Disclaimer: I do not own any characters or places related to LOTR. Wish I did but I don't. Do own original characters; Endarine and Sulei'alueo, their thought speech and mindsets. Also credit the story line plot to the movie "Lady Hawk" (A/N: It's a great movie).This story is co-written by Arienwen author of 'Elven Journey'.
A/N: I WARN ALL READERS AHEAD OF TIME. THERE WILL BE SEX IN THIS CHAPTER, HOWEVRE SLIGHT, AND IS IN NO WAY SMUT AS MARY-SUES TEND TO BE. Also thanks to all who have reviewed, we love you 4! Pleases review if you read and review again or email so we know how we're doing or some tips you might have. Thanks and enjoy.
Hawk's Flight
Chapter two: Whispers in the Dark
The woodland prince was breathing easier, but there was little else Aragorn could do to help him. He paced the room, anxious and worried for his friend. His slight healer training from his youth could do no more than Gandalf's knowledge of medicine and magic.
He finally tired of the pacing, kept inside the room by sentiment only. He decided to leave and walk around, hoping it would ease his fidgetiness. He was nearly to the door when Gimli barged through, carrying a huge platter laden with meat and a huge pitcher that, from the smell, was very well aged mead. The dwarf nearly collided with the absentminded ranger, and nearly dropped the full plate.
"Watch where yer goin, laddy!" he said, and went back to his previously occupied corner. Aragorn continued through the still open door, uncaring. It was late, and all the torches that had filled the stone hall had burned out, and now it was lit only by twin squares of moonlight at either end. He picked a direction randomly and began walking.
He had gone around several turns when he heard a slight whispering. He slowed his pace, listening more intently. With his footsteps now more silent, the other sound became clearer. Soft sobs marked every once in a while with a sniffle. Someone crying? He wasn't surprised. With all the loss they had suffered, he was surprised he hadn't seen more people weeping anguish at the loss of loved ones. But, then again, he'd been in Legolas's sickroom for most of the time.
He continued around the corner to see whom it was, and was startled to see Endarine, slumped to the cold floor. He stopped immediately. Should he go and help her? He knew that elves felt emotion much more strongly, and he knew the reason for which she wept. Mayhaps he'd better leave her to cry it out.
He silently stepped back behind the corner and sat down as quietly as he could. He waited there, his head leaning back against the cobbled wall. He felt weary beyond belief, but he had too much on his mind to sleep peacefully anyway.
He listened intently to the crying elleth around the corner. Soon, the sobbing turned to slight hiccups, then stopped altogether. He heard a slight shuffling, and peaked around to look. She was lying down on the bench. He watched a few minutes more. Her breathing soon evened out in the rapture of sleep. He got up and made his way down to her.
Even in sleep she looked tormented. Her face was still shining with tears, her hair disheveled and a pained expression on her face. She was asleep, but her entire body was still tense. The sight brought tears to Aragorn's eyes. He reached down and gently shook her shoulder.
"Endarine." He whispered. She stirred slightly, but remained asleep. He shook her a little bit more. "Endarine."
She woke finally, looking up at him with night-darkened eyes.
"Come into your room. The bed is much more comfortable."
Endarine nodded, sitting up stiffly. Aragorn took one of her hands and put his other on her shoulder. He steered her into the room.
The hearth was unlit, but prepared. A torch was still burning in one corner notch, and after sitting Endarine on the edge of her bed, retrieved it from its place in the wall. He took it to the fireplace and set it on the kindling. It took light, and he slowly added larger pieces until it was well established and would burn far into the night. He turned back round.
Endarine, still seated on the bed, was staring at the flames with indifference. The clouded look of pain shocked him. He went over to her and put a hand on her shoulder. She stirred at his touch.
"You must rest. We have all tired ourselves this night. Your strength must be recovered." She continued staring almost as if he hadn't spoken at all.
He thought for a moment, thinking of how to gently goad her into bed. "Only then will you be able to help him, Endarine."
At this, her eyes widened, and she looked at him and nodded, still not speaking. She leaned over and removed her footwear, placing them under the bed edge. She slipped under the covers, still not speaking. She laid her head on the pillow and turned to the wall. Aragorn reached out and pulled the blanket higher.
"He'll be fine, Endarine. You shall see. Endurance and spirit had always been his best aspects." And he turned and strode from the room.
Once he closed the door, his own eyes let loose with a silent waterfall of tears. He had trouble believing his own words. He hoped they would prove to be true.
He had just gotten back to the sickroom when Gandalf came bustling out of it. Aragorn nearly collided with the Istari, but sidestepped just in time. The wizard, who had been otherwise occupied with an enormous leather-bound book, looked up to see whom he'd nearly bowled over.
"Aragorn!" he said, ecstatically. He quickly placed a marker in the book, snapping its ancient covers shut. He gestured for the ranger to follow him back into the room.
Aragorn nearly gagged when he entered. There was a large cauldron over the fire, its contents simmering and emitting a noxious odor. What was Gandalf cooking up now? He had a mind to ask, then thought better of it. Gimli was once again asleep in his corner, the plate bare but for a few grisly bones. The mead jug was empty and overturned, leaning against the upside down dwarven helmet.
Gandalf closed the door, the noise made Aragorn jump. He turned and looked at Gandalf. The wizard walked farther into the room, setting the book down on the small table and moving to the fire to look at whatever he had going in the pot. He stirred it, drew a ladleful and sniffed it, seemingly unaware of its smell. He nodded, pouring the thick herbal stew back with thick chunky plops. The smell nearly made Aragorn vomit. What in Arda..?
Gandalf turned back round, fixing Aragorn with a very angry stare.
"I will be needing your help soon, Aragorn. The wounds need another cleaning, and I'm afraid Gimli won't be of much help, even if he was awake and sober." Aragorn grinned slightly at this, but it was soon gone from his face.
"Anything, Gandalf. Just make him well."
Gandalf's face clouded over a bit. It frightened Aragorn.
"I have been trying that, Aragorn. With all of my powers even now. And all I can say after that is that there is a slim chance he will survive."
"What!" Aragorn yelled. "What of your knowledge, your magic? Are they not of any use to you?"
"They are, Aragorn, but even magic has its limits. The herbal and magical lore I know if for poisons and afflictions that people know already. I've checked through every text I can find, done test after test. Whatever poison was on that blade is one that's not been used before; else I would have found something for it by now. The only chance he truly has is his own body's health and strength. Sometimes that is the best immunity."
Aragorn slumped. So even Gandalf's magic was of no help.
He felt a hand on his shoulder, looked up with brimming eyes.
"Do not lose all hope, Aragorn. If hope is lost, what else is there to fight for?"
Aragorn thought. Then a thought popped into his mind, an image of Arwen flitting past his eyes, and then, surprisingly, one of Legolas and Endarine.
"Love." He said, his face taking on one of determination. He'd known since Rivendell that Legolas and Endarine were made for each other. He'd be damned ten times over to Mordor if he didn't let himself try.
"Good. Not all hope is lost, then."
With that, Gandalf led the ranger over to a wooden bowl on the table. He told Aragorn to remove his clothing, and the ranger complied. He then took a rag and soaked it in the still steaming liquid of the bowl. He walked over to where Aragorn stood clothed in only his undergarments. He handed him the dripping rag and pointed at the fireplace, where a large, round metal pan, about two feet wide and six inches high, was placed before the flames.
"I want you to wash yourself thoroughly. This solution will lessen the chance of suppuration. You're covered in filth enough as it is. We don't need any of it getting onto him."
Aragorn nodded, going over and stepping into pan. He washed himself all over, until the rag was black from the dried orc blood. Gandalf came over and handed him another, simply tossing the soiled one into the fire underneath the boiling cauldron, where it sizzled and began to burn. The smell of the concoction was less now.
When that rag, too, was soiled, Gandalf came with a final one. He carried also the bowl of cleansing liquid. He took a wooden cup, dipped it into the bowl, and dumped the hot liquid onto Aragorn's head. Aragorn hissed at the heat.
"Wash up now and hush! Your hair is as dirty as the rest of you was."
He dumped another cupful, and Aragorn studiously began scrubbing, until black rivulets of dissolved blood ran down his hands, arms and chest. Gandalf came over, again carrying the bowl. This time instead of dumping another cupful, he upended the bowl and let the rest of the still steaming contents wash over the ranger. Aragorn gritted his teeth at the heat, but didn't complain. The steaming solution washed all final bits of orcen filth away.
When he was through dripping, Gandalf handed him an absorbent wrap, which he used to dry himself off. He ran a brush through his still wet hair and tied it up at the wizard's request.
He noticed then that Gandalf had changed clothes. The wizard had changed into clean robes, and his hands and face held the slight pinkness of recent scrubbing. His hair was tied back also, even his beard. He had split it in the middle, bringing the two halves around either side of his neck to tie with his hair in back. It looked rather comical. When he saw that Aragorn had dried, he moved over to the fireplace and, moving the pan out of the way, replaced it instead with threes chairs that he padded well with clean sheets.
Gandalf handed him another set of clothes, dark trousers and a clean white sleeveless tunic. He put them on. He watched the wizard go back over to the small cauldron and lift it from the fire. Setting it down on the table, he took yet another of numerous rags and dolloped a few ladles worth into the rag. Twisting the top shut, he held the swelled bag over a wooden bowl. He squeezed it, bringing forth drops and rivulets of steaming liquid.
When the bowl was just over half full, Gandalf stopped, putting the wrung herbs back into the still simmering pot.
He turned and handed Aragorn yet another clean rag, then made his way over to the elf lying unconscious on the bed. He sat the bowl down on a side table, and slowly and gently removed the blankets.
Aragorn had to turn his head at that. The wound, which had been open and bleeding when he'd left, was now heavily bandaged. But instead of halting the bleeding, the bandage only helped to soak it up and spread it. The sheet underneath and the blanket on one side was stained a deep red, the blood had half dried and was giving off a smell that he knew would soon turn worse.
"Aragorn?" the wizard questioned when he turned around and saw the expression on the ranger's face.
Aragorn swallowed and turned back around.
"Help me move him over to those chairs." And he gestured towards the hearth. With a gentleness he had never before possessed, Aragorn helped Gandalf to move Legolas on the chairs. They lay him as comfortably as they could, close to the fire so he would stay warm. Gandalf took from his pouch a long, thin knife, shiny and clean, with a wooden handle. He handed it to the ranger.
"Use that to remove his clothes. Save them if you can, but I don't believe so."
Aragorn began to cut. The trousers, soaked through with dried blood, were tough to cut, but he peeled them off with little difficulty once they were. He hesitated at the next step. The lovely blue silk tunic shirt had been prized by the elven prince. It had been a gift from his mother before she had passed to Mandos. He did not want to cut it, but every attempt to remove it otherwise brought gasps of pain. With a pained look in his own face, he cut through, but tried to cut along the edges and seems that the tunic might be salvaged later. He sadly placed the pile of sliced silk to the side.
Legolas looked like something out of a grave. The wound, still seeping slightly, had mixed with the black orc blood that had splashed upon him. He was also spotted with mud, flung from various soldiers on both sides from the battle's preceding rain. His hair, damn him, was still clean and barely ruffled. Aragorn smiled at his last thought. He'd never really seen his friend disheveled, except when they were in Lorien not a month before…
He was jarred from his thoughts by a slight shove from behind. He turned to see Gandalf, holding the steaming bowl filtered from the cauldron and another pile of clean rags. The wizard went to the other side of the chairs, setting at an angle so he wouldn't block the light from the hearth. He soaked two rags in the foul fluid and handed one over.
"Wash him thoroughly. Once he's clean I've more herbs to put on the wound. I trust I don't have to tell you to be gentle?" he queried with a quirk of his brow. Aragorn gave him a 'no shit' look and began his ministrations.
A small pile of blackened rags was on the floor before Gandalf said it was enough. He went back to the steaming cauldron and filtered out more liquid, though this time he kept the herbs and put them in a separate bowl. He brought the bowl back over. He took from his pouch more dried herbs, Aragorn knew from the smell that they were the same ones as in the bowl.
The wizard sprinkled them into the mixture and stirred them in. He took a small handful from the bowl, looking up at Aragorn as he did so.
"You may want to hold him down, Aragorn. This is a medicine that heals, but it's also one that stings."
Aragorn got a good grip on the prince without obstructing the wound, which was on Gandalf's side anyway. Gandalf, with a quick closure of his eyes, gently applied the thick mixture directly to the wound.
Legolas immediately began to thrash, his eyes opened in a glaze of pain. Aragorn had to strain to keep him still. Gandalf continued applying until the entire wound was covered. With a gesture to Aragorn, they turned the prince on his side, the wound on top. The thrashings subsided, and Aragorn let go with feeble, shaking hands.
When the stuff had somewhat dried, Gandalf came over and bandaged it tightly. He placed a long, loose night robe on the prince, and with Aragorn's help, moved him back to the bed, whose sheets he had changed before bandaging. They covered him with a fresh woven blanket.
Gandalf turned and then really got to work. He went around the room, picking up the soiled rags and throwing them into the fire. They were so filthy with orc blood that they immediately caught. He washed the table with the same concoction they'd washed Legolas with, throwing that rag into the fire as well. Aragorn, after much persuasion, washed his hands in the bowl, which he did at arm's length. He hated the smell of the stuff, no matter how much it was helping his friend.
It was after everything was cleaned up that Gimli awoke, and asked if there was anything he could do to help. Aragorn laughed slightly, as did Gandalf. Gimli looked on, a confused look on his face as only a dwarf could muster.
They cleaned up what little was left, dumping it all into the fire burn. Aragorn questioned this, but Gandalf claimed that whatever poison the Ururks had used might not disappear entirely when washed, and it would be better to burn them anyway.
After throwing the last of the rags into the flames, Aragorn and Gimli sat down to wait while Gandalf plowed through text after text, looking for a cure.
Endarine had barely drifted off to sleep when her mind once again turned inward. He dreams went back to memories, back to Imladris, to Moria, even Lothlorien, where they'd spent a month restoring their supplies and resting up the wearied hobbits.
Her mind dwelled on the last place. Lorien; home for both hers and his kin, if ever distantly. She had enjoyed herself there, but everything seemed to go downhill from then.
First, the splitting of the fellowship. She, Aragorn, Legolas and Gimli had been cut off from the rest of the halflings by the Uruk attack at Amon Hen, Frodo and Sam had taken off in one of the elven boats, Merry and Pippin had both been taken captive of the orc band. They had pursued them mercilessly, until come upon by Eomer and his band of Rohirrim. They had journeyed far, finding Gandalf, much to her joy, and traveling all the way to Edoras and the king's golden hall of Meduseld.
Endarine shook her head, trying to dispel the thoughts. She had to get some rest. She had been up for several days straight, and even elves needed sleep after so long. Tiring herself even more by dwelling on the past would do her nothing. She settled deeper into the warm fur blanket, letting it's and the warmth from the fire seep into her until she was toasty warm. Soon, her eyes glazed over and glassy, she was deep in sleep.
Legolas began to moan and thrash about on the bed. Gandalf and Aragorn both hurried over and held him down, lest he open his wound once again and bleed out what little blood he had left. The prince soon quieted, though his eyes were still glassy and unfocused.
Gandalf went over to the hearth, picking up a bowl of water on the way. He put a few herbs in them that Aragorn recognized this time; mint, lavender and poppy. The poppy was a heavy drug, and would dull the great pain the elf would be and was unquestioningly in. The mint and lavender were simply there to cover the bitter taste of the opiate flowers.
Using tongs, Gandalf pulled from the edge of the fire a few hot stones, dropping them into the bowl of water until the water was simmering. The heavy smell of mint mixed with the slightly musty smell of poppies soon filled the room.
Gandalf removed the stones and put them back by the fire to heat once again, and took the bowl back to the table. Out of a jar he had cajoled from one of the supply guards, he put in a few drizzles of honey; it's sweetness more than sure to replace the bitterness of the brew.
Legolas had begun moving again, but this time with the look of someone coming out of deep sleep. His head moved from side to side, and his eyes closed. Aragorn knew from past experience that elves did this moments before they woke. Gandalf appeared at the side of the bed, now holding a steaming wooden goblet.
He finally awoke, looking about the room in wonder before his eyes fell upon his bedside companions. His eyes focused and he tried to sit up, seemingly unaware of his condition. Aragorn gently took hold of his shoulder before he moved the wound too much and pushed him back down.
"N'uma, melloneamin. (No, my friend.)"
He willingly complied, for a twinge of pain had reminded him of his plight.
"Ilya foray (alright)" the voice came out more soft and whispery than usual, barely audible.
Gandalf stepped in and offered the steaming cup. Legolas drank it gratefully, dropping back down onto the bed with a look of exhaustion. The drug would take a few moments to begin its effect. Gandalf went back to the table, putting the goblet down.
Soon enough, though, the woodland prince began to drift off into sleep, now thankfully numbed by the heavy drug. The eyes soon glazed over and went unfocused.
Almost instantaneously, Aragorn heard a scream from outside the room. He could tell instantly whose it was. Endarine! He looked panicky at Gandalf who stood and listened to it as it once again flooded the halls. He took one look at Aragorn and nodded.
"There is nothing more you can do here for now. Go and see what's wrong with her! And hurry! I've a bad feeling in my stomach from this."
Aragorn raced out of the room so fast the door almost splintered when it hit the wall.
Endarine had finally drifted off to sleep. Her eyes were open and her breathing even and shallow, blankets piled around her.
No sooner was she asleep before a dream began in her head. She went back through her memory, landing finally within the outer woods of Lothlorien. She was last in line with the fellowship, behind Legolas. The hobbits and Gimli were in the middle, Aragorn and Boromir bringing up the front.
"Watch yourselves, hobbits." Gimli was cautioning to the shorter four. " An elf witch lives in these woods…".
Endarine grinned. Galadriel was indeed a powerful sorceress, but never in the mind to which Gimli was putting it.
She heard a sound behind her, and turned to see leaves fluttering through the late day sunbeams shining through the treetops. Her face took on a look of confusion and she nudged the elf in front of her.
"Legolas, there is someone following us."
He turned his own crystal blue eyes to look in the same direction, and saw the last of the leaves fluttering to the ground.
"Do you think the orcs could have followed us?" he questioned
"I think not. Orcs hate sunlight. It is too bright even now for them to venture far out, and this is a bit too far for them to go."
"Then keep a good lookout."
Gimli was still boasting. "I've the eyes of an eagle and the ears of a fox…"
It was then that Endarine heard the footsteps around them. They were light, so they couldn't be enemy footfall. They were undoubtedly elven, but she still trusted no one but the fellowship, and even then she wasn't so sure. She unshouldered her bow and within a second had an arrow notched and aimed at the trees around them. Legolas, too, had heard the footsteps, for he had also drawn his bow and had an arrow ready to fly.
Gimli was standing motionless, an elven arrow aimed at the middle of his face. The rest of the fellowship had begun to draw weapons, but thought better of it when they saw the ready bows.
They were completely surrounded by golden haired elves. Serious looks and sharper weapons made them all freeze. Legolas was moving back and forth, eyes contact wavering with each elf around them, not sure if he should drop his bow or keep it ready. Endarine was doing the same, deep blue eyes darting around and her arrow aiming at several.
An unnotched elf came forward, slightly full of face, with golden hair and light grey eyes.
"That dwarf breathes so loud we could have shot him in the dark." There was an air of arrogance in the way he spoke, and Gimli growled at it.
Endarine and Legolas wisely refletched their arrows and shouldered their bows. The elves were herding them into a line, and they complied. They were led in a line through the forest up to a high perched fletch in the trees. The elf who had spoken introduced himself as Haldir, and after conversing slightly with Legolas and Endarine, went off with Aragorn to speak to him. They were too far away even for Endarine's more adept hearing to catch.
Legolas stood beside her, and arm around her waist and his chin on her head. She leaned into him, one of her arms over the one hugging her, comfortable with the position. Their relationship had grown even more during their adventure, though she was still confused over whatever she had done in Moria. Legolas's and Aragorn's quick description had only confused her, and her feelings over the loss of the Istari were still hidden, though they would no doubt return when they were in safer surroundings. It was one aspect she didn't like about her elven heritage. Grief went far too deep for them. She could tell that the owner of the arm around her was feeling the same, it was still tense and slightly shaky, as if he were holding something back, and he'd had the same expression on his face since they'd left the caves.
Haldir and Aragorn had finished their conversation. Haldir went straight to Frodo.
"You bring great evil here. You can go no further."
They left the fletch, elves along both ends keeping the fellowship in the middle, though single file. They walked for more than an hour when they reached a high hill. Haldir led them to the top and stood looking out.
"Calas Galadhon." He said with slight awe in his voice. "The heart of elvendom on earth, and the home of the Lord's Celeborn, and of Galadriel, Lady of Light."
Endarine rolled her eyes unseeingly. Oh, what an ego!
They were led to the tight grouping of mallorn trees. Oh, but they were a sight! Endarine had not seen mallorns for decades, content with the sea near her Grey Haven's home. They were lit every few feet by white lanterns, glowing with bluish beams. Endarine felt a wave of homesickness at the sight.
They were led upwards, and up and up until they came to the near tops of the enormous trees. They stopped on a wide glowing platform attached to the massive trunk of the tree. Haldir went to one side, leaving them in front of the staircase that led further up the tree and into the palace of Lorien.
From the top of the stairs came a light, and from it descended the lord and lady of the golden wood. Celeborn, holding the hand of his wife, Galadriel. They slowly descended the steps, and came to rest a near their bottom. Galadriel immediately began looking around at each member of the fellowship in turn. Her eyes came in contact with Endarine's, and she gasped as a warm feeling of love and comfort flooded from the other mind.
"Nine there are yet ten set out from Rivendell. Tell me! Where is Gandalf? For I much with to speak with him."
Galadriel got a pained look in her face, and Endarine heard in the back of her head Gandalf the Grey did not pass the borders of these lands the voice echoed in all their minds. She finished verbally.
"He has fallen into shadow." Her eyes sank, looking grieved.
Endarine turned to look at the rest of the fellowship, seeing looks of sadness all around. She looked last at Legolas, who unwaveringly looked up at the queen with a tear-filled stare.
"He was taken by a bout of shadow and flame. A Balrog of Morgoth, for we went needlessly into the net of Moria."
Endarine's eyes brimmed so that she wasn't sure if she could hold them back. She took a step backwards and placed her hand on Legolas's shoulder; a move noticed but not commented on by the queen.
"Gandalf's life was not taken in vain" Galadriel continued. "We do not yet know his full purpose." She glanced around again, this time coming to rest on Gimli.
"Do not cry, Gimli son of Gloin. For the world has grown full of peril, and much toil."
She began looking around again, her gaze lastly resting upon the brunette hobbit, Frodo.
"Tonight, you shall be guests in our wood….." Endarine did not hear the rest for a whisper went tearing through her mind. She understood none of it, for it was in a tongue foreign to her.
Later, when they were settled, Endarine asked Haldir if there was any stream nearby for her to bathe in, for she was covered in filth from the battle on Moria and the haggard run from there to Lorien. He kindly directed her through the trees to a small stream, where a bend in its flow had created a backwash pool. Also, near the pool, was a steaming well that came up from the ground and slowly overflowed into the stream.
She gathered up her one clean change of clothing and headed through the woods. Along the way, she gathered up a few wildflowers that she knew foamed well and washed way grime. She undressed, laying the soiled clothes in the open flowing stream, but held by a rock so that the currant would wash them as she did.
She sat in the hot steaming pool, washing herself clean. The dirt and filth of the Moria mines flowed away in the slight current of the stream. Her mind drifted to the happenings of the mine. Her explanations had been few, the two she had gotten from Aragorn and Legolas very sparse in details. The only thing truly discernable she had gotten from either tale was Legolas' unmatched concern for her when he'd seen her doing…whatever it was that she had done. She had no memory of it, she remembered standing there, and an instant later, the scene changing, she in Legolas's arms and Gandalf falling away from them.
At that thought, her eyes began to water and added their saltiness to the clean water that held in droplets on her face. Mithrandir had been a favorite friend of hers, ever since she'd been young. To lose him now was a tragedy she did not want to accept. Enough loss had been encountered already.
Legolas was through cleaning out his packs, and as an afterthought cleaned out Endarine's as well. He knew she needed time more than he to collect her thoughts. She had known Gandalf better, after all.
He was through, and the hobbits contentedly filled with food and drink and now preparing for sleep. Gimli was dozing off as well. Aragorn and Boromir were both sitting against massive trunks, still filthy from their battle, cleaning and whetting their blades that they would not rot within their sheaths.
He heard a noise behind him, and turned to see Endarine walking softly back towards the camp. She held a bundle of damp cloth over her arms, and her hair was half dry and a springy golden hue with the sun setting behind the mallorns
He smiled at her, and she weakly smiled back. As she stepped closer, he noticed a slight redness in her eyes. Had she been crying? He could not blame her. He had not known the wizard that well and he felt like weeping himself.
At that moment, Pippin expressed a want for water, and Legolas picked up one of the metal carafes and went to the small fountain in their camp that was flowing with crystal clear water form one of the many nearby streams. He filled it, and upon lifting it from the water, noticed the singing coming from up in the trees. He looked up, seeing in the higher glowing fletches many pale figures.
"A lament for Gandalf." He stated, bringing the songs to the attention of the hobbits.
"What are they saying?" questioned Merry. He was looking in awe at the upper branches where the Lothlorien elves stood singing.
"I cannot say." He answered, feeling an upwelling of tears come to his eyes, "For me the grief is still too near."
Endarine looked up from where she had taken a place at the foot of one tree. The look of sadness in the younger elf's eyes brought a freshet of new tears to her own.
Legolas silently handed the pitcher to the parched Pippin, who poured a bit into a goblet and drank it down greedily.
Endarine noticed movement out of the corner of her eye. She tuned her head, and saw Samwise standing up. He began reciting an on-the-spot poem.
"The finest rockets ever seen
They burst in stars of blue and green.
With whirling spirals or silver showers
Came falling like a rain of flowers….."
Gimli snorted as Aragorn punched him in the gut, awakening him. Endarine dipped her head and smiled slightly.
Sam had started gruffing to himself, "Oh that doesn't do him justice by a long shot…."
Legolas chose at that time to leave the camp. Endarine noticed, but did not follow. Perhaps he needed to be alone.
Soon, the hobbits had fallen asleep, and Boromir had gone off followed by Elessar it grew late, and Legolas still had not returned. She decided to go look for him. They could give each other comfort this night, they both needed it and she knew it.
She had just left the camp when right behind her came Galadriel. She noticed the retreating form of the older elleth and smiled. She would not disturb them this night. She had other things to do. She continued on, purposely making a little noise so that the dark-haired halfling would awaken and notice, and continued on to her mirror.
Endarine had barely gotten out of camp when she noticed the slight trail Legolas had made when leaving. He must truly be grieved to leave such an obvious marking. She followed it, slowly and silently. It went quite a ways into the wood, past the bright glowing fletches of the Galadhrim. Soon the only light was from the gibbous moon overhead. She soon came to a slight clearing, and when she stepped out into the moonlight, she heard a sound she had never expected.
Sitting on the opposite side, his back against a tree, sat Legolas. His knees were brought up, his hands around them and his head on top, and his shoulders racked almost silently with tears. She melted back into the shadows of the clearing periphery, and made her way around the edge to where he sat. He was so preoccupied that he didn't even notice her approach. He jumped when she knelt and put a hand upon his shoulder. He quickly wiped his eyes with the back of his hand.
"I'm sorry…"
"Ten'mani, mela? (For what, love?)" it was the first time she had used such an intimate name for him. Perhaps it would help him to calm down.
"Ten'iluve (for everything)" he wiped his eyes again and took a deep breath, a ragged one that denoted his weeping a moment before.
She reached out despite misgivings and stroked the side of his face, still wet from his tears.
"Ellerea kai lle bele cael ume (there was nothing you could have done)"
"Amin sint! Amin ere'deloth sina tyavea. (I know! I simply hate these feelings)"
Endarine continued to stroke his face. It seemed to be helping. She knew exactly what he meant. In all her years, she couldn't recall the countless times she had grieved for loved ones, lost to Mandos or to the Blessed lands of Valinor.
He calmed under her touch, the erratic rhythm of his breathing evening out as he calmed down. His eyes closed, and he tried to regain his composure. It didn't work, within moments, his lips pressed together and began to tremble.
On impulse, Endarine moved in a swept him into an embrace. It was only too soon. He broke once again, crying into her shoulder as she held him, stroking his hair and shoulders. The onslaught threatened to make her own eyes overflow.
She began a soft hum, more to calm her self than the grieved one she was holding.
" Lye rander ilya ereb
Hes tuulo lye eska
Dagorae ten' ndora il'lye
Lye nia ten'ron yaer wanwa
Oio yaer uusinta a'lye
Lye nwalma rimea tumba
Nan'e' luume lye caela' vanwatul'e
( We wander all alone
Far from our home
Battling for lands not our own
We weep for those who are lost
Even those unknown to us
Our grief runs deep
But in time we must overcome.")
The words came out of nowhere, a lament she'd not heard before. But it helped the prince to calm down. His sobs had stopped and his breathing had evened. She sat back, looking at him.
He was looking at her, a grateful look in his now midnight blue eyes. A slight smile graced his thin lips. "Diolla lle (thank you)"
"Lye yuuyo ante'te (we both needed it)" she replied, and they both shared a giggle. She looked at him, and became lost in his eyes just as she had the night they'd first met. The surrounding woods seemed to disappear, only the moon showed, reflecting in his eyes and giving him a more ethereal quality than even Galadriel possessed.
His hands were still around her, and now they moved to cup her shoulder and the side of her face. She closed her eyes, leaning into the touch, enjoying the moment. He leaned closer when she closed her eyes, and captured her mouth in a searing kiss. Her eyes opened for an instant in surprise, then closed again as the kiss deepened. She leaned into him, and he was pinned to the tree, but he didn't care.
The hand on her shoulder played with the strings that held it in place. She did not try to stop him. He succeeded, and the slight garment she had put on slipped from one shoulder, exposing her pale skin underneath, glowing in the moon and starlight. In return, she began to undo the eyelet buttons on his shirt, until he lay with it opened down the middle, his toned muscles visible even in the scant light of night.
The kiss ended, and they looked at one another, slightly out of breath. Endarine smiled, and Legolas smiled in return. He leaned in to kiss her again…..
It was much later when they began to make their way back to the camp. They meandered slowly, holding hands, nearly running into trees they were so preoccupied with each other.
Endarine laughed and, letting go of his hand, twirled in the night, the moonlight shining off her clothes as she spun. He laughed and went after her. She stopped when he caught her, bringing her back for yet another kiss. She leaned her head back, looking at him and smiling. He smiled back. Then she saw from behind him a glowing orange light. Her face went blank, and she looked over his shoulder. She gasped in surprise. He dropped his hands and whirled to look behind him.
Hurtling at them was a literal wall of flame, going up many feet and as wide as they could see. It was overtaking the forest, burning the mallorns as they were surrounded by flames. Legolas turned and pushed her.
"Rimea! (Run!)" and they took off into the night.
Even as they were running, they could hear the flames encroaching. Endarine looked over her shoulder. The flames were catching up! She put a new burst of speed into her feet.
It encroached even more, until they could feel its heat upon their retreating backs. Endarine looked over her shoulder again, and saw the flames mere feet from them as they ran. Legolas, too, turned to look. He noticed that the fire only swept forward, and did not enclose in on the backside of the trees. He looked back at her with a look of sadness upon his face. He grabbed her shoulder, and they stopped. She looked at him with a look of confusion and tried to resume her running, but he held her there, pushing her behind one of the massive trunks. It was only just in time.
Safe from the flames now, Endarine watched as the wall of fire flew past, engulfing Legolas in flame. His scream of pain was great, she tried to get closer to him but the flames were too hot and he was too far away. She watched in horror, rooted in place, as he was engulfed in flames and burned to ashes……
She woke up screaming!
A moment later, Aragorn burst in through her door, running to her.
"Endarine! What is wrong!" she only continued to scream, holding her head in her hands and rocking back and forth within her blankets.
Aragorn saw it would be no use to talk to her. Instead, he sat on the edge of the bed and held her to him, she tried to shake him away, but he held on, his grip tightening as he tried to calm her. She eventually stopped her rocking and sat there, crying into his arms.
When she was calmed down, he slowly released her. She sat back up, shaking her head and trying not to cry anew. He held her shoulders and looked at her. He spoke in elvish, maybe hearing her own tongue would help to calm her more.
"Mani na ta, Endarine? (What is it, Endarine?)"
She looked at him, her eyes still brimming and her entire body shaking. Her breathing was hard, as if she'd just come from running a league.
"Kai, ta'kai, Elessar (Nothing. It's nothing, Elessar)" and she tried to back away. His grip did not slacken.
"Amin kaiv nyar lye manka ta'kai. (I will tell you if it's nothing.)" he said, determined not to let her go.
"Ta'ea ere'kaime (It was only a dream.)"
" A'engwar kaime? (An ill dream?)" he questioned.
"Uma (yes)"
She had stopped shaking, and he slowly let her go.
"Lye ant'a van (You need a walk)"
She looked up at him and nodded, ready to do just about whatever anybody told her. "It will help you clear your mind. And Endarine…"
She had become preoccupied again and looked up at her name.
"He will be fine. We have cleaned the wound, and Gandalf gave him an opiate so he could sleep and regain his strength. You've slept long enough. Go outside in the cool air and walk. Make sure you stay inside the Keep. Théoden is not sure Saruman won't send another army."
She got up slowly and solemnly began to dress. He left the room.
Going back to Legolas's room, he entered with heavy steps. If only his words could be true. They still didn't know if the prince was out of danger.
Doing as she was told, Endarine went for a walk. She traversed the long edge of the now broken Deeping Wall.
She was at one end, near the bridge where the phalanx had nearly broken in. she noticed inside the gate the entrance to the caves, where the women and children had hidden themselves before the battle's onslaught. She decided on impulse to go inside and see it.
She went through the entrance, the night guards paying her little attention. One of them was and elf, in fact, one of those that had caught the fellowship in Lorien's borders. He nodded to her as she walked past, and she nodded back.
She was awed at the sight of the massive cavern. The crystals that grew from the walls and stalagmites were beautiful, shining with the light of the single torch by the entryway. She wanted to explore further, and saw a pile of unused torches just underneath the burning one. Picking one up, she lit it upon the one in the wall, and ventured further into the massive cave.
She was far in, near the escape tunnel that the caverns temporary inhabitants would've had to take if the Rohirrim hadn't arrived. In the middle was a vast pool of water. She could hear drips from where more water slowly dropped into the water.
Sticking the torch deep into the earthen floor, she sat at the edge of the pool, using the regular drip as a rhythm from which to calm herself. She noticed offhand that the drops all fell in the exact center of the pool, and that the pool itself seemed to be a near perfect circle. Strange….. most natural phenomena did not have such regular makeup. Perhaps the pool had been carved by the Rohirans?
She looked at the ripples that the small droplets caused, and nearly grabbed the torch again to run away. A face!
Stalling her momentary fear, she leaned slightly closer. The face was barely discernable among the rocks of the bottom, but it seemed familiar.
It was masculine, with high cheeks and a beard, and deep, dark eyes. It seemed like it was half hidden in shadows. Then, as it seemed to notice her looking at it, it seemed to rise up, and soon the light of the torch played upon it. The face smiled!
It came up, higher and higher until it broke the water's surface. She nearly screamed, but her voice was cut short as the being spoke.
"Welcome, blessed one." The voice was deep, and strangely musical. It lulled her, calmed her.
The face continued upwards, until a man roughly ten feet tall was standing knee-deep within the clear pool.
"I've a message for you."
For a reason she could not explain, Endarine felt no fear. She was not sure who the being was, one of the Valar, probably, and from his wet entrance, most likely Ulmo, master of the waters. But she didn't want to question.
Other beings also began to rise from the pool, and as they did, so did a huge blanket of mist. It flowed out of the water like a river, obscuring all views of the cave but for the faces of the strange beings. It swept across Endarine's face, and she sighed as they relaxed her.
The people standing in the mists were male and female, about evenly scattered. The men all wore simple armor, all different colors. One of the women was bright green, and covered in what looked like leaves and vinery. Another of the women was very slight, dressed in white, pale of skin, and was crying. Her cheeks were covered with the falling tears. She came forward, looking Endarine straight in the eye.
Endarine felt herself moved towards the woman, not knowing why. When the being held up her hand, palm out, she felt compelled and reached forward to touch it with her own. As she did so, the goddess opened her mouth, and out from it spilled a song. The other beings also began singing. The words seemed indiscernible, but they filled Endarine with a great feeling of both happiness and grief. She saw a flashing image of Legolas, lying prostrate on the bed, his wound bleeding and his life leaving him. Then her mind flipped back to the dream she had woken from, the look on his face just before the wall of fire had enclosed him.
She let out a cry, closed her eyes and dropped her hand from the goddesses. The goddess whipped out the hand, catching Endarine's wrist and holding it there, not letting the hand finish it's wanted drop. Endarine opened her eyes again, to see the goddess's face mere inches from her own, still singing the haunting and vivid lament.
She calmed. She felt rise from within her the same song that she had sung to Legolas in Lorien, yet another filled with both grief and hope.
We wander all alone
Far from our homes
Battling for lands not our own
We weep for those who are lost
Even those unknown to us
But in time
We must overcome…
The goddess smiled through her own tear-streaked face. Her other hand came up and caressed Endarine's cheek, eventually lightly grasping her chin. She leaned in even closer. The others around her still continued the mournful bewailment.
Endarine felt herself lost in the snow-white eyes. Then, to her great surprise, they began to glow. A light golden shade appeared around the edges of her eyes, and continued throughout until both eyes were encased in a golden glow.
She couldn't move, nor did she want to. The glowing grew brighter and brighter, and she felt, rather than heard, words inside her head. She did not know their meaning.
The goddess continued her grip, her eyes glowing and her lips smiling. The words in Endarine's mind slowly grew down to a whisper, and disappeared altogether. As they did so, the singing of the others slowly halted as well. When there was naught but silence, the weeping white goddess let go her hold, and Endarine's hand slowly drifted down into her lap and settled. The goddess moved back into the pool, as did the others, and they slowly sank in, the mists following them. As the mists died, so did the light…
Endarine jerked awake. It was pitch black. Where was she? She rattled her memory, finally recalling her walk, and her trip into the caves where…she couldn't recollect. Something had happened with the pool… oh well. Sitting up slightly, she realized that she must've fallen asleep, so long that her torch had burned out. She wished she had another one with her…. To her surprise, right beside her, the dead torch burst into life again. It had lit itself!
Shaking her head, and not wanting to think on what had just happened, she gingerly retrieved the burning stick from the ground. She looked at it. It looked like a fresh torch, there was no soot upon it as would be on a used one. Then she noticed in the ground at her knees the used one from before. Had she brought two? She couldn't remember… Shaking her head again, she got up, and made her way back out of the cave. Strangely, she felt much calmer than she remembered. She remembered being on the verge of tears when walking around tonight.
She went back through the Burg, dousing her torch and leaving it in a pile of ones half-used. She made her way back to her room, where she laid down once again, strangely exhausted. She fell asleep almost instantly, and this time slept so deep that no ill dreams or nightmares were forthcoming.
Aragorn, now once again in Legolas' sickroom, sat at the table wringing his hands. The prince seemed little better, the poison seemed to have stopped worsening him, but he was getting no better either. Considering how it had only been a day since the wound was received, his logic was not on a high note.
Gandalf entered the room, going over yet another of the tumultuous number of books. He perused the pages, searching for an answer, and each time a novel yielded nothing he would throw it aside in contempt. The tabletop was littered with books thrown down at haphazard angles. The dwarf was still snoring in his corner. Valar, could dwarves sleep! And he had not even bathed after the battle; the smell that was coming from him was disgusting.
Gandalf walked near him and noticed and, turning kicked the dwarf awake and sent him grumblingly out of the room to wash. Gimli, with a somewhat bruised rear, stalked out the room mumbling dwarvish curses that ended with "wizard".
Gandalf once again threw the book down, sitting heavily in a second chair and covering his face with his hands.
"I cannot find a blasted thing! I've done all I can, I cannot help more." and he let out a very loud and frustrated sigh.
Aragorn leaned over and placed a hand on the wizard's shoulder, nodding in understanding. He opened his mouth to say something, but then a creak came at the door. He looked at it confusedly. Who could be here at this time of night?
He got up and went to open it, but just as his hand reached the handle, it opened itself from the other side. Endarine!
She came in, dressed only in her night robe. Aragorn averted his eyes.
"Endarine, what are you doing here?" she did not answer.
Looking closer, he saw that her eyes were open, but with the glassy look that told she was asleep. Sleepwalking? Whoever heard of an elf doing such a thing? Gandalf had risen from his chair. He looked at her strangely.
"What is she doing Aragorn?" Aragorn shook his own head in bewilderment.
Endarine made her way over to the bed, where the prince still lay in a drugged sleep. She came to rest by the side of the bed. She stood there for a long while, simply standing and staring at the bed. Then, after much time had passed, reached out and gently stroked the forehead of the sleeping elf.
Aragorn and Gandalf simply stood there dumbfounded.
She finished the caress, then stepped backwards two steps and turned. The two bystanders both gasped in alarm.
Her eyes, usually the deep, almost midnight blue of the ocean, were now glowing a bright golden yellow. It looked as though she had molten gold within her eyes. Aragorn steeped forward, his hand outstretched, but Gandalf held out his own and halted him.
"Let this go forward. I do not know what she is to do, but if it is anything like what was described to me of Moria, then the outcome cannot be disastrous."
Endarine lifted her arms, until they were parallel with the floor around her. She flipped her hands, palms up at the ceiling. The golden glow in her eyes seemed to get even brighter. Aragorn had to shield his eyes. Gandalf simply squinted and continued watching.
Her lips moved, and she began a mournful song of words neither the ranger nor the wizard could understand. To the Istari, however, the words had a familiar quality that made him feel uneasy.
Mist began to come out of a nearby bowl of water that Gandalf had sat out for cleanings. It flowed like water from the carved bowl, falling to the ground, enveloping their feet, growing deeper until it came to their waists. Still they stood there watching.
Endarine continued the chanting song. After a while, she seemed to rise somewhat out of the mist, and the golden glow enveloped her completely, flowing from her eyes down the rest of her body. The words stopped.
They were now in complete silence, the only sound the crackling sputter from the hearth as it tried to contend with the heavy dampness surrounding it.
Endarine jerked suddenly, and the light burst from her like the bomb that had broken the Deeping Wall. It landed all around her, dying as it struck the ground and bed. But where it struck the prince, it held, and began to surround him. The light around the two was nearly blinding, the two bubbles of light met and merged.
Then, with a sudden rupture, the lights exploded, sending out little swirling pieces like Gandalf's butterfly fireworks.
Endarine slowly sank back down to the ground, where she lay still. The mists retreated back into the bowl, and the room looked as it did before.
After a moment, Aragorn moved forward. He went to Endarine's side and tried to rouse her. It was of no use. He turned back to Gandalf.
"What was that?" he questioned. Gandalf shook his head.
"That is one query I cannot answer. But I do have a good feeling about its outcome."
He helped Aragorn to pick up the unconscious elleth, and put her onto the makeshift bed they had made for Legolas out of chairs and layers of blankets and sheets.
"What should we do?" Aragorn asked.
Gandalf turned and strode back towards the bed. He pulled back the covers, and a grin spread on his bearded face. Aragorn hurried over.
Gandalf began to remove the bindings of the wound, and when the bloodstained cloth was removed, Aragorn gasped in surprise. The wound was gone! Gandalf answered the questioned burning in the ranger's eyes.
"I believe Endarine has found the cure for our friend."
A/N: well that's where we've written thus far, but the chapters do have detailed notes so we basically have the story done. I'll be putting up updates in my profile so check back every now and then. TTFN
