Legolas allowed his stiff, sore, seemingly broken body to rest on the dirt of the forest floor. He watched the raging of the orange blaze above him, the only source of light in the woods, as it consumed the house. His chest puffed and he waited for his breathing to slow, his throat raw and blackened from smoke. He wondered what he should do next… in the dark… He gradually admitted that he didn't much care to do anything and that his limbs wouldn't move, even at his command. Slowly, the gold in his eyes blurred and without really meaning to, he fell into a deep sleep.
He awoke to the smell of smoke burning his nostrils and throat. A pale light pierced his eyelids and he momentarily could not remember where he was. At last it came back and he opened his eyes to find that morning had come to the forest, though there was nothing fair about it. The limbs of the forest were as black as they had been in night, though the sky shone a bright white overcast. The desolate dead quality of these cantankerous-looking trees was brought home to the elf all the more in daylight. He looked up at what had been the cottage. All that remained were the posts of the root cellar, charred and as black as the forest. The fire, Legolas noticed, had burned right to his feet and had, for no apparent reason gone out right before reaching him. The white twists of smoke still rolled off of the cinder beams that were strewn about. Then, as the elf slowly stood, the fire's strange journey to him did not seem as mysterious. The ashes of beams that had lay end to end in a trail from the house directly to his feet remained inexplicably.
At this, Legolas could only think in blanketing statements. Nothing seemed disconnected to him anymore and nothing seemed to happen without yet another reason that was unclear to him.
What new evil is this? I have betrayed death once more. This very house and its fire had sought to destroy me from the moment I stepped in front of it. But this so greatly resembled an aboveground version of Maeryn's home. If this was Maeryn's house, why would she have rescued me only to destroy me later with her house? Maybe the house was booby-trapped to destroy whoever entered? Legolas began once again to walk deeper into the forest, only now he had a new path that led away from the house. But how do I know that she did, in fact, rescue me? How can I know she didn't just rescue me from the orcs so that I didn't die too quickly, some greater evil waiting ahead? The elf shivered. He was thinking thoughts too horrible to bear, for what could be worse than betrayal? What could be worse than his complete misjudgement of character?
The Prince had been walking for only half an hour when he began sensing presences. It mirrored his suspicions in the forest outside of Rivendell. There were orcs nearby. The elf tensed and put a hand on his sheathed blade, but kept walking. The black twisted trees were slowly becoming straight, green and lovely. The green was so bright, it was hurting his eyes after the shadows of the way he had come. The trees were thinning ahead, and as the elf came around a bend in the trail, the road ended and a small clearing of beautiful green grass lay before him. A light breeze blew over the elf's face and something white caught his eye amidst all the green. A small piece of parchment was blowing across the grass. It caught against his feet. He bent down and picked it up. Written in the Common Tongue, the note read:
Whatever happens, do not allow him to touch you.
The touch of his flesh will burn you and anything else that is alive to a crisp.
I'll explain later,
But the signature seemed to have been ripped off. A wave of worry washed over the Prince. Whoever had written this knew about what his touch now did and knew that he was coming. The elf looked around nervously searching for some sort of clue as to whom or where the note had come from.
And just in front of him, lying dead out was Aragorn. Legolas ran up to him, wary of a cast. But this was no cast. This was truly Aragorn! His stubbly face was white, as though he had been submerged under water for days; his hair fell back from his distressed features. His body lay twisted as though someone had dropped him there like a limp doll. The live green glow that the elf could see in the man's body was slipping away rapidly, as though being blown away with the wind. The ranger was dying.
"Aragorn!" The elf screamed. He fell to his knees before him and as he did so, he was reaching out to him to turn him onto his back. But as the elf slid to his knees, he remembered and stopped himself, quickly moving his palms aside, driving his hands into the ground with the force of the drop. The elf's hands twisted. He could not touch the man, lest he kill him for certain. The elf suffered a brief mental picture of the ranger's body disintegrating like the trees and creatures that turned to ash with his touch.
Aragorn was not waking. Legolas continued to scream at him, fighting with himself to keep from trying to shake him awake. He was certain that if he just woke him, he could stop the green of his life force from slipping away, if not slow it down. "Aragorn, please! Wake up!" And with these words, he all but reached out to touch his face, but stopped himself quickly. Could he touch him if he laid fabric over his skin? Dare he test his theory, gambling his best friend's life? For all past evidence perceived, there was no reason why this wouldn't work, but the elf reasoned that he would never forgive himself if it were he that put an end to the man's life.
"Oh, but no touching . . ." Came a taunting voice.
The elf's gaze snapped across the clearing, and there in the grass stood a man. He had a mane of black hair, a strong jaw line, noticeable lips and black depthless eyes. The man smiled almost shyly at Legolas' wide eyes. This was the man that had killed Legolas!
"Is that truly you? All the whispers, the stories, the evidence . . . But I could never actually believe it… until now. You are…alive." The man's voice was heavy with an unexpected amazement and admiration. For a moment, Legolas had to remind himself that this man was foe. "How did you ever survive?"
The elf ignored the question. "What have you done to Aragorn! Tell me how to save him!" He demanded.
"Ahah." The man laughed. "I'd forgotten how predictable you could be."
"Tell me now, or I'll cut you down."
"I don't think you realize the position that you're in." The man lifted the palms of his hands out in front of his chest and whistled at them briefly.
And the elf's ears filled with the most incredible music. It was the music that he had heard before he ate the mushrooms in the forest – the minor chimes playing the most eerie and enchanting tinkling. The man waited and a stillness fell over both of them. For a moment, the green-lit trees seemed to be shrinking down upon them, closing off the sky. Legolas blinked several times and found his mind quite clear, the forest quite tall. He stood.
"That's not going to work this time, daug!" Legolas was momentarily furious at the impertinence of this man and his cowardice. "Why don't you face me?"
"Because I don't have to. You fall easily enough to my skills."
"Well, I didn't this time." Legolas felt Aragorn's shoulder near his boot and his panic rose once more. "Now tell me how to rouse him!"
"Very well. But you will have to give me something in return." The man said simply. Legolas straightened, listening intently. "You will give me – your beauty."
"Done." Legolas said without hesitation. "Now cure him."
"Of course, you realize that for you to give me your beauty, you must die yourself? And this time, I will know for certain that you are dead."
"I said done." The elf clenched his teeth, his patience waning. Then the elf doubled back, his mind quickly working, divulging the pitfalls of this bargain. The man watched the doubt in the Prince's eyes, knowing that he was reconsidering the value of his own life. "How do I know that you won't simply allow Aragorn to die, once I have … I have gone? How do I know you won't kill him yourself?" Legolas tried to appear firm even in his scepticism.
"Ah. I might have known you would ask such a question." The man smiled viciously, his malicious lips curling back to reveal the gleaming white teeth of a sneer. "You amuse me. It will be a shame to put that beautiful voice of yours to rest. You would have made a gorgeous addition to my music." The man pushed his long hair off of his black-clad shoulder. "I will rouse Aragorn from sleep while you are still alive, your beauty your own. I will restore him his natural strength. I will right him. I'll even give him a weapon. And only once you are completely satisfied that he is as capable of defending himself as I am able to make him, as he is in his natural right, will I kill you, not before. That will be our bargain. Now will you deny that I am a fair-"
" A fair what? What exactly are you?" Legolas demanded. "Who are you? Why are you doing all of this!"
"Ah hah. What sort of man is he who does not introduce himself – that's what you are thinking, yes? The sort that does not desire to be recognized, one would assume. Still, it does seem terribly rude and we've had such a good hunter-prey relationship so far. I'd hate to sully that with discourtesy. Ithast is my name."
"Ithast… That sounds familiar…"
"If it is, then I would say that you, Prince, have been consorting with soiled underworld types – a practice that would curl your father's hair. Because I don't think that you would have seen my name on any wanted posters. I am a wizard of sorts-"
"Don't flatter yourself." Legolas bit. With every passing moment, he loathed Ithast more and more. His frankness, his complete self-confidence, his impertinent desire for Legolas' beauty coupled with the fact that he dared to endanger the ranger's life, all beat upon the elf's mind as he tried desperately to race ahead of the man's speech and find an escape for both of them.
Ithast raised a black eyebrow, strangely shocked and yet amused by the elf's cheek. "He who can summon binding music at will – The Ithast – not a wizard? Well, believe what you will. I never told much anyone. I am a mercenary by trade and a bounty hunter when necessary. I never tell my employers of my gifts, but use them when necessary to get the job done. It makes getting things done easier and faster – the rewards greater."
"'Getting things done'? Like killing."
"Well, yes, sometimes. In your case, I was hired to start a war. My employers wanted you dead. They believed that once your father found your mangled body, he would demand that the elves went to war with the Rohirrim."
"What!" the elf hissed. "Who were these fools! And what reason did they have to desire war?"
"They didn't tell me and I didn't ask. That's not part of the job. But I have my suspicions. Any fool can surmise that it could be over territory. But it's more likely connected to jealousy. There are leaders among the men of these parts that now seem to feel more and more jealous of the elves and their radiance. If the elves in these parts were killed off, these men think that humans will reign as supreme beings." Ithast paused, clearly curious what Legolas thought about this. But the elf clenched his teeth and stared at the man, stretching his neck forward. "But it didn't really work out that way. When I first laid eyes on you in the forest, your beauty over took me. I knew I had to have you. I could no longer think of anything other than possessing your beauty myself. I abandoned my job and went after you with my own music."
"But you didn't take anything from me – except my life." protested the Prince.
"True enough. After we thought we'd killed you, I was going to take your beauty myself. But an associate of mine from the area – another wizard, as we call ourselves - showed up and began demanding a cut, saying that you were found on her territory. She pulled me aside and began drawing up her property lines. We argued for so long that the elves began coming and we didn't dare go back and collect you. After the body was returned to Rivendell, and we'd ensured that my orcs, hooded as elves buried it in the wrong place. We knew Thranduil would never have the gumption to dig you up again and at the edge of the city, I would be safe when I came to claim your face. But when I came to the place where the orcs swore they had buried you, we found your grave dug out and the body missing. I could only assume that I had been mistaken in thinking that Thranduil would not have you dug up. But then we started hearing rumours that the Prince was not truly dead… For once they were true, for here you stand."
Legolas said nothing. Ithast didn't know that Legolas couldn't die. That could only be a good thing. He knew something that the man didn't and that gave him confidence.
"There is a question in your eyes, Prince. I can see it waiting there."
"Why were there orcs so close to Rivendell, in Elvish territory even after my grave was found empty? Surely even you aren't thick enough to launch an attack with those pitiable forces."
Ithast laughed half-heartedly, as if to say, Oh, that... "That is not my doing really. When we were in Rivendell, the orcs could feel a weakness growing in the heartland. It seemed that they had finally found their time to encroach upon the city. I know that it's foolish, but then, I didn't try to dissuade them. If they want to get themselves slain, it's not my business. So long as they did what I hired them to do." The man paused and scratched his neck. "But then, given the weakness, maybe it's not such a foolish idea after all."
"What weakness!" demanded Legolas.
"Well, in the leaders of course. Ah, I keep forgetting that you've been 'dead' and then scrambling through the woods… perhaps a mindless corpse all this time. Elrond's every effort and attention, time and energy has been devoted to Thranduil ever since you died. It's all he can do to keep the King from slipping into despair and dying of heartbreak. The city is in disarray, Elrond's leadership no longer felt." The man sneered. "It seems that your death is more useful than any of us could have predicted."
At this, Legolas wanted to lunge towards the man, to garrotte him with his own cold claws.
Father! The elf felt his knees becoming heavy with guilt. It was ridiculous to think that such few orcs could really pose a threat to the foundation of Elvish territory, but then the kingdom was in shambles because of him, his father's life force slipping into the same dark death that he thought Legolas was in. And how could Legolas really be sure how many orcs were threatening Elvish territory?
But then, if Ithast truly kills me, perhaps my father very shortly will fall to his heartbreak and Rivendell to the encroaching orcs? Would Elrond be able to restore order quickly and mobilize to fight off invasion? Don't be absurd. This man cannot kill you. But every time you die, you take the risk of not coming back again. Do you really want to risk the security of Rivendell and your father's life with it? But what about Estel? What about his life? This is ridiculous! How can I know what to risk? If I truly go, I leave Rivendell to whatever will be, I leave all of the Elven lands to the possibility of war with man, I could leave my father to ultimate death. The elf clenched his hands tightly and the man watched with increasing pleasure.
"You're even more beautiful when you're angry. It comes to it now. What future will you choose? Will you continue with your life, go back to Rivendell, cheer up your father, stave off the orcs and the oncoming war with man? Will you choose to save the day and say goodbye to the life of your precious friend? Or will you write off all who had held you dear, the iconic value you had for men and elf alike, allow for war and death and the ultimate fall of the elves?"
"I thought you didn't believe that men or orc could bring down the elves?" Legolas felt a burning in his chest, which he assumed was his heart, his throat clamped down hard to keep from allowing his strangled emotion from escaping.
"It doesn't matter what I believe. Only your decision matters."
Legolas knelt down next to Aragorn's torso. As he looked at him, the green of his life leaving his pale tortured body, he realized that he would give anything to see him awake again, to be able to feel the life in him once more. And Legolas knew then that there was only one solution. Aragorn would right Rivendell. Aragorn would manage his father's pain. Aragorn could halt the inevitable war between the Elves and the Rohirrim. Aragorn would bring order back. Aragorn would rally with the strength and leadership that the elf knew he would not have even were he to stay there and fight.
"I choose Aragorn's life."
"Very well." The man smiled, looking up at the elf from under his black fringe, clearly pleased with the elf's answer.
TBC
daug: barbarian