Title: Delw yomenie (Deadly encounter)
Characters: All Peredhils, mainly Strider, Legolas……and something/someone deadly….
Timeline: Before FOTR
Rating: T
Warnings: Cruelty and maniacal behaviour. WIP.
Summery: Our Middle-Earth friends encounter something deadly…..
Feedback: YES! Please! looking-like-little-Estel-when-he-wants-something.
Disclaimer: I own nothing of the works of Tolkien. Neither books, nor movies. I just borrow them and try to give them back in one piece later. I make no money with this story. Please, do not sue me.
Chapter 4 – Cruel Awakenings
The first rays of light slowly warmed the earth and chased away the mist that still hung about the ground. Early birds had already begun their morning songs and beautiful flowers peeked their heads out of their sleeping quarters to welcome the new day.
Various smells floated through the air. Hot bread and freshly baked pastries combated with the scent of roses and lavender.
The sky was an ocean blue, deep and smooth, the small fluffy clouds adding to the perfect day. All seemed nice and peaceful in the soul haven that was Imladris.
Then a frantic scream pierced the morning air. A yell full of unsuppressed panic and horror. "Legolas!"
Running feet could be heard, followed by a shocked gasp and another frantic scream that reverberated throughout the halls of the Last Homely House: "ADA!"
Elladan had awoken as usual with the first rays of the sun. After washing his face and combing his long brown hair, he had donned some clean breaches, shirt and tunic. After braiding his hair as he did every morning, he had gone to see if Legolas was already awake and ready for breakfast.
Upon finding his friends room empty, the curtains still closed and the bed unmade, the sheets crumbled, Elladan had gotten a hollow feeling in the pit of his stomach.
Suddenly he had remembered the last nights events. Past night he had woken, thought he had heard footsteps, but he had just dreamed that. It had only been his imagination. Or had it?
Turning away from his friends empty bedroom, his feet had automatically carried Elladan to the room Estel had slept in. He had knocked. No response. Upon taking the door handle, he had looked down, and there, right before his eyes, he had seen it.
Blinking, Elladan had felt how his heart had stopped beating for a second, only to take up its duty with double speed. The hair on his neck had stood on end and his hands had become sweaty. His breath had caught in his throat, choking him for a moment or two. He could not take his eyes away from what he saw.
Because there on the floor, right beneath his feet, a puddle of red blood had pooled out onto the corridor from under the still closed door.
The shock lasted only a moment. When it was gone, Elladan threw open the door, looking around frantically. He nearly tripped over Legolas lifeless body, laying wasted on the ground.
Elladan heard a piercing scream in his ears, not comprehending what he saw and not realizing that it had been his own voice that had screamed his friends name. Falling to his knees, the older twin took in his friends pale features.
Legolas skin was white as a sheet, it felt cold and clammy to his soft touch. The elf's blond hair clung to his forehead and had been glued to the floor by the elf's own dried blood. Elladan noticed the bandages around Legolas side and wondered for a short moment what they were doing there.
When he saw Legolas face, he felt a chill run down his spine. Legolas face, his eyes. The princes eyes were closed tightly. With a trembling hand Elladan searched for a pulse and felt a wave of relief wash over his senses as his shaking fingers detected a weak but steady pulse. He was alive.
Another voice yelled something beside him and Elladan felt the presence of his brother near. Elrohir must have heard his call and come running to the room.
Kneeling down besides his brother, Elrohir also took in the still form of his friend. "By Elbereth, Legolas. What has happened here?" Looking around the room, Elrohirs eyes widened even further: "Elladan, where's Estel?"
Only stillness answered his question and the two twin brothers shared an anxious look. That Estel was not in the room and Legolas condition could only mean one thing. Something had gone really wrong.
Both elves could hear their fathers hasty steps on the corridor and Elrohir yelled: "Ada! Where're here. Hurry!" Seconds later the tall figure of the Lord of Imladris appeared in the doorway.
It took Elrond only a short moment to take in the scene. Crouching down next to the prone figure of the blond archer, he looked the elf over, noticing the amount of blood and the bloody bandages around the elf's side.
With a skilled hand he felt Legolas pulse and put a hand over the elf nearly unmoving chest. His eyes widened and a concerned frown appeared on his face. Looking to the twins he harshly gave out orders: "Elladan, go to the healing wing and prepare everything I will need. Elrohir, go to my study and fetch my supplies. Hurry boys."
If the twins had needed any encouragement, this had been enough to let them fly to Mordor and back. Their father never bade them to hurry. Never. That he did so now, served to show the twins one thing. Legolas´ life was at risk.
After the boys had hurried of to their tasks, Elrod studied Legolas from head to foot. The bleeding had stopped some time ago, but the amount of blood on the archers clothes and on the floor showed the severity of the injury.
So much blood, the elf lord thought. So much. Hopefully not too much for the prince. Legolas pulse was steady but weak and the elf's breathing was laboured and uneven, as if a heavy weight was crushing down on Legolas chest. Cold sweat had formed on the elf's forehead, making his hair cling to the cool skin.
Elrond whispered soothing words to the fallen elf, trying to reach the elf, but Legolas did not stir. No sound escaped his closed lips and no movement went through his still body.
Sighing inwardly at the elf's grave condition, Elrond focused on the situation at hand. He would have to bring Legolas to the healing wing where he could care for him. But first, he needed to know what had happened. Moving the prince without knowing of the injury could very well mean the archers death.
Carefully, the elf lord bent over the lifeless form on the floor and examined the bandages that wrought around the archers chest and side. They were coated in dried blood and not white anymore, but a deep brownish red. Again, Elrond´s mind raced at the thought how much blood the young elf had lost.
Lifting the bandages with his hands, the healer saw the wound that marred the archers soft flesh. A stab wound. From a large knife or dagger. It was deep and the elf lord could almost see the white of one of Legolas ribs shining through the red flesh.
Dry and coated blood clung to the wound and the bandages had pasted themselves into the wound. Removing them would be difficult and painful. The wound was not washed and not clean. No herbs had been used on it and the lord could already make out the first signs of infection.
Replacing the soiled bandages, the stricken lord turned to face the unconscious elf. Placing a slender hand on the elf's brow, Elrond sighed heavily. "Oh Legolas. What have you two gotten into this time?"
Elrond slid his strong arms under the weightless figure of the prince, and lifting him effortlessly, started to head into the direction of the healing wing. They had to hurry to help Legolas. To save his life.
And Estel´s, Elrond thought. He knew that his son had placed the bandages onto Legolas side. No one else other than Estel used to make double knots when he bandaged wounds. It was his kind of identification mark.
Elrond´s stomach draw together at this thought. A cold feeling washed over his senses, making him shiver. Estel had taken care of Legolas. He had helped the elf survive this night. That he had not alarmed anyone and that he was not present at the moment could only mean one thing. He could not. Something prevented him from being here. Elrond did not want to know what, or who, prevented his son from being at Legolas´ sight.
Thinking about that now would make him go mad from fear. Perhaps his son needed him now and he could not help him. But he could help Legolas. And Legolas could help them find Estel.
xoxoxoxo
"Elladan, give me that cloth. Elrohir, get more water to boil."
When Elrond had finally reached the healing wing, his sons had already been waiting for him. They had prepared the room, lighted a fire, set water to boil, set the bandages and needed cloth ready and had organizes the needed herbs and various potions.
After placing the unconscious from of the Mirkwood prince onto a nearby bed, the three healers had set to work.
The elves had removed the princes tunic, revealing the deep wound. It took them a long time to take away the clustered bandages. They needed to wet them with water to make them move and every time they pulled on a yet dry part of the bandages, it brought a painful moan to the archers lips.
Nevertheless, he did not wake once. For nearly two hours they had worked on the prince, trying their best to help him. The flesh around the wound was red and tender to every touch. Infection had begun to set in.
What worried the elves even more was the fact that Legolas mumbled and tried to speak in his unconscious state. None of them understood the tumbled words, but some were clearer than others. More than once they had understood the name of their missing human brother, Estel, and then the words "No" and "Please, don't." It worried them. It worried them very much.
Legolas´ skin was not longer cold and clammy, but became warmer from minute to minute. Fever was setting in and the three elves sped up their efforts to save their friend. By now, the archers head was lolling from side to side, caught in fever dreams.
He moaned and withered around, speaking words no one could understand. Elrond´s sensitive heart constricted in his chest as Legolas spoke again, this time louder, pleading with an unseen enemy to let Estel live. Something horrid must have happened.
"Sh, Legolas. Where're here. Be still. All is well." The elf lord soothed the agitated elf. It would not help the prince to spend so much energy into his futile struggle. He would need all his power to survive the next few hours.
Elladan and Elrohir exchanged a look and then set to work again. Elladan could not believe his father had really said that. Nothing was well. His little brother was missing, together with the boy, Legolas had been attacked and had lain bleeding and alone in a room only a few doors down his own, fighting for his life. All alone and without any hope at all to be found and rescued. And even now, after they had found him, he still had to battle with darkness and fight for his survival. No, nothing was well.
Elladan knew his father was only trying to help their friend. To calm the struggling elf and to save his energy. Closing his eyes briefly, the elder twin took a deep breath, calming his own troubled thoughts and trying in vain to control the feeling of guilt that raged through his body.
He had heard something last night. He was sure of that now. Perhaps he had even heard Legolas. But he had done nothing. He had gone back to sleep. What kind of brother and friend was he?
A soft touch on his shoulder startled Elladan out of his thoughts and looking at his shoulder he found his brother starring at him. Elrohirs deep brown eyes were clouded with worry and fear, but they also held hope and a calmness Elladan did not feel.
Squeezing Elladan´s shoulder again with his hand, Elrohir looked deep into his brothers eyes: "All is not well, gwanur, but it will be." Elrohir held his brothers gaze a moment longer, then released his hold onto Elladan´s shoulder and set to work again.
Sighing, Elladan nodded and turned to his own task of placing wet and cool pieces of cloth onto his friends forehead. Aye, his brother was right. All would be well. It would be. It just had to be.
Even after all the work they had done, Legolas condition would not improve, on the contrary. A high fever had set in, sending the archer in and out of consciousness. Legolas would not lay still, which caused the deep wound to reopen and bleed again freely.
The lord of Rivendell tried his best to keep the elf down and unmoving, but nothing seemed to work. The elf wound on the bed, gasping from pain and exertion.
Pressing a cloth down onto the injury, Elrond felt how his calm façade began to crumble. Since they had found the prince, the lord of Rivendell had stayed calm and had acted like a proper healer should. But now, as he looked down onto the young elf, his heart hurt.
So much blood. Legolas has lost so much blood. Elrond could not keep from repeating that phrase in his mind over and over. So much blood. Too much blood. Please don't let it be so. Elbereth Gilthoniel, please don't let it be so. Please don't let him die.
Taking his eyes away from Legolas´ face, the healer closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He had to be strong. He could not let Legolas down now. There was always hope. Always.
Pressing down harder, the lord finally stopped the bleeding. After cleaning the wound, he washed it again with a special lotion made from camomile and kings foil to stop the infection.
Turning to his sons, Elrond saw how pale they were. Legolas´ grave condition had not gone unnoticed by them. After a moment of silence, Elrond spoke in a soft voice: "My sons. Legolas condition is grave. We must get his fever down. The next few hours will decide over his fate."
Elladan and Elrohir only nodded. Both were skilled in the healing art, if not as well as Estel. They had noticed Legolas dire state. All they could do now was wait and hope.
xoxoxoxo
Hours had passed by, slowly and painfully. Legolas state had not turned to the better. He had stopped mumbling in his sleep, but his complete stillness was even more terrible to the elves than his mumbling had been.
Still and unmoving lay Legolas on his bed, his chest moving slightly with every breath he took. His blond hair clung to his feverish forehead, making his face look even more sick and vulnerable.
Although Elladan and Elrohir had relentlessly wetted the elf's face and body, the fever was still raging in his frail body, stealing away the archers strength.
Elladan, seated beside his friends bed in a chair, looked over the unmoving form of the prince to his brother. Elrohir looked pale and exhausted, his fair skin marred by sorrow and worry. Elrohir seemed to feel his brothers stare and looked up, meeting his twins eyes.
No words were needed. They knew that the fight for Legolas life was not over yet. In unison they turned back to their friend, and waited for him to get better and wake.
xoxoxoxo
When the darkness of the night had settled over the city of Rivendell, two watchful figures still kept their vigil at their injured friends side. Never had they stood or left. Never had they told of their worries. But many a time they had been near losing hope.
The fever had spiked many times, causing the blond archers muscles to convulse in painful spasms. His face had been covered in sweat and the wound had reopened in the afternoon again, after another heavy seizure.
Lord Elrond had been forced to give Legolas a sleeping potion, despite the blood loss. It had sent the archer immediately into a deep sleep, from which he had yet to wake.
With the sinking of the sun, the fever had begun to decrease, too. For the first time since waking, the elves felt their heavy hearts lift. Legolas was over the hill, it seemed.
The night crept further, and when the moon stood full and bright at the firmament, a soft moan floated through the healing wing. It was soon followed by another moan and then gentle voices encouraged the hurting voice on.
"Legolas, mellon nin. Please wake."
"You have slept long enough, my friend. It is time to come to the light again."
"Legolas, can you hear me? You need to wake, my friend. We are waiting for you."
Another moan escaped the injured elf's lips. Legolas eyelids were fluttering. It seemed that he tried to wake, but that the hold the darkness had over him was still too strong to be easily defeated.
Elladan and Elrohir, standing beside the bed, watched as their father rushed to their side. Elrond bent over the struggling prince, feeling his forehead. A relieved emotion flittered over his still tense face. The fever had broken.
"Legolas. Come to the world of the living again." Elrond had seated himself on the side of the bed, his right hand placed firmly on the elf's chest. Again the lord pleaded with the hurting being and asked him to return: "Legolas, saes (please). Come back to us."
Slowly, very slowly, the eyes of the elf on the bed opened, only to reveal pained and worried blue orbs, full of sorrow and despair. It broke all the elves hearts to see their friend hurt like this. And they did not even know the cause for Legolas hopelessness.
xoxoxoxo
He hurt. He hurt everywhere. That was the first thing he noticed upon returning to consciousness. If he had only one word to describe how he felt, he would have used "great", in a very, very sarcastic tone. If not even ironic.
Legolas mind tried to find a way through the foggy mist that had settled around his mind. It was all grey and white, and at the same time black and inky. He was confused. Where was he? Why was he wherever he was? And, by the Valar, why did he hurt so much?
It seemed to Legolas that a very nasty orc had deemed it funny to make an elf-on-a-stick out of him and roast him over the fire. His side throbbed painfully, sending tendrils of horrid pain through his body every time he moved. So, Legolas decided, moving is not a good idea.
But not only his side hurt, but his head, too. The more the darkness lifted, the more Legolas felt his head pound in the rhythm of his own heartbeat. Legolas sighed inwardly, great.
When the mist lifted around his senses, he could make out voices that drifted in and out of his mind. Was someone talking to him? Who?
Legolas tried to ignore the pain in his body and focused on the voices. They were nearer now and clearer. He knew those voices, but who was it? Struggling to hear more, Legolas concentrated harder. Then, he knew.
The twins. That are the twins. Why are they so worried? He heard the two voices again, pleading with someone.
"Legolas, mellon nin. Please wake."
"You have slept long enough, my friend. It is time to come to the light again."
Ah, Legolas thought. Great. They are worried because of me. When his body decided to let him know of its hurts again, he knew why the twins were so alarmed. He must have been hurt badly. From the signals his body sent him, by a spear or dagger. Probably during a hunt? Or while he was on his way to Rivendell?
Another voice spoke up near him. The Lord of Rivendell, Elrond. Elrond bade him to come back. He sounded so pained. Was he hurt that badly? He had been injured before. Nothing the matter.
Legolas grew irritated. Why were they all so concerned? It was not that bad, was it? He could still breathe and feel. Well, just great to feel now, a rather annoying part of Legolas mind threw in.
But, was there not something missing? Or rather someone? In this split second, it all came rushing in to him, and Legolas opened his eyes.
xoxoxoxo
Another few hours had passed and the Lord of Rivendell had been forced to give the distraught and injured elfling another sleeping potion. Despite the heavy blood loss and the exertion Legolas had underwent due to the fever, the blond archer had been reluctant to go back to sleep again.
After Legolas had woken, he had told the Peredhels everything that had occurred in the night. Beginning with his fruitless attempt to find sleep, to his last moments of awareness. The telling and reliving of the terrible events had unsettled the young elf even more.
Legolas had asked about Estel from the beginning of his awakening, but the lord of Imladris had bade him tell his story first. So, the archer had started to speak. Finally, after revealing the circumstances of his injury, he had turned asking and frightened eyes at the three older elves surrounding him, facing each in a turn. Elladan and Elrohir both averted their eyes and looked at the floor or at their hands.
It made Legolas heart jump in his throat. He swallowed and faced the elf lord. "My Lord, where is Estel?" Elrond sighed and also looked away from Legolas for a moment. "My Lord, please. I need to know."
Sighing again, Elrond turned troubled eyes at the archer. "We had hoped you could tell us where Estel is."
Frowning, Legolas tried to comprehend what he had just heard. He? That meant Estel was not in the house. And that meant, that meant he was not dead. Relief tried to steel itself into the elf's heart, but then the other meaning of the elf lord's words registered in the princes mind. He is not here. He is missing.
"What about the child?"
"We do not know, Legolas. He has vanished, too." Elrond confessed. Legolas head fell back at his soft pillow. A frown adorned his brow and his thoughts tumbled over one another in his head.
It makes no sense. Why have they tried to kill me, but not Estel? Why am I here, but he is not? They had hurt Estel, he had been near unconsciousness. So why have they attacked him, only to let him live and kidnap him?
Elrohir had described how his brother had found him in the child's bedroom and he had told him about the bandages that Estel had placed there. So, why had Estel helped him, and then just vanished?
It made no sense and Legolas felt his head spinning with every thought he had. It made his vision blur at the edges and he felt light-headed. No, he had to find a solution to this mystery. Estel was somewhere out there. Alone with two killers and a child. Without weapons or help. For nearly 24 hours now.
Legolas began to feel sick. When Elrond tried to get him to drink another potion, he refused, claiming that he needed non, but after a stern look from the healer and two identical stern looks from his friends, he had reluctantly taken the foul potion and drained it in one gulp.
It took the potion only a few minutes to work and soon the injured prince fell into a deep healing sleep.
xoxoxoxo
Estel was shivering. The night had been cold and eerie. The sparse wind had made the mist drift in waves around the tree trunks and the thick clouds had finally completely hidden the moon. The forest had been darker than a deep pit and the moving in the woods had become difficult.
Estel´s hair and clothes were wet with fog and myriads of water droplets. His skin felt clammy and cold, his breathing was laboured. He was freezing.
For hours they had wandered in the inky blackness of the woods surrounding Imladris. Turning left and right, and sometimes the ranger thought to have seen a tree trunk twice. He did not comment on going round in circles. What good would it do? And perhaps they would get lost and then there would be a possibility of escape.
Cuddling the sleeping child more firmly to his chest to keep the little adan warm, Estel moaned softly. After hours of carrying the human, his arms on the one hand felt completely numb, but on the other side they prickled and hurt every time he moved them.
To make matters worse, his chest was burning with fire by now. The broken rib had not penetrated his lung, but it hurt more than usual. Furthermore, Estel had begun to feel his throat ache. He just hoped that he would not catch a cold or another illness.
The little boy would then be stricken by the illness, too. So close they had been the last days. Estel shifted the weight in his arms, wincing slightly. He was glad that the hunters could not see his face in this darkness. It would just increase their good mood.
When the sun had appeared in the sky and had chased the clouds of the night away, they had all stopped for a brief rest. The hunters had given him and the boy water and bread to eat, but neither Estel not little Taran were hungry.
Taran was pale and had not even lifted his head fully when the ranger had spoken to him. It seemed the little child knew exactly what was going on. The boy was afraid of the hunters and would not leave the rangers arms.
He nestled himself in the crook of Estel´s arm, sucking at his thumb and staring with big watery eyes at the woods. The different sounds of the animals made him jump from now and then and Estel would bent down to him and whisper soothing words into his ear to calm the boy.
After the short break they had moved on, Dagnir in the front, Estel in the middle and Bauglir bringing up the rear. Their pace had slowed somewhat, but after a sleepless night and all the walking, Estel felt tired.
With every step it became harder for him to move and his feet felt as if they were made out of lead. Despite his weariness, he kept his head high and his strides wide, not wanting his captors to know how tired he really was.
So they walked on, the whole day and a good part of the next night, until finally Estel could spy a fire through the woods. It seemed, they had reached their destination.
xoxoxoxo
After Legolas had fallen asleep, the other Peredhel had left the healing chambers and had moved to the library. Elrond had taken care that one of his best healers watched over the elf while he slept. He and his remaining sons needed to talk. Alone.
Very unlikely for the otherwise calm and prudent elf lord of Imladris, Elrond was pacing in the library, unable to sit still. He had his hands on his back, the only way to stop himself from wringing them constantly.
He was worried. Now that the immediate worry for the prince's life was over, he shifted his worry from Legolas to Estel, his human son. Of course he knew that the ranger could look after himself, but there were still so many things they did not yet know.
Legolas statement of Estel´s injury, for example. The elf had told them that Estel had been lying on the floor, almost unconscious, when Legolas had first stepped into the bedchamber. This could only mean that Estel had been ill treated, if not been badly hurt. On the other hand, they had found no blood other than that from Legolas in the room, no traces whatsoever that Estel had been bleeding.
He could still have internal bleeding, Elrond thought. And if he had…. The elf lord sighed. Why did this have to happen? Estel had just returned to Imladris after so many month of his absence. His son had been tired and travel weary, that had been plain to see.
Estel had sought shelter in Rivendell. A pause from the outside world, from his queries and worries. He had come home to escape the life for a time and to enjoy that he had a family that cared for him. He had come home to be Estel once again, not Strider.
And now, he was gone. Vanished like the day that made way for the night. More than likely being Strider once again, to save his life and the life of the boy.
After they had found the injured elf, Elrond had send out a party of elves to search for the two nightly travellers and for the two missing humans. After hours of searching the party had returned. Empty handed and non the wiser. They had found no trace of the humans after they had entered the forest.
Elrond knew that his son could be as stealthy as an elf and leave no traces of his passing, but the two others…. And even if Estel could do this, why should he in a situation like this? Would he not leave a trail for them to find?
Having reached the opposite wall, Elrond turned and started off into the direction of the other wall. He was so drowned in his own thoughts that he had not heard the twins call his name. Only as Elrohir suddenly stood in front of him, did he realized that he had called his name.
Elrond looked up, his hands still behind his back: "Pardon, what did you say, Elrohir?" Elrohir moved to sit next to his brother on a couch and said: "Ada, I think we should go and search for Estel." Elladan nodded and said: "Aye, Ada. We cannot just sit here and wait."
It was exactly what Elrond had thought his sons would say. And it was what he himself wanted to do. But they could not. Not at the moment.
He turned to the twins, a sombre expression on his face: "My sons, I understand what you feel, and believe me, I feel the same. But now is not the time to go. Wait at least until morning. In this darkness of the night you will see nothing. And you two need to sleep first. You have been up all day and night, boys."
A disappointed expression crossed the identical faces. They wanted to go now, seek Estel and help him. Revenge Legolas. Now. Not tomorrow, not in a few hours. Every hour that they waited could mean Estel´s life. Sharing a quick look with his twin, Elladan turned to his father and wanted to answer him that they would leave at that very moment, no matter what Elrond would say.
Elrond beat him to that: "My sons, please, boys. Let my heart know that I send two healthy and well rested sons into the unknown."
None of the twins had the heart to argue with their father. So they retired to their sleeping rooms and prepared for their morning departure. Although they tried, neither Elladan nor Elrohir found sleep that night.
End of chapter 4
Tbc