Cale au Aratar: 21
Shock went through him as he saw the pale face and limp body of his prince. He had often seen Legolas wounded, even unconscious at times but never, never in all those years had he seen him so pale...so dead. Without a doubt he knew that there was no longer something any of them could do to heal him, all that was left to them was to ease his pain and even that required a miracle. Almost hesitantly he walked over to the bed and stepped next to Thranduil, he knows flickered through his mind, he knows that his son is dying and that there is nothing he or we can do about it. Just as those thoughts were passing through his mind Thranduil looked up and looked him directly in the eyes.
"There is still a chance, there is still hope, there is always hope. Legolas has still not given up and as long as he is still fighting so will I and even longer! There is still hope for him!"
Hope, Estel, so often during the last days during his lonely ride had he wondered what he had done wrong, where he had erred in raising Arathron's son, where he had failed. It had taken him till he had already been back to Minas Tirith to realise where he had failed: he had failed to realise that Estel was only human. When he had told Estel of his heritage and his fate he had done so under the impression that the young edain would be able to handle it as well as Legolas had handled the knowledge of his fate. He had not realised that Legolas had literally eternity to come to accept his destiny while Aragorn only had a few short years.
Furthermore did Legolas have the reassurances of the Valar that he would be able to handle his destiny while Aragorn was alone. He had had no right to place such a burden on the shoulders of a young man without giving him the believe in his own strength that he needed.
Ú-chebin Estel anim. How those words hounded him, how they would hound him for the rest of his life, for eternity. Now he realised that for the last years he had often failed to see Aragorn, to see Estel the small boy he had raised but had instead seen Elros his own twin brother. True, Estel looked almost nothing like his ancestor only his eyes were those of Elros', the same grey-green colour, the colour of the new leaves of a silver poplar.
It still hurt to look into those eyes, into the eyes of his brother only to know that it was not his brother he was looking at, that it never again would be his brother. For years he had not been able to forgive his brother for choosing a mortal life as it meant that they would be forever separated at his death. Yet as the years past he realised that it was not his brother he could not forgive but himself for wanting to remain immortal. Even though they looked nearly completely alike, only the colour of their eyes allowing a distinction, their characters could not have been more different. While Elros loved to hunt and even to fight he preferred to spend his days in libraries or in the halls of healing. He had always been the quiet one compared to his twin and because of his visions often the one who needed to be protected; so while he was the older of the two it had often fallen to Elros to protect them both. There had never been a time when Elros had not taken action, when he had done immediately what was necessary, it had never mattered to him if he liked what was asked of him – it was necessary he did it. Seldom had he allowed himself to spend days or even weeks over old books and scrolls or learning old lore, in that aspect he had always acted like an edain.
When they had been given the choice, immortality, the life of an Eldar or mortality the life of an edain he had known what his brother would chose even though they had not talked about what their decision would be. Nevertheless it had hurt when his brother had chosen a mortal life, a life that would soon come to an end.
That day when he had failed to convince Isildur to cast the One Ring into the fires of Mount Doom he had felt as if he had failed his brother. He had known that Isildur would die because of the ring, that the ring would betray him. For centuries after that he had asked himself if he would not have been able to save Isildur if he had only tried harder to convince him to destroy the ring.
Yet when Aragorn had been first brought into his care he had not thought of Elros or Isildur only of a small boy with wide wondrous eyes he hadn't even dwelled on the passing of Arathron when he had looked at the child - and the man had been a close friend. With Aragorn a child had once again graced his house and for the first time since his beloved Celebrian had been captured and had sailed to the Undying Lands he had felt contend.
Deep in his heart he knew that he should have never scorned Aragorn his love for Arwen, some part of him had always known that yet when he had first learned of their love all the pain he had felt at his brothers choice and death that had always simmered in his heart had surfaced with vengeance and he had felt as if his heart was bursting with pain. All he had been able to do was to lash out at his foster son and forbid him to ever see his daughter again or to ever enter his valley again. Even while he had spoken those words had he known that in his heart he did not mean them but the knowledge of his daughters painful future and even more painful death as well as the memories of his own pain at the death of his brother had prevented him from acting any different about their love. He had known even before Arwen had been born that she would fall in love with a mortal and die of a broken heart yet when the time had come he had had to try and prevent it, prevent their love from forming.
When Elros had still been alive his visions had been different. Yes, they had been more intense, more painful and even more regular till he had learned from Lady Galadriel to block at least some of them but even during the most intense vision he had had an anchor. He often wondered if Elros had been aware that it was his presence, his existence and the bond they shared as twins that kept him sane during their childhood. Elros had been his strength during those visions, the power that preserved his reason and his sanity without him he would have been driven insane. Even after his brother had chosen a mortal life did their bond remain – till Elros had died in his arms. He still remembered the day, how could he ever forget the day his brother, a part of his soul died? The day had been wonderful, warm sunlight had flooded the room when his brother had drawn his last breath, the sound of waves had drifted up to the castle from the sea the cry of gulls had cut into his heart. Never again would he be able to hear the cry of a gull without seeing the death of his brother before him, that day he had learned to hate the sea with a passion. Celebrian had asked him to accompany her when she sailed West but his hate for the sea and the knowledge that neither his parents nor his brother would wait at Valinor's shores for him made it impossible for him to go with her. Yet when Legolas would not survive he would leave – or fade.
He had lost many during his long life, to grieve, to a sword or simply to old age. The most painful of these passings had been that of Celebrian and that of Elros – his wife and his brother. One he would see again but the other was lost for eternity, there was no return from a mortal death. Was it for that reason that his brothers death hurt more than all the others? He knew that he would see Celebrian as soon as he sailed to the Undying Lands or she returned to Arda but still... When Elladan and Elrohir had been born he had been torn between happiness and fear. Fear that one of them would make the choice of Elros and would leave the other behind. He had also felt a tinge of jealousy that his sons would have something he himself longed for since the day his brother had died. Elven twins were even closer than mortal twins, they were only complete when the other was with them, they felt when the other needed them and in rare moments they would even think and feel as one. It had been that bond that had Elros allowed to guide him during his visions and it was the same bond that allowed Elrohir to cheer Elladan up whenever he was to lost in his thoughts. His sons were so much like Elros and himself, Elrohir, the younger one was more open, more cheerful and loved weapons while Elladan, the first born was like himself a healer who loved to spend his days in the vast library of Imladris. Elros would have loved his valley and his family just as he had loved Elros home Numenor and his brothers family even though he had never been able to fully forgive Elros wife for being the reason he chose to become mortal.
The hands of Elrohir brought him back to the presence as his younger son opened the clasp of his cloak.
"He isn't any longer responding to our presence or our voices, ada, but we can still feel him, he is still himself."
Concerned he exchanged glances with his mother in law and Mithrandir, when he wasn't even responding to them any longer than he was indeed nearly gone. Even unconscious he should be able to ... communicate ... with those of his blood. At least he was still himself and not yet changed otherwise all hope would have been lost.
"Elrond, you will hold him. Try to force your mind to connect with his through a vision – Elrohir will anchor you and Elladan will guide you. We need his co-operation – without it we will be set to fail."
Celeborns voice allowed no denial, speaking was not the elf who had taken Elros and himself in or even his father in law but the Lord of Lothlorien Celeborn the wise. As he went over to the bed Thranduil stood up and lifted the unmoving body of his son from the sheets. With fear Elrond noticed that the bandages on Legolas side were shining with a hint of silver. No-longer was Legolas blood the red with a silver sheen but pure silver. There was no-longer the question if he would be turned, when an Eldar bled pure silver his soul had nearly reached Namos halls. Those who fell in battles left to sudden for their blood to change but those who were wounded but died of a broken heart bled in their last days or hours pure silver.
While he settled down on the bed, his sons sitting down on his sides he was not able to take his eyes from the silver spot on the bandage. Whit shaking hands he retrieved the beautifully crafted ring out of a small pocket in his tunic and wrapped it into a small cloth before he gave it to Althilwen:
"When Elladan tells you place it on his finger but do not touch it."
Only a faint nod was her response but it was enough to know that she would do as he asked of her. He felt Thranduil tremble as he placed his son into his arms his head coming to rest on his left shoulder. He has lost weight flickered through his mind as the younger elf leaned against him. While he rested his own head against Legolas' he felt that his sons placed their hands on his shoulders offering him guidance and support. It was not that difficult to force a vision but it was painful. All the mental blocks he had erected to ward him from most of the visions had to be torn down opening his mind to a world where wraiths and spirits resided. Somewhere among them he knew had to be a link to the mind of Legolas, a link he had to find as soon as possible.
Before him he saw a small girl, a girl he had never seen before, a girl he knew was only the spirit of someone long dead. She did not speak to him when she turned around away from him and beckoned him with a gesture to follow her. In what seemed to be only moments they had reached to edge of a wide sea and in the distance he saw the kneeling form of his prince only when he started to walk towards him did she speak:
"Please tell my brother and my father that naneth and I will always be with them."
Looking sadly at the form of her brother she continued:
"He can not see me – at least not yet – and I fear the moment he will be able to. Tell him that Aule's son is proud of him but does not want to see him before the end of time...
Lord Elrond, the rings have to be invoked in the order they were created: fire, water, air and life. Each of the bearers has to invoke it on his own but as soon as you have called on their power you have to join your strength to push the poison out of his body – if it is still inside of him when the next day dawns he will have joined naneth and myself."
Without an other word and before he could answer her, her spirit vanished and left him alone. They had only a day left to save their prince, only a day to save the one they all loved before he would enter the halls of Mandos. A part of him was surprised that they had so much time left but an even greater part feared that it would not be enough. Slowly he willed himself over to Legolas crumpled form, suppressing a violent start as he saw the face of the once proud warrior. The face that he saw before him was lined with anguish, fear and hopelessness.
"Come back to us, little one. There is still a way to help you, still time to turn back."
It was well over two hours since Elrond had started his attempt to enter their prince' mind when he suddenly stirred.
"He is no longer able to follow my pull – we will have to go to him. I was told what we have to do but we need Legolas as the bearer of the fourth ring. I was told what we have to do and till when..."
Asking with her eyes for confirmation Althilwen unwrapped the ring Elrond had given her before he had forced the vision and placed the ring onto her betrothed's finger. She had seen the three other rings and each seemed to be more beautiful than the others but she could not help but think that Cuilya was more beautiful than the others. Nestled into two strands of Mithril lay a green jewel, yet what caught her eye was that the two strands of metal were many thinner strands that were interwoven with each other till they formed two larger strands. When she looked close enough she could see that each of the strands looked like the largest of the three braids that Legolas used to wear when fighting or hunting.
While Althilwen had marvelled the beauty of Cuilya Elrohir had stood up to make place for Mithrandir while Elladan and Thranduil were carefully unwrapping the bandages around Legolas side. As soon as they were finished both Elrond and Mithrandir placed their right hands above the wound on Legolas back while Galadriel placed her own as well as Legolas hand above the wound on his stomach. Each of the three conscious ringbearers closed their eyes as soon as their rings touched the bleeding wound not seeing that within moments their hands were coated silver. It took only moments before their bodies seemed to fall into itself as their minds left them.