CHAPTER ELEVEN
Tomorrow will be a Miracle
"I need you to know our friendship means a lot - If you cry then I cry, if you laugh, I laugh...if you jump out the window I look down then...I laugh again." –Unknown
To say that Elrond was livid could quite possibly be considered an understatement, Elrohir noted grimly as he watched the last of the painful stickers being pulled from Elladan's back that was speckled with tiny little red and inflamed dots where other thorns had been. Elladan winced and grit his teeth as Elrond then proceeded to spread ointment on his pocked back and his scratched arms.
Elrohir resisted the laugh that wanted to be released as he saw a yellow rose petal slip from his brother's long dark hair and float gracefully to the floor. He wondered absentmindedly if there were any other yellow disremembered pieces of flower hidden anywhere in his brother's dark locks.
Glorfindel looked over from his bed and smiled as Elrond finished his administrations and gave Elladan a baleful glare. "You brought this on your own head, you know. And the fact that you managed to crack a rib in the process of destroying my rose bush and deliberately disobeying me is not improving my mood so think well before you speak," cautioned the Lord of Imladris, gesturing for his eldest son to lie down.
Elladan laid down cautiously as he felt his pricked skin burning and his right middle rib throbbed. Wriggling as he tried to get into a comfortable position, the elder of the twins gave his brother a scathing glare and hissed, "this is entirely your fault."
"Too bad you can't prove that," Elrohir whispered back as Elrond briefly turned his back to set something down on the little table by the bed.
"Elrohir," the Lord of Rivendell spoke over his shoulder. "You are out of the forest yet yourself. How many times have I told you to sit correctly in a chair?"
"This year, recently, all together…?" questioned the younger twin until his voice trailed off as he saw his father's angry face turn upon him. "Five times this week," he answered hurriedly and a little ashamedly. He pushed down a slight rose color trying to rise to his fair-skinned cheeks.
"My point exactly," the raven-haired Elf-lord said testily. "And I shouldn't have to do that. How old are you?" Elrohir's flush finally showed up on his face and deepened all together.
Glorfindel smirked and wriggled further up on his pillows to get a better look at all that was transpiring about him. Elrond gave him a hard look that made him shrink back down and be content to watch from where he was. But he was still finding everything extremely humorous, even if no one else thought so.
Elladan frowned and said, "I'm sorry Ada. I really didn't mean to crush your plant." He felt like a little child apologizing for breaking the precious antique vase and that didn't exactly make this situation any less humiliating or frustrating. It actually made his temper flare inwardly at himself for being so stupid as to be sitting on the windowsill in the first place and to have leaned backwards in the second. If Estel were here it would be certain that he would be getting lectured by his youngest brother or being getting laughed at to the nth degree. Neither sounded very appealing and he couldn't seem to figure out which was the lesser of the two evils.
Elrond sighed and said in a firm voice, "we will talk about it later, Elladan." Glancing at Elrohir he said quietly, "you come with me."
Once his brother was gone, Elladan shifted uneasily in his bed and sighed with frustration as much as an increasing boredom. "Blasted roses," he muttered under his breath. Of course he knew that the roses were hardly the problem but at the moment he had nothing else to blame these degrading and irritating circumstances on. Flowers were an appealing scapegoat, he certainly ran no risk of provoking a retaliation. The last time he had heard of a flower attack was, well, never.
He really didn't understand why his father was so furious other than the fact that he had crushed his rose bush and made a fool of himself while breaking a rib. It just didn't make sense and he would have thought that his father would have found that somewhat humorous but he didn't crack a small smile even once. It was simply not like Elrond to shun him and refuse to discuss something.
Glorfindel spoke from his left before yawning. "So how exactly did you come to land on his precious rose bush and mangle it?" It was better to hear this stupid little story than listen to the birds and let his cabin fever grow on him. He was mad enough already…
"I am not going to tell you if you don't already know, Lord Glorfindel," Elladan spoke with irritation. He closed his eyes and tried to imagine he was anywhere but here. Now, more than he had ever in the two years that Estel had been missing wish for his baby brother. He even missed the laugh he knew Aragorn would drive him to the brink of insanity with.
"Very well then," Glorfindel said as he shoved the quilt that some healer had placed over him as he slept off the bed and began to rise. The blanket crumpled to a heap on the floor.
Elladan knew what he was doing without even cracking an eyelid to take a quick glance. He smiled wryly as he gave a soft sigh before muttering, "don't you dare." It sounded strangely like an order and Glorfindel leaned back in bewildered amusement and cocked an eyebrow at the other Elf skeptically. "And who died and made you Lord?"
"No one really, I guess," Elladan mused as he twisted his head, opened his silver eyes, and looked over at Glorfindel amusedly but with annoyance all the same. But his view was limited due to the swelling in his eyes were he had actually managed to acquire a few dangerous bee stings due to the disturbance he had caused the busy creatures. Now that was something that he would have found highly funny if it had happened to anyone but himself.
"Well, then guess what? That means I am in charge…" Glorfindel was rudely interrupted.
"Unless I am here and then I am, as long as you are under the roof of this particular building," a strong, yet laughing voice reminded nearly joyously.
Glorfindel and Elladan both looked over at the door to see the head healer (other than Elrond) standing there. Her long honey colored hair mixed with strands of chestnut draped over one of her shoulders and was flipped behind the other.
She smiled tensely before commanding, "you are to stay here until Elrond gives me leave to release you."
"Oh, please…" began Glorfindel before his jaw dropped as he saw she was hardly joking. "I have rested here for an hour and I can assure him I am cured fully of my head-ache. As a matter of fact, allow to rise and I will prove it to you in no uncertain terms." Muttering small little quips about Elrond under his breath, the golden-haired Elf finally said into the air, "taking advantage of your power is most unfair, Lord Elrond."
"And talking about him behind his back is most brave," commented the women healer dryly as she went over and pressed gently on the golden-haired Elf-lord's brow with her slender, long fingers, feeling for any signs of the swelling receding. Glorfindel jerked back as her fingers centered on the more tender part of the bruise. She smiled tensely. "Lord Glorfindel, who fought and killed a Balrog jerking back from the touch of a healer's fingers to his bruise?" Turning to wink at Elladan she said, "remember this."
Elladan smiled and said, "I shall have to get Erestor to put it in the archives."
Glorfindel shot Elrond's eldest son a dangerous look between winces, which were quite often. "Well Balrogs didn't systematically probe a bruise for no real reason other than to torture me, they weren't that smart…" He winced as she gave it a final press before backing away and looking at it.
"I think the swelling will be gone by tomorrow, but you will still look like a mendicant raccoon with the black and blue patch that is going to leave for a few days." She smiled cheerfully and winked at Elladan, who was withholding laughs as he tried to avoid upsetting his rib, which had only just stopped feeling like it was being slowly twisted from his body.
"More like a crabby badger," commented the twin dryly as Glorfindel narrowed his eyes, causing the truth in the statement to be clearly seen.
"Well at least I don't look like a puffed up toad…" Glorfindel began a perfectly mean retort.
"Oh, I don't know, I think Elladan looks cute…" the young healer mused as she sat on the edge of his bed and looked down on him with a smile. Glorfindel looked disgusted and snorted with repulsiveness. Elladan held his chin up and smiled mockingly at the Balrog-Slayer, who rolled his eyes and glared.
"Cute compared to a toad," she finished with a cheeky grin and jumped up before Elladan could retaliate.
Laughter erupted from Lord Glorfindel who now found everything suddenly to be hysterical. Elladan turned an astonishing shade of crimson and then turned ashen before reflecting a strong red color again. He frowned and gave the golden-haired Elf a scathing glare before rolling his eyes and closing them, pretending not to hear their giggles and snickers.
"Thanks," Elladan said impassively as they continued with their little charade. "You are such a sweet maiden, Helinyetillë. Always so caring and polite, practically cut out for healing…"
"Oh, Elladan, you are too cynical," she chided as she picked up a handful of cotton bandages and stepped towards the older twin, waiting a moment to see his reaction. If she was looking to see a blank look of complete terror, she was very disappointed.
All Elladan did was squirm slightly and ask with a grin, "planning on embalming someone?"
"Not unless he refuses me sanction to heal his battered and cracked ribs," she responded rather acidly. Glorfindel watched with slight amusement as she unwound one of the long linens and commanded Elladan, "sit up slowly and do not move until I tell you to."
Elladan scowled and asked incredulously, "are you sure this is necessary?" He gave her a dubious look and sighed as her eyes hardened. "I am not questioning your capabilities, only their need," he tried to ease the anger he saw was building up in her eyes as they took the form of small slits with a ferocious storm brewing in them. It was a rather disquieting stare that she was shooting him and he wheezed slightly as he drew a breath. Raising his hands he tried to ward her off. "I really-"
"-You may torment and badger the other healers into letting you be until your father deals with you but you won't me, Elladan Peredhil. So don't waste your verve trying," her advice was a bit calmer than he had expected. All the same he could tell she was ready to choke him with the very bandages she held and one more comment could tip the scales.
She raised her brows and Elladan was about to comply but he recalled with agitation that Lord Glorfindel was there and he simply could not lower his pride and dignity that low. It would be all over Rivendell and then he would never hear the end of it. Next thing they would be doing would be giving him all sorts of medicines and other perfectly wretched things that he really didn't deem were needed.
"Helinyetillë, why would I simply let you bandage me up like a mummified…"
"Elladan, you are treading an extremely thin line. I strongly advise that you shut your mouth while you are ahead," Helinyetillë's smile was cold enough to freeze the sun and fierce enough to create magma from rocks. A very strange combination but Elladan wasn't really thinking about that right now but more about how he was going to get out of the healing ward any other way than a casket. Judging from the looks the healer was shooting him that was going to be quite a challenge.
Glorfindel chuckled and gasped, "Wait until your sister hears about-"
"If you so much as mutter under your breath the words, 'Elladan', 'rose bush', healer' and 'stubborn' in the same sentence to Arwen I swear by Illuvatar's light I will slay you cruelly," Elladan's threat was serious and there was no jest in his voice. He smiled suddenly and a wicked tone came into his inflection, "if you feel she needs to learn of my little misadventure, then I might find it necessary to tell her of your attempt at getting to know the large tree by the pond."
"I am going to Lorien and I am sure she will find out anyway…"
"I am coming with you."
Helinyetillë watched the conversation with an amused and twisted smile crossing her lips. Crossing her arms she leaned back on her heels and decided not to interrupt this very intriguing little quarrel. It was far too interesting and far too hilarious, she decided with a growing grin.
"No you are not!" Protested Glorfindel. "I forbid it!"
"Glorfindel, you are not forbidding anything, Elladan you are not going to Lorien, Helinyetillë, thank you for even attempting this insufferable task." Elrond addressed all in the room in their proper turn before turning upon Elladan and collecting the bunch of bandages from Helinyetillë, who handed them to the dark-haired Elf-lord and with a smirk at Elrond's eldest son, left the room with the swish of her long skirts.
Elladan gave a long-suffering sigh as his father motioned for him to sit up and hold his arms out. Complying, the younger Elf whined, "I really feel this is not necessary, Ada. I can breathe fine and…" his argument tapered off as he saw the don't-push-your-luck look that his father was giving him. After all, he had just mutilated the Lord of Imladris' favorite rose bush. That was asking for your untimely death.
Elrond was silent as he wound the linens tightly about his eldest son's rib cage and Elladan felt a sickening fear and sorrow building up as he watched his father work. He looked to Glorfindel, but his father's friend was quiet as well, watching Elrond with a troubled look in his eyes. Weariness reflected in Elrond's steely grey orbs that made Elladan feel slightly guilty and ill.
"Ada, will you please just say something? Scream at me! Tell me anything?" Elladan begged as Elrond tied off the bandage and prepared to leave.
Elrond looked up at Elladan and said calmly, "walk with me. I won't take you anywhere where others can see your…inflamed looks," he added wryly with a small smile that was nearly unrecognizable and obviously hollow.
Elladan nodded mutely and stood up carefully, following behind his father. He suddenly felt small, like a little child again. Unable to shake the feeling off and not sure that he entirely wanted to, Elladan let it be and amused himself by watching his father's robe trail on the tiled and beautifully designed floor.
When they reached the balcony where Celebrian had always liked to sit and watch the sun set or the birds migrating South, Elrond stopped and turned upon Elladan. His eyes were partially closed and to Elladan's they seemed wet. Was his father crying? This could not be…
Elrond blinked away his tears quickly, not wanting his son to see him weep even though he knew there was no shame in it.
Elladan remained silent knowing that if his father was ready to speak he would. It was just that the eldest son was not sure if he was ready to wait for a prolonged amount of time and yet he was not sure that he was ready to hear all that was on his father's mind.
Finally, after what seemed an eternity, Elrond spoke slowly, as though his words pained him. "Elladan, my son…it has been two years." The Elf-lord wrinkled his forehead in emotional pain and passed a trembling hand over his brow. It hurt when he thought that his Estel, his child, was now Aragorn son of Arathorn and on his own. It made him face the fact that Aragorn was not purely his and had his own life. It made him come to understand that he could not shelter him forever and that sooner or later Aragorn was going to be beyond his aid. He just didn't think it would come so soon. He also felt a slight feeling of guilt…like he had driven Aragorn away.
"Father, I do not think he is dead," Elladan answered quietly, knowing his father's silent fear and regret. "I have a special bond with him, nearly like I do with Elrohir…and I can still feel him, like a second heart beating with my own…" Elladan's voice tapered off as he realized bleakly that he wasn't sure how to explain what he thought or felt.
"Elladan, it has been two years. Do you remember when you and Elrohir went off on your own for the first time…the trouble you first found and have never ceased to find since?" Elrond asked abruptly, slamming a fist against the marble balustrade in his apprehension and frustration. "We have heard no word in two entire years…"
Elladan leaned back against the railing carefully and looked at his boots. "Father, let Elrohir and I go and find him. We already were planning on going to Mirkwood and traveling with Glorfindel some of the way until his path departs from ours to take him to Lorien."
"Elladan, how do you expect to find him? If you venture too far into the Southern portion of Gondor either side could capture you. The do not trust Elves…" Elrond argued, thinking he was fighting for his son's life. Elrohir and Elladan would die if they went south and got caught in the slaughter between Harad and Gondor. If Estel were not there, they would have no one to turn to if the Gondorians captured them whom would take them as spies.
"I do not know, but I think we can find a way. Father, do you recall the time that some Dunlanders captured me and Elrohir miraculously managed to find me and save me?" inquired Elladan desperately. He wanted his father's approval, but it didn't mean that he would stay home if he didn't get it. Aragorn may have fallen in love with Arwen, he may have created tension but he certainly didn't mean to and by the Valar he was still their little brother and he meant to bring him home, to be safe.
"I do but that was under totally different circumstances. You know that land, both of you, Gondor, not so much. I will not send you into that sort of danger," Elrond stated firmly with a tightly drawn mouth. "I will not lose all three of my sons I fear I am already losing my daughter."
"Ada, he is not just your son, he is our brother. But you know as well as do Elrohir and myself that he is so much more than that as well. He is the destined King of both Arnor and Gondor. So, if you will not look at this as a mission to save this family, look at it as a mission to save the world." Elladan's eyes and voice had grown hard and cold as he spoke and he didn't appear to be the Elfling Elrond had always thought to have known. Something had changed or been woken that might have been better left to rest.
"Elladan, I want him home as badly as you do. Do not accuse me otherwise. But I am trying to think of this rationally. I cannot allow you to go into you know not what sort of danger."
"It has been two years, Ada, any longer and I don't think we shall have the chance." Elladan squared his shoulders and looked remarkably like his father but with a face shaped more like that of his mother. His eyes had narrowed and his brows were stubbornly knitted.
Sighing with the knowledge that he had no other choice, Elrond conceded, "very well. But I shall come with you and we shall stop first at Mirkwood and Thranduil's halls to see if Prince Legolas has anything to say and any information for us."
"But we haven't heard news from them in at least two years. Dol Guldur is strengthening. Even our envoys have failed to return," Elladan reminded with a slight of bit of alarm.
"Well then we shall have to make sure that all is well over there, and bring some Elves of our own incase they need aid," Elrond said as he began to walk away from his son and the balcony.
A weary voice spoke calmly from the corner, "Surely you do not mean to go without me, Elrond? You do not mean to send me to Lorien to toddle after Galadriel and Celeborn like a young child as they tell me everything you wish to know?"
"Glorfindel, it is dishonorable to eavesdrop on others conversations-"
"Do you see any eaves that I could drop from, Lord Elrond?"
"I must confess, I do not."
"Then I will happily inform you that my honor is in no danger at the present."
"Glorfindel, you are supposed to be resting. But to answer your question bluntly, yes: you are going to Lorien." Elrond answered briskly as he watched Glorfindel poke his head from around a pillar with a devious grin pulling at his face.
"You will need a guard to go to Mirk-"
"Glorfindel, I am perfectly capable when it comes to protecting myself," Elrond countered before Glorfindel had even finished.
"You obviously haven't traveled with your sons often then," Glorfindel answered with a dramatic roll of his eyes towards the heavens.
"It is a thing I do make a point to avoid if I can help it. Which is a reason why I might make them stay behind," he said as he looked at Elladan who was shooting Glorfindel a completely lethal glare, or it would have been if eyes could bore holes into one's body.
"Get over it Elladan, it's the truth," Glorfindel snapped before the elder twin could say anything.
"Well I am sure that Ada, being the sane Elf-lord that he is, tries to avoid traveling with insane Elves such as you," spat Elladan back venomously and with a twinkle in his eye that was looking a bit demented. "He would really like nothing better than to travel with his sons to Mirkwood."
"Maybe if he was drunk."
"Glorfindel, that will be enough. Elladan get back to the ward and rest," Elrond commanded both of them firmly. He looked at Glorfindel with a slight bit of anger after watching Elladan fume back to his healing chambers and hissed, "you need to learn when to hold your peace. You have been around Erestor far too long."
"I told you that demented counselor was insufferable," Glorfindel reminded with a smile as he watched his friend shake his head and look out over the balcony at the word beyond. But the Gondolin Elf's voice changed entirely when he saw that Elrond had fallen completely quiet and his breathing came after long and tensed intervals. "My friend, Estel will come home. He always does. Why should be break his unmatched record now?"
"You even made a misjudgment at one time Glorfindel. He is young still for one of his special race of Edain. He has not all the experience and his record is hardly encouraging," Elrond sighed as he spun around to face the alarmed look of his long-time friend. His face was tight and drawn and the rings under his eyes were suddenly very clear to Glorfindel.
"I didn't misjudge. When you fight a Balrog you never expect to win, exactly," spoke the golden-haired Elf-lord quietly as he stared into Elrond's eyes. He wasn't going to go into the difference between sacrifices and misjudgments now and anyway, he was certain that Elrond knew the discrepancy quiet well. "It has only been two years and he is many leagues away. You know how long wars can last and how complicated it can be to get home, as do I. But I do advise that we go to Mirkwood and see if we can't find out any news from Thranduil or perhaps Legolas is there."
Valar! He was beginning to sound like Erestor! This could turn into a crisis….
"Would Legolas not go with Estel?" asked Elrond with a twitch if his eyebrows as he knitted them and closed his eyes. "But if that is true, Thranduil would want to know information on Legolas and I think he would have sent word to us."
"Unless Dol Guldur's power is increasing to a dangerous level. I am certain that those Wood-Elves have their hands full at the moment and you know as well as do I that if that is the case they will spare none of their warriors," Glorfindel admonished as his voice tensed. He sighed and said, "I might as well go to Lorien. If I do I may learn something from the Lady Galadriel."
"Glad to see you are going to cooperate," Elrond tried to jest but it came out in a serious voice that sounded far from happy. He knew it was strange, but he felt like inside he was dying. He felt like he was going to lose both his daughter and now his youngest son. Something in his chest shattered and he turned away from Glorfindel abruptly so that his friend would not see the tears that crept down his face. He hardly ever cried. He had cried when his sons were born, he had cried when Arwen was born and he had cried when he heard how Estel's parents had died. The most recent time he had wept like this was when Celebrian went to the Havens and the West.
"My friend, I understand your pain. But your son will return home, of that I am sure. It isn't a matter of 'if'. It is a matter of 'When'." Glorfindel spoke sagely as he placed a comforting hand on Elrond's shoulder just as Legolas might have placed on Aragorn's or vise-versa.
O0O0O0O0O
Dorrag looked over his shoulder as he heard the sound of guards approaching and smiled as he stared at Legolas' nearly panicked face. He knew that the Elf was frightened but he had to admit, this being was doing a good job of hiding his fear and his pain. He was doing an annoyingly good job at hiding his identity too. "Looks like they are coming back for you, Blue-Eyes."
Legolas just glared at the man before him and spat, "you are wasting your time. It will change nothing. This I promise you."
"That's what you think but I have an idea that I believe will change your mind." His smile increased, as did the amount of ice and steal radiating behind it. As the guards came he commanded leisurely, as though it was something that he hadn't thought much about, "I want the Elf placed in the Black Box. Make it two hours."
The guards nodded and said in rushed whispers as smiles were drawn on across their faces, "yes, my lord."
Coming in they stood before Legolas, who gave them an impassive glare before he was unchained and yanked to his feet. When he saw the manacles with the blades on the inner part of them, where they would mangle his wrists' already raw and smarting flesh, he could not help but back step slightly before he managed to get a grip on his fear. But his stomach was doing flips and his throat was constricting. As much as the prince tried to swallow the hard lump down it seemed only to expand and cut off his airway all the more.
While some men held his hands and arms, another slipped the cruel links on and locked them tightly, so that he was not spared the sharp pain that was made as the blades met his flesh and burrowed into it. They were conveniently placed so the knives did not touch his main artery, but they would if he struggled.
Looking over his shoulder he saw the knife that Dorrag had given him half buried by straw during the meager struggle he was able to produce. If his hands had been free these men would have been dead, he affirmed in his mind with agitation.
Legolas allowed himself to be lead out and down the dark and ominous corridor where he knew Aragorn waited at the other end. But his heart was beating recklessly in fear not for himself anymore, but at what he might find. He did not know if he could bear to look, even if he knew that he had to. His stomach drew into itself it seemed and formed a tight and painful knot as his face acquired a sickly green tinge. He was certain that a deaf person could hear his breathing not to mention the guards who were enjoying themselves just about as much as he figured Sarchel was at the moment.
When he entered the room and saw Aragorn kneeling on the floor, doubled over, blood on the tiles and stones surrounding him, it made Legolas' knees nearly buckle and if it was not for his pride he would have fallen on his face in horror and sorrow. He remembered the screams as they echoed like ghosts through his memory and made him wince and close his eyes he recalled what he had gone through only a little while ago.
He could not help the tremble that started in his hands and eased its way through his entire body. As much as he tried to will that he should stop, he couldn't put a halt to his shaking and the men laughed.
Sarchel stopped what he was doing with Aragorn and came over to where Legolas stood, shivering against the cold he felt creeping into his blood. Smiling, he grabbed Legolas' jaw and squeezed it as he asked tensely, "are you ready to talk, or must I further demonstrate my capabilities to you and your ranger friend?" He gestured with his other hand back at Aragorn who had fallen over onto his stomach and was lying on the floor with eyes shut tightly. Legolas saw the newly made cuts on the man's shoulders and it made him sick.
"You are a coward," he bit out through his clenched teeth at Sarchel, who laughed coldly.
"Perhaps, but you are in over your head," he retorted as he released Legolas' face with a downward thrust that served to make Legolas' anger rise. If he was allowed to do what ever he wanted he decided he would slowly choke this annoying Elf warrior and enjoy watching his face turn blue.
"Sir, Prince Dorrag said for the Elf to be placed in the Black Box," one of the guards informed, trying to appear helpful before his superior.
"Did he?" Sarchel asked thoughtfully before shrugging. "Well if he wants the Elf to go completely insane that is his business I suppose." He smiled back at Aragorn as he taunted, "and the ranger gets to watch every minute of this. Or no-wait, he can't after the lid is placed on it."
This sent a thrill of fear up Legolas spine and caused the hair to raise on the back of his neck and he shuddered. He didn't know exactly what they were talking about but it sounded horrible and he glanced at Aragorn who as now looking up at him with such blood shot eyes that Legolas felt his own throbbing with a smarting and raw pain. He saw the pain on his friend's waxen face and he watched it register in the human's orbs.
Legolas felt sorrow and regret race through his system and he wanted to collapse and beg Aragorn's forgiveness that he should be used against his friend. He should have never come, then Aragorn would never be placed in this position. It was his entire fault and he wished now that he had never left home. All he could do was stare back at his bleeding companion and try to remain on his feet and will his trembling legs to stand. But he was weak as it was and he had no idea why he was still standing. He should be falling and yet he was grateful to the Valar that he hadn't yet.
He heard a grating sound and saw a box being dragged from the corner; it was painted black.
But it was also shaped like a sarcophagus however it was set upright on its base, he noticed with disgust and apprehension. Dust covered it and flew in the air, as the lid was tossed open. To Legolas' dismay, a skeleton, years old and ready to wither into dust fell out. It's rib cage slid free of a knife that had been imbedded between two ribs for years. As Legolas looked at the walls of the box with widened blue eyes of rising terror he saw that knives covered the inside. There was no way to get placed in it without getting stabbed at least once.
He suddenly felt detached, as though nothing was real and everything was just a bad dream. Horrible flashback images of past tortures in the dark returned and he found it nearly too much to push them aside. Images in the room he stood in merged and swirled as he felt his tongue swell and go numb so he could not speak.
Legolas was going into shock.
All Elves fear the dark, but past events had made him slightly claustrophobic and under this sort of pressure and pain it was a waking nightmare. He could only gape as the chains on his wrists were removed and he was shoved inside, barely missing the knives that lined it.
As he looked about him he realized that all the knives were of different lengths, created to stab only so far and cause so much damage. The fact that this was such a calculated procedure only served to make his blood freeze and his heart labor as he anticipated the darkness and the horror…the pain and smell of his own coppery blood hanging in the dank and close air.
Aragorn raised himself to his knees and croaked, " oh-no! No! Please don't!" He plead for Legolas, knowing his friend's fears, past and present...knowing Legolas' past and the horror darkness and close air caused to all Elves.
"Tell me what I want to know or he gets placed in here and you can just kneel there and here him beg to be released," Sarchel said as he shut the door to the tiny black prison some of the way. It was enough to make Legolas suck his breath in sharply as he saw a knife about to gouge his rib cage's side.
Aragorn went silent and Sarchel shrugged. It was no skin off his nose if they wished to go ahead and do things the painful and hard way.
Even in shock Legolas managed to hiss to Aragorn before the door was shut and locked, "keep your mouth shut Thorongil!"
Aragorn heard a small cry come from the Elf as the knives stabbed and grazed Legolas inside the darkness of the torture device. He winced as he imagined himself in there. It should have been him in there. Looking sadly at the box's locked and bolted lid he felt his throat constrict further than it already was and he felt his heart start to fracture in his chest. It was a cold pain that felt like everything was shattering like broken glass and it spread through his body and mind like a frigid fire.
Everything seemed so cold now and it was unreal as Aragorn found himself fast slipping into a vicious amount of shock that was stealing his thoughts and reality. His head swirled and he crawled forward a little ways before he couldn't find the strength to crawl further. His fingers curled and uncurled as he gripped the edges of the stones and released them in his agony, trying to ease his emotional and bodily torment.
Sarchel had him crawling on the floor and he began to feel mortally ashamed.
A faint cry of panic fractured the air and Aragorn knew that terror had set on Legolas as he felt the closeness of the air and the knives slicing into his skin. "Be strong, mellon nin." Aragorn willed his friend from outside the hideous box and plead, "be strong. I need you to carry on."
Legolas felt the heat of his own breath reflect back on him when he breathed as it bounced off the wooden walls that surrounded him. Every move that he made caused some sort of knife to tear his flesh and he could already feel fresh blood running down his rib cage's sides where the blades had scraped or jabbed him and were still pressing against his body, cutting deeper.
His strength was waning from lack of food and blood loss, so now he was beginning to slip into a state of exhaustion. He couldn't stand in their much longer but if he so much as shifted his weight he was pricked. Sitting was not an option.
He drew a breath and the air felt so stale and hot. It reeked of old death and the smell of must. The memory of what he had seen before he was shoved in here made his stomach wrench.
He couldn't breathe! There was no air! He simply could not breathe!
He wanted to scream, but he was too frightened and there was no air. Not a bit of air. His chest felt tight and he panted in terror as he felt the knives jab into his flesh and cut open old wounds, releasing his blood and pain.
He wanted to bang on the sides and the door with his fists but he felt too weak and he knew that his hands would be ripped to ribbons by the blades.
Feeling his heart laboring in fear, Legolas could hold on no longer and he felt himself beginning to slide into unconsciousness. It wasn't the first time and it certainly wouldn't be the last. As he felt the darkness fall he finally gave in but not before releasing a curt and strangled cry as his body fell against the sharp weapons that lined the inside.
Aragorn had heard the cry through is hazed mind and even though he knew hat Legolas needed him he felt himself slipping away into unconsciousness. "My friend.." he breathed, and then he faded.
As he opened his eyes slowly, Aragorn blinked in the light. Sunshine drifted down through the leaves of trees landed with a comforting warmth upon his face. He felt safe for the first time in a long time and drew a deep breath, smelling the comfort of the green foliage and warmed earth.
The soft moss beneath him felt so wonderful, like a feather bed. How long had it been since he had lain in his own bed with his own quilt and pillow? How long had it been since he had remembered life could feel this peaceful? It had been too long.
But where was he? This place could not be real, could it? Had he died or was he simply hallucinating to try and escape his misery?
Someone was beside him and he looked over to see Legolas, lying by his side, a peaceful look on his fair features. But Aragorn noticed with curiosity that the Elf's fair skin was bruised and bloodied. His tunic was gone and fierce wounds covered his thinning frame. His blonde hair was loose and stained with his blood as well.
"Legolas?" he asked softly as he gingerly touched his friend's bloodied face with a gentle hand, hoping Legolas was not dead.
The Elf's eyes fluttered open and he looked at Aragorn. For a moment his eyes registered complete terror and he looked around again in alarm but then his mind must have caught up with what was around him and he drew a deep breath as he realized he was safe. But he gave a puzzled look and asked, "Estel? How came we here? Where are we? Are we dead?"
"I know not," answered Aragorn. "But you should rest while you can."
The Elf shook his head and sat up onto his knees as he looked at the ground and then smiled at his companion. "We should have known something like this would happen."
"Yes," agreed Aragorn gloomily. "But there is always a sort of hope we won't find ourselves in a situation like this one."
"Indeed," Legolas assured. "There is always hope."
Aragorn smile and stood up, offering a hand down to Legolas. The Elf took it gratefully and his face was lightened by a returning smile.
A voice said softly, like an echo in the trees, "Legolas….Aragorn…."
Both looked at each other and exchanged nervous and unsure glances. What was this new trick? Were they drugged? But the voice sounded eerily calm and all knowing, not cruel and abrasive.
"You are coming to me…to us…"
"Who are you?" Legolas breathed as he watched the trees for a sign where the voice could possibly be coming from. Not finding it, he looked back at Aragorn in a way that asked, 'what is going on?'
"You have met me before, both of you…" the voice faded in and faded out like a dream in and of itself.
Legolas' face seemed to drain of color and he whispered around a contracted throat, "Mandos."
"You are both on the verge of death. You are fading fast…" his strong voice sounded alarmed and saddened, as did many of the Valar's voices. "You were only allowed to be given one chance to die and come back. If you die now, I cannot revive you again."
Legolas' face was now white and was very nearly transparent in the light of the sun that suddenly seemed so cold and far away. He shivered and Aragorn looked at him. All of the prince's wounds were fading and he noticed with curiosity that his own were as well.
Mandos spoke again to explain what was transpiring. "You are caught between life and death. You are still alive so your wounds exist but you are fading and entering the West. The more your wounds fade, the more your lives in Middle Earth wane and the more you enter eternity."
Legolas looked at his managed hand and saw it was becoming normal as it had been before the session in which it was mutilated. .
"One of you may not return home." Mandos' divination caused fright to stab both Legolas' and Aragorn's hearts as they feared for each other. "I may not interfere. Not this time…" Mandos told them quietly.
Legolas looked at Aragorn and suddenly the blonde Elf keeled over and did not rise. Aragorn kneeled by his friend's side and pressed his fingers to Legolas' neck to feel for a pulse. He felt one, slow and erratic but definitely there.
"He has returned." Mandos' voice echoed through the treetops. Aragorn watched as all Legolas' wounds spilled back across his skin and blood began to seethe slowly from the newer ones in his sides and arms as his life in Middle Earth was slowly returning.
Aragorn had not returned and as he looked at his own hands and body he saw that it was nearly as new as though he had never tasted any of the torments.
He was the one dying…
Legolas woke on the floor where he had been thrown to after he was removed from the box. He felt his cheeks and noticed they were wet with tears and burned with a heat akin to a fever. Beside him lay Aragorn, cold and forlorn looking and his face was frighteningly white. He looked like of a ghost of what he used to be.
Not daring to move, Legolas swirled his blue eyes upwards the see the faces of men standing around him, sneering down, watching as he crawled on the floor. Too tired and in too much pain to care, Legolas felt the cool stone beneath his burning cheeks and just lay on the floor as he felt his own blood running from his body where the knives had jabbed him and torn open the battered skin.
"Elf, you cannot hold out much longer," he heard a voice say and guessed it correctly to be Sarchel.
Ignoring the man, Legolas looked at Aragorn and begged in whispered Elven, "please don't leave me. I am frightened Estel. I am frightened and I don't want to be alone…you promised you would never leave me."
"Elf…" he heard the men calling to him. "Tell us your name and where you are from or must you endure everything all over again?"
Pushing this out of his mind, Legolas looked at his friend and tears streamed down his face and pooled on the stones mingled with he and Aragorn's blood. "Please don't leave me," he begged once more in Elven, trying to call Aragorn back. He feared in his heart what his mind already knew; that everything had been too much for Estel.
Sarchel's voice drifted into his awareness again, "he is leaving you and you have lost, Elf."
Legolas clenched his eyes tightly shut, as it became more difficult to breathe. He felt a rattle developing in his chest. Maybe it was time to let go and journey home, to his final rest. But something wouldn't let him go. Something was holding him here, an unseen bond and it was inescapable.
Suddenly his mind was filled with shouts and voices slurring together. He looked around himself and saw blurred images. Reaching out a shaking hand he grasped Aragorn's cold one and held it tight before darkness overcame him and he slipped away.
TBC…well what did you expect? We had to end it here. Cliffies are one of the most brilliant solutions to boredom. However they don't exactly break the habit of nail-biting.