See part one for disclaimer. Responses to reviews at end of chapter.
Author's Note: I use some elvish in this chapter, some of which I lifted from the scripts of the films. Other phrases I pieced together using a dictionary or a website. If any elvish scholars see that I'm wrong, forgive me, and e-mail a correction to me! Thanks!
Encroaching Darkness Part 22
By Ecri
Lord Celeborn watched with a heavy heart as Elrond, Thranduil, and the two Wizards argued over Legolas and Estel. He wished little more than to be able to help the pair himself, and some part of him sought a hint in his long memory that this–whatever it was–could be undone. His interest in Estel had grown over the years, and had, of course, reached its pinnacle when he'd learned of Arwen's love for the man. His wife had shared with him some small thoughts on the destiny of him she named Elessar, yet, from what he could see in the depths of her eyes, she withheld much.
Elessar–the name seemed to fit the Ranger, yet, Celeborn knew without being told that the man ran from his own destiny. Always when Galadriel mentioned Estel, it was as though she knew of some choice the man might face, some decision that could lead him to salvation or damnation. Celeborn knew, also without being told, that Galadriel feared he would choose the road to damnation, though, against all reason, she clung to hope.
Hope. Celeborn would have laughed outright at the thought in other circumstances, but instead relished the notion that, in a moment either of insight or whimsy, Elrond had given a two-year-old Aragorn the elvish name Estel. Hope indeed, for he inspired such in many hearts. In the hopeless–those who would soon leave Middle-earth unable to remain within the growing shadow– and in the hopeful–those who, though imbued with that singularly optimistic emotion, could now point to Estel and say, 'There, see! It is he who will restore Middle-earth!'
Which thought, of course, brought him to Legolas. Ever hopeful, ever faithful, the youngest prince of Mirkwood had not been overlooked by Galadriel and Celeborn. News traveled, though not swiftly, between elven realms, and they had learned much of Legolas. His love for Mirkwood's trees–indeed for all of Arda–, his indefatigable faith and loyalty–these things had brought the young prince to Galadriel's attention and ever had she kept some eye on his future. She had not been at all surprised to learn that he and Estel had become fast friends. Celeborn's initial surprise had been at the thought that a son of Thranduil's–an elf who was, to say the least, biased against all things not elven–would befriend a human. The notion had melted away when he considered the dispositions of the elf and the man.
Legolas was young as elves would reckon such things, and Estel was young as those of his kind might consider him, but both were of that age to others of their race where they could be expected to make their own paths in life. Legolas' path had become irrevocably entwined with Estel's. The two would remain steadfast friends for the rest of their days.
If their days extended beyond this one, Celeborn thought as he looked again to the two. Both seemed in pain, and both seemed unable or unwilling to wake. Gandalf had told them that Estel seemed to have lost that spark within him that made him who he was, but Celeborn could not help but think that, perhaps, it was not irretrievably gone.
His thoughts were interrupted by the pleading of Thranduil for Saruman to speak of Legolas' condition. Celeborn could not say why, but the sight of Saruman kneeling beside the young prince and placing his slender hands on each side of Legolas' face had stilled his breath. Why he should sense a danger of any kind from the White Wizard Celeborn would later force himself to examine. For now, however, he was unable to stop himself from stepping closer to the youngest of his kin.
Legolas writhed on the ground as though in great pain, and one hand came up to his face to tug to no avail at the Wizard's hands. Legolas' other hand still held firm in a white-knuckled grip to his dear friend.
Celeborn glanced at Galadriel, but his wife for once did not return his worried look. Instead she stared at the Greenleaf, her eyes haunted, and her attention far from that which her eyes beheld. He had seen this before. She was having a vision. Some instant of foresight unveiled itself before her eyes. He watched her carefully, ready to spring to her aid if she were in need.
**
Glorfindel issued orders to the perimeter guards as the huddled group of healers, Wizards, and family looked after their two most severely injured members. The ancient elf easily claimed responsibility for the safety of those with whom he traveled, for in the mundane tasks of setting watches and discussing their route, their supplies, and the possibility of fair skies or rain, he found before him something he could control. His contributions might be small in matters of the veiled workings of body and mind, but in action, in preparation for action, he was in his element.
Lord Elrond often told him he was too diligent in the responsibility he had taken upon himself to keep the Lord of Imladris and his family safe, but Glorfindel found he could do little else. He believed that each soul created in Middle-earth by Blessed Eru, whether mortal or immortal, had one true task assigned to them. He had decided that the only task remaining to him was to look after the Peredhel and his kin.
Glorfindel had seen what Celebrian's decision to leave Middle-earth for the Undying Lands had done to Elrond. The parting had not been easy, and the Lord of Imladris, though pleased his wife had chosen life and not the Halls of Mandos, had not adjusted easily to the separation. Indeed, he had grieved for so long, many believed he would leave for the White Shores of Valinor soon thereafter. Glorfindel had vowed, to himself since Elrond would likely not have accepted such a promise, that while he dwelt in Middle-earth Elrond and his sons and daughter would be safe.
Unable to help Elrond in healing either Estel or Elrohir, he found himself taking the responsibility of insuring that they were safe from orcs, wargs, wolves, or other such attackers. It was not much, he knew, but it was one less worry his Lord would need to bear.
Of course, he also kept an eye upon Elrohir. The youngest twin seemed much the same as he was at the moment. The severity of the condition seemed to fluctuate, and Glorfindel wished to ask Elrohir if it were the same with him. At the moment, he found himself feeling nearly normal, but he knew from experience that this could change without warning.
Elrohir seemed equally unaffected as he sat with Elladan. Both looked towards their father hoping, no doubt, to discern some hint of their brother's and Legolas' condition. He moved towards them, hoping to be certain Elrohir was as well as he seemed. Elladan, he noted had cast more than one furtive glance in his twin's direction, obviously seeking to know the same.
Glorfindel seated himself in front of the twins. "I have set the hunting detail for tomorrow, but you are both excused." He had expected some protest, but Elladan was too worried for both his brothers and his friend to give him more than a slight nod. Elrohir didn't seem to hear.
Glorfindel stared at him in concern and saw Elrohir's shoulders tense as he spoke. "What is Saruman doing?"
Glorfindel did not know why such words would trouble him, but he immediately turned towards Saruman his hand drifting towards the hilt of his sword. Chagrined by such an unnecessary move in the presence of friends, he deliberately moved his hand away and studied Saruman's actions to discover what had so upset Elrohir.
Saruman knelt by Legolas' side, his hands clasped to the prince's face. Legolas had brought one hand up as though to move the grip aside, but it was his injured wrist, and the prince could do little to force Saruman's touch away.
Glorfindel stood and took a step forward some part of him noting that the twins did the same. Another step, then another and when he was but a few paces from Saruman, a wave of dizziness nearly swept him off his feet. He brought a hand to his head and took several halting steps backward. As suddenly as it had hit him, the dizziness evaporated. He shook his head and turned to Elrohir and Elladan. Elladan was supporting his brother, who held a shaky hand to his head.
Glorfindel scowled. He was a patient elf, but this weakness that assailed him seemed intent on keeping him from his duty. He would not tolerate it. Taking Elrohir by the arm not already in Elladan's possession, he dragged the pair away. They would uncover the cause of these odd spells and they would do it now.
**
Galadriel saw Saruman lay his hands upon the prince's face, and in that precise moment the vision came. She saw a tower of black stone, walls insurmountable, unassailable, and impenetrable. She saw the Greenleaf leaning upon it, raging against it and calling toElessar!
The prince had found a way to reach his friend. How he could do so, she did not know. No longer an elf and no longer possessing the innate talents of the Eldar, how had he managed to reach a soul so tortured that it hid itself so well? That Elessar had hidden his spirit behind this wall she knew by instinct. She sensed no spell had done this to him, but what sort of an attack would force the man to such extremes?
Aside from that question, she could not help but ponder Legolas' success where Elrond and Gandalf had failed. She had long watched this particular elf. She had long been impressed by his gentle and willing love of all things on Arda. No less was she enamored of his manner, his faith, and his trust, which, once given–no easy task for a child of Mirkwood and a son of Thranduil!–was as unassailable as the walls behind which Elessar hid.
It was, perhaps, his very nature. His faith in his friend made him willing–and able–to follow whither Estel would go, even were that a place deep inside himself. It was a question she would contemplate with her husband later. She watched the prince plead with his friend to tear down the walls that held him, and, before she could learn Estel's answer, she felt the vision leave her.
She knew from long experience the futility in railing against such a thing. She had been gifted with a glimpse and nothing more. It would have to be enough.
She looked to her husband, who had come to her side while she was lost to the vision. "My husband, we would do well to fortify their strength."
He joined her and together they approached the Ranger and the Prince.
**
Aragorn heard his friend's words, but could find no way to tear down the fortress he had built. Knowing this was in his mind and not a physical place did nothing to lessen the strength of the walls. If anything, he felt less in control for he could think of no way to unmake what he had made.
When his cry for Legolas was answered, his heart had leapt in unrestrained relief and joy. Knowing he was not alone–never alone!–he had calmed enough to look at his problem as just that. A problem. One that had a solution however hidden it might be.
It was when he felt Legolas' presence wrenched from him that the panic returned. "LEGOLAS!" He screamed again. Unwilling to wait for a reply, he began to pound on the walls that caged him.
Legolas would not leave him by his own volition, of that, he was certain. His friend's departure had been sudden, almost violent, which hinted that he was being attacked.
Aragorn would not leave Legolas to face danger without him! Once again he called to his friend and beat against the walls. After a few moments, he realized that Legolas' presence was not wholly gone from him. He felt it there, at the edge of awareness. It was a tenuous hold to be sure, but it was nearby. Willing Legolas to feel his own presence, he stopped battering the obsidian barrier before him.
"Legolas, mellonin, whatever torments you, you are not alone!" Aragorn stared at the walls of his own making and knew only that they stood now in his way. It was a stronghold no longer. It was an obstacle. With no more thought than that, he watched in amazement as the wall began to crumble.
Aragorn again pounded the walls, urging their destruction. When finally a hole appeared, he squeezed himself through it, and ran towards the presence he still sensed. There he found his friend.
"Legolas! Telin le thaed!" (I've come to help you!) He cried out the words, willing some response from the Prince.
Legolas seemed no more than a crumpled heap upon the ground. His eyes were open as though in elvish sleep, but that could not be so. He moaned as though in some pain, and one hand pulled as though to tug something from his face. The other hand touched what remained of the black wall Aragorn had built. An instant before Aragorn could think of any way to aid his friend, Legolas' body shook violently, and a scream of outright terror slipped through his lips.
Aragorn clutched at his friend in a blind panic. He seized the Prince's hands. "Legolas!" Frantic eyes scanned the pale face before him, but he was at a loss. The healer in him could find nothing to treat, and the warrior in him could find nothing to combat. In desperation, he held tightly to his friend, letting him know he was not alone, and hoping fervently that he would find some way to help.
**
Legolas heard Estel's call, but he could not make himself answer. He felt the touch of hands upon his face, gentle the hands seemed, but it was a caress full of malice and machinations. Dark thoughts hidden behind a light façade seemed only to increase the Shadow–as light often will. The soft touch of the cold flesh upon his face seemed a cruel mockery of the loving caresses he had received from his father in the past, and he could not help but recoil from it seeking comfort and some shield behind which to hide in his memory.
The moment he retreated to his immortal memories, however, he felt a growing hunger in he who touched him. The touch seemed more fierce and more intent upon seeing where Legolas would go. The realization made him falter. His instincts were no help here, for instinct drove him to seek the very thing this being seemed to want. He heard Estel again, and though the presence strengthened him, he dared not let memories of his friend drift through his mind. He had no way of knowing which memories thiswanted from him. He shunned all thought, forcing his mind to remain blank. When some stray memory or notion would come to his mind, he shoved it viciously as far from himself as he could.
It was then that the touch became unbearable. Perhaps angered by not gaining whatever it sought, the touch tightened, and, Legolas knew, it was around his very soul that he who touched him sought to wreak its revenge. Legolas sensed a growing hatred already as wide as all of Arda.
He heard Estel's voice then, loud, insistent. Estel resorted to a tone of equal parts protectiveness and outrage that the human used when one he loved was threatened. "Legolas! Telin le thaed!" (I've come to help you!)
Legolas was heartened by the call, and felt his friend's presence coming closer to him, but he stubbornly kept his mind blank. Knowing he could not communicate with his friend if he remained so, he still dared not give this evil Shadow what it sought.
The Shadow, incensed by its failure to take what it wanted, muttered a single word. Die. Legolas did not have time to wonder what was about to happen. The moment the word resonated in his mind, he felt his body begin to shake. Unable to still his limbs, he convulsed, his muscles moving in opposition to each other until his entire frame was a quivering, trembling mass. A wordless cry was torn from his throat and Legolas Thranduilion could do nothing but make his peace. He knew the Shadow would have its way. He was about to die.
In that moment, he heard Estel pleading with him to stay. Estel! His friend more than lived up to his name, and hope bloomed in Legolas' heart and mind. The human's hands gripped him fiercely and he recalled his own insistence that Estel would be well echoed in his friends unfaltering notion that Legolas would recover from this attack.
**
Aragorn clung desperately to his friend, seeking some sign in Legolas' face that all would be well. He knew that Legolas had somehow come to him though he'd felt no others even approach his cage of stone, and he knew that Legolas' belief in him, in Eru, and indeed in all the elves with whom they traveled could not be shaken. It was this faith he called on now. "Dartha an nin, Legolas!" (Stay with me, Legolas!)
Legolas shifted, his tremors lessening as though in response to Aragorn's words, but he made no reply. In a flash of intuition, Aragorn knew–without knowing how he knew–that his friend faced the foul fiend whose attack had caused him to raise the stony shields he had only just managed to tear down. Fear gripped his heart, but he allowed it no hold. Leaning close to Legolas' ear, he whispered in elvish, whatever words he thought might lend Legolas strength.
**
Saruman knew as he took the now human prince of Mirkwood in his hands that he would need to control himself. He wished at one time to possess this elf, but had instead taken his elvish nature from him. He would gladly restore what he had stolen if he could find a way to claim this prince for his own. He wondered what sort of affect the potions and spells he held in secret might have on so fine a specimen, and his desire to learn this almost overwhelmed his reason.
With effort, he put such thoughts aside. His desire to steal Legolas away entirely and subject him to the trials of his laboratory could not be denied, but he knew it was not to be. At least not now. The young prince must, however, be torn from his protection of the Ranger. Only then would he be able to kill the human. There was also a danger, however slight that, if the pair somehow realized who was behind this, he might be exposed for his plots and all would be in ruin. He would have to tread carefully to keep his identity secret.
It occurred to him as he touched the smooth, youthful skin, that he might yet gain confirmation of the Ranger's identity, for surely two beings as close as these seemed to be would have shared such secrets. He reached out to touch the mind that was laid before him like a feast upon a King's table and allowed himself the pleasure of experiencing the young one's fear. The creature recoiled from his touch! It was a satisfying experience. When he reached to take what he wanted, however, he had barely a moment to glimpse a memory, and certainly not time enough to interpret it, before it was torn from him.
This was unfathomable! Thranduil's stripling barred his way! He could not conceive how this could be so! His power should have easily overwhelmed any defenses this maddening fool could conjure! With great force of will, Saruman calmed his racing mind, and sought some solution to this quandary. He tried several spells, rattling them off and assessing what little they accomplished. Seeing no alternative and enraged beyond reason, he spoke one word directly into the cursed prince's mind. Die. It robbed him of any chance of someday finding this young prince at his mercy in his laboratory, but so be it. His pleasures would be sacrificed for the greater purpose of his long-term plans.
It was a small matter to disrupt the creature's bodily systems. He watched then, as close as he dared, waiting to feel the moment of death before he would severe his connection.
Once bereft of the somehow sustaining presence of Legolas Thranduilion, the young Ranger would die as well. He would see to it.
**
Aglarelen could not help but flinch when Legolas began to struggle against Saruman's touch. He reasoned with himself that the White Wizard was seeking only to help his brother, but his heart would not heed the advice of reason and logic. It knew only that his dearest brother suffered, and it urged him to cut that suffering short.
For a moment, the Crown Prince was mesmerized, obsessed by the White Wizard's hands. He watched as they rested lightly on his brother's face. Slender fingers with long, pointed fingernails discolored by work or toil, they seemed the sort of hands that could command the very elements to bend to their master's will. He knew you could not see such a thing, but they looked cold, hard, and somehow calculating. He saw some fingers hovered just at the surface of his brother's skin and others sat heavily upon it.
Gripped by the horrifying image of those hands drawing the very life from Legolas' no longer immortal soul, he took a step nearer the Wizard, intending to tear him bodily away from his brother, but Saruman turned to face him halting him in his tracks.
"You must allow me to work. I mean only to aid your brother."
Aglarelen retreated a step and, though his heart remained uneasy, it also obeyed his mind. Why had he assumed the Wizard would hurt Legolas? He shook his head hoping only to clear it, but just then Legolas began to tremble. Aglarelen tried desperately to accept his brother's obvious discomfortno! He berated himself for the word choice. Pain! His brother was in pain! This was no trifling discomfort! He knew Saruman would not purposefully hurt his brother. He knew it, but as the tremors increased, and Legolas began to make an odd sound deep in his throat as if he would scream but was somehow robbed of the ability, Aglarelen could take it no longer.
He moved toward the Wizard again, but even as he did, Legolas found his voice and a great howl came forth freezing Aglarelen's blood. A blur of motion moved by him, and before he could identify it, he saw his father forcing himself between the Wizard and Legolas, knocking Saruman to the ground and forcing him to release his hold on Legolas.
"My son! My son!" Thranduil's aggrieved voice bellowed through the clearing as he clutched Legolas to his chest, weeping and rocking.
Legolas spoke then, his words surprising all who heard them. "Do not give in! Do not heed his words! Monster! Enemy! Fiend! He seeks to destroy!"
Whom he spoke of, unless it be the Enemy, the Necromancer, Aglarelen could not fathom, but his words were like a balm to all. It was as though they woke from dream. No one understood why they had not tried sooner or harder to reach the Ranger. No one could guess why they had stood silently as Legolas had suffered.
Aglarelen moved to his father's side, ignoring the White Wizard who lay where he had fallen. Shame coursed through him at the thought that he had nearly stood by and allowed Shadow to take his brother, for now that Legolas had spoken, Aglarelen plainly saw the Enemy's insidious hand in all that had happened.
His eyes fell on what little he could still see of his brother. Engulfed in the arms of Thranduil, Legolas was all but hidden from view. Aglarelen saw only the top of his head, his long blond hair shielding his face from view, one arm–his one good hand reaching up to clutch at Thranduil's robes–, and his legs, but even these trembled still as though in the grip of some terrible pain or horrifying vision.
The Crown Prince saw Galadriel and Celeborn, eyes closed, hands upon Estel and Legolas, and knew they would help. It was not then wholly unexpected when Gandalf and Elrond stepped forward and hovered nearby hoping to be of some aid to the group. He saw Celeborn then pull away from his wife and open his eyes. Gesturing to Elrond and Gandalf to take his place, he began to move aside. "I am no healer. They need your aid, Elrond, for there is strength now within them."
Aglarelen saw Gandalf look to Saruman as though assessing the White Wizard's mood and inclination to help. An impatient gesture from Saruman sent Gandalf to Elrond's side, though Aglarelen was certain the scowl on the Grey Wizard's face could not be meant for the Elf Lord.
Thranduil's eldest turned to Saruman, and noted the disgruntled look upon his face. The Wizard's anger was easy to detect, and Aglarelen saw some hint of darkness on the features, but it was so quickly gone that the Crown Prince assumed he was merely projecting his own feelings on a being who had but appeared to be harming his brother. Asking Eru's pardon for so unfair a judgement, he turned back to his father and brother.
**
Elrohir stared at Glorfindel as though the ancient elf had grown a second head. "Are you saying we were touched by Saruron?"
Glorfindel considered the words. Was that what he was saying? "Nay, IIt must be some effect from the Blue Wizards' spell! Oh, I know not what I am saying, save that the weakness I have perceived in myself does wax and wane, though I can see no pattern, no cause!" Frustration urged him to anger, but he was old and experienced, and did not give free rein to his emotions easily.
Elrohir was nodding. "That I have noticed as well. Perhaps the spell is breaking?"
"Perhaps it is gaining power." Glorfindel's reply was laden with despondency.
Elladan interrupted the two. "Perhaps you should not jump to conclusions and have father examine you again."
"Unless he were to have the remarkable luck to be examining us at the moment we were struck, it would do little good." Glorfindel did not intend to give up, but he felt there was something obvious he should be seeing.
He was about to suggest Elladan keep careful watch on his brother, and insist he would have Haldir do the same for him, when they heard Legolas cry out in anguish. The trio wasted not a moment in returning to the others.
**
Gandalf could not help but feel his own failure. He had sought to help Estel, yet he had only been able to note the absence of his spirit. So tired and eager to rest had he been when Saruman had suggested it that he had not seen the now obvious action Legolas had undertaken. He could almost smile at what the young prince had done.
Had he not himself just remarked about the unshakable faith of this child of Eru? Why then had he been so bent on heeding Saruman's advice and seeking rest when it should have been apparent to any fool that Legolas would not? That the young prince had found a way to move to his friend's side, despite injuries that would have left most elves or humans weak as a kitten was nothing short of astonishing.
As Gandalf watched, he was taken aback by Legolas' trembling. He searched Saruman's visage for some clue as to what was going on, but could learn nothing.
Thranduil's outcry and deposing of Saruman's position–violently shoving him to the ground–should have surprised him, he knew, but his heart only wept with the Elven King's. Though he had no children of his own, there were those among the inhabitants of Middle-earth whom he sometimes considered as such. He knew, were he forced to view their suffering, he would act much as Thranduil was.
His eyes fell on Saruman as the Wizard glared at Thranduil and Legolas. He sought some permission from his superior to examine the Ranger when Celeborn stepped aside and bid both he and Elrond to do so. What he saw on Saruman's face–anger, irritation, and a lack of concern or compassion–only disgusted him.
He and Saruman had not often seen eye to eye on means or ends, but Saruman's penchant for seeing things in absolute terms had always troubled Gandalf. There was much in the world that was neither black, nor white, but was in factgrey.
Shaking himself from his thoughts, the Grey Wizard stepped forward and knelt at Elrond's side. The first thing he encountered was Aragorn's spirit. He smiled to himself. Whatever had happened, Legolas had brought the Ranger back to them. That the young elf-turned-human had somehow communicated, spirit to spirit, with Estel left the Grey Wizard questioning his own abilities. Why had he not been able to reach the Ranger?
He dismissed such thoughts. He had not the time for self-recrimination. He would be able to learn more after the two were awake and alert enough to tell him what had happened. He concentrated instead on easing their suffering.
He felt Galadriel pass her grace to the Ranger and to Legolas, and he knew Celeborn had likely done the same. The increase of strength in the pair told him that. He felt Aragorn's soul take all that was offered. Though still weak, Aragorn seemed to choose life, and, in the choice alone, doubled his chances. Gandalf knew the road might yet be hard, but the hope he felt could not be denied. It seemed more likely to him with each passing moment that Aragorn would live. His head still throbbed, and he would likely take long to recover from such a blow as he had received, to say nothing of whatever else he had suffered that had caused his withdraw from those around him, but recover he would.
Gandalf stayed in silent communion with Estel, guiding him towards the light, cradling his spirit and offering succor like a mother did for her newborn child until it was able to care for itself. He knew not how long he stayed with Estel, but when finally he broke away, he was confident that the unnatural sleep brought on by injury and magic had been replaced by a natural, healing sleep.
He turned then to Legolas, offering the same to him. The Grey Wizard was both pleased and concerned when the Prince accepted such solace. His worry for his friend was foremost in his mind, but the young one's fëa was too exhausted to turn away what aid Gandalf offered.
When finally Legolas rested as Estel did, Gandalf blinked to awareness. He noted that Elrond knelt now by Estel and that the Elven Lord appeared to know as surely as Gandalf that his son would live.
Thranduil likewise continued to cradle his sleeping son, and Gandalf took a moment to assure the King that his youngest was healing.
Gandalf smiled at the sight of the fathers with their sons, but soon remembered that not all was well. The urgency of Legolas' words had awakened them to other injury that they had felt safe in ignoring earlier.
"Elrohir? Glorfindel?" His voice reflected his concern as did his eyes.
Elrond sighed. "I would examine them again, but I know not the cause of their malady. If only we knew what spell the Ithryn Luin had cast."
Gandalf grunted. "That would hardly guarantee that we could reverse it." He stood and moved toward Glorfindel and Elrohir who did indeed appear less fatigued. "Have you learned anything of your condition that you would tell us?"
Glorfindel explained to Gandalf about their agreement that the affects, whatever they were came and went with little rhyme or reason.
Gandalf merely grunted. "There is always a pattern to such things, though not even a willing, ready eye can find it. Will you permit me?"
The two nodded and Gandalf took their hands. Only moments had passed when his eyes snapped open. "There is something else at work here! This is not some simple sleeping spell!" He reached then for Elrond's arm, not bothering this time to seek permission, and nodded as if it confirmed what he'd seen. He crossed the camp to Elladan and to Aglarelen who lingered one at Estel's side and one at Legolas' side trying to ease their brothers' pain. The Grey Wizard took their hands as well and a moment later made a noise deep in his throat of sudden understanding and not a little dread.
He turned to Saruman and Elrond. The White Wizard stood, impassive, as though knowing what Gandalf would say and only waiting for him to say it. Elrond seemed puzzled.
"The Blue Wizards must have used some other incantation! These two," he gestured to Glorfindel and Elrohir, "are suffering from more than a sleeping spell. It is something meant to tax their strength–leave them vulnerable." Gandalf returned to Glorfindel's side and took the warrior's hands in his own. "I do not know if I can reverse this." The Grey Wizard then addressed Saruman. "You have more power than I. You may yet find some way to help them."
Saruman smiled. "Then let me see what I can do."
To Be Continued
Joee1: Oops! Didn't mean to stand between you and your homework. Sorry about that! I'm glad you wanted to throttle Saruman. That means I must have written him right! Thanks for your review!
Isadora2: That book sounds fascinating. I'd love to read it. I have no problem with Orlando Bloom playing the lead. I love when actors go against type! Thanks for your review!
Catherinexxix: Thanks! (Have I mentioned how much I love it when people quote me back to me? It's like Bruno Kirby in When Harry Met Sally! Hee!) That's great that you felt you were struggling right along with Legolas when he was trying to reach Estel! What a compliment! Thanks for your review!
Silvertoekee: Plenty more angst to come, and we still haven't covered several major plot points! Thanks for your review! I hope you like this chapter.
Chloe Amethyst: Don't worry! No apologies necessary–or as Aragorn said to Legolas in TTT, Ú-moe edaved. (There is nothing to forgive.) Hee! I just used elvish in conversationin electronic conversation, anyway. I couldn't agree more with your assessment of Saruman. He has been too long alone with his own thoughts and in his musty old tower. Not to mention too long in communication with Sauron! The bit with Legolas in Estel's mind will be explained much better in a future chapter. Galadriel's musings here notwithstanding, there is a morereason. I do intend also to touch on some of Aragorn's recovery from the trauma of Saruman's violation. I love Glorfindel as well, and I do have more in mind for everyone's favorite Balrog Slayer! Thanks ever so much for your review. More soon, I promise!
Deana: OkayI promise! Thanks for reviewing.
White Wolf1: Yes, Elrond's good at guilt! There will be plenty of that sort of thing going around soon, too! I'm glad you liked Legolas' determination. Its one of those things I think everyone needs: an all-encompassing faith in someone. LOL! You're right, I won't be answering questions like that! You'll have to wait for the written chapters! Thanks for reviewing.
Templa Otmena: Thanks! The parental concern was something I really needed to convey. It's probably still a reaction to the evil Thranduil fics I've read. If anyone isn't aware there's an anti evil Thranduil campaign. Check out this website: a great little campaign and there are some good links to Good Thranduil fics. I included the interaction between Legolas and Aragorn precisely because they hadn't interacted for so long. I love those two, and when they're together they seem so much moreif that makes sense. I was concerned–and rather cruel to my muse by demanding she come up with something else–about writing that entire section that takes place in Aragorn's mind, walls and all. I was afraid I was getting too far from the action and relying too much on magicbut it seems pretty popular. Now I owe my muse an apology. She was getting me back by making this chapter a little difficult. Yes, Elrond's words to Saruman about him not understanding were meant to echo Thranduil's. I know my cliffies are getting worse, but I can't seem to break the story anywhere else! Thanks so much for your review!
Gwyn: Would you believe through the walls! Yes, it was the only way. Aragorn had to have a reason to come out on his own, and if he couldn't be convinced that he was safe, he had to believe that Legolas was in danger.
Estelreader: Thanks! Wow! What a compliment! (Ecri blushes.) Legolas may be figuring something out as you can see, but how much and what he retains remains to be seen. Yes, Alatar claimed to know the cure. Aragorn didn't quite believe him, but there will be more on that later. Aragorn did indeed vow to help Legolas regain his elvishness, and, no worries, he plays a pivotal part in the attempt to restore our favorite Elf Prince. I'm thrilled you like my interpretation of the Aragorn and Legolas friendship, and noit's perfectly understandable that you want both a proactive Ranger and one riddled with pain and angst. The best of both worlds! Thanks for your review!
Strider's Girl: Oh! I'm so sorry you won't be able to read for awhile. I'll try to have several chapters waiting for you! Thanks for your review!
Grumpy: Thanks for your review. Estel is improving, but he isn't quite healed yet. More to come!
Tychen: So right! Saruman is lost when it comes to the true motivations of those with whom he interferes! I will post more ASAP! Thanks for your review!
Jadesaber: They have gone through a lot, and it's not over yet! Thanks for your review.
Sirithiliel: LOL! No that wasn't good! I promise more soon! Thans for your review.
TrinitySheDevil: Yeah, he's evil, but I need him. Could you maybe unspork him until my fic is finished? Thanks for your review!
Fire Eagle: More soon, I promise. Thanks for your review!
Lauren: Thanks for your review! More very soon!