Encroaching Darkness part 33
Please see author's notes at end of chapter.
By Ecri
Dawn in the Golden Wood was always spectacular. The growing light of the rising sun struck the golden foliage of the Mallyrn casting the world in an ethereal glow. Gandalf soaked in the pleasant sight and the equally pleasant warmth as he pondered what had happened to the young elf prince and the younger ranger.
It could not be coincidence, for Gandalf knew there was no such thing. Coincidence was merely a word mortal men used to explain away things they did not wish to examine too closely. Something else had happened here, but try as he might, he could not unravel it.
Oh, he knew some spell had been cast on the Prince of Mirkwood, but who had cast it? There was no way for him to learn that secretat least not until the Prince and the Ranger awoke from their deep slumber. Even then, it was unlikely that the victims themselves knew much about it. He clung to the hope that they might have some clue from which Gandalf could begin to reconstruct what happened, but he did not believe they would awaken with the name of their enemy on their lips.
Neither had stirred though they had been carried and lifted and moved across the ground and then up into the great Mallorn in which Galadriel and Celeborn and other elves of Lothlorien made their home. Each rested now, father and brother—or in Estel's case, brothers—at their sides.
The Wizard could tell each father was still concerned and likely would be until their sons sat up and declared themselves fit. He allowed himself a small, knowing smile. Likely the worry would last much longer even than that.
He put the thoughts aside and again pondered who might have cast such a spell on Legolas. Not to mention the other spellthe one that had so affected Glorfindel and Elrohir. That each of them had been affected while they sought a cure for Legolas' affliction was entirely too suspicious for the Grey Wizard's liking.
Not to mention the slumber most of the elves, save for Elrond, had fallen into when Gandalf had first discovered them outside that cave
He thought to speak to Saruman of it, but something told him he should not yet leave Lothlorien. Perhaps once Aragorn and Legolas awoke he would find reason to pry himself away from the hospitality he enjoyed here, but he could not do so until he was certain Prince and Ranger were truly recovered.
As he watched the sunrise, he felt a presence behind him, but as it did not announce itself, the Wizard contented himself with the knowledge that it could not be an emergency. After several moments, the presence stirred and moved to sit beside him.
Without turning to look at his companion, Gandalf spoke to him in soft tones. "What brings you to my side this fine morning, Haldir?"
Haldir nodded in acknowledgement to the Wizard as Gandalf finally turned to face him.
"I have felt a darkness growingit has been much in my mind since the orcs attacked us"
"And you wish to know what I might know?"
Haldir nodded, his eyes focused on Gandalf.
"I don't know anything at allor at least, I don't know anything about this particular topic."
"That is no comfort, Mithrandir."
"Nor is it meant to be. Haldir, a darkness is drawing near. It touched some of us in these last weeks, and we would do well to be on our guard against it. Now, what that darkness might be, or what—or who—might be behind it, I cannot say." He grew pensive and sat staring at the same distant spot on the horizon that had captured his attention earlier. A smile graced his features. "There is one thing of which you should be certain. We do not abandon Hope and Hope does not abandon us. Forthough we are able to see the darkness, that is only because we can see the light."
Haldir nodded once more, but frowned. "Wizard's riddles will not save us from attack, Mithrandir."
Gandalf chuckled. "No, they won't, but they hold enough truth to be of comfort to those who may understand."
Haldir paused, thinking over these words before shaking his head. "I am not comforted."
"You may yet be, Haldir. In the days to come, you will be called upon to stand against this encroaching darkness. Be ready." He stood slowly. "I must go and check on our patients."
"Then I bid you farewell, Gandalf." Haldir nodded to the wizard before departing.
Gandalf wished he could have offered Haldir some words of greater comfort, but he could not offer what he did not have, and he was not here for that at any rate. His thoughts returned to Aragorn and Legolas. That the two were alive at all was cause for celebration. That Legolas had had his elven nature restored to him had actually caused Thranduil to weep.
Gandalf recalled the Crown Prince of Mirkwood's sharp inhalation of breath as he saw how Legolas had slept with his eyes open. The sound had drawn his own attention, and that of the King. Thranduil, upon gazing at his son's open eyes, clutched the young elf to his chest and sobbed into his hair.
None present had desired to draw the King from his young son's side, so Thranduil had been left alone with Legolas as he and Aglarelen rejoiced.
That had been some time ago, and neither Legolas nor Aragorn had awakened. They had been taken to Caras Galadhon with all solemnity, but the hope that had sustained the group waned as each day passed. Gandalf had examined the pair, and believed them to be in a deep restorative sleep, but that reassurance did not appease Thranduil. The King wanted his son awake. He wanted to speak to the elf, to have his embrace returned, and to hear the sound of his son's elven laughter where before now he had heard human laughter.
Gandalf could not tell the King when he would hear that laughter again, and reminding the King that at least his son had been restored to himself did little to appease him. Lately, he stormed around Calas Galadhon like a rampant orc scowling at everyone and snapping at any who dared speak to him save Aglarelen.
Aglarelen shared his father's concern over his brother's condition, but Gandalf sensed something elsea strong faith that Legolas would recover. It was, perhaps, not something of which the Crown Prince was aware, but it radiated off of him and, Gandalf was certain, it was this that calmed Thranduil whenever the pair spoke.
Aragorn's condition was something else entirely. Similar, perhaps, in that Gandalf felt certain the young Ranger was gaining strength, but Aragorn's condition most likely stemmed from the expenditure of energy, strength, and emotion as he had drawn his friend from the influence of that spell.
The Ranger was, as Elrond had said, not experienced in this form of healing, and indeed, it might have been a dangerous thing had Aragorn not been who he was.
The hands of a King
Gandalf stopped himself from completing the thought. His own long held belief—or perhaps wish was a better word for it—that Aragorn could be the one who would reclaim the throne of Gondor was irrelevant. Though Gandalf had long watched the Ranger, had seen qualities in the young man that the Wizard believed proved Aragorn superior to his ancestors.
The Wizard knew of Elrond's love for the human. Indeed, no one who knew both Elf Lord and Ranger could be unaware of their affection for each other. Elrond loved Aragorn like a son. It was simply the thought of losing both his son and his daughter that haunted him.
That fear had likely caused Elrond to shy away from anything that might prove Aragorn was indeed the future King of Gondor and not simply one in a long line of potential sovereigns.
The likelihood that Aragorn was the King, and that he could actually take the throne were two entirely different subjects. Aragorn would need help, and Gandalf had long felt it fitting that he and Legolas were such fast friends. They each needed the sort of looking after that only the other could provide.
Gandalf made his way toward the rooms the Ranger and Prince shared. Galadriel and Celeborn had believed, and Gandalf and Elrond had agreed, that the proximity of the two would be helpful to their recovery.
Now, seeing family and friends clustered around the pair, Gandalf knew such support and love would be a balm to the two, and perhaps would coax them to emerge from whatever save have to which they had each retreated. He could offer little but his presence and vigilance for now, but he would be nearby if he were needed.
Elrond stared down at Aragorn wondering what he could do to aid his son. He saw no injury. In truth, Aragorn and Legolas both appeared to be in a deep slumber. It was the length of the slumber that concerned them. It had been much longer than any healing trance that Elrond had ever entered—or seen, for that matter.
He recalled Thranduil's accusations that Elrond had not properly schooled his son to use his skills as a healer. It had come well after the Lord of Imladris had hurled the same accusations at himself. If he had been less reticent to see Aragorn claim his birthright, if he had been a more diligent instructor in the arts of healing, if he had been less inclined to enjoy the unequaled safety of Imladris and had considered the dangers of the life his son had chosen when he became a Ranger
"I see the reproach in your eyes, Ada. Do not believe that you have done wrong. Aragorn and Legolas will return to us." Elrohir reached for his father's hand. The Lord of Imladris smiled and gently squeezed his son's hand in return.
"I cannot help but consider my mistakes"
"You made no mistakes, Ada. Aragorn knew what to do quite instinctively. He is a natural healer. The hands of the King"
"Don't." Elrond looked down hoping his son would not see the pain in his eyes caused by those words.
"Ada"
The soft, gentle tone told Elrond that his son had seen it.
"Ada, please, you have known all his life"
Elladan's voice echoed his brother's thoughts even as they completed his sentence. "you have known that Aragorn is heir to the throne of Gondor"
Elrond nodded. "Yet being heir to Gondor's throne does not mean he will be the next King. His father was heir to the throne, as was his father. They did not claim the throne. They did not retrieve rule of their lands or their people from the Steward of Gondor" Elrond sighed heavily, something he had learned from his human son, as he gazed at Aragorn's face. To lose himit was something he had long prepared himself to face, yet, for all that preparation, it was something he could not bear. It would be as bad as losing Elladan, Elrohir, or Arwen.
"Ada"
Elrond's heart skipped a beat. That was not the sound of his twin sons. He had seen Aragorn's lips move, though the Ranger's eyes remained closed.
"Estel?" Elrond called softly not noticing that Elladan and Elrohir had turned to face their brother as well.
"Ada!"
Elrond frowned. This sounded like Estel in the grips of a nightmaresome horrific vision that sent fear through his son and into the Elf Lord's heart by way of Estel's voice.
"Estel! I am here. Awake, my son."
Slowly, so slowly that Elrond had nearly convinced himself that he was imagining it, Aragorn opened his eyes. He blinked rapidly in confusion and then a slight smile changed the Ranger into the son of Elrond. "Ada?"
"I am here, Estel, and I am beyond relieved to see that you are, too." He smiled and leaned close enough to touch his forehead to that of the young man who called him father. Pulling back once more, Elrond looked into the now open eyes of his youngest son. "Estel, you did well"
"Legolas!" Estel moved to sit up, but Elrond, Elladan, and Elrohir forced him back down again.
"Legolas is an elf once more, but" Elrond cursed himself for pausing as he saw the effect it had on Aragorn. "He has yet to waken, my son. That is all. We await his return as we have awaited your own."
Aragorn settled slightly. Concern shone in his eyes. "How long? Has he shown no sign of waking?"
Elrond related to Aragorn all that had happened since the Ranger had chosen to heal his friend.
Aragorn seemed lost in the words and his brow was furrowed as he considered Elrond's words.
"He will recover, my son. He sleeps as an elf. His eyes are open."
Aragorn smiled slowly at that bit of information. "I'd like to see him."
Elrond shook his head. "You have barely awoken, Estel. Give yourself a chance to heal. You would do well to regain some strength before you try to help him once more."
Aragorn opened his mouth to object, but closed it again as Elrond raised one eyebrow.
Elrond saw in his son's eyes the desire to help Legolas warring with the knowledge that he was indeed too weak to offer any further assistance. Common sense won the day, and Elrond smiled even as he sent Elrohir and Elladan to find their brother something to eat and drink. It would be well if he could encourage Aragorn's strength to return, for he was certain that the man would not wait long before allowing his heart to rule his head.
Galadriel's face was turned up toward the stars, though her eyes were closed. Celeborn watched her from some small distance away wondering what she soughther own inner peace, answers to questions that someone always seemed to put to her, orsomething else entirely.
He often watched his wife. In truth, he was still as enraptured by her beauty as he had been upon their first meeting. His love for her would not diminish. That was as certain as Eru's love for all Arda. He knew they could still be parted for an evil grewDarkness stretched toward all elvendom seeking to destroy all that was good in the world, or, if not destroy, then to pervert Eru's creation.
Orcs were such a perversion, as was this most recent of obstacles. What had befallen Legolas, and later, Elrohir and Glorfindel, and then Aragornwhat they had all endured as they sought to help their friendsthese, too, were perversions. These, too, were the weapons of the enemy.
Galadriel thought it likely that the spies of the enemy, the minions of Mordor, had somehow achieved these blows against them. She was likely right. She usually was and he could not recall a time when she had ever erred when the situation was this dire. He watched her now as she opened her eyes. Without turning from the stars, she called to him.
"Estel awakes."
His heart skipped a beat as he moved closer to her. "What of Legolas?"
Her eyes glazed slightly, but she shook her head. Finally turning to look him in the eye, she spoke in the softest of voices. "He is not yet ready to return to us, though he is not worsening. The Prince marshals his strength for the fight ahead of him."
"What battle must he prepare to fight when he is safely in our realm?"
"The battle of a lifetime requires a lifetime of preparation. The Young One will have little respite from the enemy's attention as the time of Elessar's Trial approaches."
"Trial?"
Her eyes grew sad. "There is the thought in Elessar's mind that he would have this burden belong to another."
Celeborn protested. "He is Isildur's Heir"
She nodded. "And unlike his father and his father's father before him, he cannot seek refuge behind the passing of such a thing to a child he might sire. The war within him will end when he accepts that there is no other for the task. Legolas has helped him see this more clearly than any other."
Celeborn's eyes widened as a sudden insight gripped him. "That is the part Eru has given Legolas."
"Legolas restores Elessar's faith in himself when it wavers. The Ranger has long thought himself unworthy of the great destiny that awaits him. Legolas has helped him see the truth."
Celeborn took her hand in his. "Aragorn's lineage could not persuade him of his worthiness?"
"He fears the stain of Isildur's weakness taints him."
Celeborn's eyes followed his wife's and fell on Eärendil. "There is honor in him, not weakness." He knew, as he reached for his wife's hand, that she agreed with him.
Thranduil watched Elrond's sons leave their human brother's side, and knew at once from their lighthearted tones and easy smiles that Estel was awake. He rose from his youngest son's side, secure in the knowledge that his eldest would watch Legolas. He approached Elrond and spoke.
"Lord Elrond, is Estel well?" He could see it with his own eyes, but dared not begin this conversation by making demands. Aglarelen had convinced him to temper his words, and though he knew it would be difficult with his fear for his son swelling in his throat.
Elrond turned to face the King of Mirkwood. "He recovers, King Thranduil, though he is weak."
"Might hecan he"
Elrond's eyes softened and he held out a hand to the King. "Come and sit with us. I am sure Estel could speak to you of Legolas."
Thranduil did as Elrond suggested. "Estel, does he return to me?"
Aragorn nodded. "It was his intention when we parted."
"Why has he lingered?"
"If he feels as I do, I suspect he is merely spent. He did not sleep well as a human in these last weeks, for theof such slumber, and the images it conjures, troubled him. There is also his injury to consider. The arrow would surely have taken his life" Aragorn's voice cracked, heavy as it was with the emotions of his heart. "It was a grievous wound, and it alone would take some time to heal."
Thanduil nodded. It all made sense, and, even though some part of him argued with him, insisting that Estel was simply giving many reasons because he did not possess the true one, he allowed himself to be comforted by the Ranger's words.
"Then time is what he needs." Thranduil said it with a certainty he did not feel, and found himself oddly heartened by Aragorn's quick agreement.
He glanced at his sleeping son, and hoped the fears in his heart would fall silent.
Legolas dreamed. Images surrounded him, encased him, hemmed him in on all sides and were a strange conglomeration of elven dreams and human nightmares.
He'd been with Aragorn. He was sure of it. His friend had helped himwhat? He shook his head to clear the thought. Where was Aragorn now? He sensed no danger, but could not recall what had happened to his friend. Frustration akin to what he'd felt when he'd lost himselflost his elvish naturesurged through him, but it gave way to surprise and fear as the dark terrors gripped his very soul.
He inhaled sharply, hand reaching automatically for an arrow and bringing his bow up when he saw orcs approaching in greater numbers than he ever could have imagined. He let one arrow fly, but it sailed through the orc as though either the arrow or the orc were insubstantial. The arrow had felt real when he'd released it, so perhaps the orcs were not. That thought both comforted and terrified him. If the orcs were not real, if he could not trust his senses, what was real? What could he trust?
He watched the orcs as they moved, not surprised when they seemed to fade into a mist and were blown away by a breeze. The scene before him shifted and he saw Aragorn. His friend was fighting another horde or orcs, seemingly alone. His hand again reached for an arrow, but before he could fire, he sawhimself. He watched as this other Legolas fired arrow after arrow at the orcs, thrusting one through an orc's throat and taking its life before fitting the same arrow to his bow to kill one at a greater distance.
The image shifted once more and he saw a great stone structure. Elves and menhimself and Aragorn, Haldir, a King of men with a determined yet hopeless look upon his face. Human children clutched swords and shields awkwardly in small hands and sported helms too large for their young heads. All were fighting orcs in greater numbers than even that last horde he'd seen. A cacophonyswords clashing, battle cries, screams of the dyingoverwhelmed him and he turned away, only to seeOrthanc.
Puzzled, he turned around but the stone fortress that had filled his vision a moment ago was gone. He was indeed in Isengard. Orthanc stood tall and ominous before him, the silence of it deafening after the chaos of moments ago.
As he watched, the sky grew dark. Time seemed truncated somehow, and he watched leaves fall from trees while moments later seeing the same trees bud and bloom. The process repeated at such speed, the Elf Prince was almost dizzy. At Orthanc's door, he saw the familiar white-cloaked figure of Saruman and was surprised to find himself suppressing a shudder. He watched a tree fall, cut in its prime, and, as it struck the ground, he heard the forest cry out in anger, and saw trees move as though of their own volition.
Legolas took a step forward, but between the time he raised his foot and placed it down again, the scene had shifted once again. He was in a forest he could not place. It bloomed most beautifully around him, and in the distance, he could hear the sound of Elves singing a song of celebration. He gazed upwards and saw flets scattered through the trees, warm glows of candlelight, and below that, a clearing some distance away that seemed to be filled with dancing elves, and humans, anddwarves?
"Legolas."
He turned as he heard his name wondering if he were about to see himself again, but there before him he saw a sight that made his breath catch in his throat—trapped there no doubt by his pounding heart.
"Naneth?"
The woman smiled and held a hand out to him. He moved to her side at once. She embraced him as though she had never done so before, but there, in her arms, it felt to Legolas as though she had never let goand never would. The intervening years since her death melted away and Legolas was again her child seeking comfort in her arms.
A light, musical sound of laughter reached his ears, and he pulled back slightly from his mother, though not releasing her, to see who it was, though the familiarity of that laugh needed no visual confirmation.
"Lindëriel" he spoke the name as he would have spoken a prayer.
Lindëriel laughed again. "Legolas." She was at his side in an instant embracing him though he was still in his mother's arms.
Tears of joy spilled from his eyes as Legolas returned the embrace. He pulled away again and looked from his sister to his mother. "How"
His mother placed one slender finger across his lips. "We have not much time, my precious son"
"No!" Legolas did not like the sound of that. He could not lose them again!
"Hush, my little Greenleaf. We are messengers. No more. Ilúvatar has sent us to you so that you might understand."
"Then I am a great disappointment, for I understand nothing." Legolas stared intently at his mother as though loath to look away for fear she would disappear.
A gentle smile graced his mother's face. She reached up a hand and brushed a lock of impossibly golden hair from her son's eyes. "You will, my darling. You have a long and lonely road ahead of you. You have a duty, a part in Ilúvatar's song that only you can sing"
Lindëriel laid a hand on her baby brother's cheek. "You must be strong. For himfor the Kingfor his bride"
Legolas shook his head and stared at his sister, the heartbreak of the ephemeral visitation by those he had longed to see again for most of his life making it difficult for him to speak. "I do not understand. I do not want to understand. Do not leave me! Please Lindëriel, Naneth"
His mother kissed his forehead, her own silver-gold tresses obscuring his vision for a moment. "You have an important part to playan important person to protect"
Certainty came as a flash of intuition. "Aragornhe is to claim the throne of Gondor"
"Yes, my son, he is the one for whom all Middle-earth has waited. He has doubts, but these have begun to fall away. You must stay by his side in the battles that lie before him, my sweet Legolas. He will rely on you and you must allow him that."
"I could do nothing else. It is a task I have set for myself Ilúvatar knows this."
"He does not doubt you, Legolas. He wishes to prepare you. Things have been set in motion that he did not intend, and he wishes you to be prepared for the altered road that you must now follow." Legolas' mother turned then to her daughter.
Lindëriel did not hesitate. "Our time grows short, my brother." She smiled sadly as his grip on both sister and mother tightened. "Know that Eru guides you and will be with you and Gondor's King as the days of trial draw near. The path that was meant to be has been altered, but it can still lead to the same destiny. Have faith, Greenleaf"
With those last words, Lindëriel began to fade, to recede somehow from his view, her touch lingering to the last, but growing dimmer until it was gone. He called to her, cried out her name even as he clung with desperation to his mother, knowing she was to be next.
"Hush, my Greenleaf. All may not be as it should be, but it can still be well."
She kissed his forehead once more, and Legolas, clinging desperately to her, his eyes wide in fear that if he so much as blinked she would be gone, found no words within him that could make her stay.
To Be Continued
Author's Note: I'd like to thank you all for your patience. I know this took awhile, and the encouragement of most of you was overwhelming. A special thanks to washow and to catherinexxix. Washow surprised me with some truly encouraging news that inspired me to push to get this chapter done, and catherinexxix sent me many an email reminder urging and almost pleading with me in the sweetest and politest of terms to finish the story.