Thanks to the following reviewers of Chapter 72: Legosgurl, Dragonfly, Emma, and Deana.
Beta Reader: Dragonfly
Chapter 73: There Is Always Hope
Once the Men had fled, Haldir again mounted his steed and resumed his search for the Shire. He grudged the delay, as brief as it had been, and urged his horse back into a gallop. So it was that he rounded a corner and nearly rode down Gandalf, who, having received Galadriel's summons, was hastening toward Rivendell.
"Whoa!" shouted the wizard, throwing himself toward the side of the road. As for Haldir, now it was a good thing that Legolas was not there to observe his riding skill, for his horse reared up so abruptly that the Lórien Elf was pitched from it onto the ground. He was unconcerned with his dignity, however, and he immediately arose and, without even bothering to dust himself off, he pulled Gandalf unceremoniously to his feet and pushed him toward Glorfindel's horse.
"Legolas—very sick—hurry!" he babbled.
Impressed by the Elf's urgency, Gandalf asked no questions but vaulted onto the horse with an agility that was surprising in a Man who appeared so agéd. He had hardly settled himself upon the horse when the stallion broke into a full gallop, heading eastward. The wizard's hat flew from his head, but he never looked back. Stooping to retrieve the hat, Haldir mounted his own horse, but he did not bother to hasten. It was plain that he had no hope of keeping up with Gandalf, and so the Elf allowed his horse to settle into a trot, much to the relief of both of the Elf's mounts. Their perseverance over all those miles had been a testimony to the love and loyalty of elven horses for their riders, and they were now to enjoy a well-deserved respite.
As Gandalf galloped toward Rivendell, Elladan and Elrohir took turns going to the door of the House of Healing and keeping an anxious lookout for the wizard. Legolas' condition had changed, but not for the better. His fever had worsened, and he was now thrashing about and calling out constantly for 'Ada'.
"We had best send for Thranduil," said Galadriel.
"I will go," offered Glorfindel. The balrog-slayer proposed to ride accompanied only by spare horses through the nearest pass cutting across the Misty Mountains.
"It is dangerous for one to attempt the crossing on one's own," Elrond objected. "You must take a company of scouts."
"I can move faster on my own," rejoined Glorfindel. "As for danger, I will ride down any Orc foolhardy enough to rise before me in my path."
Gazing upon Glorfindel's set face, Elrond knew that the balrog-slayer spoke the truth, and he granted Glorfindel permission to do as he would. Soon Glorfindel, leading a string of spare horses, was galloping away from Rivendell as hard as Gandalf was galloping toward it.
When Elrond returned to Legolas' chamber, he found Tathar standing anxiously by the door. He was clutching a flute of his own devising.
"Lord Elrond, I am no healer, but I would do something for my friend. May I play for him? He has always enjoyed listening to music, and the flute in particular, for he says it reminds him of birdsong."
"Of course, Tathar. It can do no harm, and may do some good."
Tathar slipped into the room and stationed himself out of the way, in a corner. He played for hours, and Legolas, although he did not open his eyes, ceased his thrashing. At last, when Elrond saw that Tathar's lips were dry and his fingers reddened, he bade him cease. Tathar begged to continue.
"Please, Lord Elrond. I believe the music does sooth him."
"You are doubtless correct, but you must rest yourself. You may resume later. For now, fetch Erestor. Your music is magic, but I believe Erestor may be able to bring to bear magic of another sort. You and he shall take turns in soothing our friend."
Erestor answered Elrond's summons with alacrity, for he had been pacing in the library in desperation, frantically racking his brains as to how he help his former pupil. When he arrived at the House of Healing, Elrond asked him if he would read aloud from the books that had always delighted Legolas when he had been an elfling. Erestor gladly complied, sitting by the young Elf's bed and reading until he was nearly hoarse. Tathar spelled him then, and the two continued thus, taking turns so that day and night Legolas was always surrounded by either song or story.
Looking on, Elrond clung to hope.
"He will neither open his eyes nor speak, but he has not altogether lost touch with our world. Music and story still move him. The Orc poison has not touched the core of his being, I think."
"No, it has not," agreed Galadriel. "And if Tathar and Erestor can keep unbroken the link between his heart and Middle-earth, perhaps Mithrandir will be able to draw him back to consciousness."
Elladan ran up just then.
"Mithrandir is approaching, Ada! Elrohir has spied him."
Elrond hastened to greet the wizard.
"Mithrandir! You have made excellent time. I gather you encountered no obstacles twixt here and the Shire."
"No, I was unmolested by any foe," replied Gandalf as he hurried beside Elrond toward Legolas' chamber. "Haldir, however, was forced to disarm a brigand."
"Indeed. And what account did Haldir give of the incident?"
"He gave me no account at all, but I did not need to hear the tale from his lips. I know of the encounter because I galloped by the evidence: an arm lying in the middle of the road."
"Oh, you meant that Haldir disarmed him indeed!"
"Of course I did," Gandalf replied matter-of-factly. "I'm not the enigmatic one."
Elrond left that latter statement unanswered, for by now they had arrived at Legolas' room, and Gandalf entered and made straight for the young Elf's bed, sparing only a curt nod for Galadriel, who was bathing Legolas' forehead.
"Let us see what we have got here," muttered the wizard. He pushed back Legolas' sleeve and examined his birthmark, the one that looked like the elven word for nine. It had faded almost to nothingness.
"That's not good!" exclaimed the wizard, very much alarmed. He gripped his staff in one hand and with his other tightly held Legolas' hand, which felt very cold to the touch in spite of the prince's fever. Again and again the wizard murmured an incantation, his voice growing softer and fainter as he went on. The wizard's face grew weary. Suddenly he swayed and would have fallen had Elrond not caught him. Still he gripped Legolas' hand, and Galadriel had to force open his fingers to make him let go of the young Elf. "No!" protested Gandalf as Elrond dragged him to a chair. "I have not done. Let me give him more strength!"
"You must save some of your strength for yourself," chided Galadriel. "But, see, you have given him sufficient for the time being!"
It was true. Legolas was breathing more deeply, and the flush of fever was fading from his face. His hand felt warmer, though, and when Galadriel pushed back his sleeve, all could see that the birthmark had regained some of its color.
"I have bought him some time," muttered Gandalf, "but will it be enough?"
A day passed as Legolas' friends kept vigil by his bed. During that time, he grew no better, but neither did he grow worse. At the end of that day, however, his face again flushed with fever, and he once more began to toss and cry out. Gandalf took hold of his hand.
"You must be careful," warned Galadriel. "You will be no help to Legolas if you destroy yourself in attempting to save him."
Gandalf nodded, but he again exerted himself so powerfully that Elrond and Galadriel had to intervene, Elrond seizing him by the shoulders and Galadriel once more prying his fingers free of Legolas' hand. Elrond led the dazed wizard to another chamber in the House of Healing.
"You must rest," Elrond insisted, pushing Gandalf gently but firmly down onto a bed. "You must recover your own strength before you can help Legolas recover his."
Wearily, the wizard fell back upon the bolster.
"There must be something else I can do," he muttered.
"Rest," Elrond repeated sternly, pulling off the wizard's boots.
Gandalf lay with his eyes closed for awhile, but he could not keep his mind from racing.
"I am forgetting something," he brooded. "I know I am! But what?"
He opened his eyes and gazed at his hands.
"My hands are not enough," he said sadly. Suddenly he sat bolt upright.
"Hands! Yes! that's it! Hands. But what about hands? Hands, hands, hands. And healing. Something about hands and healing. I've read something, in a manuscript somewhere. Minas Tirith, I think. The library there. Healing hands. Hands of healing. Hands of a healer. Yes! hands of a healer! The hands of the king are the hands of a healer!"
Gandalf leaped from the bed and, his boots forgotten, ran barefoot out of the room and down the hall. He burst into Legolas' chamber.
"We must send for Aragorn at once!" he announced excitedly.
Aghast, Elrond stared at the wizard. Was there no hope for Legolas, then, that his foster-brother had to be hastily summoned to what was to be a deathbed? Gandalf saw his expression and understood what he was thinking.
"I do not call for Aragorn because there is no hope; on the contrary, it is because there is hope that we should seek him out."
Elrond turned to Elladan and Elrohir.
"How quickly can you depart?"
"On the instant," they replied, in unison and without hesitation.
"Good. You must pick up Aragorn's trail at the ruins of Fornost, for that is where he encountered the Mirkwood Elves. Take many extra horses so that you can ride to that spot with as few breaks as possible. I shall send other riders after you who will position additional horses along the path to Fornost so that with all speed Aragorn shall be able to ride post on his return. When you find him, give him your freshest horse and tell him he need not to spare it."
The twins nodded tersely and hurried from the room. After they had left, Gandalf slumped upon a chair, suddenly weary once more.
"I think," Galadriel said softly to Elrond, "that we will soon have two patients if Mithrandir does not rest."
Elrond nodded. With his back to Gandalf, he mixed some powder into a cup of wine. Then he approached the wizard.
"Here, my old friend: refresh yourself with a sip of this."
Without looking up, the exhausted wizard accepted the cup and drained its contents with one draught. A few minutes later, and he was snoring after the fashion of Men.
"Tathar," Elrond said to that young Elf, who had been standing in a corner, anxiously watching all that had transpired, "I pray you, help me carry Mithrandir to his room."
"But I have heard it said," Tathar replied worriedly, "that it is best to let sleeping wizards lie."
"True," said Elrond, "but only in the sense that one does not wish to wake a sleeping wizard—at least not too abruptly! However, we will take great care not to disturb Mithrandir from his rest. Indeed, the whole point of the exercise is that he should not awake!"
Reassured, Tathar helped Elrond with the task, and they laid the wizard gently upon the bed, removing his robe and carefully covering him with the quilt.
"I'd hide this garment if I thought it would make him stay abed," said Elrond ruefully, "but it won't. If I took his very leggings, he would simply wrap himself in the quilt and march right out the door."
"Edwen Nana could make him stay abed," suggested Tathar.
"Oh, I am sure she could," agreed Elrond dryly, "but then he wouldn't get much rest, would he?"
Tathar wondered if it would be proper to grin, and Elrond answered the question by smiling encouragingly at him.
"Orc venom wreaks havoc in many ways," said the elf-lord, "and not only upon he who has been directly poisoned. Let us not give way to despair. For joy, too, may prove to be an antidote in a case such as this."
A smile o'erspread Tathar's face. Suddenly he felt hopeful.
"As sick as Legolas is, the longer he survives, the likelier he will recover—is that not so?"
"Yes, for gradually his body may be able to purge itself of the Orc poison."
"So we shall continue to hope—and to buy Legolas time."
"Yes, as you and Erestor and Mithrandir have all been doing, each in your own way."
So Tathar and Elrond returned to keep vigil by Legolas' bed. But as the long hours passed and Legolas again grew feverish, it could not be denied that the Elves were forced to remind themselves again and again that there is always hope.