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Chapter 5: Hope In Silent Darkness

Aragorn and Gandalf looked at each other, the pain and shock imbedded within the old and weary lines of the wizard's face mirrored in the eyes of the king. The scream went on, searing through their minds and bodies and darkening the air around them with bitter grief.

'Legolas, please.' Aragorn spoke, but even as the words left his mouth he understood the pointless nature of this act. No reassurance, no calming sounds would help the Elf now, for there was nothing in his world but silence and pain, an agony as terrible as if he were forced to live forever under the shadow of the dead Nazgúl.

Instead, as Gandalf began a draft to calm Legolas and stop the still desperate screams of panic and despair slicing the air around them all, Aragorn moved closer to Legolas and wrapped his strong arms around him, holding the elf close to his heart and rocking gently. Legolas fought him, his tired muscles tensed as if desiring to flee, and his whole body reflecting the pain within his eyes and heart. Aragorn held onto him, stroking the fair hair with soothing hands as if holding a child within his arms, a child that screamed with loss and confusion. But still the agonising sounds went on, tortured noises of a soul in torment, and so they were forced to hold his fighting arms against his side and gently pour the bowl of dark and pungent liquid into his open mouth. As the draft of sleep took effect, Legolas began to relax, his eyelids slowly closing to hide the pain within the beauty of his eyes, and the scream weakened and dissipated, bringing a heavy, overbearing silence to the room.

Aragorn released his grip and laid him back down upon the bed, stroking the golden hair dampened with the cold sweat of fear away from his fair and sleeping face. Wizard and Man stood either side of the bed and looked at the damaged warrior between them, their shocked and traumatized minds racing to keep up with the events and the knowledge his awakening had brought.

'Deaf.' Aragorn was the first to break through the dreadful silence, his voice saddened and unbelieving as he spoke the word. 'How can it be?'

Gandalf shook his head sorrowfully, and without the ability to answer the question.

'This damage is out of the powers of my healing. I know not how to help or cure such an injury. I do not believe such harm has ever come to an Elf that has survived, for a blow that would cause deafness in an Elf would be expected to end their lives completely. Elves abilities to prevent or heal immediately such a disability as this are legendary. I know not of any one who has come back from so close to death as that blow must have taken him, for him to end up so.'

Aragorn sat in silence at these words, and thought through all that they had survived together. Though the man had so many times been left with cuts and bruises across his body, Legolas had not once been injured. No blood had fallen from his fair skin, and no damage had been inflicted upon him. For him now to be left in such a state, it was almost unthinkable. And yet the thought was there, and it was the truth. The war had ended but darkness still clung to even the most innocent of beings of the earth.

Gandalf spoke again, wise and calm against a backdrop of birdsong and sunlight that were now apparent again in the room, now that the screams of inner torture had been stopped.

'I will call for Lord Elrond. Perhaps the greatest healer of our time will know what can be done, for you and I can do nothing.' Aragorn nodded, his thoughts having traveled the same way during his inner journey.

Gandalf looked concerned as he watched Aragorn's eyes lie upon the sleeping elf. It was clear he was fighting emotions, and weariness was apparent even within the pores of his skin.

'He will sleep for many hours now. You must get some rest, for you will be no use to him exhausted. This will take much of your strength to help him through this.' There was no change in his expression, no movement made on his face save his breathing, and Gandalf moved around the end of the bed. Resting a comforting hand upon Aragorn's shoulder, he pressed him downwards into a wooden chair beside the bed.

'Sit. And mayhap sleep or rest will come to you while our fair friend sleeps. I will send a messenger to Elrond.' And with those words he swept from the room, his white robes brushing against the cold stone as leaves against the air. Aragorn's eyes fell to the floor, and slow as the falling of night, they closed, and his mind drifted toward the past. Thoughts of sound were impossible to fight against, times when Legolas' impressive hearing saved them all. Now this was no more.

'Aragorn, they come near!' Legolas whispered to the man a few feet away, and watched as he pressed himself harder against the cool smooth rock he sheltered behind. The elf could hear the almost silent footsteps, the crackle of weight against the slowly dying leaves, and the creak as a twig bent beneath one of those coming toward them. His breath hardly made a movement to the air as he readied himself for the ambush, excitement and fear coursing through his veins.

Aragorn watched his friend, amazed at how he could have heard anything. No noise met the man's ears but he trusted Legolas implicitly, and knew that if he said they were coming, they were. A nod from the elf was all it took, and he leapt from his sheltered spot, weapons at the ready for the fight he knew would come to him.

A cry of fear went up from those stood in front of him as Legolas joined him without a sound, landing effortlessly onto the path. Those who had been ambushed dropped their weapons in surprise, and a smile flitted across Aragorn's face at the ease with which this had been won.

Elladan and Elrohir had identical expressions of fear and surprise across their faces, which soon dissipated to annoyance and anger that their younger brother and Legolas had managed to disarm them without so much as touching them.

'How did you do that?' Elrohir asked, and Aragorn laughed, nodding toward the companion standing next to him.

'I heard you coming' Legolas said between the laughter that was breaking through his lips and shaking his body like a sapling in the first spring winds. 'You made so much noise it was if an army of Rocs trod these woods!'

Elladan looked at his twin, and then back at their attackers.

'That is not possible. We were being as silent as………as the most silent things on Middle Earth. No one can hear us when we walk in such a way.' Legolas snorted at this comment, so clear was it that this was not true.

'Am I now no one, for I heard you and gave you such a shock that had we been enemy, you would be captured or dead by now! So much for your superior stealth!' As what Legolas had just done sunk in, all three looked toward the still laughing elf. Aragorn was the first to speak in wonder

'You mean, they weren't just walking normally? They were doing their walk of silence?' Elladan and Elrohir murmured assent at this statement. 'But…….But no one can hear that. Not even Lord Elrond can tell when they approach when they do that!'

Legolas smiled a satisfied smile at all of them, clearly proud of his abilities and achievements.

'Ah, but not only did I hear their footsteps, but the air and natural world around me confirmed it. I simply employed them so that I would be certain when they came near.' The amazement grew across their faces as this statement sunk in. Elladan was this time the first to speak.

'You spoke to the air? That………that hasn't been done since the days……..since Elrond was a child of a hundred years.' Legolas nodded and began to walk back toward their home of Rivendell, a spring clearly in his step.

'Aye, and now it is done again.' And suddenly he broke into a run as shouts of 'Get him' broke from the others and their running footsteps sounded like a drum against the earth beneath them.

He broke from his reverie, and opened his eyes to the darkening air, realizing the afternoon had faded without his knowledge, and night began to take control. Legolas had heard the voices of the wind, and yet now he lay within a silence so complete it must be agony.

Hunger as well as darkness was creeping up on him, but still he sat within the nightshade of the room, and listened to the shallow breathing of his friend, and thought of many things. He sat until Gandalf came again through the door, and then he rose, stretching his legs out as he walked to the window, giving the wizard time to look again upon Legolas.

He saw the city stretch beneath him, lights streaming from windows and people moving through the streets. He heard the nighttime calls of the birds, and the speech of people close to where he stood. He looked to the waking stars, and the rising moon that spread its purity across the white stone of the buildings, reflecting it as if an Elven glow surrounded them all. Legolas had yet to regain his aura, and Aragorn turned away, the sight of such beauty too difficult to see when such dark emotions coursed through him.

Gandalf was watching him, holding a plate of something in his hand, and he gestured to it when he saw Aragorn looking. 'Food. You must eat.'

The ranger walked back to Legolas' bedside and took the meal from him eagerly, but did not start to fill his stomach. 'Did you send the message to Lord Elrond?'

Gandalf nodded. 'Though how much good it will do, I know not.' Aragorn sighed at those words, but no hint of despair was seen upon his face as he started to eat.

'I also went to see Gimli and the young Hobbits. They are all worried about Legolas, but are recuperating well. Even Frodo.' Aragorn looked up at this news and smiled.

'There is good news then, this day. Did you tell them about……about what we now know?' He couldn't bring himself to name the affliction Legolas had, and Gandalf smiled gently at him, understanding written across his wise face.

'I simply told them that he slept. There will be a time to give such news, but while they recover, I fear what would happen if we told them. They love him.' Aragorn smiled back at the wizard, and concentrated on the food in front of him.

There was darkness again. Darkness and silence and pain shooting through his head. He strained to hear something, anything that would tell him where he lay, or what was going on. Black clouds seemed to swarm through his head, blocking all sound, thought or sight from him, and there was nothing but pain again.

It was so easy, so tempting to slide back into the pool of midnight black that called him, but this time he fought. There was grey in some places, above his head, and it was toward this light that he tried to move, the effort seeming almost impossible and the black beneath him so inviting.

Suddenly, he could feel the bed beneath him, and gentle light pulled and nagged at his eyes for them to open. Still, there was something missing, something deeply unsettling but he couldn't place his finger on it. Thinking that opening his eyes would be the only way to find out, Legolas woke up.

Candlelight hit his tired eyes, but too his horror, so did the knowledge of his last awakening. There was again no noise within the room. He could not hear the sound of his breathing, or the breath of his companion. Nor could he hear the brush of blankets upon the bed as he moved himself slightly, or the noise of the plate being put to the floor as Aragorn turned to him. There was nothing, nothing.

He fought the scream that rose up again in his mouth, desperately trying to keep it down within his aching body. He didn't want to scream again, didn't want to feel the despair as Aragorn held him, or sense the pain the man was being subjected too. He didn't want it, and so he gasped a few quick breaths and stilled his heart that beat as swift as a mouse or tiny bird.

Aragorn had started at the movement on the bed, and swiftly placed his nearly finished meal on the floor. He could see the panic rising in Legolas' eyes and wanted to calm him before he got out of control and desperate. Sitting down onto the bed, he stroked the elf's fair face with a rough but steady hand to comfort and soothe him.

Legolas felt his hand against his face, and placed an answering hand on top of Aragorn's own, needing the warmth and touch of his dearest friend. He wanted to sit up, feeling helpless lying on the bed without movement, and so he tensed his muscles and moved his hands to rise into a sitting position. Aragorn immediately saw what he desired, and tried to help him, placing a hand behind his back to help him.

The elf tensed, but allowed him to offer the assistance until he was sitting with his back against the wall, propped up by pillows. He saw Aragorn smile at him, and suddenly felt like a lost child, in a world he could not understand.

'What happened?' The first words he had spoken since falling on the battlefield left his mouth, but he could not hear them. He did not know how loud he had spoken, whether his voice had worked, and the severity of his affliction hit him again, panic rising as it had done when he had first awoken.

Aragorn smiled at him, and nodded, letting him know he had heard and understood what he had said. But how to respond? How could he tell Legolas what he had been through, what had happened, and how much he loved him?

The elf was reassured when Aragorn had obviously heard what he had said, but the panic was still there as he knew he would not be able to reply in the same way. He wanted, no, he needed to know what was going on, and where his hearing had gone. Suddenly it struck him, the answer to the problem of communication.

'Write.' He still couldn't tell how his words were coming out, but they had the desired effect as his friend immediately stood, moving over to a table set in the corner, and returning with the paper, pen and ink necessary to recount all that had happened.

As Aragorn sat back down, he felt relieved that at least he could now communicate with Legolas, and smiled at him before he started to write. For minutes there was only the scratching of pen against paper, and Legolas looked around the room, noting the darkness outside and the warmth of the bed in which he lay. He saw the herbs beside him, and raised his hand to feel the bandage on his head, shocked at the size of covering over the injury. Before he could stop himself, he spoke again.

'How long? Days?' Aragorn looked up at him and nodded, before raising his fingers, telling the number of nights he had lain in sleep. Legolas looked in shock, he had felt as if it had simply been this afternoon that the darkness had taken him upon the battlefield. Aragorn handed him the piece of paper, and he focused all his attention on it, reading about the desperate search and the near fatal head wound. At the bottom, Aragorn had written,

'All of us are well, dear friend. And we all love you dearly, mellon nin'

Legolas smiled at the statement, and the emotion behind it, but as he did so dizziness overwhelmed him, and the world blurred before his eyes. His fear levels rose dramatically as he was left without sound or clear sight in this bitter world he had arrived in. Aragorn saw the pain and confusion marring Legolas' face, and pressed his chest back down, until he lay again upon the bed, and relaxed slightly.

Legolas wanted to close his eyes, to kill the dizziness that raged around him but he feared the silent darkness that would greet him if he did so. A world without sound or light was terrifying, and he fought against it with all his might, until after many seconds, he could focus and the room righted itself.

'Is there nothing you can do? I need to hear.' He kept his statements short, hoping that the words that left his mouth were still intelligible. The intense concentration required to remember how to speak was exhausting, but he did not want to be mute as well as deaf. Looking at Aragorn, he saw him raise his hands in an admittance of ignorance. This raised the hope in his heart a little, for it had not been confirmed that there was nothing to be done for him.

'Herbs?' The ranger shook his head sorrowfully. He had searched his mind, to the deepest depths of his learning, for any herb or plant he knew of that would return or improve the sense of hearing, but nothing had come to mind.

Legolas sighed, already exhausted by the few waking minutes he had spent, but he looked over to the window again, determined to find comfort in the night and not to sleep. However, what he saw there broke his heart, for the stars hung in the sky above and the moon sent her beauty across the earth. But the song was silent to him. The song of life that the stars sang to him in times of need was unheard, and the pain of his loss seared through his heart and mind.

'No, no!' The shouts of grief alarmed Aragorn, and he moved toward the elf, who was now shaking with the pain of realization. His head was turning frantically, as if desperate to make his hearing work again, but as he did so, Legolas felt agony sear through his brain, traveling along his eardrums as if knives had been pressed into them. He screamed, holding his hands against the sides of his head and feeling blood pour from his useless ears. Aragorn quickly reached for the draft that would send him to sleep again, but when he saw the crimson liquid seep from Legolas, he ran to the door and called for Gandalf, hoping that he would be heard by someone.

Coming back, he saw other liquid had joined the blood, creamy white pus as if there was an infection within his brain. Hope rose, for infections he could cure, but his first desire was to halt the pain the Elf was still feeling. Forcing a drink that would bring sleep down his mouth, he relaxed as Legolas sped toward a slumber so deep he hoped no pain would be felt there, and by the time Gandalf ran through the door, he was wiping away the blood from the sides of his face.

'It might be an infection.' Aragorn said quickly, and Gandalf came to touch the liquids with his fingers before moving over and beginning the measurements of plants and powders needed to combat such an internal and widespread infection as this.

The stars and gentle moon kept their vigil through the night, as hope still lived within the room, and they fought to deal with the still oozing blood and pus that came from the deadened ears.

Hope still lived, as morning light dawned and spread across the plain, creeping through the window and bringing warmth and fresh air. Hope still lived as they spread the paste upon the head wound and within the depths of his ears, and waited again for the silent Elf to wake.

But would hope stay alive?

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