Chapter 9 Scars- I Fear No Evil, For You Are With Me
Disclaimer: This story is being written for enjoyment only. I do not own any of Tolkien's characters.
Author's Note: Thank you all once again for your continued kind words! I hope you enjoy Chapter 9. :)
A cloak of darkness began to descend now upon both storyteller and listener as it had done so to the victim of this grim tale. Legolas shuddered at its weightiness. His body no longer seemed his own. The previous surging pain which had disturbed him earlier no longer seemed a threat. But his body was now tormented by alternating bouts of shivering followed by an eerie and growing numbness. A strange dryness had taken hold of his mouth as well and even if he had wanted to speak up to Elrohir about his growing discomfort, he was unsure if he possessed the ability to do so. Still he held a strong grasp upon his mind as he sat there absorbed by the desolate tale Elrohir was relaying to him. Sadness took a heavy toll upon his heart as he listened to each grim detail that his friend was forced to encounter.
In desperation his eyes looked up toward the darkening heavens above him for some brief sign of hope amongst all this gloom that was now enveloping him. His fevered eyes caught the sight of the contending brilliance of twilight's many beacons. 'The stars . . . ' His grieved mind considered sadly. 'Did Estel find encouragement from these bright eyes of the night in his fight to stay alive?' He prayed that his friend had and though consumed by heartache over events that he had no power to change, he did receive some measure of comfort in the knowledge that his was one of the voices, which had goaded Aragorn on when he might have given up.
'We had a rough start, mellon-nin . . . ' his mind recalled, 'but perhaps that had been foreordained by the Valar. It is not ours to know why things are the way they were meant to be . . . I am thankful now, however, to call you, friend . . . I would have it no other way.' Then focusing his troubled attentions back upon Elrohir's moving account, he listened on further to the trials that were to await his young friend.
"Aragorn did not get far that first night. Pain and untreated injuries inhibited him from making any substantial gain into the covert woodland . . . "
"Argggghhhh!" A tortured cry of sheer agony escaped from the injured boy as his failing body finally betrayed him yet again while making hard contact with the unyielding earth beneath him. Desperately during the few previous hours he had been on foot, he had sought to refrain from making any unnatural sounds or distinguishable traces upon the landscape he had trekked across lest it should alert his pursuers to the course he was presently taking. But the inescapable pain that now threatened to overtake him could no longer be denied. A wretched sob tore through him as his shattered leg finally gave way and refused to support his weight any further even with the assistance of his makeshift crutch.
Involuntary shudders wracked his ailing body as once again he bit down upon his lip to keep himself from articulating any further audible appeal. The unhealed flesh beneath his teeth readily gave way to the sinking pressure as blood once again flowed freely. Its metallic tang seeped into his now dry mouth, but the excess of its flux trickled down his quivering chin.
With a shaking hand, he felt along his injured leg. Even the constraint of his leather boot that reached to his mid-calf could not stave off the swelling that had begun to rapidly affect his injured limb. Though its stiffness had unwittingly lent him additional support during the hours of his desperate flight, what at first proved to be beneficial was no longer the case as its cramping confines sought to cut off the vital supply of blood attempting to reach his lower extremity. He could go no further without first providing himself with some sort of relief. Moving his good hand toward his waist, he reached for his hunting knife yet again. The moon's reflecting glow glinted off its metal revealing to the boy lasting flecks of Berior's blood which still stained its blade. Briefly Aragorn's hand trembled in reaction to this wretched reminder, but steeling himself further, he returned to the onerous task now before him. Propping his prone body up against the trunk of an adjacent bristlecone pine, he used the only good hand left to him as he began slicing through the soft hide that made up his foot covering ever mindful not to graze the ailing flesh beneath it. As the boot finally began to give way, the anguish that accompanied his flesh's confining release overwhelmed him, and he was unable to subdue the inescapable cry of agony that went along with it.
Many minutes passed before he was physically capable of returning to the task he had started. Swimming grey eyes finally looked back upon the affected limb. The moon's dim light revealed to him a frightfully distended lower leg mottled by the formation of bruising. But what had proven even more disconcerting to the boy was the pale, lifeless foot that lay beneath it. Desperately, though the pain of his concerted effort washed over him, he attempted to make some movement with it, but all efforts failed him. He could not even manage to wiggle his little toe.
"No, no!" He muttered anxiously, immediately recognizing the increasing gravity of his current situation. Both Elrond's and Elrohir's frightful warnings filled his head as to what might happen to him if he did not see to the damage done to his body forthrightly. Urgently, his frantic grey eyes began searching the darkened woodland surrounding him for some sign of assistance. Finally he spied a young maple a short distance away that might provide him with the relief he so acutely required. Dragging himself unmercifully toward it across the wet, decaying foliage, he finally realized its solid roughness beneath his sweaty palm. A low V-shaped notch along its forming trunk was what he sought in particular. If he pushed against it for traction, he might be able to set the bone within his leg. He had never performed such a procedure before upon himself or another, but he had seen it done by both his father and brother within the Halls of Healing upon suffering kindred. He knew not if the young timber now within his grasp could sustain the force he would need to exert against it, but he had not the luxury of time nor fortitude to currently seek out another. This one would have to do and he prayed to the Valar that it would hold up.
Maneuvering his body until his uninjured leg was pushed against the immature growth, he prayed that his damaged left arm would hold out as well when the time came for him to push against the ground beneath him. Then using his good arm he grievously began the task of wedging his useless foot into the narrow, low-lying notch. Tears pooled within his eyes at his exertions tracking down his chilled flesh to further wet the already sweat dampened hair beneath his temple. Finally ready, his searching grey eyes moved momentarily toward the starlit heavens above him as if seeking additional fortitude before he closed them tightly in concentrated effort and unrelentingly pushed with all the might left to him. Through the excruciating pain that had followed, he thought he felt something snap, but he was uncertain if his goal had been met, as a cry of tortured agony was torn from him, and his mind gave way.
Aragorn knew not how long he had lain unconscious there upon the forest's cold floor before he finally began to rouse. The dampness of it contact, however, brought a prevailing chill along with it to his already prone flesh. Glazed grey eyes turned once again toward the heavens above him and he noted with more certainty how far the waning moon had trekked across its distance. The instantaneous screech of a barred owl startled him further awake as the rapid heart beating within his chest increased further in its frantic tempo. His mouth was dry. Too dry to issue any exclamation of fright. 'Don't be silly . . . ' His mind chided. 'Don't allow your imagination to play tricks on you . . . '
"For that is all it is . . . " He heard Elladan's reassuring voice now reminding him. "The encroaching darkness curtails your sense of sight. It can allow the advent of fear to build up inside of you, but do not allow your other senses to work against you, Estel . . . For there is nothing to be afraid of . . . Rely on them to keep you informed of your surroundings."
"I do not fear, Elladan . . . " Aragorn attempted to respond, though his parched mouth and throat impeded his reply. "The moon . . . " He strove to finish, though his closing words were barely more than a weak whisper as his strength gave way.
Elladan's keen sense of hearing, however, picked up upon his brother's floundering endeavor before finishing his statement for him. "...conveys to us the promise of the sun's light in our darkness. Though dimmed and obscured do not forget its pledge. Daylight will shine upon you again, Estel . . . "
"I do not know if I have the strength to hold out until the sun's light, brother . . . "
Expecting a stinging rebuke for his giving up, Aragorn was unprepared for his brother's tender response. "There is a strength that dwells within you, Estel. One tempered by the passage of time. It flows within your veins through the gift of your forefathers . . . "
"Fathers? . . . " Aragorn beseeched bewilderedly as the wise, grey eyes of the Elf, whom he had come to associate with such words, immediately filled his attentions. But a frown took hold upon his previously lax features, for he knew now that was not to whom Elladan now eluded. The boy realized he was not the blood child of Lord Elrond, whom he had come to identify as his father. No, the kindly Elf had fostered him only. Unlike Elrohir and Elladan, he did not carry the blood of the Eldar within his veins. No, Elladan now spoke of another.
"You speak of my true father now, do you not?" The boy questioned.
"Yes. He was a great and noble warrior and my friend." The Elf replied emotionally.
"But did he not die at their hands as well?"
"Yes." Elladan replied succinctly yet again frustrated now by the resignation he heard within Aragorn's weakening voice before finishing more passionately with. "He did so protecting you . . . protecting all of the Race of Men! And his death will not have been in vain! For he placed you within our care for greater things, Estel, than to lose hope in this despair, which now surrounds you. Do not give in to it, brother! For you are Hope . . . not only to those who know and love you, but to all the Free Peoples, who live upon These Lands!"
"I will try, Elladan . . . " Aragorn grittily responded through the pain attempting to overtake him though his brother's fervent plea confused him.
"That is all I can ask of you, brother, but try hard, Estel . . . with all that is within you . . . " Elladan now countered. Aragorn then felt the gentle caress of his brother's hand upon his fevered brow and cheek, though in reality it was only the stir of the night's cool breeze through the woodland pines about him.
"Elladan? ..." His strained voice echoed into the quiet that once again settled around him. "Elladan? ..." He struggled yet again as he attempted to push himself forward upon his elbows as he sought his brother's presence. Raging pain, however, overwhelmed him and he doubled over in response to it, while his good hand drew around his injured side. It came back to him covered in fresh blood. In his efforts to set his broken leg, he must have reopened the wound to his side. The flow of blood now from it was greater than it had been before, while the flesh surrounding it proved tender and warm to his touch.
Hopelessness once again attempted to swallow him up, but he jerked himself free from its relentless claim. He had not just made a promise to Elladan to now give up upon it so easily. And his vow was not only to his eldest brother, but to Elrohir and his father as well . . . both of his fathers. To the one, whom he knew and loved and was loved by in return. And also to the one, who had given him life and had loved him as well though he had no memory of him. The one, who had forfeited his life to protect his own, and those of his people. He would not roll over now and die . . . Not without a fight.
Author's Closing Notes: Well if you've reached this point then thank you for reading Chapter 9.
No, I don't intentionally plot to write short chapters. Though I'm sure evil cliffhangers are a daily staple in any fan fiction author's diet. I think they're somehow included within the multivitamins we take to keep up our stamina to write. :)
Honestly, I hadn't planned to end things here when I first sat down at the computer. But during the course of writing a chapter, you eventually reach a point that well should end things . . . at least for that chapter. Yes, I meant for Aragorn to splint his broken leg and well treat his other injuries, but to me (at least) that was a moot point after his conversation with Elladan. IMHO, I think including them in the end, though it would have lengthened the chapter, would have some how taken away from the importance of their conversation. So yes, this is another short chapter, though it was not so short in the writing. I can assure you it took hours to do so. :) And while you are waiting, rest assured that Aragorn is splinting his leg and packing his wounds. (I'll probably include those details in the beginning of chapter 10 since I have spent quite some time researching herb lore, and I'd hate to waste all the interesting tidbits I've come across). Unfortunately the poor human may be ministering to his hurts for some time yet to come, since well I have a vacation on my horizon even if he has Orcs on his. I don't foresee myself getting another chapter done before I leave, but if I do, rest assured he will be splinting and packing along with me. Lol!
Thank you once again to those who've commented on Scars. Your feedback has been greatly appreciated. And yes, I do feel guilty about leaving you hanging. I will say, Deanna, that it might be some time before you find out about what is wrong with poor Legolas. His distress seems to be connected to the growing tale that Elrohir is relaying to him concerning Aragorn. Sorry!
The title for chapter 9 comes from the 23rd Psalm. The title alone, had me choked up.
Well until next time! Sue- a.k.a. Quickbeam1