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Encroaching Darkness by Ecri
Part 7
Lord Elrond couldn't say he was pleased with his son's injuries, but at least they had stopped bleeding. He had applied several herbs that had helped, and the tea he'd had Elrohir prepare should make Estel sleep until morning.
A strange feeling had haunted The Lord of Imladris since they had begun their journey. Something lingered just beyond the edge of his perception and he wondered what it might be. The more he pondered it, however, the more the thing seemed to slip away from him. He glanced toward Aragorn, sleeping almost peacefully, and reached out a hand to brush a lock of hair from the man's forehead. Whatever it was that he sought to identify, it would have to wait. Though he was loathe to admit it, the day's journey and the orc attack, not to mention worry for his son, had taken a toll on him. Comfortable with the thought that his sons and Glorfindel would handle this evening's watch, he drifted into a light elven sleep.
Legolas tried to rest. He knew he needed it, but he worried for his friend. Aragorn's injuries were severe, though he was sure Elrond would be able to heal him. Legolas was convinced that Aragorn had been injured, because the Ranger, and indeed the rest of their company had been too quick to shelter Legolas.
Aglarelen seemed to think that Legolas did not trust his newfound skills in methods of human battle, and Legolas knew this was partially true. Somehow, he worried he would be unable to defend his friends, his father, his brother, and that, somehow, he would cost them their lives. He thrust the thought away from him. He would not give in to despair!
He watched Aragorn resting, but could tell the man did not yet sleep. Rising, he walked towards his friend. "Estel? Are you unwell? Shall I rouse your father?"
Aragorn rolled over to face his friend. "Nay, Legolas, I am well." At the raised eyebrow with which Legolas graced him, he smiled. "Well enough, at any rate. I simply cannot sleep."
Legolas did not reply immediately, but by his silence, Aragorn knew he wanted to say something.
"Legolaswhat is it?" The man asked.
"Aragorn, you push yourself past endurance, and while I know why, I cannot allow it."
"My friend"
"I will not hear your excuses. I intend to speak to Lord Elrond. If he thinks you are not well enough to ride, we will rest here through the day tomorrow." Legolas wore an expression not unlike his father's when the King of Mirkwood had chosen a course of action from which he would not be swayed.
Aragorn hid a smile. Legolas seemed more himself each day. "It appears I have no choice."
Pleased that he had won the argument, yet suspicious of the easy victory, Legolas nodded. "Good. Now, rest Estel."
Aragorn settled down to do as his friend suggested, and to no one's surprise given his condition, he was immediately asleep.
**
Sauron watched the group with the many spies at his disposal. They still had far to travel, and the Servant of Morgoth had not used every resource at his disposal. Summoning two such resources, he put the task of waylaying the Ranger and his elf-friends to them. They knew better than to disappoint him.
He would have the Ranger's head before the elves had any chance of reaching their destination.
**
Lord Elrond rose early and quickly moved to Aragorn's side. Checking the wounds, he was pleased at the progress, yet still concerned for his son's health. It was not easy to acknowledge that his son was now, by human standards grown. To an elf, the number of years he'd lived seemed negligible.
He recalled that day, years ago when he had agreed to take the child into his house, not merely as a refugee, but as his own son.
One look at the distraught two-year-old, struggling to put on a brave face for his mother, asking for his father, and not quite understanding what he was being told about Arathorn's demise, Elrond had lost his heart to the human child. He had vowed to Gilraen that he would not only keep Aragorn safe, but that he would take him in as a son of his own. Gilraen had been surprised, but gladdened by the vow.
Truly, it hadn't taken long before he found himself doting on the boy. His own sons and daughter were quite grown, and he had not realized how alive the Last Homely House was when little ones ran through its halls.
Something in the eyes of that two-year-old had spoken to Elrond's ancient soul, and he knew, somehow he was certain, that here was the man, the Numenorean, who would do what Isildur had failed to do. He had named the child Estel, and had kept his destiny secret, hoping to impart some short years of peace of mind and spirit, a time of easy smiles and easier laughter, before responsibility crashed down on his many times great-grandnephew.
He recalled the moments when he had told Estel his true name and destiny. His boisterous human son had grown quiet and thoughtful for a time, and Elrond had worried that he would never again see the carefree child he had grown to love behind those haunted eyes.
While, in many respects, that was true, there were moments when Estel came back to him–when he heard the deep, contagious human laughter mingled with its lighter elven counterpart, and he saw again the son he had reared. Often, now, that lighter elven laughter belonged to the Prince of Mirkwood.
Legolas Thranduilion had been a name to Elrond. He'd met the young elf before, but there was little mingling of elven realms, especially after Legolas' birth. After Elrond had failed to save Legolas' older sister from wounds she'd taken in an orc attack, and grief had taken his mother, Thranduil's own anger and grief had effectively cut Mirkwood off from both Imladris and Lothlorien. There had long been rumor that the Elves of Mirkwood discussed mass migration, each taking leave for Valinor when their Queen and Crown Princess had departed for the Halls of Mandos.
Elrond had been glad this had not happened. He recalled the bond of friendship Elladan and Elrohir had forged with Aglarelen and his brothers, but they had not often mentioned Legolas. There was quite the age difference between him and his older siblings, and Elladan had once remarked that the Littlest Prince's attachment to his oldest brother seemed stronger than it should have been. Elrond had assumed this was due to losing his mother and sister at such a young age. Legolas had been but 25 years oldthe human equivalent of perhaps 11 or 12, but having met both brothers he believed it was a much deeper bond, though tempered by the shared grief, the two would have been as close had their family remained intact.
Legolas had long been kept inside his father's palace, and rarely was permitted to leave palace grounds. Elrond knew this stemmed from Thranduil's desire to keep his youngest safe, especially since he so resembled his mother in both the physical and spiritual sense. He knew little then of Legolas' upbringing until one day when his son had met the youngest Prince of Mirkwood.
Their bond seemed strong. Elrond had seen them protect each other fiercely and knew that either would freely give his life for the other. He also knew that, were that ever to happen, the one left behind would be devastated beyond words.
Shaking himself from his thoughts, Elrond again checked his son's wounds. They were better, but the Ranger needed rest. He would recommend to the others that they travel only as far as need dictated today.
**
Aglarelen watched his brother from the boughs of the tree upon which he perched. Legolas sat upon a log fletching his arrows. So engrossed was he in the task that Aglarelen doubted he could see anything else.
Aglarelen had not been surprised at his brother's words the evening before. Legolas had long held strong beliefs about his own competence as a warrior, and who should or should not be protected. Even when his beliefs differed from those around him, like his father, Legolas would not back down in a war of words anymore than he would in a war of weapons.
Thoughts unbidden flooded the Crown Prince's mind, and he recalled meeting held in Thranduil's court some years back.
Flashback:
Several elves of some importance had thought to use Legolas' experiences to convince the Prince and his father to further isolate Mirkwood from the rest of Middle-earth, including Imladris and Lothlorien. The most exuberant with his opinions had spoken long and eloquently about the need for such isolation, and Legolas saw many heads at the council table nodding in agreement. Unable to hold his tongue, he had stood, his place at Oropherin's side with only his second oldest brother between himself and the King to left automatically giving him the floor. Aglarelen sat to his father's immediate right with Tarmathalion to Aglarelen's left. Thus, King Thranduil always insisted his sons sit at court to advise him, prominence given in order of conception.
Aglarelen's stared disbelieving at Legolas when he stood. His youngest brother rarely spoke at the councils preferring to defer to his brothers and father, never believing he would have cause to do more than listen and keep abreast of the situations. He gave what reports he was asked to provide, and never shirked any duty, but foolishly underestimated his own importance to his King and his people.
When Legolas stood, being such a rare occurrence, he commanded the attention of all present. "By what right, then, would we hide ourselves away when we could offer aid to the other realms of Middle-earth?" The Prince asked.
"By right of the Firstborn!" The elf, several millennia his senior, had declared vehemently before quite realizing he was speaking to royalty.
"So only the Firstborn are of any concern to us? Then what if Imladris and Lothlorien? Long have we remained separated from our kin! Long have we neglected the ties we feel to others of our people! Why should we not at the least ally ourselves with them?" Legolas waited impatiently for the answers he sought.
"The Elves of the other realms do not understand us! They are Noldor and Sindar and have turned their backs on the ways of Silvan elves!" The elf let his anger speak when he should have given more thought to his words, especially in the Royal Court.
"Your King is Sindar!" Legolas roared. The Lady Galadriel is Noldor, As are Lord Celeborn! And Lord Elrond!"
Thranduil watched his son, as surprised as Aglarelen was over his youngest son's vehemence on this issue, but then, Legolas had often spoken in private with his father over the need to send and request aid from the other elven realms. Those conversations had been quieter, more reflective, for Legolas' character was not given to unnecessary fits of pique. The King wondered at his son's temper, but thought it prudent to allow the youngest prince free reign to say what troubled him since this was the first such interest he'd shown in an issue brought before the council.
The elf dignitary saw his mistake at once. He should not have spoken ill of all Sindar as though they were dwarves. "Forgive me, Prince." He turned then to Thranduil. "Forgive me, my King. I meant no disrespect."
"What did you mean?" Legolas' question flew from his lips like an arrow from his bow, the aim just as good and just as deadly.
The elf turned back again to the prince. "I meant only to say that no one worries for Mirkwood, why should we worry for them."
"If that us what you meant, you are more a fool than I had thought!" Legolas snapped.
Thranduil cleared his throat and glanced at his son, obviously wishing to keep the debate as civil as possible. Legolas caught his eye and nodded, dropping the volume of his voice to a whisper so those in the room were forced to lean forward and then remain quite still to hear him properly, even with elven hearing.
"That is what you meant? For it sounded as though you believe Silvan elves to be somehow better than Noldor and Sindar elves." He shook his head sadly, and seemed to be momentarily distracted by something only he could hear. In a moment, he brought his full attention to the elf before him. "That would truly be a mistake, since, in the eyes of Iluvatar, we are all the Firstborn." He paused considering his next words and how best to make his point. "But that aside, am I to understand that you believe the Firstborn are superior to all others of Iluvatar's creation?"
The elf smiled, sure he was on safer ground. "Why, of course, my Prince!" The elf smiled, undoubtedly aware Legolas hated his title. "The Secondborn, the dwarves, none were meant"
Legolas had heard enough. "Watch what words you choose, for the wrong ones here will offend Iluvatar! You cannot think to know what He meant, nor indeed what the Valar intend! If Secondborn, Thirdborn of Afterthought are not welcome in this realm, perhaps, Oropherin, Tarmathalion, and myself would find ourselves better received in Lake Town!"
The elf stumbled over his words, uncomfortable with having been perceived as slighting the King's family. "That was not what I meant!" He turned desperate eyes on Thranduil, who only gazed at him thoughtfully, as though unconcerned with the spectacle playing out before his eyes. In truth, the King was distracted beyond words to hear his son refer to himself as an afterthought.
The elf turned again to the Prince, who still stood, irate and glaring at him. "Please, my PrinceI did not intend"
Legolas smiled. "Ahh! If you cannot even explain what you intend, how can you guess at Iluvatar's intention?" He sat then, as though the ire had drained him so much that he lacked the strength to stand as was often the case when he managed to become riled over something. He cast sad eyes on the elf with whom he'd argued.
"Your first words to your King today were that you believe we should not involve ourselves in matters not our concern."
The elf nodded.
Legolas returned the gesture. "Yes. And with this I will agree."
The elf looked confused for a moment, as did everyone else at the table.
Legolas released a heavy sigh. "But, I believe that any matter of great concern to our neighbors must be of equal concern to us. We are the Firstborn, and so upon us falls the greatest blessings, and the greatest responsibility. You propose we turn our backs on Middle-earth because we are leaving these shores." He looked with such intensity at the elf, that the elf looked away unable to bear it.
Thranduil was reminded of Galadriel just from the depth of sorrow in that stare.
"I tell you that is something I cannotI will not do. My love for them, for Middle-earth, would not allow such a thing. Regardless of that, it has long been my belief that what befalls the free people of Middle-earth cannot help but have some impact upon us all, even in Valinor." His voice had grown sorrowful and all who heard it could not but hear the truth in them.
End Flashback
Aglarelen had stared in wonder at his brother. He had seemed a different elf then. He still did not often take part in council meetings unless something drew his particular attention, but he paid much closer attention to the words that were uttered and what those words said or what they left unsaid. Legolas had become adept at wordplay then, keeping others in check with his quick wit and easy grasp of any given situation and his uncanny ability to sense what motivated those around him.
He had won that battle, and Thranduil had restored relation, albeit strained with the other elven realms.
Aglarelen looked back to his brother. Legolas was just finishing the work on his arrows, and rose. He headed towards Lord Elrond and Aragorn who seemed to be having a slight disagreement. Aglarelen saw his brother's smirk and needed no other reason to head in that direction himself.
Upon reaching the small group he realized Elrond wanted Aragorn to rest. Aragorn would not hear of delaying their trip towards Lothlorien no matter what the cause.
"Ada, I am well!"
"Aragorn! I have long been a healer, and my own counsel will I keep over who is well and who is not." He looked pointedly at his son, one eyebrow arching as he suppressed a smile. "And you are not."
Defeated, Aragorn hung his head.
Legolas laughed.
"You would not laugh so easily if it was you who was injured and over whom everyone hovered!" Aragorn declared. Only when the words had left his mouth and hung irretrievably in the air did he realize what he had said and to whom he had said it.
Legolas stiffened slightly, remembering his own conversation with his brother after the attack. He knew precisely how it felt when everyone hovered.
Aragorn looked at his friend. "I am sorry, mellonim"
Legolas waved away the words, determined not to take offense. "Nay. It is all right, Estel." He turned to leave, but Aragorn called him back, using a nickname he had used on only a few occasions and only in the happiest of circumstances. It was a name Legolas could not help but associate with friendship.
"FinlorI am sorry."
Legolas nodded. "I am well, Estel. I am not upset."
He walked away then, but Aragorn was not sure if his friend was being honest. Debating whether he should follow the elf, though he knew his father would not permit it, he was stopped only by Aglarelen's voice.
"Do not worry. He is well. I spoke to him last night. He does not enjoy being coddled, and it would be wise for us to remember that. If we do not, he will either be less himself when finally he is restored, or he will visit fierce retribution upon us!" Aglarelen laughed knowing his brother would find interesting punishments for them if he thought it necessary.
He sat then by Aragorn's side. "You called him Finlorgolden hairtell me why?"
Aragorn laughed. "I would have thought that was obvious."
"I ask why you have so named him for it seemed as though you have called him that before. None of my family, nor any other elf in Mirkwood, was ever permitted to call him anything but Legolas. Our mother named him that, and he would accept no other name, even in jest."
Aragorn had not known that. "He never said"
Aglarelen waved away the protest. "Ai! Do not worry yourself, Aragorn. If he was offended, he would not have accepted the name from you. Tell me why you call him that."
"It is a long tale" Aragorn began.
Flashback:
Estel sat near the Bruinen, the great River Loudwater that ran near Rivendell. So lost in though was he, that he heard no hint of danger until it was too late. With a great force shoving him from behind, he lost his balance and tumbled into the muddy banks of the Bruinen. Shaking mud off himself, he turned to see Elladan and Elrohir laughing at what damage they had wrought.
"Truly brother, you are a sight!" Elrohir laughed.
"And I am that sight thanks to you!" He wiped some mud from his face and flung it at his brother, who dodged the shapeless projectile easily.
The sound of laughter filled the air and Estel turned then to see Legolas. He glared at the laughing elf, but was secretly glad to see him up and about. With his brothers and father returned to Mirkwood, Legolas had grown accustomed to spending his time with Elrond's sons.
"Do not laugh so at my expense, for these two will be paid back for what they have done!"
"I doubt it not, mellonin!" Legolas exclaimed still laughing,
Elladan then threw a handful of mud at the distracted Estel catching him squarely in the face. The elves laughed again.
Estel laughed, too, as though greatly amused, then tackled Elladan dragging him into the mud as well.
Elladan sputtered. "Release me!"
"Nay! I think you should enjoy a bath in mud much more than you think! You should at least try!" He picked up a handful of mud and threw it at Elladan. Elladan, disgruntled at the sound of Elrohir's laughter turned to his twin. Elrohir sobered immediately, realizing just from the look on his face what he intended. "Do not do it, Brother!" Elrohir pleaded, but Elladan would not be stopped.
In moments the three brothers were a tangle of limbs as they struggled in the mud.
Legolas sat nearby laughing more heartily than he had in agesuntil the three struggling brothers ceased their struggles and launched themselves at the Prince. Legolas' eyes grew wide, and he scrambled to his feet, moving away from the three mud-soaked figures. "Do not! I will not be hurled into the mud!" Legolas distaste for such a thought was obvious and only made the brothers more determined. Though he struggled as well he could, the threesome easily overpowered him. He landed with a thud in the mud and was given no chance for respite before the brothers were upon him again rolling him over and over and rubbing great handfuls of the slimy mud into his formerly golden hair.
Weak with laughter and struggling for breath, the brothers finally released the prince, who was, by now, laughing himself.
"I cannot believe you did that!" Legolas stood slowly, shaking his hands in a futile effort to remove the mud from them. As he did so, he slipped, losing his footing in the shifting, slippery mud and landing hard on his backside. This elicited another wave of laughter from the brothers.
Standing again, he tried to get to dry land, away from the muddy banks, but again lost his footing from overmuch mud and laughter. Staying seated where he fell, he wiped at his face, squeezed his hair, and shook his legs, but all to no avail. His laughter melted away when he was unable to return at least to some semblance of himself.
Elladan and Elrohir were helpless with laughter. Estel approached his friend amidst their warnings. "Do not get too close, Estel! An angered member of Mirkwood's Royal family is capable of anything!"
Legolas smirked, but did little else.
When Estel out a tentative hand out to help Legolas stand, Legolas face twisted in disgust! "Filthy human!"
"Elf boy!" Estel replied.
"I am no boy!" Legolas declared.
"No, perhaps I should have said elfling!"
"I am no elfling, either!"
"Adar tells me you are the youngest elf in Middle-earth." Estel offered.
Legolas continued to glare at him. "Filthy human," he muttered again.
Finally getting to his feet, he startled Estel by heading towards the Bruinen and not away from its banks. "Legolas, where are you going."
"I have no intention of tracking mud through the Last Homely House, Estel."
The brothers exchanged glances. "Adar would not be happy if we did." Elladan admitted.
"No, certainly not." Elrohir agreed.
Estel followed Legolas to the water. Soon the four had washed most of the mud away, and the brothers returned to shore, surprised when they realized that Legolas had not followed and was indeed still immersing and reimmersing himself into the river's water.
"That is good enough, Legolas!" Elladan called to the Prince.
"Nay! I cannot abide the feel of mud in my hair!"
The trio watched while Legolas dunked his head again and again into the clear waters until he was at last satisfied that it was as clean as he could make it. Only then did he walk towards the shore, stopping when he saw that he would have to walk through the mudhole again to reach his friends. He hesitated a moment.
"There is no way around, Legolas, come through and we will return home where you can take a bath." Estel called to his friend.
Legolas glanced up then and smiled. With little effort and much grace, he swung up into the limbs of a tree whose branches hung low over the water. Effortlessly, he moved through the treetops and leaped down to land triumphantly upon the unmuddied ground.
The brothers glared at him. Elrohir turned to Elladan. "Why did we not think of that, brother?" His eyes were on his legs and shoes still covered in mud.
Elladan shrugged. "I do not know. Too long around a human I suppose!"
"Wait a minute! You cannot blame me!" Estel stared wide-eyed at his brothers.
"No, they cannot!" Legolas laughed. "In truth, the Noldor do not think like Woodland Elves! They have not the grace we have in the trees!"
Elladan smirked. "Prince or not, you cannot insult us like that!"
"Is it insult to speak the truth?" Legolas laughed leaping again into the treetops when Elladan lunged at him.
The Twins followed him, and Estel listened as the three elves laughed and chased each other, startled when Legolas again leaped downwards and landed easily inches from his human friend.
Elladan landed next, and armed with mud he'd removed from his own legs and shoes, hurled it at Legolas, who was busy trying to dodge a similar attack from Elrohir. Alas, the elf could not dodge both, and was soon splattered again with mud dripping down his long hair and onto his face.
A short inarticulate yell laced with disgust reached Aragorn's ears as the Prince swiped futilely at his hair. Estel laughed with abandon. "It is the mud in your hair you find so distasteful, is it not?"
Legolas did not respond.
Estel continued to laugh. "Do not worry, Legolas, we will take you back to Imladris where you may bathe to your heart's content! Your hair will be clean againFinlor!"
Legolas glared at his friend, while Elladan and Elrohir laughed at the Prince's unease. "Truly, Estel is right! Are all Woodelves so vain about their appearance, or is it peculiar to Mirkwood's royalty?"
Legolas threw a bit of mud at the brothers, though it fell short of its mark. "I know not of what you speak, my friends. I am not vain. I merely prefer to be clean, and if you think me too fastidious, perhaps that is only because you have all adopted the grooming habits of a filthy human!"
Indignant, Legolas returned to the water and washed his hair clean.
Estel laughed. "There it is! He could not wait for the long walk to Imladris! There is Finlor!"
This time they all laughed as they headed back to Imladris to face Elrond, who would undoubtedly have something to say about their appearance.
**End Flashback
Aglarelen laughed lightly. "I never realized there would be things about my brother that I do not know."
Aragorn smiled. "It may be that he sought not to offend you. Accepting a name from me and not from kin"
Aglarelen nodded. "Yes, he would think that way, would he not?" Aglarelen glanced around the camp, his eyes easily finding his brother. The amusing story Aragorn had told faded as he watched Legolas struggle to reach the lower branches of the beech tree by which he stood.
Elrond saw his distraction. "We will find a cure, Aglarelen."
Aglarelen nodded wishing he could believe that as strongly as Elrond did.
**
They answered the call of the Great Eye. Both were delighted at the opportunity to prove themselves to their master, for he had long expressed disappointment in their successes. Carefully they wrote their spells and laid their trap. Killing the ranger would be easy. The elves were no deterrent.
The pair laughed in unison as they did everything. A cold chill crept through the warm breezes of early summer, and it seemed the very soul of Arda shivered.
To Be Continued
Author's note: I know that was more of a flashback sort of a chapter, but I'm trying to build slowly to something. I hope you don't mind!
Strider's Girl: Thank you! I hope this doesn't disappoint!
Leggylover03: I am sorry this took so long, but I wanted to get it just right. I hope it was worth the wait! And there will be plenty more angst and pain before the story is over.
Xsilicax: See, you praised me for updating quickly and I fall behind! Sorry about that! Yeah, Legolas does need to learn to accept help more easily, but then, so does Aragorn! Besides, we wouldn't want to diminish the angst.
Tithen Min: Thanks! I'm glad you find my chapters gripping! That's a wonderful thing to hearread. ;)
Andmetwen: Tiny hint? Wellwithout giving anything away, I can tell you that Legolas will learn something from this.
Chloe Amethyst: The assumption of the elves was that Legolas, in the heat of battle, might forget what that he isn't an elf anymore, and that he might try to do something he's been doing in battle all his life, not be able to do it properly, and end up dead. Wow! Run on Sentence, much? LOL! I'm glad you like Legolas' family, and Aglarelen in particular. I've got another story about him and Legolas percolating in the back of my brain, and I might give that a try once I finish this one.
Padfoot4ever: hee! Thanks! I needed that!
White Wolf: Yeah! I agree! More elf angst! I'm pretty sure Aragorn will be fine. Legolas, toothough I guess that depends on my mood when I have to write it!
Sirithiliel: Thanks! I will! I have a good idea how everything will turn out, though I haven't quite worked out all the details!
Lady of Mirkwood: Thanks! I'm glad you like the mix!
Alivyan: Thank you for the review and for adding this story and my POTC fanfic to your favorite stories list! I love hearing things like that! You raise an interesting point that I had been pondering, but I was unsure how much I could heap upon poor Legolas without stretching credibility. I'll have to give this some thought.