See part one for disclaimer. Responses to reviews at end of chapter.
Encroaching Darkness Part 15
By Ecri
Legolas did not know how long he had screamed. The sight of Aragorn struggling against the hold of Alatar's blow stunned the Prince, and it wasn't until the blow was interrupted that Legolas abruptly cut off his cry. Gandalf unleashed his own energy upon the Blue Wizard surprising Legolas with the power of the blow. He had known Gandalf for a long time, especially as Aragorn would reckon such things, and he sometimes forgot the power of a Maia was masked behind the façade of a kindly old man.
Turning to his friend, Legolas moved to Aragorn's side. It was slow going, as he could not rise to his feet. On his knees, carefully trying to suspend his broken foot above the ground, and using one hand to maintain his balance–for the other was swollen and sore–he eventually reached the Ranger.
"Estel? Estel?" Legolas could say little else as his frantic eyes searched his friend's face for some sign of his condition. He reached out with his good hand, and touched Aragorn's face, tenderly wiping aside sweat and grime. Blood had stained Estel's clothing, and Legolas soon determined that it had come from a large lump at the back of his head. "Estel!" He cried again more urgently, hoping against hope that this was not as serious an injury as it looked.
To his relief, Aragorn's eyes blinked a few times and the Ranger looked up at him, obviously trying to focus. A look of grave concern crossed the young man's face. "Legolas, are you"
Legolas laughed, though it was more in relief than in joy. "Aragorn! Tell me you are not lying here half dead and asking after my own injuries!"
Seeing Aragorn's chagrinned smile, Legolas was about to laugh, when Aragorn's eyes slammed shut. A low moan of pain escaped him as he placed a hand to his head. Fear gripped Legolas' heart. The injuries Aragorn had already sustained would have been aggravated, perhaps, by the Wizard's last attack. If anyone had ever asked him if someone could survive an attack by an enraged Istar, he would certainly have said no. Could Estel be dying? He leaned closer to Aragorn, holding himself awkwardly as his own injuries hindered his movements.
"Estel!" He cried out in desperation, as he leaned close to his friend. He saw Aragorn take in a great gulp of breath. On his friend's exhale, he closed his own eyes, slightly relieved that his friend was still breathing. The relief barely registered with him when he realized he had inhaled something. Something touched the back of his throat, like dust on a hard, dry road. He tried to clear his throat. The feeling did not dissipate, and Legolas, having expelled as much air as possible, inhaled again.
It was then that he felt it. An odd sensation to be sure. First touching the back of his throat, but then it seemed so much more. It was as if something moved through his body. Like the feeling of drinking cool, clean water after hot, thirsty work when you can feel the lower temperature liquid as it makes its way down your throat and into your stomach. This time, however it went to the back of his throat and then seemed to spread throughout his body. The odd coolness coursed through him, but settled most securely at the back of his throat where he had first noticed it. Clearing his throat did nothing. He knew he was sitting staring at Aragorn with his mouth hanging open, but there seemed to be little he could do about it. The sensation seemed to affect how he thought. He felt sluggish and not himself. His limbs seemed heavier and more difficult to move.
Blinding pains in his head and heart struck him simultaneously, though he could not bring his body to respond. He heard a voice. It spoke to him in a menacing tone, and Legolas felt trapped within its power. It was then that Legolas, Prince of Mirkwood, understood the meaning of fear.
I would not have chosen you, Not-Elf! For I would spend eternity tormenting the Ranger! Mordor wants him! The Eye seeks him! In death I could have succeeded even where I'd failed in life! Ah, but the Ranger is weak! He dies!
Legolas looked at Aragorn suddenly desperate to see his friend and label such words false just as the presence in his mind made a sound like a sharp intake of breath.
It was then the pain left the elf, and the odd sensation dissipated. Aragorn's words reached him, and he realized his stillness had been mistaken for concern or fear.
"I am well, Legolas! It lasted but a moment!"
Legolas offered a tentative smile, but in that moment the sensation returned. This time it seemed much worse.
He thought he heard Aragorn as he spoke in fear. "Legolas, be still! You do not look well." Whatever Aragorn said, however, he could make no sense of the words. The strange coolness had spread more quickly than the last time.
Legolas had barely noticed Elrond fussing over Aragorn, and, when the Elf Lord looked him over, Legolas found he could not speak. He found he had not the energy to ask the many questions–mostly about Aragorn's condition–that rattled around in his head.
He did notice one hot tear as it left his eye, and nothing else reached him. He felt the pain, especially as Elrond bound his ankle, but it seemed different. At moments, twice as intense as it had been, and at other moments, as though the injured, heavy limb was not his own.
What are you? His thoughts screamed at the voice as it told him how it had not been able to gain a foothold in Aragorn's mind. Something had prevented the disembodied voice from tormenting the Ranger, so it had returned to the Prince. Perhaps Aragorn was dying. Fear spiked in his heart at such a thought.
He heard laughter. Maniacal. Evil. It was when the voice identified itself that it all made sense. I am Alatar! The First of the Blue Wizards! Hapless little not-elf! You came too close to the Ranger. When I could not take him, my spirit fled to find some other hold. To be trapped in the soul that took Pallando's lifeAlatar paused. Perhaps this is better. It whispered, though Legolas heard it just as clearly. It was more a shift in tone than volume. I will torment youand you will take the Ranger's lifeif nothing else, I will rob him of the last moments of his life! Then I can use you to spy upon the elves! Mordor will know all that the Prince of Mirkwood can glean about Middle-earth's hope to keep Sauron down! I will fulfill my purpose! Sauron will have his victory!
Legolas was aware of Gandalf as the Wizard helped him to rise. Ai! Mithrandir! Help me! His mind pleaded even as Alatar's laughter bubbled through his mind.
He cannot help you, Not-Elf!
Legolas ignored the words. He tried again and again to break the hold this voice had on him, horrified at times when, as it seemed to learn to control him, it would force him to stumble, or intensify his pain. He knew it was only a matter of time before Alatar gained the strength to make him raise his weapons against his friends. He might be the instrument of Aragorn's death, or of Mithrandir's. His heart skipped a beat. Alatar might try to use him to kill his father, or his brother!
He imagined being unable to restrain himself from delivering a fatal blow to either of them, and, as he heard Alatar's evil laugh, he wondered if those images had been planted in his mind by Alatar himself. Could he trust any thought he had? Could he tell the difference between himself and Alatar, or, over time, would such distinctions blur until, just as he was Not-Elf, he would be Not-Legolas? Not-Alatar? Would he be nothing but some strange combination of himself and the other?
He lost track of everything around him. It was as though he were a passenger inside himself and Alatar was in command. Soon, he felt Gandalf ease him to the ground, though could not say how far they had traveled.
I will have you, Not-Elf! I grow stronger by the moment. There is nothing you can do unless I allow it!
Legolas, tired of the torment by now, concentrated all of his effort on proving Alatar wrong. I will never do your bidding! Least of all if you bid me hurt my friends!
After what felt like forever, he thought he felt a muscle twitch in the arm he'd tried to move. Forcing back any feeling of triumph in case Alatar could sense it somehow, he concentrated on movement that might rid him of this malevolent presence. In moments, he had somehow regained himself. Thinking for some reason of the way he'd felt, and how he'd assumed Alatar had entered him, he thought the only way he might remove the spirit Wizard was by force.
In a sudden and completely successful move, he threw himself to his knees and one hand. He raised the other and forced it violently down his own throat hoping somehow to dislodge this enemy.
The trembling, the heavingit would be worth it if he could
The pain was intense as the Wizard held onto him seeming to hold him with claws of steel and laughing at him. You cannot dislodge me in such a way, Not-Elf!
Legolas tried again, feeling the heaving slow, he tried to force his hand down his own throat once more. That was when he felt his hand holding onto something firm. His own hand was clutched tightly around someone's arm. His back arched again as the heaves continued. A few moments more and he slumped exhausted into Elrond's and Gandalf's arms. He thought he felt a hand on his forehead, but then he knew no more.
**
King Thranduil walked more swiftly than was his wont. Dressed for riding, he'd left behind the robes of his office as he met the Captain of the Guard. The Captain fell into step beside his Sovereign and easily kept pace.
"Is all prepared?" Thranduil asked.
"Yes, My Lord. The escort is awaiting your arrival." The Captain glanced at his King.
Thranduil saw the look, but did not comment. He had kept his own counsel about this trip. How could he do otherwise? His slumber had been disturbed lately by dreams of his sons. He had been prepared for such a thing, but it was the waking dreams that had spurred him to action.
The first had taken place mere days ago–though to Thranduil, it seemed an age. He had been eating his dinner, when he had seen, quite vividly, Aglarelen screaming. Whether he had been injured or had been screaming in outrage because of something that had befallen him or Legolas, he could not tell. The vision had remained with him. When it had happened a second time, he had tried to discern more information, but he could not. He saw very little. His son's surroundings were a blur.
That he had not seen Legolas at all troubled him deeply, but if it had not been for the vision he'd seen last night, he might not have reacted by gathering his warriors and embarking on this journey. Just after his evening meal, he'd retired to his rooms only to see Aglarelen once more. This time, he saw a defiance in his son's eyes, and his sword, drawn and ready, dripped blood
Thranduil knew the journey his son's had undertaken to Lothlorien could hold some danger. Travel anywhere in Middle-earth was hardly safe these days. It was impossible, however, to ignore this vision in light of the fact that he had heard his Greenleaf call to him as well.
He would ride. He would ride hard. Perhaps he would be too late to offer much help, but even if there was naught he could do but hold his sons as they breathed their last, that was what he would do.
He reached the courtyard where his Guard had gathered to wait for him. One warrior stood slightly apart holding Thranduil's horse, which waited impatiently. Thranduil slipped easily onto the animal's bare back, and after whispering a word or two in his mount's ear, turned to his Guard and signaled for them to ride. As he left the palace grounds, his mind held but one thought. I am coming, my sons.
**
Glorfindel and Haldir walked side by side in the lead, having refused to allow Celeborn and Galadriel to enter the dark, forbidding cavern first. The horses had been left outside with a small guard who had been ordered to set up a small comfortable camp and prepare water, food, and medicines to receive wounded.
Haldir had ordered some of his warriors to walk close to the Lord and Lady, and, the deeper the moved into the cave, the more he knew it was necessary. A forbidding presence permeated the very air, and Haldir found himself twice as alert in response. They knew little about what they would face. Elladan and Elrohir had told them of Gandalf's quick departure in pursuit of Lord Elrond, Aragorn, and Legolas. Galadriel and Celeborn believed the danger they had been chasing centered around this trio, but Haldir could tell, from long experience with the Lady, that there was more that she knew.
Haldir caught the line of sight of the archer who stood closest to the Lady, the two traded hand signals with the ease of long experience. The short exchange would be meaningless to any observer who was not a warrior from Lorthlorien, but it was a reassuring exchange to Haldir. The Lord and Lady, whether they would have it so or not, would be protected with the lives of every warrior present.
They walked a short distance more before Galadriel's steps slowed to a halt. The Lady turned to her husband. "They are close, butdanger lingers."
Celeborn nodded, and looked to Haldir. Haldir turned to Glorfindel. He would defer to the most revered of warriors–the Balrog Slayer–if he felt he could direct this group more efficiently, but Glorfindel merely acknowledged Haldir's gesture and indicated he should continue as he saw fit. Heartened by the vote of confidence, he and the Guard moved quickly and silently through the cavern still searching for their friends.
**
Celeborn spoke in hushed tones to his wife. "Have you any sense that they are well?"
Galadriel considered her words carefully as she always did when discussing visions and foresight. She looked at him then, sadness in her eyes that touched her soul. "There is danger. More than that I cannot tell."
Celeborn nodded. He had not truly expected there would be more. Foresight was often less specific that would be helpful, and his wife, the most prescient of elves he had known, was always careful about discussing it.
He watched his wife as they continued through the cavern. So intent was he on this self-appointed task, that he almost missed the sound. The only light within was what they themselves carried. He carried one torch himself, Prince Aglarelen carried another, and several of the other elves carried enough so that the darkness did not overwhelm them. By the light, he examined the surroundings as well as he could, but he could find nothing that might have made the sound.
They continued to walk, and as they did, he noticed that Haldir was giving signals to the others. He had heard the sound as well. He was about to speak to Haldir when the sound repeated louder. Galadriel stopped walking. Her eyes widened, though she gave no other indication that anything had happened.
Celeborn took a step closer to her side and eased his sword from its scabbard.
Galadriel closed her eyes, and Celeborn waited for some word from her, silent or spoken, that she could identify what they'd heard. He did not wait long. Her eyes snapped open, and she put out a hand to clasp his arm knowing instinctively where he was though she had not looked for him.
"He is here."
"Who?" Celeborn kept his voice as soft as hers had been.
"He comes. The Wizard"
When she broke off, Celeborn could not keep silent. "Gandalf?"
"Nay. Not The Gray."
"Who then? The Brown? The White? The Blue?"
"I sense but one. He is nearby." She gestured to the left, and the group moved on a few feet noticing that a passage branched in that direction.
Celeborn looked his wife in the eye.
She nodded. "We must go that way."
The group took that passage with Galadriel urging caution. The warriors kept their weapons at the ready and Celeborn stretched his acute senses to their limits hoping for some sign of what his wife had seen.
They'd been walking very long indeed when he saw a slight glow in the distance as of a torch being held in a trembling hand. He pointed this out, unnecessarily, to the others, and they moved quickly and quietly to find the source of such light.
The closer they came, the more they heard. Sounds, as of a creature in great pain, reached their sensitive ears. Celeborn halted them when a particularly loud, soul-shattering sound reached them.
Without warning, orcs surged through the passage where the light originated. Backlit against the flickering glow, the dark creatures bellowed their anger at having found so many of the Firstborn among them. Bloodlust for the beings they considered their greatest enemies upon them, they threw themselves at the elven warriors
Celeborn had no need to issue many orders. All present knew the need. Kill or be killed. Celeborn took a step nearer to the side of his Lady, noting that Galadriel was more than holding her own against one or the foul beasts already.
He stood with his back to hers trusting Haldir would do what he could to keep her safe as well. He raised his own blue-glowing blade and sliced the air before him before the sword bit deep into the flesh of a particularly hideous orc. It still seemed to laugh, hatred obvious in its eyes, as it fell lifeless to the ground.
The clang of blade against blade filled the narrow cavern as the elves fought. Celeborn glanced to his right to see Aglarelen lost in a battle frenzy. The Crown Prince seemed barely aware of himself so intent was he upon the orcs that stood before him.
Celeborn's eyes were drawn away then as another of the fell creatures appeared before him. More cunning than the others, it feinted several times, drawing Celeborn's attention more and more completely into the immediate fight.
When he finally dispatched the unfortunate orc, he became aware that he no longer felt his wife's presence at his back. Turning, he saw Galadriel, Aglarelen, and one of his grandsons racing ahead through the corridor to the left.
He had not time to ponder their destination as he once again came face to face with the grim ghouls of Mordor.
**
Aglarelen fought as he often had in Mirkwood. The forest he had loved and protected all his long life had become darker and more dangerous in these later years. To his great regret, he often doubted Legolas could recall the time when Mirkwood had been Greenwood the Great. No warrior of Mirkwood was inexperienced when it came to fighting orcs, spiders, or even the occasional warg.
When he'd first realized the orcs were approaching, he'd known the Lord Celeborn's first impulse would be to protect Galadriel. He recalled seeing his own father and mother once fight in much the same way: Back to back, swords in hand. It was a memory he had once hoped his youngest brother would never experience, though through the lightening of Mirkwood–a beating back of the encroaching darkness–rather than through the death of their dear Naneth.
Raising his sword, Aglarelen parried blow after blow as the orcs pressed the advantage of their greater numbers. Their delight at having caught the elves mingled with their inherent hatred for them, and the orcs fought as though possessed.
Aglarelen saw Haldir dispatch several before going to Glorfindel's aid. The older Elf seemed slightly dazed, as did Elrohir. He and Elladan stood also back to back as their grandparents did, but Elrohir's usual sharp, graceful movements seemed slightly slower than normal. Certainly they were slightly slower than Elladan's. Aglarelen had little time to ponder such a thing as the press of orcs increased. They flooded the cavern with their hideous cries, which echoed off the walls making them seem greater in number than the dozens the elves already faced.
In a move born of instinct and experience, Aglarelen brought his sword up and over with his right hand, even as his left fist swung out to the opposite side, smashing into one orc who'd apparently thought he could take the Crown Prince unawares. Perhaps assuming, wrongly, that the darkness of the cavern would hinder Aglarelen's peripheral vision, the look on his face as Aglarelen smashed into it was frozen for an instant in gleeful anticipation.
The battle wore on, and the elves, greatly outnumbered, sought some way to bring it to an end. Aglarelen was startled then by a gentle touch on his arm. Turning his head, he saw Galadriel, a grave look of concern on her face. As she spoke, the fight, the darkness, the orcs and even the other elves, faded from his notice.
"The Greenleaf is in need of your help, Aglarelen. Go to him."
Aglarelen felt despair in his heart. "How? I know not where he is!"
The Lady merely took his hand and moved with a new speed and purpose through the dark corridors ignoring the fight that raged on around her.
Aglarelen followed so closely that a few times, he seemed to be overtaking her. Frantic with fear for his brother, he could only hope they would reach him soon. He glanced at Galadriel from time to time as they raced through the cavern, but he dared not ask what she had seen. He whispered a prayer to Iluvater, and then added, as though his brother might somehow hear him, "Hold on, my brother. I am coming for you."
**
Galadriel saw her husband stop in his advance down the corridor and, following his gaze, knew moments before he did what had come. She took her position at his back, sword raised, eyes full of their usual grace and sorrow, but now touched by determination. She had fought orcs before and knew she would fight them again. She had long believed it unlikely that she would ever be free of the possibility of such a fight so long as she remained in Middle-earth.
She saw, though only her subconscious was aware, her husband as his powerful arm sliced his elven blade through the neck of one large orc. Its decapitated head flew from its body with such force that her elven hearing recognized the sickening splat of it hitting the wall. Celeborn continued to fight, as did they all.
She turned once toward Aglarelen when her own immediate foes had been dispatched as messily as had her husband's and saw the Crown Prince smash his fist into the face of one orc, who, befuddled by the blow, slipped unconscious to the ground.
Turning aside, she saw her grandsons. Elladan had somehow managed to maneuver Elrohir so that, for a moment, though they stood back to back, Elrohir faced no opponent. He was instead allowed a moment's respite as he found the fell creatures beyond his reach.
She knew they would look after each other, and was gladdened by the thought, but it was concern for them as well as for Arwen that distracted her long enough so that she could whisper a simple prayer that they would find Elrond alive and well.
Raising her blade once more, she felt her limbs stop in mid swing. There was a cry for help! She had heard it clearly. Great danger, and the presence of evil made her shudder. The voice was young, but not elven. Still, the timbre and tone of that voice seemed almost familiar. Almost. Taking a great risk, she glanced around, noting the position of each orc before closing her eyes. It took but a second to find the cry again. The voice was different, but the same. The heart that called for help likely did not realize its cry could be heard. It was Legolas. The young prince's voice sounded more human than it should, but the Lady of the Wood had expected that after what Aglarelen had said. Thoughts of the Crown Prince forced Galadriel to seek Aglarelen with her eyes. Finding him, like herself, momentarily without an opponent, she moved with haste to his side and placed a hand gently upon his arm.
"The Greenleaf is in need of your help, Aglarelen. Go to him."
She saw despair blossom in his eyes and knew his greatest fear was to Legolas–especially through his own inability to protect his younger brother. "How? I know not where he is!"
The Lady wanted nothing more than to stay by her husband and grandsons while this battle yet raged, but she knew, somehow–though she had not before–how to find the young prince. She would take Aglarelen to his brother, and perhaps then, the two of them could offer aid against this evil she'd sensed.
Grasping his hand, she moved swiftly through the cavern, her own elven light growing stronger as they moved through the darkness.
To Be Continued
TrinityTheSheDevil: Here's the next chapter! Elrond will be right over once he's sure Aragorn is okayI guess that might take awhile. I have the next chapter moving right along, so I'll try to get that posted ASAP! I promise!
Deana: Eeek! You're both gonna freeze! We're expecting some messy weather tomorrow. I've got the next chapter nearly ready! Take care out there!
Gwyn: That was purposefully vague. I intended to have the explanation in chapter 14, but it ended up being in 15. I hope all is clear now.
Elven Kitten: Absolutely! There's no way he can keep that vow. Someone's gonna have to break it to him! Angst to come!
Leggylover03: More Gandalf to come! As for Aragorn, he's not really thinking too clearly. Bump on the head and all that. Concussions fuzz your thinking.
Silvertoekee: Yes, Elrohir and Glorfindel are not themselves. More about why to come. Aragorn will likely suffer more from his injuries.
Templa Otema: Yes, thanks! I understood you just fine! There will be lots more about Legolas and Aragorn and their respective injuries. Evil foreshadowing is part of it in this sort of a story. (At least it is for me!)
Fire Eagle: Thanks! There's more angst to come!
Tychen: Aragorn forgets things like that. He's intent on saving Legolas physically. He doesn't keep in mind that elves can die of a broken heartof course, with Legolas not being an elf, maybe he thinks there's a way around it.
Grumpy: As you can see, the Blue Wizards aren't exactly gone. I still haven't gotten anyone out of the tunnels though. Soon, I promise.
Catherinexxix: I'm glad this is keeping you guessing! How about now? (Hee!) Queen of Angst? Why thank you! How nice! Royalty at last!
Sirithiliel: Fast enough? No? I thought not. More to come soon.
Cosmic Castaway: I'm glad you found the story. I have a theory that my summaries don't draw enough people to my fics. I'm working on that. I'm glad you're enjoying this. I do intend to finish it!
Strider's Girl: There is still evil lurking! Hee! I'm glad you like the descriptions and that you like how I've shown Legolas to be human. More to come! As for the cure to regain his elvishnessyou'll have to keep reading! I'd tell you what Aragorn's going to do, but that would ruin the suspense!
White Wolf1: I have trouble thinking of him as anything but an elf, too! It makes it hard to refer to him because I can't call him an elf! Yes, more soon!
Isadora2: Technical troubles are soooo irritating! Thanks for sticking with it! I'm glad you loved the chapter. I'm sticking with the alternating perspectives because the story became so much easier to tell once I did that. More soon, I promise!