unexpected voice, Legolas felt strangely compelled to answer although he knew not who called to him. A heavy fog seemed to descend over his eyes in the wake of the unseen woman's call.
"Who's there?" Legolas chocked out from his parched throat over the pain that throbbed in both mind and body. Struggling to sit, Legolas weakly pulled his back up against the delicately carved elven headboard of his bed. Focusing what little strength he had left in his withered body, he strained his sharp and acute elven ears, listening intensely for a reply, half expecting it to have been his fevered imagination that had concocted the mysterious voice. Waiting breathlessly in the tense silence, Legolas felt a chilled shiver pass up his spine.
*My prince...* sang the female voice, her voice echoing through his skull, coated thick with pity but not answering his inquiry. *How you suffer... Do you not yearn for relief from this torture?*
"Yes," he replied weakly, not quite understanding why he was answering this mysterious voice. It was as if something had stolen his will to resist this melodious voice and disregard all caution or prudence as it pulled him deep into a dreamy trance as he sat listening to his allusive guest.
*Then come to me... I can relieve you of your torment. Follow my voice. I will end your suffering...* Trailing away, the voice faded from the gravely ill elf's ears and into the distance.
Whatever magical or hypnotic influence had been woven into the unseen woman's honey laced voice, Legolas slipped to the edge of the bed and slowly lowered himself down onto unsteady feet. His weary heart suddenly yearned for nothing more then to do as the voice bid and follow. Quickly managing to grip a nearby end stand positioned near the head of the wide down bed as he stood to steady himself before he fell to the floor in a heap, the once proud and fearless warrior swayed with vertigo.
Legolas' breathing came in short raspy intervals as he bit back the pain that coursed through his arm, willing his sagging knees to support his crumpling body. He then staggered forward after finding his balance. In his weakened condition, his legs hardly seemed able to bear his already impossibly light weight, but he did not fall. Driven by some strong and unyielding force that seemed to seize his very mind in its iron grips, Legolas struggled along on unsteady legs.
Stumbling weakly against the closed wooden door of his room, Legolas leaned heavily against the doorjamb, trying desperately to catch his breath and stop the room from spinning. Gasping air into his oxygen starved lungs like he had just ran an uphill marathon, the elf saw his vision beginning to tunnel from exertion and sickness. The pain in his arm worsened. It took all his strength and willpower not to scream out in pain and collapse to the floor.
*Legolas...* The voice urged persistently from some distant corner of his mind. *Follow my voice... No more pain...*
Again feeling the inner pull of desperation to follow, the elf saw rather then actually feel or consciously direct a shaking hand out to grip the doorknob beside him. Like an observer to his own life, Legolas watched as his hand turned on its own accord and swing the door out into the pitch dark hallway of Lord Elrond's palace.
*Legolas...Come to me.*
Like a snake charmer weaving her spell, the voice's musical syllables ensnared the elf-prince's mind and lulled him into a daze of blind obedience. Vision and senses wavering with pain and an unnatural heaviness that seemed to cover everything in a dense fog, Legolas stumbled from out of the room and into the black corridor beyond, unable to regain the will or strength to fight the call of the mysterious woman to follow. And so slipping into the long and dark shadows of the hallway, Legolas' light elvish footsteps faded into the distance like one walking to his doom.
~~~~~
Aragorn stared out into the distance with empty eyes, his thoughts swirling in a confusion of helplessness, regret, anger, desperation, denial and anguish. His listless eyes overlooked the nighttime city of Rivendell. He sat on a cold stone bench set in one of the many sprawling palace gardens, heedless of the early spring chill that soaked through his clothes and into his skin like tiny knives of ice. Winter still hung faintly in the air, too stubborn to relinquish its cold grip on the land just yet. The moon above shined down her pale light, illuminating the earth in a rich glow.
Terraced to fit into to the mountain landscape, Lord Elrond's gardens were filled with the quiet growth of trees, plants, and flowers year round. Even if it was the dead of winter, something was always to be seen growing there. Whether by gentle coaxing elven hands or magic this feat was achieved, no living mortal could say. In all actuality, Elrond's gardens were more like a well tended forest then a flower covered patch of land.
Whatever the case, it was one of those elvish quirks that all of the Eldar shared (and Aragorn had always loved): their deep seeded need to be close to something green and growing. Nature was like their life force and their strength. But this came now as almost ironic and cruel to the Man who sat in the Elf-Lord's undying green gardens, pondering life, its mortality and the cruelty of the world.
The bench that Aragorn sat on had been placed there long ago during the construction of the vast and peaceful gardens close to the edge of a stone pathway that weaved itself through the cultivated soil. On the other side of the pathway, a low stone wall of carefully cut blocks stood. And while Elves in general disliked and tried to avoid masonry or stonework of any kind in their green places, this wall had been built for good reasons.
Deliberately sectioned off to grant the best overhead, panoramic view of Rivendell and the beautiful valley's many waterfalls and tributaries that ran through it, the palace gardens subsequently grew right on the very edge of the mountain side. A huge drop spiraled downwards fifty feet or more just on the other side of the innocent looking stone wall. It had been built to prevent any unwary guest in Elrond's gardens from falling off the path and into the churning white waters of Rivendell's main river below. The water surged and boiled against its rocky sides behind thick curtains of mist and spray.
A narrow waterfall rushed somewhere farther down the path, it sitting between the Man and the palace. It was forty feet high or so with a deep and swift river running from where it thundered down into its rocky bed. And while it would be considered a decent sized waterfall by any other standards, it was still considered relatively small compared to some of the other colossal beauties that crashed along the mountain sides of Rivendell. It sat several yards back from the main path in a deep misty glade surrounded on either side by sandy banks that were perfect for mid-summer afternoon outings.
Aragorn could hear the surging roar of its cascading waters even from the distance he had put between himself and the elven palace. But the sound of its rushing water did little more then further depress him. It only reminded him of happier times when life was sunny and green and full of promise. But those memories now seemed distant and from another world entirely.
Perhaps, subconsciously, he had wandered to the spot he sat now just so he could find some link to that time, when things had not been so dark and hopeless. But whatever the reason of him choosing that particular place to wallow in despair, he was there now. He needed time alone to think. He needed time to sort out the feelings he held for a dying Elf who he had faced more adventures, and braved more dangers with then twenty Men would ever hope to see in a hundred lifetimes.
Head held wearily in his hands, Aragorn bent forward like a tree broken in the wind, his bent elbow resting on his thighs. He stared out towards the darkened city through the tangles of dark eyelashes that slightly obscured his view, unable to lift his head from under the immense weight of grief and hopelessness.
~Legolas, my dear friend, why did this have to happen to you? Why you of all people? Why did Gimli have to give you that tainted dagger? It was suppose to represent his friendship to you, but...why did this have to happen? It's not fair that you must suffer like this. I would give my life to help you. But I cannot do anything more then passively sit by and watch you suffer from this evil witch's poison. You have saved my life countless times, and the one time you are in need of me, I can do nothing for you... ~
Aragorn could feel tears of frustration beginning to sting his eyes. They were tears that had been threatening to spill for some time now, but still remained in tight check. Aragorn refused to weep for a friend that was still alive and had not yet succumbed to Fate. But his resolve to keep his tried emotions in check was quickly crumbling. He could feel the frustration building in him even in the quiet peace of the gardens until it felt as though he was a moment away from just screaming at the top of his lungs into the night until no air remained in him to scream with.
~What cruel Fate deemed you to be the one to fall victim to Gimli's tainted blade? Why did Eronel's legacy have to find you as its victim?~
So consumed by these unanswerable thoughts, the Ranger did not even notice the soft rustle of cloth in the still night coming up behind him. Aragorn was only finally brought out of his inner turmoil with the fall of a gentle but strong hand on his shoulder. He did not even have to raise his head to know who stood beside him. He could tell by the reassuring squeeze on his shoulder (the same that had comforted him countless time during his life), that Elrond had come to join him in the moonlit palace gardens.
"Is it not a bit late for a stroll though the garden?" the ancient elf-king asked softly after a moment of silence between the two, the distant crashing of the nearby waterfall making the only sound in the still night.
"I needed the quiet of the trees to think in," Aragorn replied emotionlessly, still not raising his head, his hair curtaining his downcast face in a shower of semi-curly dark tresses.
"Amongst the trees, there is little quiet to be found. They are full of voices and words. But you are not an Elf, so your ears are not troubled by their whispers," Elrond said dismissingly, removing his hand from Aragorn's shoulder and coming around to sit beside the clearly distraught man. Taking in the Man with a sideways glance from the corner of his grey eyes, he noted carefully after an uncertain pause, "This is the first time I have seen you away from Legolas' side."
The Elf's words seemed to earn some sign of life from Aragorn as the Man finally hoisted his head up to look at Elrond with grief reddened eyes. "He is worsening, "Aragorn explained in a small voice of helplessness, "He is fading faster then I thought he would. I fear, he has little time left. He has already begun to show signs of hallucinations and the bluish coloring of the poison in his left arm is spreading quicker. It is already beginning to seep onto his chest... Once it reaches his heart, I don't think even Legolas will be able to fight off this witch's poison any longer..."
"We feared as much from the very beginning, Estel," the Elf-Lord confirmed, speaking gently to the Man he had come to see as one of his own sons and who caused him pain if ever he saw him suffer. "But you said yourself - we cannot give up hope. Gandalf and the others should have reached the valley by now. We must place our hopes in them," Elrond tried to assure.
Giving a soft snort, Aragorn scoffed, "Hope? What hope is there left to be had? Legolas is slowly dying in a torment of pain. Even I cannot fool myself any longer that he will last much longer against this evil. He will d-" Hanging his head, the man trailed off, letting his unspoken words fester in the air and in their hearts.
"They may return in time," the Elf-king offered hopefully, but with only feeble backing to them.
"And what if they do not?" Aragorn retorted sharply, totally unaware of the ironic shift of attitudes that had taken place between himself and Elrond from only a few hours prior, "An all out war between Elves and Dwarves is hanging in the balance. If Gandalf and Gimli do not return in time with Eronel's water, then not only do I lose my friend, war will erupt. The fighting between Dwarves and Elves will spread from here to every country in Middle-Earth until there is nothing left."
"I have already sent out a messenger to Mirkwood begging King Thranduil to not make any attacks against the Dwarves just yet. Legolas' father is stubborn and head-strong, but I hope my letter may at least buy us some time to save Legolas' life and advert war. But there is little more we can do at the present. We must wait for Gandalf and the others to return- as painful as that may seem to you right now," Elrond said, looking at the hallowed remains of a grief stricken man.
There came no reply from Aragorn at this. He only stared into the distance, revealing none of his inner thoughts or feelings.
"Aragorn, I know you are taking Legolas' illness very hard, but you must begin to look after yourself," Elrond then motioned after a long moment, deep concern seeping from his voice, "I am worried about you. You have not slept or eaten in three days. You can not keep this up. There is nothing more you can do for him. Come what may - it is out of our hands... Come back inside and rest. Legolas will be well tended to in your absence. If it will comfort you enough to take a few hours rest, I will spend the rest of the night at his side until you get some sleep. You look terrible. You will do Legolas no good, if you keep this up. Will you please do this for me?" The underlining plea in Elrond's voice was genuine, and Aragorn did not at first respond.
~How can he ask me to worry about myself when Legolas is like this- teetering on the very brink of death?... But Elrond is right. There is little more I can do for Legolas... I am useless to him.~
Heaving a weary sigh of emotional exhaustion, and locking eyes with the ageless eyes of his adopted father, Aragorn conceded reluctantly, "As you wish...But I will remain here for a while longer. There is still much I must think about."
"So be it."
Standing, with some sense of relief and satisfaction at the Ranger's complience to his request, Elrond cast Aragorn one last worried glance before turning away from the distraught Man towards the stone path that would lead him back to the palace. ~Please, Legolas, you must fight this darkness. I do not know what will become of Aragorn if you were to fall to this dark poison. And I fear what may become of Middle-Earth. Your father already harbors much distrust and animosity towards mortals- especially Dwarves. I am not sure that even if you are restored to health his wrath can be stayed against the Dwarves. But we must try. I will do everything in my power to help you, but your only real hope lies with Gandalf, Gimli, and Toreingal...~
Moving down the moonlit path, Elrond's dark outline blended into the darkness and disappeared from Aragorn's view. Following the ghostly form of the Elf-Lord as far as his human eyes would allow in the dim twilight, the empty man finally looked away and returned his wandering eyes out towards the sleeping city of Rivendell.
Falling out of thought, Aragorn let his mind drift, too weary to rail the images and memories that slowly floated past his mind's eye. As he sat there on his seat of cold and impersonal stone bench, he suddenly became aware of just how tired he really was. At first he had relented to Elrond's suggestion of rest only to satisfy the elf and get him to leave him in peace. But now, he was truly beginning to feel the heavy burden of worry and stress from Legolas' suffering that he had been carrying for so long a time. And while he felt some twinge of guilt at the thought of restful sleep while his friend continued to be haunted even in his dreams, Aragorn knew he needed rest, or he would most likely fall asleep right at Legolas' side from exhaustion.
Making up his mind, the Man stood from the garden bench. Straightening his stiff knees, Aragorn became painfully aware of the stinging rush of blood through his limbs as he stretched his legs and back. The Ranger now mentally chided himself for sitting so long on the cold stone bench and allowing his muscles to stiffen so. ~I will rest tonight and then return to Legolas in the morning.~
Turning down the path that lead to Elrond's grand palace, Aragorn's tired ears listened idly to the growing roar of the garden's waterfall as he neared the narrow stone bridge that spanned over the fall's tributary. Slowly treading over the stone path underfoot, Aragorn hunched his shoulders with fatigue. ~Yes, sleep does sound like a good idea...~
Rounding the last winding bend of the garden's stone walkway, he could begin to see the faint outline of the cascading water through the trees' leafy boughs. On his tired face, he could already feel the fine, misty spray that was kicked up from the base of the churning falls- an almost refreshing experience to the emotionally and physically fatigued man.
Nearing the foot of the arched stone bridge that would lead him to the palace's back gate, Aragorn was momentarily startled as he noticed the distant outline of a white garbed figure standing in the center of the causeway on the very edge, teetering precariously over the swiftly churning water ten feet below. The man seemed to care little for caution and continued to stare down into the foaming waters below with his head turned away from Aragorn, hiding his face. It almost seemed as though he was lost in deep thought. The stranger's skin seemed to literally glow in the pale moonlight that shimmered down into the waterfall glade through the leafy canopy of the surrounding trees, and Aragorn thought for a minute he was looking at a ghost.
Overcome with curiosity, the Man continued on towards the bridge. As he neared closer, Aragorn could make out more of the figure's outline. From a distance of fifty feet or more, he could distinguish a flowing mane of slightly disarranged blond hair, the color of a pale, early morning dawn. Robbed in a long, loose tunic of pure white with darker leggings, the figure's fair skin seemed to give off a luminous glow, as if clothed in light itself, contesting without a doubt a claim to being of Eldar descent. But the glow seemed dimmed and waning.
~Odd...Who would be out at this time of night?...~
Moving with almost inhuman stealth to steal closer to the mysterious figure unnoticed, Aragorn hid himself in the long shadows of the garden walkway, slightly off to the side of the stone path. Creeping from shadow to shadow quietly, but not too deliberately so as to seem like a stalker, he neared the foot of the bridge. Aragorn was about to call out a late night greeting to this unanticipated companion in Elrond's gardens, when a knot of fear suddenly chocked off any words he might have been about to say dead in his throat.
~Legolas?!~
There swaying slightly from side to side as if in a daze, the Elf-prince stared down into the swirling waters below. Now at the very foot of the arched stone bridge, Aragorn could clearly see his friend's lips quivering, as though muttering under his breath. His blue eyes stared into the swirling black waters below, distant and cold like Death's.
"Legolas!" Aragorn cried out loudly over the roar of the nearby waterfall, his voice cracking in surprise.
Forgetting all his weariness and exhaustion in that second, Aragorn hastened his steps onto the delicately arched stone bridge, deeply disturbed by what could have possibly drawn the sick warrior from his bed and into the dead of night. Dread and apprehension seized his stomach as he rushed towards the pale, swaying form of his friend standing there on the edge of the bridge, teetering over a broiling river of water and rocks. Perhaps it was the foreboding twinge in his stomach, but Aragorn knew he needed to reach his friend immediately. There was something very wrong about this scene.
~By the Havens, what is he doing out here!? He is too ill to be walking around like this. I should have never left his side...~
The Elf did not respond to Aragorn's call, but merely continued to stare down into the churning black rapids below, all the while mouthing inaudible words from behind deathly white lips. So close to the side of the bridge, Legolas' bare toes actually hung over the edge and out into the thin air above the dark moving river.
To Aragorn, it felt as though the world had suddenly stopped turning and every step he took seemed to last a lifetime as he sped towards his friend. He could not remember a time when he had pushed so much effort and desperation into his legs, or knew so much raw fear or dread.
But then, when Aragorn was within only five paces of Legolas and it seemed as though he would reach him in time and hope had rising in his heart, whatever strength that had been holding the elf aloft for so long in his weakened state seemed to suddenly be cut off from around his body. Falling like a marionette with its strings severed, Legolas toppled forward, his legs drooping out from under him as he slowly pitched head first towards the churning river below.
"No! Legolas!" he screamed in a frenzy of panic and fear as he shot out a groping hand to the toppling elf. Making one last desperate attempt to save Legolas from a death of drowning, Aragorn dived for him. Flying through the air like an arrow, hands outstretched to catch the tumbling elf, the Ranger made a desperate grab for Legolas' falling body.
For a split second, Aragorn felt his fingertip lightly grazing the sleeve of Legolas' shirt just as the elf came almost parallel with the water below. But before he could clasp hold and pull his friend back to safety, Aragorn could only watch in sickened horror as Legolas fell out of his reach by only a hair's width.
~No! Legolas! Legolas!!~
Tipping forward towards the dark waters far below, Legolas continued to fall. Watching his friend falling headfirst into a churning void of darkness, Aragorn could only revel in how tauntingly slow the elf seemed to fall.
And it seemed to Aragorn as Legolas fell so slow and with such direct and deadly purpose, that the world had ground to a halt just so it could cruelly illustrate how insanely close he had come to saving Legolas, but had ultimately failed....
~~~~
Several minutes before...
*Come to me, Legolas... I can stop the pain. Come to me...Follow my voice*
Stumbling blindly after the voice that called to him, Legolas fought back the pain and dizziness that assailed his already weakened body. A heavy fog veiled his eyes.
Somewhere deep within his clouded mind, Legolas knew by all rights he should have dropped to the floor from sheer exhaustion long ago, but for whatever reason had not and had kept going. But this mystery meant little to him as he struggled to hurry after the soft and luring voice of this unnamed and unseen woman. All that his fevered and tormented mind could comprehend was her seductive promise of an escape from the pain and endless torment that burned his arm.
It was as if he was being pulled by a giant magnet. The elf's body felt strangely drawn to her, his feeble mind unable to tear itself away from his desperate quest to find the one that declared salvation from the dark agony of poison. .
The pain was blinding. The misery unbearable. His suffering unrelenting. Legolas wasn't sure how much longer he could stand the torment, as though his mind was a mere heartbeat away from snapping.
The feathery words continued to summon Legolas forward from some unknown distance, her voice ringing through his mind like a thought itself.
*Legolas... I can stop the pain and heal you from this poison...*
"Wh-who are you?" begged the elf in a small voice of pain as his feet carried his shivering body onward to unknown doom. Blind to the world around him, Legolas stumbled forward in a dark haze of obscurity. Willing his sluggish brain to function, Legolas asked persistently, "H-how do your know of the poison? Can you really heal me?"
*I have known of you plight for some time now. I have been watching you and waiting for the right moment to show myself...* whispered the woman's voice from the back of his mind.
"And why only now do you come forward to offer me assistance in escaping this curse?" Legolas ventured with growing curiously.
*Because the playing field is now set for the next move...*
The weak and ill warrior-prince's confused mind churned with a storm of questions from this odd reply. ~What could she possibly mean by that?~ he wondered.
Battling the oppressing heaviness that weighed on his mind and body, Legolas pried himself out of the consuming darkness that hovered on the edge of his conscious. As Legolas' thoughts cleared, he could feel the fogginess slowly dissipating. And then suddenly, he broke free from the darkness and back into the light.
~What am I doing? Where am I? What is going on? How can I hear this woman in my head? I know Galadriel and some of the other high Elves have the ability to speak with mere thoughts, but who would have come to me like this?~
Alarm pierced his heart. Immediately, Legolas tried to naturally stop his slow but direct staggering march. But the elf was immediately seized by fear as he found his body refused to respond to his will. Beside the faltering rise and fall of his tired feet, Legolas could not move or even flinch any muscle.
~What is going on! I cannot stop! What magic is at work here?!~ his mind spun as he desperately tried to regain control of his body. But the elf's impaired and sluggish feet did not even break stride in their slowly rhythmic beat, carting his paralyzed body away into the dark cloud of blackness that obscured his vision and senses.
And then, through the alarm and startling realization of his unnatural situation, Legolas became aware of a soft tinkle of mirthful laughter in his head that slowly grew in his brain until it felt as though not even the room to think remained. The laughter was twisted and tainted with malice and sadistic enjoyment, a mockery of its inclination as a sign of happiness. Legolas instantly recognized the sound as belonging to the mysterious female voice that had lured him from his bed.
* Heh heh heh... My little prince, I can hear your thoughts. Who am I, you wonder... Ah, my little pawn, you already know that answer. You know who I am. You have already seen me in your dreams...or should I say your nightmares, in the form of a dark figure...*
Dawning realization hit the poison-dizzied elf harder then a direct blow to the face.
"Eronel..." Legolas hissed between his teeth as though the very syllables left a bad taste festering on his tongue, "I should have known." Hot anger rose in the elf with this epiphany, not at the witch, but at himself.
~How did I not see this? How could I let myself be taken for such a fool and be deceived so easily?!~
*Yes...You are a fool aren't you? Who did you think you were going to find calling to you? Galadriel? Ha ha! No...You shall soon find that I am no Galadriel. She is but a peon compared to me.*
"Watch your tongue, witch," Legolas warned dangerously at her careless mockery of the fair elven Lady of the Woods. His feet still refused to heed his desperate attempts to regain control as he staggered ever onward through a lightless void of nothing.
Another round of evil laughter rang through his mind at this. *And what would this little elf do to convince me to heed these threats?* she taunted maliciously.
"I know a certain Dwarf that would make you see the error of your vile words against the Lady with the blade of his axe," Legolas countered.
*Do you mean the same dwarf that came in search of the enchanted water that guards the entrance to my prison?* Eronel's voice echoed through the Legolas' skull almost indifferently, parrying his words skillfully. The enslaved elf was caught off guard by this, his stomach dropping by the dark tone the witch's voice had taken. Chuckling in her ghostly disembodied voice, Eronel elaborated. *I have already met this dwarf friend of yours, Gimli. And let me tell you this, he fell under my influence even easier then you did... And while he may have escaped me for the moment, he will return to me very soon. His hope in your precious 'cure' will soon prove utterly useless against my poison...*
"You lie"
*Do I? How do you know if I do or not?*
Legolas had no response to this, doubt had stolen his certainty by the unseen witch's mind games. Intense worry for the Dwarf's welfare overtook him. ~What has happened to Gimli? Surely he would not have fallen under this witch's power as easily as I have...~
"What have you done to Gimli and the others?" Legolas demanded.
*Nothing...for now* Eronel answered, entertaining the elf's questions with amusement.
"Where are you taking me?" the elf then asked, staring uselessly ahead of him through the inky blackness that covered his eyes like a blindfold as he stumbled forward, guided helplessly by Eronel's power.
*Where indeed...* the witch mused with an evil chuckle in Legolas' head *You will find out very soon... But tell me first, how do you like the darkness that I have sent to keep you company? For it has been my only companion all these centuries in this dark prison I was sealed in. Soon I will cover all of Middle-Earth in the same darkness I have had to suffer in for so long... And then my revenge against all Elves and Dwarves will be complete for them sealing me in this wretched gloom and isolation... For three thousand years I have waited patiently in this prison, plotting my revenge. And then, not too long ago, I felt the ancient dagger of that cursed Dwarf that had wounded and imprisoned me here disturbed. And I knew the time had finally come for me to make my move...*
"But how can you be speaking and controlling me from such a distance if you are still trapped in your cave?" Legolas wondered incredulously.
*You were wounded on the same blade that cut me. The 'poison' that has sat idle for so many years on the edge of that horrible little Dwarf's knife and that now flows through your veins is still a part of me. It connects you and I... Binding you to me, and making you my slave...*
"I am bound, nor slave to no one."
*We shall see...*
"And just how do you plan to exact your revenge against the Dwarves and Elves?" Legolas then inquired, frantically desperate to find out all he could about Eronel's evil plot, "With what device do you plan to do this when you are still locked away in your dark hole," he added with underlying smugness, pointing out a possible problem to the witch's plan.
Again the dark elven sorceress chuckled, the notes of her voice dripping with dark intentions and schemes.
*I plan on using you, my prince...* Eronel whispered matter-of-factly in her icy voice.
Legolas' heart froze for a second, fear seizing his mind in its grip. "What do you mean?"
*With your death, war will erupt between the races of both my enemies. Where once an brief, but effective, alliance existed between the Mountain Dwellers and the Eldar, death and hatred will flourish...Although the two races need little of my influence anymore to fuel the mistrust that has grown between each other. I know what hangs in the balance...*
"I do not plan on dying anytime soon, Eronel. I have faith that my friends will return with the very water that keeps you locked in your black prison. And then I will rid your poison from my body..." the weak and staggering elf said with deep conviction and almost as a promise.
"Oh, but my dear prince, as I have already told your friend the dwarf; while the enchanted water keeps me trapped in this cave, it will not save you. You are doomed. Doomed. And all because of that Dwarf you call 'friend.' It is because of him you must suffer so. And it is because of him all of Middle-Earth will fall to its knees before me and quake under my power. It is almost poetic justice that a Dwarf and Elf should be the ones to play the pawns in my game of revenge*
"Gimli and I will not play the part of your pawns," Legolas retorted defiantly, "Do not try to fool me with your twisted words. I do call Gimli my friend because that is what he is - he is an elfellon, an elf-friend. You cannot turn me against him."
* Oh, but you are already my pawns. And you are already playing your roles...* Eronel laughed heartily at the enslaved elf that was driven ever forward through the darkness by her will. And then as if mulling over Legolas' speech a little more, she burst out into fresh laughter that chilled the sick elf's very blood. *Ha ha! Elfellon! Elfellon indeed! Oh, my little prince, you will think twice about giving your trust and friendship to a Dwarf after I am through...*
"What are you planning to do?" Legolas demanded through gritted teeth, becoming more agitated by the witch's taunts and vague words with every passing moment, her voice raking his nerves and patience like iron claws. His body still would not answer his desperate demands to stop.
*Would you like to see how you will be entertaining me tonight?* she asked then with almost innocent curiosity, but tainted with her belied enjoyment of the power she held over the Elf-prince.
At her words, it seemed as though the blackness that blinded Legolas slowly began to dissipate from over his eyes, like smoke being blown away in the wind. Blinking in a groggy daze, Legolas looked around him, his head suddenly light and dizzied. His feet still carried his drugged body onwards, regardless that some of Eronel's power had been lifted from him.
~Where am I?~
As the weak and staggering warrior pressed forward and struggled to figure out where his misguided feet had carried him, he suddenly became aware of the faint murmur of voices radiating through the air - They were the soft whispers of Nature.
Trying to clear the fog from his heavy eyes, Legolas suddenly became aware of the buffeting caress of a misty spray upon his face. Aroused more from out of his stupor by this exhilerating cool air, the elf blinked rapidly, focusing on his surroundings.
What he saw momentarily startled and confused him. Around him stood ancient trees, their thick canopies hanging like a dark moth-bitten blanket against a star filled sea of black high overhead. The dim lights shining out from the elven palace shined through the carefully tended shrubs and plants behind him. The soft murmur of the trees' organic tongue sounded in Legolas' ears. He knew these voices. He had spoken with these living pillars of wood before. He was deep within the palace gardens of Lord Elrond. Panic churned his stomach as his unsteady feet staggered down the moonlit stone pathway.
~How did I get here? Why did Eronel lead me here of all places? There is nothing in these gardens except trees and flowers.~
*Oh, there are some other things in this place...* Eronel's voice suddenly echoed from the depths of Legolas' mind, startling him.
"What are you going to do?" the elf demanded with as much force in his words as he could muster, trying to sound brave. But belied fear gave his voice a higher pitch then what could be passed as convincing.
There came no answer from the witch as Legolas' feet turned towards the left and bore him down a side path that lead towards the mountainside boundary of the gardens, his weak body driven by Eronel's unrelenting and unwielding power. It took a minute for the exhausted elf to orient himself, but he began to recognize the strangely familiar path. He knew now where he was being taken.
In the near distance, the gurgling roar of the garden's main waterfall crashed in Legolas' ears. Stumbling weakly in his involuntary march, Legolas felt the cold stab of fear in his heart.
~Have to fight her...Have to fight. Can't let her win...~
Struggling with every ouch of willpower in him, Legolas tried to regain control of his own body, tried to rid the witch's evil laugh from his head, tried to stop himself from whatever Eronel planned to do with him, and as all his efforts proved utterly useless, tried to form some semblance of words in his throat to call out in a last ditch effort for help. But it was as if some strange force had constricted itself around his neck, cutting off any shouts for help from being voiced. The enslaved elf could do nothing more then just helplessly watch as the garden waterfall drew nearer with every staggering step beneath him, the arched stone bridge that spanned the small but deep river running from its base growing ever larger.
*Such a beautiful night...* Eronel noted softly in Legolas' head as he mentally battled with the dark power that paralyzed and guided his body. He could almost picture a cruel smile grinning evilly in his mind's eye as she taunted his struggles but not even acknowledging them.
"I will not let you win, Eronel!" Legolas snarled defiantly, straining his muscles and will against the witch's cold invisible grasp that ensnared both body and mind.
The waterfall's hollow crashes roared off to Legolas' left. He could now feel the cold, slippery surface of the foot stones of the bridge against the soles of his bare feet, the sharp chill jolting Legolas into a new stage of panic. With slow and deadly directiveness, Legolas began to mount the stone causeway.
Reaching the highest point of the rounded bridge, Legolas' feet pivoted sharply to the right so that the elf's back was turned to the thundering falls behind him. And then, with one last half-step he was brought to the very edge of the bridge, the churning black water of the small river far below him. Frozen like a lifeless statue, Legolas teetered precariously on the edge of a watery grave. He now felt a sinking pit in his stomach as he began to understand just what the witch planned to do with him.
~Fight her! Fight her! You cannot let her win!~
*Heh heh heh.. Oh, my little prince, your struggles are useless, but quite amusing all the same. I have not had so much merriment for quite a long time. But I am afraid our fun together must come to an end. I do not have time to play with you anymore. I still have much yet to prepare for...*
Staring into the swirling river below with distant blue eyes, Legolas felt a great heaviness descending upon his body, an icy grip tightening around his mind. It was as is some engulfing power was slowly wrapping an invisible net around the young elf-warrior, cutting air from his lungs, and thought from his mind.
~No! I cannot let her win! No!~
Pain suddenly exploded through Legolas' left arm through all the poison blued skin. But even the privilege of crying out in shock was stolen from the elf by the invisible power that ensnared and wrapped itself around him, strangling off any sound in his throat, and froze his body in place.
And then, just when Legolas thought he could bare no more of the witch's excruciating pain, it suddenly stopped.
It was as if his body had suddenly been cast into a pit of darkness. His body felt weightless as the sensation of falling overcame him, the sudden painlessness of this black void numbing his senses and freezing his mind. No sound could be formed in his paralyzed mouth as he felt his body slowly tipping forward towards the foaming waters below that churned and raged around large rocks jutting from the turbulent water's surface.
Blackness clouded his vision as Legolas felt himself falling, falling so slow it that every second seemed to last a lifetime. Time became meaningless as the world paused and froze in that second. As he fell forward in a daze of fever and sickness, the elf thought that he saw his life playing slowly in his mind's eye; green and sunny memories of Mirkwood's fields and forests, the flash of a hundred swords in the countless wars and battles he had partaken in, and an endless blur of faces of all those he had known and loved during his countless years of life.
And as the swirling black waters rushed up to meet him, Legolas suddenly realized how surprisingly peaceful it all seemed, so surreal and fluid as though he was merely slipping away into sleep.
As the sinking darkness claimed the elf in its inky embrace, Legolas let himself be taken by the black painless void. And then there was nothing…
~~~~~
TBC...
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Hmmm... the plot thickens...kind of. At least its starting to pick up a bit. I have a tendency to let the story develop slowly instead of hurrying it, so kudos to all those who are bearing with the pace. Anyway, until next chapter,
I'm LAXgirl, signing out.