Blood of a Brother: Condemnation
Author: Mirfaen
Rating: T
Disclaimer: Recognizable characters (all except Eruhir and Isorfinduil) and places belong to J.R.R.Tolkien. I am not making any money off of them.
Author's Note: This is a direct sequel to Blood of a Brother: Assassination and I strongly suggest reading that one first. As Assassination was written as a one-time deal for a contest, I did not at that time expect to write a continuation any time in the near future. But one thought lead to another and here we are. I wrote Condemnation in roughly the same style as Assassination, though this time from Elrohir's point of view. I hope you all enjoy it! Please leave me a review with your thoughts!
I have asked myself time and time again. What has he done to deserve such torment?
It is what I asked myself as I looked into his fearful eyes in that dark room that had become our prison.
What had he done in his life that called for such focused attacks on his body and mind? When had he ever purposefully wronged one of his realm? Or of any realm? Why would someone so passionately want him dead?
Why would an entire household want him dead?
None of that household could possibly have had personal contact with him. He has his flaws, yes, but his heart is undeniably true and in all speech and action his motives are clearly noble. One look into his eyes is like a glimpse into the ocean. An ocean of clear turquoise water with the power to destroy at the wind's bidding.
I found myself looking into these eyes on the night that I experienced firsthand the power of those who wanted him dead. There was fear in those eyes, a fear that must certainly have been reflected in my own. For I was more afraid than I cared to be.
I was beginning to see what he already knew. The people after the Prince's blood were in no way ameteurs in their field of work. Any royal family is bound to receive threats of assassination and even the occassional attempt but only rarely does an enemy arise that is so skilled in killing that all the King's soldiers are considered a questionable defense.
And yet here we were trapped in his own bedroom with no means of escape. At least two elven soldiers stood just outside his door and yet were of no use to us. It was doubtful that they even knew of our danger. We were at the mercy of these mysterious and deadly assassins. If they chose to attack us in numbers we would surely perish.
But I get ahead of myself.
Let me start at the beginning.
It had been roughly two months since the assassination attempt on Prince Legolas in Mirkwood's training fields. To this very day I cannot express how grateful I am to the Valar for Elladan's presence with Aragorn and Legolas on that day. Had my brother not been there to intervene the Prince would surely have been killed and subsequently Aragorn would have been sentenced to die a murderer's death within the hour.
Every day since has been tense with suspicion and unease. Legolas has not been seen without a blade belted at his waist or at his back, whether it be day or night, in waking or in dream. Guards stand watch at both his doorway and the King's at all times and never let either one out of their sight. Legolas is not in favor of having constant bodyguards, however, and I can see the anger in his eyes at being forced to be on such a high guard in his own home. But it is necessary and fortunately he sees its importance.
The deep slash across his chest from Aragorn's sword has healed and leaves but a faint scar that even now begins to fade. His broken knuckle is nearly healed but remains in a light brace to strengthen the bones as they rejoin. His psyche, however, remains damaged. No matter how badly it makes him feel, he cannot enter a room where Aragorn resides without hesitating ever so briefly at the doorway. He cannot talk to Aragorn without looking him in the eye with a hint of suspicion. It is devastating to all of us, including the Prince.
Aragorn seems barely able to live with himself. He has always thought himself to be weak and this incident has only proved the point in his mind. The rest of us know this to be untrue and we tell him day after day that it was not his weakness that allowed the sorceress to temporarily take him over. She simply chose him because he and Legolas were sparring when she arrived. Had Elladan been paired against Legolas, she would have chosen him instead. To this Aragorn always says that we'll never know whether her mind games would have been effective on Elladan. Perhaps it had worked so easily on him because he was human.
When he responds that way it grieves me for I have no pleasing answer for him. Perhaps he is right. Perhaps her sorcery would only effect the mind of a human. That is something we shall never know, as Aragorn said. He must come to the realization that if that is true it does not make him weak, it makes him human. And to be human is not to be weak, for every race has its areas of strength and weakness. If he can make this distinction perhaps he will be able to come to terms with himself but I cannot do it for him.
It was this very subject that I was discussing with Legolas late one night in his quarters. The others had all retired for the night and it was just Legolas and I sitting in maroon cushioned armchairs with his door closed. He was grieving for Aragorn's inner pain and grieving that he attributed to it every time he saw the man. I went through with him what I felt Aragorn had to realize before he could crawl out of his depression. I tried to comfort him in that his instinctual reaction to the man's presence was no fault of his own and would eventually fade.
But as I said my farewells to him for the night and prepared to leave, I saw that he was not comforted. His thoughts were still in turmoil. I knew that he could not sleep when he was like that and so when I got back to my room I simply changed into my night robes and headed back out again. Perhaps if we talked for another hour or so he would be at peace, at least until morning.
Reaching his room again, the guards had the good grace not to inquire as to my presence, though they did give a questioning eye to my night clothes. Legolas opened the door to my knock and I saw that he had changed as well, letting his hair out of its braids to fall free and wearing only silk pants and a loose silver robe that was left open. I could see the handle of a short sword tied securely to his hip. He let me in without a word and we silently sat back down in the same chairs.
It was a dark night and he had lit many candles all over the room giving it an eerie yet tranquil feel. His window was open, its airy curtains rippling in the cool nght breeze. I watched the Prince as he stared out into the dark of night.
"You would think I would at least be able to mask my uncertainty and suspicion when he is around," he said finally, not turning to look at me. "Why can I not do that?"
"It is instinct, Legolas," I replied quietly. "Your instincts are often what save you from grave dangers. Do not try to supress them. When he came after you you didn't know that he was being controlled by the sorceress. To you, it was truly Aragorn who was trying to kill you. It is not easy to recover from something like that."
"But look at what it's doing to him," he said, finally turning away from the window to look me in the eye. Then he sighed and stood, moving toward the open window.
"It is strangely cold for this early in the season," he commented.
At that moment there was a faint click in the room behind us and we both turned to see nothing but his empty room and furniture. Out of the corner of my eye I caught him glancing my way as though to reassure himself that I had heard the noise as well. I rose from my chair without a word. I honestly did not think much of it – it could have been anything from a shift of the guards' armor outside to the settling of the wooden furniture in his room.
But Legolas walked over to the door with quick, anxious steps and stared hard at the handle for a moment before laying his hand on it. He jiggled it then spun around.
"Elrohir," he said and I could tell he was forcing his voice to remain calm. "The door is locked."
"What?" I said, unconvinced. Going over to the door, I tried the handle myself, hoping against hope that he was somehow mistaken. But it was securely locked. The Prince and I shared a look, his expression wide-eyed.
I shook my head as a way to tell him not to get alarmed just yet then turned and began to bang my fist against the heavy wooden door. But my knocks were met with only silence from the other side. I even called out to the guards but still received no response. Only when minutes had gone by and the only noise to be heard was my own fist against the wood did I admit with reluctance that something was very wrong. I let my hand fall to my side and turned slowly to face Legolas once more.
"I don't suppose anyone would play a joke on you," I said without much hope of a positive answer.
He shook his head wordlessly. His hand was tight on the handle of the blade at his hip.
"Is your door weak enough for us to knock it down?"
Again he shook his head. "My room is designed to prevent intrusion."
"Does that mean there's no way to get out through your window?" I asked. I had begun to walk over to it but stopped dead in my tracks at what I saw. Or rather, what I did not see. I distantly heard Legolas responding to me and opening a drawer on the other side of the room but I was focused on the window. For just within its frame was a swirling cloud so black that I could not see through it. It seemed as though it was barely contained in the window frame, for it was squeezed into every corner and bulged slightly inward. Its blackness was so complete that it was more of an empty void than a tangible cloud.
And then the Prince was at my elbow, staring at the swirling void in horror. He looked back at me, his eyes darting from my waist to my shoulders. Upon finding me unarmed, he walked swiftly over to an ornate cabinet that stood against the far wall and took from it a sword. The candlelight played games over the shiny metal of the blade, dancing about in orange twists. Carrying it back to me, he held it out but then abruptly pulled it back when I reached out for it. He looked at me hard with narrowed eyes and I knew exactly what had crossed his mind. If these assassins had the same mind manipulation powers of the sorceress, which was probable, then should he hand me a sword if only to have me use it against him should my mind be taken over?
"Don't give it to me," I said quickly, seeing the uncertainty in his eyes. I did not want to cause him any more worry than he was already feeling. "I would rather go unarmed than risk attacking you."
"And if they come in through the window and attack in force? I will have sealed your fate."
"Do not worry about that. Put the sword in the corner and remain between it and I. I trust in your judgement."
He hesitated for just a moment, glancing back to the window, then walked over and placed the sword in a chair in the far corner. It occurred to me that even without a sword it would not be difficult for me to subdue Legolas. As on guard as he might be, he still held a great amount of trust in me. I would simply have to cross behind him as though to get something on the other side of the room. Then when I was behind him just reach out and take his sword arm by the wrist, squeezing the pressure point between the bones to make him drop the blade, then take his arms behind him in a lock grip...
I shook my head to rid it of those thoughts. I would not let that happen. Aragorn had been at a disadvantage in the training fields because he had no idea that someone was preying on his mind. Hopefully if my mind was attacked I would be able to recognize the signs and fight against them before harming the Prince.
"Valar," Legolas whispered suddenly and I gave him a questioning stare.
He walked back over, right up to me. His face was fixed in concern. "What if they think you're Elladan?"
"What do you mean?" I could not think of why that would be a problem.
"She said that her family would complete her mission and avenge her death, Elrohir."
It made sense to me then. It hadn't occurred to me that the House would actually go after Elladan as a separate target in addition to Mirkwood's royal family.
"Otherwise they would have locked the door when you left the first time. I was alone then, but they waited for you to return. They don't know that you're his twin. They think they're going after her killer."
"They're bold to try for both of us together."
We exchanged another look in the flickering candlelight and I knew he was having the same thoughts as I. Either these people were greatly foolish or they had the capability to back up such confidence. There was no way to tell, for the young woman who'd taken over Aragorn's mind and attempted to assassinate Legolas two months ago had been skilled indeed, to a fearful degree. Yet her attempt held undeniable flaws. For one, she would have had a much greater chance of success had she waited for a time in which the Prince was alone with Aragorn. Two, accepting the fact that Elladan was there, she did not watch him or in any way try to prevent him from interfering with her plans. And three, she made herself visible to Aragorn, Elladan and Legolas, giving them an explanation for Aragorn's behavior. The frightening thought was that even considering all these mistakes she had come deathly close to succeeding.
"Elrohir," Legolas said softly, bringing me out of my thoughts and back to the present. I glanced up at the Prince and found him staring at something over my shoulder.
"What," I replied slowly even as I turned to follow his gaze. Behind me on a small table sat three small candles. My eyes came to rest on the candle on the left. Its flame had been extinguished and from the black wick rose a curling thread of white smoke.
"It's a windy night, Legolas, and wind travels still through the window," I explained with more conviction than I was feeling.
As though in challenge to my words, the right candle snuffed out right before our eyes, leaving a second wisp of smoke rising to the ceiling. And then Legolas was moving, running to the other side of the room. He grabbed up the sword from the chair and then whipped open another drawer, drawing from it a box of matches. In silence, he tossed the blade through the air to me and I caught it as with a flick of his wrist he lit a match and then the two candles. And then the room was still again as we stood next to each other, swords held to the side as we searched the room's shadows with our eyes. My heart was thumping in my chest, for although I had experienced the effects of black magic several times in my past, never had I been in such close proximity with it and never had I been one of its specific targets.
Another candle went out at my elbow. Legolas retrieved a second match box for me and I relit the candle. But even as I did, another went out behind us. And then two more on the far side of the room. Legolas swore then, under his breathe, and I resisted the urge to give him a questioning glance. For although swearing was uncharacteristic of him, we were in a most unusual and most dire circumstance. The stillness of the room was beginning to get to me as I relit yet another candle. I could hear nothing. The wind had ceased. I could barely even hear Legolas' breathing behind me.
"Perhaps we should move the candles into a circle around us," he said then and the room's quietness must have affected him as well for his voice was barely a whisper. "So that they are all in reach."
"Legolas we will stand out to them like beacons while we ourselves won't be able to see a thing beyond the circle," I whispered back.
"Would that be so different?" He breathed back with a hint of harshness in his tone. "They don't need candles to know where we are."
"Fine," I responded, not angrily, but with grudging acceptance. With every passing moment I was despising our situation more and more.
For the next few minutes we moved about the room, pulling in small tables and nightstands and footrests. Anything that could hold a candle we dragged into the very center of his room, in the open space between his swirling black window and his bolted door. We kept the circle as large as we comfortably could, not wanting to close ourselves into too tight of a space, and made sure to leave enough space between every stand for one of us to pass through. When everything was in place, Legolas lit a match and, drawing his sword once more in the other hand, went carefully around the outside of the circle, relighting all the candles that had gone out.
I watched him as he moved, a rather ghostly image that I will not soon forget. His light robe and blonde hair shimmered and swayed in the candlelight as he stepped continually to his right, giving him an ethereal air. Every time a candle was lit, orange light flared upon his front and I could see the faint line across his chest where Aragorn's sword had cut into him. He seemed a fragile thing, his eyes bright as they focused on each wick, and yet at the same time a lethal being with senses directed outward, just waiting to use the glimmering blade in his other hand, wanting to use it. And then he entered into the circle with me. I felt his back pressed upon mine and we stood in silence, waiting for we didn't know what, swords in one hand, matches within reach of the other.
It was indeed difficult to see beyond the ring of flames that surrounded us but I no longer cared. I didn't want to see the black cloud that blocked the window. I didn't want to see anything that confirmed what was happening to us. I was beginning to feel oddly disoriented, the inability to see anything beyond a five foot radius and the room's utter silence giving me a feeling of senselessness. It was as though I had gone deaf and losing my sight. I took a deep breathe simply to hear it. Even the feel of Legolas' back against mine was starting to feel like something imagined when we didn't move for some time.
I don't know whether Legolas had been feeling the same things as I or whether he was reassuring me, but I felt his fingers brush my shoulder. It solidified things for a brief moment, giving me a much appreciated glimpse of reality. But it didn't last long and soon I found myself disoriented again. I saw that three candles had gone out in front of me and wondered how long they had been out. I relit them but when I came to the third candle I looked back and found the first one extinguished. No, all three were extinguished.
Had I even relit them? My hand was shaking as I carefully brought another match to life and brought the flame to the candle wicks again. Was I dreaming? How long had this been going on? When the last candle was lit again, my hand went back over my shoulder to touch Legolas and reassure myself of my own sanity.
My hand fell on empty air. My stomach was clenched in dread as I spun around but then I breathed a sigh of relief when I found the Prince standing there, looking at me with concerned eyes.
"What?" he whispered softly.
"You -" I started, "where did you go?"
"Nowhere, my friend," he said. "I have been right here."
Almost without thinking, I reached out and touched his arm. It seemed as though I couldn't be sure of anything anymore. But he was solid; I felt his cool skin just under the silk robe.
"I'm sorry," I apologized quietly. "My mind is playing tricks on me."
Legolas' eyes roamed the shadows behind me. "More likely someone is playing tricks on your mind. But mine as well. Let us keep talking."
"Yes. Can you see the window?"
He glanced up over my shoulder. "Barely."
"Is it still...blocked?"
"I think so. But I cannot be sure."
"Legolas what if their sole purpose tonight is to frighten us? We are trapped but they have yet to make their move."
"This could be true, Elrohir."
"What if that thing in the window is nothing but air? Or an illusion, even. What if this is all in our heads and we could in reality just walk through that black void?"
"Should we risk that, though? I feel darkness emanating from it."
"As do I but is what we are feeling real or is someone making us believe that it is?"
Legolas shook his head. "This line of thinking will get us nowhere."
"We need a plan of action. I'm sick and tired of waiting as they play their games on us." My fear was beginning to turn into anger. I hated being so vulnerable. I hated that these people wanted to murder Legolas, a being who had done nothing to deserve such punishment.
I looked into those ocean eyes. They were afraid.
I was afraid.
"These people are bloody cowards," I spat, fully aware that they may very well be able to hear what we were saying. I almost wished that they would hear me. Maybe then they'd show their faces.
Then, with no more warning than a glint of iron outside of the circle, a spear came flying across the room. The spearhead was long and roughly hewn out of iron to a deadly point that was rocketing straight towards the Prince's heart. He apparently was not aware of his danger and so I dove at him, hitting him in the middle and pulling him down to the floor under me. We slid on the glossy floor, driving through a nightstand and sending several candles flying. I expected to feel the spearhead graze my back but no pain came.
I was met, however, with a different and unexpected pain, for when we came to rest I found the blade of Legolas' short sword to be digging painfully into the skin under my chin. I looked down at him and was met with one of the most lethal glares I had ever been given. I was aware that the hand that was not supporting me was clenched in the Prince's robe just at his collar, holding him down on the floor. I tried to back away from him but his hand, likewise, was twisted in the front of my robe. The blade pressed harder against my throat.
"Legolas," I said quietly, forcing my fear down inside me, "I was not trying to harm you, I swear it. I was protecting you."
"From what?" He asked, his voice deadly. His eyes were roving mine, their turquoise waves whipped into a fury. "I see no assailant but you."
"Legolas I promise you I have no ill intentions toward you."
"That you are aware of."
"Did you not see the spear?"
He paused, his eyes narrowing. The blade did not let up on my throat and his grip on the front of my robe kept me from moving. I had untangled my hand from his collar and was sure to keep still.
"There was no spear, Elrohir."
"Yes there was, Legolas. It came from the shadows near your writing desk. It was flying straight towards you. I did not think you saw it and so I threw you out of its path."
"If there was a spear do you not think that we would have heard it land somewhere?"
I was speechless for a moment as I considered his words, for he was absolutely right. There had been the clattering of the nightstand, the soft claps of the candles hitting the floor but I did not recall hearing the spear land. My ears had long been trained to distinguish such noises and I was now sure that it hadn't heard it. I closed my eyes briefly.
"Then it was an illusion. But I swear to you I saw it and thought it to be real. Not once did the thought of harming you enter my mind. Not once."
The hardness in his eyes had lessened but was now replaced by uncertainty. A drop of blood fell from my neck and splattered on his chest.
"If I had been trying to kill you would I not have at least attempted it by now? Think carefully, Legolas. I did not lunge at you with my sword and even when we hit the floor, I did not raise my blade against you. I do not even hold it any longer."
And then his eyes softened completely. However, his hand had just begun to loosen from my robe when suddenly a scorching, blinding pain seared into the back of my right calf and I yelped, twisting around. Legolas let go of my shirt, his eyes wide. I stumbled back from him, grasping wildly for my leg. The pain was terrible and I saw smoke rising from my skin. For several long minutes, my vision went dark with the agony and I was aware of nothing but the smell of burnt flesh.
When my vision returned to me, the pain remained almost as intense as it had initially and I could barely stay still. Legolas was holding onto my shoulders, his eyes full of concern. His mouth was moving and I forced myself to concentrate on what he was saying.
"...happened? Talk to me!"
"My leg," I ground out through the pain, twisting around to look myself. I winced at what I saw but could not look away.
Centered perfectly on the back of my calf was what looked like a brand in the shape of a circle with a swirling sun in its center. It had burned straight through the thin fabric of my pants. The entire design was roughly the size of my palm and was still smoking. The lines of the design itself were black, made of my own charred skin. The area was raised and bright red, white in some areas. It felt as though my whole leg had been burned and I could not move it.
Every pulse of blood in my veins throbbed horribly and I gritted my teeth as I looked back at Legolas. His large eyes moved from the burn up to meet my gaze. Very carefully I began to roll my pantleg up over my still sizzling calf. Legolas stood up, clutching the short sword in his hand and turning in a slow circle as he searched the room. Neither of us wanted to voice what we were thinking. The burn on my leg was quite clearly a brand. I had been marked as a target. Which meant that Legolas had to be next.
The unsubsiding pain made it hard for me to think clearly but I forced myself to do so. The charred skin was now clear of the pantleg and I rose carefully to my feet, avoiding movement in my right leg as much as possible. We stood outside of the broken circle of candles and I felt extremely vulnerable. Almost as though he had read my mind, Legolas wordlessly took my elbow and helped me hobble back several steps until we were once again ringed by flames. Many of the candles had gone out and I stood in the middle with my full weight on my left foot as Legolas again set about relighting the cold wicks.
As he moved, I had a strange sensation of deja vu. He went around the outside of the circle as he had before, like a wraith, his silver robe seeming to swirl about him in unnatural ways. As I watched him the floor seemed to tilt to one side and I abruptly looked away, trying to break the nauseating feeling that was beginning to twist my stomach.
As I concentrated on keeping my mind and vision focused, I found myself looking at the void that was filling the window frame. It seemed to pulsate slightly in and out in a rhythmic cycle. The movement was slow, in and out, like the breathing of a great dragon. I began to notice that when it drew in towards us, it came a little bit closer every time. Fascinated, I stood rooted to the spot, the pain in my leg nearly forgotten, like a memory of the distant past. The blackness breathed in toward me, the edges of it creeping over the window frame until it began sliding over the wall. It reminded me of the ocean's tides, drawing in and out, washing black water over the wall and seeming to grow more powerful by the second.
A savage scream suddenly split the air behind me, roughly jerking me out of the trance I had fallen into. I spun around and found, to my surprise and dismay, that I couldn't see anything. It was as though a black blindfold had been tied over my eyes. My hand flew up to my face but before it even reached there, a flash of searing pain hit my calf a second time and my leg lost its strength, crumbling under me.
Not forgetting the scream that I had heard, I called out to Legolas and heard pained groans coming from across the room. I stumbled in that direction, not quite being able to stand on my fiery right leg, but not allowing myself to crawl. I hit a chair and knocked it to the side, calling the Prince's name once more.
"Here," came the reply and I could tell by the tone that he had said it through clenched teeth.
Just as quickly as it had arrived, the veil seemed to lift from my eyes and I could again make out the lines and shapes of the room in the dim candlelight. A small amount of relief eased my mind but then my eyes laid on Legolas, who was leaning heavily against the wall with one outstretched arm. He was bent forward, his head down and his breathing coming in gasps. Rising from his back were thin plumes of white smoke, curling about and then dissipating into the air. I went to him immediately and took him just as he began to slide to the ground. I saw thick black lines burned into his back in the same circle-around-a-sun design as the one on my leg but where mine was the size of my palm, his was easily the size of my hand when it was spread open, perhaps more.
He was now on his hands and knees and he raised his head to look at me, his eyes distracted with the pain. "Are you all right?" He asked me. In another circumstance I might have laughed at his selfless state of mind but I just nodded quickly.
"I am fine. I would ask how you are but I already know. Let me help you remove your robe."
He nodded. "Be careful."
Gently, I took his robe at the shoulders and lifted it back from the charred, inflamed brand that sat directly between his shoulderblades. Thankfully he seemed not to feel any additional pain from my movements as I carefully pulled the silk robe down and let it rest on the small of his back. His arms were still in the sleeves but he didn't seem to care. We didn't speak for some time, as I wanted to give him time to recover from the shock and collect himself. My own pain had receded somewhat and I simply sat next to him, keeping the back of my leg off the ground and my eyes on the shadows of the room. As it was, we ourselves were sitting in a shadow, the candle circle being several yards away. I looked to the window and to my great surprise found the void to be completely gone. It was still dark outside but I could distinctly see the outline of tall oaks in the moonlight.
"Legolas," I whispered as I continued to stare at it, almost afraid that it would prove to be yet another illusion.
He looked up beside me and was silent, his face guardedly hopeful as he gazed at the moonlit oak trees.
Several moments passed. We had just turned to look at each other when there was suddenly a brilliant burst of light from the window, a whiteness so bright that I had to close my eyes and turn my head. A great noise like that of a thunderclap directly overhead slammed into our eardrums, temporarily deafening us.
In mere seconds it was over. The noise receded with the light and I found myself looking out the window to broad daylight. Birds chirped and circled the sky. Wind rustled the leaves of the tall oaks. I looked around myself. Legolas' room was swathed in the comfortable glow of morning light.
Beside me, the Prince let out a deep breath and looked at me with a strange mix of emotions in his eyes. The ocean waters were calming but left behind swells of relief, pain, uneasiness, and an intense desire to be out of the room.
A desire which I wholeheartedly shared.
Before we could even move, however, there came a knock at the door. We turned simultaneously and stared at the heavy wooden door.
Another knock came, followed by Aragorn's voice.
"Legolas? Legolas, may we enter?"
I could hear Legolas breathing and could almost hear his thoughts of uncertainty.
"Yes," the Prince said, his voice devoid of emotion, as we began to rise.
The door swung open immediately. Aragorn and Elladan stood just outside. Behind them stood Eruhir, the Elf who rode here with me from Rivendell and had written Elladan's account, as well as Isorfinduil, a Wood-Elf and friend to all of us, escpecially the Prince. The two Elven guards stood to either side. All six stared in at us with confusion and worry written on their faces. I imagine we looked rather odd, having just risen from the floor, my right pant leg rolled above the knee and Legolas's robe hanging loosely at his elbows.
No one said a word as they slowly came into the room, their eyes roving over the circular arrangement of nightstands, tables, and chairs that held the now extinguished candles. Some were overturned from our struggles and our swords lay unsheathed on the cold floor. They could not see our burns.
Finally Eruhir broke the silence, asking the question that was clearly on all of their minds.
"What...happened?"
I could not begin to sort my thoughts into a way of explaining what had happened.
"We need a healer," Legolas said bluntly. I knew his back must still be burning fiercely. I was still unable to place weight on my right leg.
"For what?" Aragorn said carefully. I could see in his eyes that he knew that something very strange and dark had happened to us. I could tell that he was afraid of the answer he was going to get.
"We have been...marked," the Prince said, and I noted the way he avoided using the word 'branded'.
"Marked?"
There was still a lingering feeling of surreality in the room though I knew now that it was not from black magic but from the distance that had been placed between Legolas and I and the others. How could they possibly understand what had just taken place? We did not even understand it. How would we ever begin to explain to them what we had seen and felt?
Wishing to end the vague words being passed between us, words that did not really help them to understand, I touched Legolas' shoulder. He looked at me and I saw that he also was wondering how we could possibly convey our experience. One step at a time, I told him with my gaze.
Slowly I turned him around, exposing the brand on his bare back. Exclamations broke out behind us, Aragorn and Isorfinduil coming forward.
"Show them your leg, Elrohir," Legolas said to me and I twisted enough for them to see the smaller version of the design on my calf.
And then the clouded air seemed to clear as questions poured from them and we answered them as best we could, one at a time.
"Do you have any other injuries?"
"No."
"Did you see who did this to you?"
"No. We saw no one."
"How long ago did you receive these burns?"
"Within fifteen minutes. Legolas's within five minutes. I believe."
We exited Legolas's room as the questions continued to come. Elladan assisted me with an arm around my waist. Stepping into the warm, airy hallway was like taking that first breath of fresh air after being inside a musty cave for too long. I watched Legolas closely and noted the tension that was released in his shoulder muscles.
"And you believe that these burns are targets?" Elladan inquired after some discussion, confusion evident in his voice. "Why then would they target Elrohir along with Legolas?"
Aragorn and Isorfinduil were both inspecting Legolas' back as we walked.
"Interesting design," Aragorn murmured, apparently not speaking to anyone inparticular.
"We believe," Legolas said with a somewhat reluctant sigh, "that the assassins are not aware that there are two of you. Or at least they were not last night. They wished to avenge the death of the sorceress and so they marked what they thought was you."
I felt Elladan's hand tighten ever so slightly on my waist.
"Then," he began, his temper rising, "I shall make sure that they do not make the mistake a second time. They will have to see that it is not Elrohir but I that killed the sorceress. Brother, I'm not letting you leave my side until this is resolved. Day and night, we shall be together so that when they spy on us they will see both of us and know their folly."
I knew that Elladan would not give me much choice in the matter and so I remained quiet. Inside it comforted me to know that he would be right next to me until it was over.
"Even so," Aragorn said quietly, evidently saying something he did not wish to, "from the much larger size and more central position of Legolas' burn, it appears that he remains their primary target."
We fell silent. The healing rooms were just up ahead but we still had a length of the hallway to travel.
And then Elladan spoke with a dark note in his voice.
"It is a dark day indeed when innocents suffer a condemnation that is fit for evil."