Chapter Six: Counsels

Darkness and pain fogged around her. Shadows rose to cover her, pulling her down beneath its icy waters. She was swept away in the swift current, losing all memory of space and time. There she hovered, a dream-like trance taking over her mind. In all her long years, she had never known such blackness. It seemed to send even the darkest shadows in retreat, 'til not even the barest of lights shone. She hung there, the mists swirling about her, keeping her from rising to consciousness. She could vaguely make out voices in the distance, strange words spoken softly, chanting almost in their rhythm. These were not the voices of the demons she had fought. They were kind, gentle in their nature, melodic in their tune.

She recoiled suddenly, feeling a strange cup press against her lips. The poison induced fever took hold and fear grasped her heart. Where was she? What did these strange beings want with her? What new brew was she to drink? But calming hands and soft words seemed to touch something inside of her and she allowed the potion to be poured down her throat. The blackness seemed to ease a bit, thrown off by whatever concoction she had swallowed.

But the evil that threatened her would not be put off for long, the river gaining strength, fighting the healing herbs that would seek her freedom. Meroryan moaned in pain, curling in on herself to keep the shadows at bay, leaving the battle for life far from her thoughts. She wanted nothing more than to rest, to be free of both conscious and shadow. Hazily she recalled something of import before even her unconscious mind fled from reason and thought. She had forgotten something, someone of great importance to her. But who? What was it that she could not remember?

Another cup was pressed against her mouth. She struggled vainly to turn away her head, but her body was long lost to her demands. The liquid was poured down her throat and Meroryan recognized the clear, crisp taste of water. She drank heavily, her parched throat and body insisting that she partake of the life giving fluid, before it was taken away from her. Then the darkness came in a great wave, causing Meroryan to cry out in terror before it swept over her, engulfing her in a sea of torment and suffering.

A form rose, silhouetted against the shadow in its darkness. Meroryan cringed, fear welling up and threatening to strangle her. Evil emanated from it, shrouding it in a black mist. Laughter rose up to taunt her, stifling her, stealing the last vestige of her strength. It was in this dark hour, the time when no hope seemed left to her, that voices stirred around her. These were not the voices of the enemy, however. These sounds were soft, beautiful in their tongue, familiar in their tune and sound. Meroryan turned toward them, feeling their strength and courage surround her in the mist, shrouding her with a protective cloak of love and hope. One name came from her parched throat then, the sound so soft that it was more like a sigh, a whispered plea taken quickly by the breeze. Nadriel.

Elrond watched anxiously as Airioswen again tried another mixture in attempts to make the woman more comfortable. He had seen to her companion, binding her shoulder and easing any discomfort that she might be in. Her condition was far less severe than the pale form that was lying before him now. His worst fear for her was in the abrasion on her head. There was evidence of previous injury on both their battered bodies. The wounds were several days old and had held no sign of infection. Obviously one of the two had seen to them, cleaning the lesions and sores as best as one could in the wild.

The woman lying on the bed before him had far more severe injuries than those her companion was sporting. Besides the fresh orc wounds, her ribs had been cracked, near breaking, and her knee was swollen from having been sprained. Fever from the poison had made her delirious, her voice crying out in anguish and pain. The language that she spoke had never before been heard by the Lord of Imladris. And for an elf as old as he, that was a rare thing indeed.

Needless to say, their presence troubled him almost as greatly as the news of orcs so close to Rivendell, though the concern was not as great. He wondered from whence they hailed. Their dress spoke of foreigners, and yet he had never seen women robe themselves in such garments as these before. Their tunics were made of a light fabric and only covered them to the barest. Their leggings were even more puzzling. The fabric was heavy, much heavier than anything the elves would wear, or human men for that matter. And as humans, for them to be wearing anything that resembled the man's garb was almost inconceivable. Men did not show the same respect to their women that the elves and dwarves did. For a certainty, elves and dwarves were far more respectful toward their ladies than men.

"Airioswen?"

The healer shook her head at her Lord, the silent question answered with that one simple gesture. The woman would not make it through the night if this continued. "The poison has worked more quickly than any that I have ever seen before. I have tried every potion and herb that I dare. Nothing has seemed to help!" Frustration laced the tone of the normally calm elf and Elrond felt it stir within himself as well.

"Is there nothing else you can do for her?" he asked, knowing that there was only one more option that they might have, only one more thing to try, and it made the him sigh inwardly in resignation.

She shook her head, tears of irritation and dissatisfaction in her eyes. "Nothing! I have already poured more mixtures down her throat than I would have even given an elf poisoned by normal orc poisons. I fear to give her anything else lest her body be in greater danger because of it."

"Very well." Elrond touched her shoulder, laying a gentle hand for both comfort and assurance. "I may be able to help her. Let me try." Airioswen looked at him then, hope shining in her eyes, nodding her assent.

The woman shifted again, crying out in the strange tongue once more. Elrond stepped forward, subtly shifting Airioswen aside so that he might attempt to heal her with his skill. He sat beside her on the bed, laying one hand to the clammy skin of her forehead. The other, he placed over her heart. The darkness radiating from beneath her skin made him wince, nausea forming in the pit of his stomach. Whatever evil was consuming her, it was like nothing the Lord had before seen. It demanded him to leave off, let it have the woman. But the healer ignored it, focusing all his efforts and strength into healing the wounds and flushing the poison from her veins.

Pain. So much pain and fear and doubt. How did she survive it? Any elf would have gladly given in to the swirling black that covered her. But Elrond sensed some greater power within her. Already her body was fighting the shadow. And there was something else as well.

Some other presence that confused him. Some outer strength that was being directed through her, around her, giving her courage and urging her to fight the battle for life. There was much power in that aura, great wisdom and knowledge that bespoke thousands upon thousands of years learning and intelligence. It sought him out, wrapping warm fingers around him, seeking his true intent. And with all his Elven skill, he could not hide from it, nor turn it away. But it seemed to sense the good in him, and Elrond sought only to reassure it that he was not intent to further harm this lady. And so it granted him leave, to continue with his work, giving what aid he could. As the presence receded, he heard a whispered sigh, barely audible amidst the roar of evil. A name, murmured on the lips of the woman beneath him. Nadriel. Another strange piece of information for later musings. Later, he would ponder these strange tidings, but now he must work to save her.

Elrond turned his focus inward, drawing all his healing abilities and transferring them to the battered form beneath his hands. He felt the healing powers run through him, light surrounding both him and the woman. Her skin seemed to soak in the light, gulping greedily like one starved of water in the desert for many days. Her soul cried out to him, begging him to not leave her in the dark, to help pull her from the evil substance consuming her. He felt her feeble attempts to draw herself out, her mind grasping hold of the steady glow that had grown brighter as it pierced the clouds and shadow.

He reached out to her, grappling with the darkness. It pushed at him, trying to throw him away from her. She is mine, it hissed, leave her. Elrond frowned. What new evil was this? That the shadow could speak from inside her, almost taking shape. He had never seen poison and darkness work like this. And though he would not show it to this foul substance, the Elf Lord was truly afraid.

They grappled, the elf Lord and the shadow. He felt it's icy fingers claw at him, trying to push him away from the woman. But Elrond would not back down. You SHALL NOT have her! he roared at the dark thing that rose up now before him. Elrond struck then, letting all his skill and healing flow unchecked. The presence that could only be felt somewhere behind him reared up then as well. The two powers wound themselves together. And from some deeper part inside of the woman, her own strength rose up to join them. The three combining into one.

The dark storm cried out in anger and fury, the sound echoing loudly in the abyss. But Elrond would not back down. They continued their assault, fighting the dark thing. Elrond watched with satisfaction as darkness fled before them, the shadow falling beneath their united front of power.

But Elrond could feel his own strength draining quickly at the demands from the woman. There was still shadow there, though no longer as great a threat to her as before. He pulled back from her then, the light fading quickly as she took it within herself, lamenting the loss of brilliant illumination that had been her only beacon among shadows. All strength and energy fled the moment he broke their connection. Airioswen and several other attendants rushed forward to catch their Lord before he fell. Exhaustion was written plainly on his face and his eyelids drooped wearily, almost closed with fatigue.

"Airioswen…" he gasped, his mind fogged with confusion and such weariness the elf Lord had never felt before.

"Yes, My Lord. Just rest. We will take care of her. She rests more peacefully now and the fever has seemed to diminish somewhat. Regain your strength. You were long gone from us." The healer motioned to two of the attendants who were standing nearby. "Take Lord Elrond to his chambers so that he may rest."

The servants bowed respectfully before moving to either side of the Lord, holding him against them as they moved him out of the room and down the corridors toward his own chamber. Elrond struggled valiantly to pull himself from the cloudiness in his mind and attempted to walk. But even that small act of defiance to the fatigue that surrounded him was enough to drain him. He sighed softly, weariness and frustration laced in the sound that only the wind could hear. He should not have allowed himself to become carried away like that. In his attempts to help the woman, he had allowed the healing to continue for far longer than was wise. It would take him a long while to recover and the day was quickly waning. He had only a few more hours before he was to meet with Estel and the others and he would not be completely healed before that time.

He noted absently in his jumble of thoughts that they had reached his chambers and he was being laid against the soft cushions of his bed. I must regain my strength. There is much to discuss before the day is out and much to decide. With those as his final thoughts, Elrond allowed his mind to wander, taking refuge and respite in the elven fields of the dreaming.

The world was grey. But that did not seem right somehow. It should be filled with color and light, sounds of animals and trees and winds. But there was nothing of that sort in this dreary place. There was only grey and black, only silence. Silence. Something that terrified her beyond her years. The sounds of the rivers and falls near her home, the trees and animals of the forest, things that had always followed her as she walked the many years of the Earth were noticeably absent. And it scared her to be in such a place.

Dead. That was how it was to her. No trees, no rolling fields or running streams. The land around her was flat, lacking the lushness of foliage. What barren wasteland have I been sent to now? she thought, her heart breaking at the thought of living in a place without the song of the trees or the stars. She had no wish to be in a place where nothing thrived, where the world was an endless pallet of nothingness. What had happened to her? She knew there was something that she was forgetting. But…what…

And then it hit her. The evil creatures…the battle…ELSIE! She turned frantically, calling out to her friend. "Elsie! Elsie! Where are you!"

There was no answer, only the deafening sound of silence. Meroryan was terrified. Where was she? What was this place? She had failed her friend. Her cry of pain and fear echoed over and over in Meroryan's mind, reminding her of her horrible ineptitude and complete failure towards the one she was supposed to protect. It had been up to her to see that her friend made it home safely. And she had let her down, just as she had let her people down so many centuries ago.

And this was her punishment. And one that she most certainly deserved. But it was a hard pill for her to swallow. Almost she would prefer the dark shadow from before than this horrible aloneness that seeped its way into her heart and mind. She could remember the light. So white and pure it was. Almost she had made her way to it, for somehow she knew that safety was just beyond. But it had left her, as suddenly as it had come, taking with it the only way that she had seen to safety.

Tears gathered in her eyes for the second time in so many days. She couldn't remember having cried this much even when…

No! She shook herself hard. She wouldn't think of that. Not again. Grief was still so close after so many years and her present situation made the emotions that much closer to the surface.

Then she remembered something else that had been hovering on the edge of memory since coming into this place. There had been another presence there as well, fighting with the light, fighting alongside her, strengthening her and encouraging her to fight against the darkness. So familiar, something that she knew. But who? What?

She snapped her head up sharply, everything coming back to her in a rush. Nadriel! "Nadriel! Nadriel! Please! Where are you? I need you! Please!" Sobs threatened to choke her, panic and doubt and fear, all of her emotions crashing around her at once. "Please," she whispered into the silence, the echoes thrumming across the dead plains. "I need you. Don't leave me now. Please help me Nadriel. Where am I?"

But there was nothing. Nothing stirred in that bleak place. Meroryan was left alone in the silence. And she was afraid. "Will no one help me?"

Legolas woke suddenly, not understanding why he had come to such wakefulness so quickly. He glanced out the open balcony doors, noting the way the sun hung low in the sky. Another hour at least until we are to meet with Elrond, he thought. He wondered, then, what had woken him. He sat up on the bed, focusing intensely on the feelings and sounds that surrounded him in sleep. There was nothing that he could recall that would have woken him so suddenly or deeply.

He frowned, rising and refastening his tunic. Some unease began to work its way into his heart. The Prince walked out onto the balcony, hoping to clear his thoughts of these worrisome details, resting his hands lightly against the railing. His keen eyes gazed out fondly over the valley. He had wonderful memories of this place. To him, it was another place to call home. Regardless of the years of uncertainty between his father and Lord Elrond, the Prince of Mirkwood had always found comfort and welcome among the elves of this realm.

Elrond had saved the Prince's neck many times, his healing skills being put to sore use more than he cared to admit. Legolas smiled wryly, letting his mind wander back to the days he had gone hunting with the twins, not prepared for the orc attack that had fallen on their company. At the time, it had been less than amusing, but now, as the elf recalled the events surrounding their return to the Last Homely House, he smiled. Elrond had been less than pleased with the appearance of his sons and the young prince and the fact that none of the trio had walked in on their own power.

Legolas chuckled, shaking his head. He remembered well the lectures of both his father and Elrond and the protestation of both he and the brothers. It was funny now to look on it. They had not been allowed out of sight of the guards for one month after that fiasco.

A light breeze swept its way through the valley, stirring the light locks around his face. He swept his hand across it, brushing the wayward strands carelessly behind his ear. His eyes rose unconsciously to the mountains that sat behind the hidden valley. They were covered in shadow, imposing and threatening in their grandeur. Legolas felt a shiver run down his spine as he thought back on the darkness that had been haunting him for the past days of travel. He wished that Gandalf were here. As it was, no one seemed to know exactly where the wizard had disappeared to this time. Legolas felt the corners of his mouth tug upward.

The wizard had been there many times for the prince, risking his own life to save Legolas'. He would never forget the hardship and toil that had only drawn them closer in their friendship. And he was proud to be able to call the Maia his friend. He was not ashamed to admit that he often shared his worries and doubts with Gandalf and hoped deeply within his heart that he would come quickly now so that they may seek his counsel.

A movement below Legolas' window caught his eye and he noted Elladan and Elrohir as they entered the courtyard below. He smiled mischievously, noting the way they were so involved in their conversation and the way Elladan reached out to cuff his younger twin. Perhaps he would join them, see what he could do to further stir them up in their discussion.

With that in mind, the Prince of Mirkwood, Lord of Ithilien, turned from the balcony, leaving his troubling thoughts behind. He did not notice the lingering shadow that mourned his leave taking, nor the darkness that rose up and swallowed it in his wake.

The rider urged his steed faster, not heeding the blurring scenery that flew beside him. His mind was consumed with other matters more important than the trees and meadows that he passed.

"Come, my friend. We must move more swiftly than this if you can manage." In answer, the valiant steed beneath him snorted, tossing his head and increasing his already swift pace.

Dark shadows were rising in the distance. He must find the source thereof and determine what was troubling this newly freed land. This new threat worried him greatly and if they were to fight it, they must move quickly. He sensed another presence other than the shadow. However, this one was not threatening. Rather, it held a sense of peace and hope, an innocence unmarred by the world.

The rider knew, somehow, that this strange individual held the key to understanding and ultimately defeating the rising evil.

He urged his mount faster. There was little time left. With what information he had garnered from the creatures of the forest and from other sources he would never reveal to anyone, he knew that the danger they were facing was both powerful and knowledgeable. They must act quickly or all would be lost.

Aragorn stood in the room of his childhood, noting the changes and the things that had stayed the same during his absence. The smell, the textures, everything as it was. It was comforting to be back, to feel the comfort and peace of these familiar surroundings. Minas Tirith had been his home for the past year and a half. He had grown used to being in the cities walls, the spacious hallways and stone buildings. He enjoyed living there, being among his people and those whom he had grown close to. His duties had taken him all over Gondor, to all the outlying cities and farms. It was satisfying to no longer hide his lineage, to no longer travel the wilds in order to escape his past.

But he had missed this. The river, the trees,…his family. Aye, he had missed them the most. Elrond, despite his misgivings about Arwen becoming his wife, had welcomed them with open arms. He had been overjoyed to see his half-brothers, Elladan and Elrohir. He smiled, recalling their words earlier.

Elladan had accused him of forgetting about them, though how anyone could ever forget the boisterous twins was beyond Aragorn's comprehension. Elrohir had hugged him so tightly that the King of Gondor feared two cracked ribs. Aye, he thought, it was good to be home.

Light steps to his right made him glance up, a smile gracing his rugged features when he noticed who it was. Arwen returned his smile. She joined him on the terrace, lending him her silent support and love. Aragorn wrapped a loving arm around her slender form, pulling her closer to his side. Contentment washed over him and he closed his eyes as the warm feeling pulsed through his entire body. All his life he had waited for the moment when the worries and pains of his lineage would feel right to him. Now, he was King, and as he glanced over to the beautiful woman standing next to him, his wildest dreams had become reality.

Arwen met his gaze, raising a hand to brush away several strands from his eyes. "'Tis good to be home, is it not, melamin?"

He grinned broadly, pulling flush against him. "Aye! Ah, how I had missed this place." He buried his face in her hair, breathing deeply of her scent. She, in turn, moved closer to him, her hands tracing small patterns on his back.

Despite the peace and joy that he felt in his heart, Aragorn could not help but be troubled by the tidings that Legolas and his love had brought to light. To have defeated darkness only for something just as evil to arise once again. He sighed wearily, resting his cheek on Arwen's head. Feeling his mood shift, Arwen only held him tighter.

"You worry greatly, Estel. Take these last moments that we have together to rest, coramin. The counsel tonight will be soon enough to speak of the trouble that now overshadows the land."

He pulled back from her, all the tenderness in his heart shining through his eyes. "Wise words, dear heart. I will take you counsel to heart. Let us spend these last moments at peace."

Arwen laughed brilliantly at the feral gleam in his eyes, the melodious sound cut short when Aragorn's lips claimed hers. The couple lost themselves in their love, for a moment the shadow forgotten.

Gimli was deep within his own thoughts when the bell rang, signaling the time had come to meet with Lord Elrond Peredhil and the rest of the Fellowship to discuss this new matter. The dwarf had spent several moments resting in the room given to him, but restlessness had driven him to wander the halls of Rivendell.

He stretched his legs, walking out the kinks that he had accumulated over their journey. "Dratted horse!" he muttered under his breath. Why the elf would insist upon riding the accursed beast everywhere was beyond this dwarfs comprehension. That animal he called a horse had purposefully found every bump and dip in the road. It didn't help that they had spent every night on the hard earth. He could still feel the rocks and roots that had managed to finagle their way beneath him as he slept. He scowled, sending several attendants scurrying out of his path without noticing. The elf had managed to look refreshed and relieved every morning. Blasted elf!

But no matter how he cursed him, or how he argued, Gimli could not contain his worry for the pointy eared male that he called friend. Elladan and Elrohir had confirmed that the elf had indeed made it safely within the borders of Imladris, but the fact that he had yet to show his pretty face concerned Gimli. Legolas was not one to sleep for long periods of time unless truly exhausted. He had not noticed that his friend had not been sleeping well nor had Legolas complained about being overly tired. But that was not saying much. That stubborn headed elf never spoke to anyone of his pains or injuries.

Gimli scowled, remembering the mines of Moria. He had raved to the elf about the greatness of those halls and had even spoken of mining to him in great detail. Great detail! Which included all the horrors of mining as well as the benefits. He had never noticed the paleness of his features nor the glazed look in his eyes as he had spoken of cave-ins and the collapsing of stone that could be brought on by haste or carelessness. Only after the dark, after they had formed their close friendship, had Aragorn reveal to Gimli of a cave-in incident involving Legolas when he was younger.

Legolas had gone treasure hunting with Arwen and her twin brothers in the caves beneath the Prince's father's halls. They had been reprimanded by Thranduil for their mischief and ordered to stay inside the palace. It had been Legolas' idea to show the siblings the cave built by Oropher in the Second Age. Without thinking of the consequences, the young elves, if elves can ever be called such, had traversed deep into the caverns below, getting themselves thoroughly lost in the process. Legolas, not wanting to admit their folly, had accepted Elrohir's suggestion to climb out through the hole in the ceiling. But only the twins had made their way through the opening before the roof had collapsed in a pile of rubble.

After the dust had settled, Arwen had found the prince to be half-buried underneath a giant slab of granite. The minutes that it had taken Elladan to go for help had only increased Legolas' anxiety at being trapped in the dark cavern. It was no surprise, then, for Gimli to learn of his trepidation and apprehension at entering caves, or mines.

Stubborn elf, he thought, cursing his friend both in dwarvish and in the elvish he had learned from Arwen and her brothers and Legolas himself. How many times in their travels had he heard tell of Legolas being injured or narrowly escaping some vile sort of creature only to fall into a spider's nest or something equally foul? If it weren't for him, he reasoned, the elf would have broken that fragile body of his, the small bones shattered due to his carelessness.

Never mind the fact that he had seen his companion fight off twenty orcs without receiving a scratch, nor the countless times he had been with Legolas when he had more than proven his ability to care for himself. But Mordor would freeze before he would admit to anyone his deep concern for his friend.

The dwarf made his way through the spacious corridors, barely noticing when the hobbits joined him on his way to the dining hall.

"Did you rest well, mister Gimli?" Sam asked, hopping quickly beside the dwarf as hurried steps took them closer to the place where Elrond and the others would join them to discuss these strange events.

"Hmmm. I rested for as long as necessary. How fared you young ones, if I may ask?"

"I missed this place," Frodo said quietly, his eyes taking in the wonder of the beauty around him with awe and appreciation. "It feels good to be back, no matter what the circumstances.

Gimli nodded, gazing on the hobbit with a tender expression in his dark eyes. So much pain, and still this hobbit has found a way beyond the dark. If only we all had his courage and strength. Gimli shook himself from his thoughts, turning his attention to the tall forms congregating before the great doors. A surge of relief flooded him as he spotted the fair blonde figure among the dark ones. Well, he thought, at least this time he managed to keep his feet beneath him. He grinned, a devious plan forming that would be certain to give him the upper hand in their verbal matches. Not to mention revenge on a certain pair of twins that had embarrassed him earlier this day.

Marching up to the group, Gimli ignored the elf Lords Elladan and Elrohir and turned his attention completely to Legolas. "Well, my friend. It seems you managed to keep your head on those shoulders this time. Although, I suppose I shouldn't expect any less with a name like Leg'las."

Gimli was rewarded when Legolas narrowed his eyes dangerously at the nickname. He only grinned more broadly as his friend turned his dark gaze on the twins who were doing a poor job of concealing their mirth. This was going to be amusing indeed.

Legolas folded his arms across his chest as he sent his darkest glare at the twins. It was strikingly similar to the look King Thranduil gave when he was truly enraged. It failed to have an effect on the unrepentant twins, however, and the two merely laughed aloud. Indignant, and more than a little ruffled, the Prince of Mirkwood glared fiercely at the doubled over duo. A thought occurred to him then and an unholy light lit in the depths of his storm grey eyes.

"I'm not so certain that I would be laughing as such, Elrodan, Ellahir. I would not wish to offend the only elf who knows of your whereabouts on the night of a certain Mirkwood festival. Especially when ones father knows nothing about the activities that transpired there."

The twins' laughter ceased abruptly and they shared a panicked look before pleading Legolas for his forgiveness. Gimli looked curiously up at Legolas who only smiled in return and shook his head slightly. Gimli shrugged, not really caring. He would get the story out of him sooner or later. The hobbits were curious in their own right and were begging Legolas to tell them the story.

"What story would this be that we speak of?"

All in company turned at the deep voice. Elladan and Elrohir paled visibly as they watched their father stride gracefully down the hall, followed closely by Arwen and Aragorn. "N-nothing father."

Elrond glanced suspiciously at his two sons before turning his gaze on a smirking Prince and the curious beings that stood just next to him. "Indeed," he said, not believing for one moment the words that his twins spoke. No matter, there were more important things to discuss this night. Shaking his head, he waved his arm to indicate that the others should follow him into the room. "Come, friends. We have much that must be discussed and our time runs thin."

The others nodded in agreement, following the Elrond, the shadow at their backs growing with the deepening twilight.