Scars-Chapter 15- Out of Desperation
Disclaimer: This story is being written for enjoyment only. I do not own any of Tolkien's characters.
Author's Note: Thank you all for your kind words regarding chapter 14. As always, they mean a lot to me! I hope you enjoy this next chapter. :)
Seeing that his companion had taken heed to his instruction, Aragorn turned once more toward his brother, his now speeding heart nearly being torn in two with his renewed discovery. The once struggling Elf, now lay trembling against the tree. His ashen features consumed by fever's heat. As the Man made to speak out his concern, the Elf cut him off. His bound hands pawing against the Human's now extended arms leaving traces of blood against the Ranger's garments in their wake as he spoke out shakily. "You mustn't blame him, Estel. This is not his doing, but mine!" The raven-haired Elf stammered, while his Human brother struggled to figure out to whom it was that Elrohir now referred to. " I should have helped him long ago . . . helped you both! The fault lays with me! It is mine to bear . . . Do not blame Elladan for he knows nothing of this. It is by my doing and mine alone . . . " The raven-haired Elf repeated in a gasp before collapsing forward into his brother's awaiting arms.
"Elrohir!" Aragorn shouted while catching the lifeless Elf within his embrace. Gently his left hand reached out to support the sagging head of his elder brother, straightening the Elf's neck to aid his troubled breathing before cradling him against his chest. Panicked grey eyes revealed their increasing alarm, as the Human turned his head in the direction that only short moments before Halfdan had sped off toward. If desperate prayers possessed miraculous capabilities then the retreating Ranger would sprout wings to aid him in his quest toward the stream.
Hands roughened by years of living among the elements, proceeded on with astonishing tenderness as Aragorn settled his brother's limp form against his own weight, positioning the Elf's slumping head against the crook of his neck. "Valar! How is this happening?" He uttered yet again as his eyes shifted from his ailing brother to the still figure upon the ground just a short distance away. "Please!" He persisted. "I cannot lose them both! Remove this veil, which is blocking my ability to read this situation properly. Help me! Help me to help them!"
"This should not be . . . " Aragorn stammered on as he slowly lowered Elrohir down toward the ground beneath them before moving to unwind the bloody lengths of binding from around his injured hands. The wounds, Aragorn's actions now revealed, proved likewise shocking to the Ranger. For just like Legolas, the hemorrhaging flesh covering Elrohir's palms appeared swollen by the spread of disease, while broken blisters concealing the damaged vessels beneath them oozed forth their vile purulence.
"No . . . no . . . " The Ranger muttered in disbelief as the gravity of his brother's condition along with that of his friend's took firmer hold. Staring out into the bleakness of the night, Aragorn felt almost defenseless. His hands were now tied as to what to do next. Wait for Halfdan to return or set off himself. The weight of staying put bore down upon him, while his heart beckoned to him to set forth in search throughout the countryside for any available herb or flora that might assist him and provide relief. A myriad of racing thoughts now assaulted his overtaxed brain as he pored over facts and details from his years of training, both under his father's tutelage and through his own subsequent apprenticeship in the Wild. But as his heart prodded him toward taking further action, another part of him held back as he looked upon his stricken brother once again and then to Legolas lying so deathly still in the near distance. He could not find it within himself to forsake those he loved to complete abandonment. Once Halfdan returned with the water, and Elrohir's hands were washed then bound again, he would leave the pair in the young Ranger's care and seek further remedy. Until then, he needed to wait lest the unthinkable should happen whilst Legolas and Elrohir remained unattended.
He would never forgive himself should either Elf be left alone during what might prove to be their final moments upon These Lands. If he could not tend to their wounded bodies with herbs and medicines, then at least he would be there to ease their spirits in parting if only through quiet words of reassurance and the laying on of hands. The Ranger shuddered at this prospect. He was not prepared for a moment such as this. Never in his life had he ever considered the possibility that it might be him, who was to be left behind. Yes, there was always the chance of his brothers or Legolas falling in battle, but the Ranger had never envisioned such a prospect ever occurring, knowing full well the unique capabilities and prowess each Elf possessed. For it was through the guidance of these three immortal beings and Elrond as well that he had gained his own competence and skill. No! Never in his heart of hearts had he ever imagined the likelihood that one or any of them would depart from this life before him. For he alone was of Second Birth, bound by the constraints of time. He accepted this fact, never allowing its knowledge to disturb him. Never, never had he prepared himself for any other scenario to take its place.
"Elladan, where are you?" He called out abruptly cutting into the fading strains of the ongoing lament sounding way far off in the distance; unable to abide its melancholy theme amid all the turmoil now surrounding him any further nor curb his present frustration. "I need you, brother! Why aren't you here? I pray that nothing has befallen you as well! For I do not think my heart could stand the risk of losing yet another one so dear to me! Sweet Elbereth, why is he not here? And why . . . Why did Elrohir ask me not to blame him? The Ranger stumbled on before finishing with "Halfdan, what is keeping you? Make haste, man! Make haste! There's not much time left!"
Staring up into the star cloaked heavens, Aragorn tried his best to quell the deep discord threatening to eclipse him as his restless hands moved back toward his brother. Reaching forth a palm, Aragorn gently stroked Elrohir's fevered brow while with shaky fingers, his other hand trailed a light path across the Elf's high cheekbone until at last they met with the curve of his jaw in an effort to provide similar comfort and once again calm his own uneasiness. The lingering actions brought the Man little relief, and only sought to unnerve him further as he encountered the threat of building heat beneath the Elf's pale flesh. The previous soothing hands stilled their motions to draw back then curl up into fists of rage at what the Man perceived as his own inability to take effect. Aragorn hated this overwhelming feeling of helplessness. Never before had he encountered such a fierce sense of inactivity or powerlessness upon his part toward any given situation he had needed to face off with.
'Nay! He was wrong on that account.' His weary mind conceded as he dropped now useless hands toward his lap. 'There had been that one other time . . . But that time was so very far in the past now . . . surrendered to the deep recesses of his memory . . . never to be drawn upon lest such an attempt might rekindle once again the latent force of its sting. Why . . . why now would he draw upon it? For it provided him with little if any comfort and held no redeemable benefit toward his current situation . . . Was it because of the prior conflict he had encountered earlier this day? ...'
Suddenly his father's words cut into his reeling thoughts and emotions as if to lend their support.
"... It is sometimes out of desperation that we find true strength . . . "
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"It is done. It is done. " Elladan repeated before moving his trembling hands up to cradle his tear-stained face.
The Rivendell Elf had acknowledged thus as he fought against the remaining, disturbing images, which still threatened, seeking to draw them toward some much desired closure. But the elder twin's suffering mind was not ready yet to relinquish its prior claim upon him. Stunned grey eyes stared outward, unseeing the true blackness of night, which surrounded him, as the shadow of looming memories kept him prisoner, trapping him within his own dark past.
He stood paralyzed as Elrohir rushed forward to provide Aragorn with aid. He did nothing as his twin worked frantically to save their youngest brother's life. For a brief moment, their gazes met as Elrohir turned away as if suddenly overwhelmed by the boy's grievous condition. For a brief moment, their eyes locked and he knew that Elrohir's mirrored the anguish he knew to be in his own. But then his brother turned aside, back toward Aragorn renewing his frantic efforts at assistance, while he stood back.
Various members of their party moved forward in an attempt to lend support to their leader. But Elladan ignored each one, brushing aside their overtures while his eyes remained fastened upon the life and death struggle playing out before him. He did not comprehend at first the lengths Elrohir needed to go to save their little brother until he witnessed his younger twin's body tremble then shudder in reaction as his grey eyes glazed over in deep rumination. A startled cry of pain escaped from Elrohir's quivering lips as the Elf swayed over his brother's stricken form looking as if he might collapse himself. But another of their brethren rushed forward to provide him support. Long moments passed as Elrohir remained slumped against this Elf not breaking the bond he had formed with Aragorn though no longer possessing the strength to remain upright upon his own. But as time dragged onward, it seemed as if Aragorn had drawn enough strength from their established contact to attempt a return to Rivendell and the healing powers of their Father.
Slowly Elrohir drew back attempting to reclaim his senses, though the Elf beside him remained unmoving, his strong arm still encircling the unsteady frame of this Son of Elrond. Elrohir's once reliable voice was now barely more than a whisper as he instructed those around him to gather Estel up and begin his transport toward Rivendell. As the younger twin made to follow, his remaining strength gave way, and he collapsed back into the arms of the Elf still beside him.
"Elrohir!" Elladan called out unable to contain his alarm at this turn of events. Suddenly the swirl of activity blurred around him with his renewed actions. He felt his own body begin to sway as if the ground beneath his feet lurched abruptly. Someone caught hold of his arm to steady him, while sharp and unexplained pain traveled upward to encompass his shoulder, and neck. He heard someone groan in pain, but he could not establish from whom that sound originated. He moved his other hand over to press aside whomever it was attempting to assist him. He could stand on his own. His actions, however, were misplaced. Instead of making a break from the now annoying contact, his hand met with something wet and sticky. Glancing downward, his struggling eyes were now struck by something crimson. He suddenly felt confused as a disconcerting tingling seemed to take hold of his fingers and then his lips. Staggering, he would have tumbled forward had not the other Elves, surrounding him, rushed forth to lend him their support. Bringing his hands upward to catch his now aching head, he was fascinated to spot the appearance of the mysterious crimson sphere yet again fluttering before him like a banner on the battlefield. Not realizing it was his own blood-soaked sleeve, he attempted to take another step toward Elrohir and Aragorn only to collapse backwards into the startled arms of his companions.
"My lord!" One within the group shouted out his alarm, but he had not the strength to answer their petition as he felt his body let go...
"My lord!" The desperate plea sounded once again within his head. This time its strength and proximity no longer so distorted by injury or the passage of time. Its sharp, resounding appeal effectively working to tear him away from his present preoccupation.
"My lord!" Halfdan exclaimed yet again, heaving from his prior exertions, while waiting and watching in bewilderment as the stupor that had been enveloping this remaining Elf suddenly began to lift.
"My lord . . . " Halfdan ventured once more, this time acknowledging that Elladan indeed seem to finally take note of his harried existence.
"What . . . what is it?" Elladan began. His stunned, grey eyes suddenly picking up upon the anxious appearance of the Ranger now in front of him and the dripping bucket he carried within his grasp.
Author's Closing Notes: Well, if you reached these notes, then thank you for reading chapter 15. I hope you enjoyed it.
Congratulations Nerfenherder on the birth of your son! My best wishes to you and your family on such a blessed event!
A big thanks to all of you, who have stuck with this story! Your devotion is so greatly appreciated. You have my heartfelt appreciation! I'm not one to write a lot of action. My stories tend to deal mostly with emotions and what's going on inside the head of each character. In fact throughout these past 15 chapters a whole day has yet to pass in the present day story line (and the past day one too). I will say that a few of you are very good sleuths. (Yes, I'm not giving anything more away than that.) :) And Firnarsien (sp? Sorry!) Your repeated Holy Moly's make me smile. Thank you!
Well until next time, Sue a.k.a. Quickbeam1