Chapter 2
Concern knitted Legolas's brow as he caught his kinsman in his arms. Estel quickly appeared by his side, and Legolas stepped back to allow the ranger's healing hands to tend to the injured elf.
For a moment, the man faltered. He had spent many hours tending to the sick at his foster father's side, but he always had the luxury of Elrond's millenia of experience to back up his actions. Facing a grievously injured patient in the middle of the woods alone was quite a different experience, and a few tense seconds rolled on where Estel felt unable to move.
Legolas's keen eyes caught the barely perceptible shaking of the man's hands, and he was suddenly struck by the man's youth - somehow more keenly so now than during their childish antics at the grove. At that age, he himself would have been considered barely an elfling, and would not have been able to even conceive of having to face such a situation.
The man's training overrode his trepidation, and Estel was quickly found kneeling next to Isiltirmo. His first priority was the wound on the elf's leg - it was bleeding heavily, the fabric around it soaked in red. Ripping a shred of fabric from his tunic, Estel stemmed the bleeding. He felt around the wound, and the tattered skin he found spoke to him of a roughly hewn serrated weapon. He hoped it was merely the blood loss which now rendered his patient unconscious, and that there was no fouler substance now binding the Firstborn to sleep.
With another shred from his tunic, he wiped the skin around the gash. His earlier hope was quickly dashed, as the skin around the injury was an unnatural-looking purple, with the darkness of poison spreading like spider legs in the surrounding veins. The elf needed to return to the houses of healing quickly, for an unknown poison was a danger worth fearing for even a Firstborn, as there were substances whose effects even immortal resilience could not stay.
Having bound the wound well enough for the journey, Estel next turned his attention to the arrow sticking out of the elf's shoulder. This thankfully did not appear to have hit anything vital, and the skin around the puncture did not share the discolouration of the leg wound. Deciding not to dislodge the foreign body for fear of worsening the bleeding, he instead simply cautiously snapped the tail of the arrow off so that it would not risk catching on anything during the journey back. Quickly examining the rest of the elf, he found several more scratches, but these had already clotted and showed no sign of the poison.
"There is no sense in dallying further; my father will have far better herbs with which to treat the wounds than we could gather here. I have done what I can to stabilise him until home."
Legolas regarded the man with quiet admiration. Estel's voice betrayed none of his earlier nervousness, and he had tended to the patient with the skill and sureness of one many times his age.
After giving the man a nod of appreciation, Legolas delicately picked up his incapacitated kinsman. The group walked down the road as swiftly as they dared, trying to avoid jostling the wounded elf too much.
Within an hour, they reached the arched gates of the city. A lone sentinel jumped to his feet when he saw them, clearly disturbed at the sight in front of him. His eyes rested for several seconds on each of the party in turn, and he seemed stunned into silence.
"Hark, Filikion! Isiltirmo is in dire need of my father's aid. Please, send word."
The elf nodded, understanding the urgency of the situation, and turned towards the city centre. He took off at a speed that a mortal would easily consider a sprint.
Estel and Legolas continued after him at a much more measured pace, and found themselves face to face with a worried Lord Elrond and a party of his healers before long. They had barely reached the halfway point to the houses of healing.
The elf-lord's sharp eyes quickly triaged the situation: "Take Isiltirmo, the twins can begin to dress his wounds."
Elrond motioned forward two of the elves in his company, and they gently took Isiltirmo from Legolas, laying him out on a cotton litter and carrying him away.
"Ai, what has happened to you, young ones..." said Elrond, stepping close to the pair in front of him. He gingerly laid a hand on Estel's forehead, on a purple-red splatter which he perceived to be a bruise. Turning to Legolas, he extended his other hand to carefully cup the side of the Silvan elf's face, where his pale blonde hair was stained a similar reddish hue. Worry filled his heart as he saw that the elf and the man - both of whom he loved as sons - were covered in these unnerving stains.
The elf and man in turn were confused. "Isiltirmo-" Estel began.
"Isiltirmo is being tended to," Elrond cut him off in a firm and reassuring tone, "but I must know what harm has befallen you, as it chills my heart to see you both so battered."
Not considering themselves particularly battered, the friends shared a sideways glance, trying to piece together what disturbed their lord so. In looking at each other, they recalled something they had quite forgotten in their journey home. The cherries. As they realised that berry-stains had in context been taken as injury, they could not help but be amused.
Knowing his father's temperament well, Estel had the foresight to drop his head before breaking into a smile, hiding behind a tangled curtain of brown hair. Legolas unfortunately lacked this sense, and his ill-timed smile caused Elrond's eyebrows to arch, the countenance of a healer quickly being replaced by that of a less-than-impressed lord.
Having recomposed himself, Estel raised his head and tried to re-assure his father, "Be at peace, we are uninjured. Forgive our unruly appearance, our encounter with Isiltirmo was preceded by an encounter with…"
Estel struggled to maintain his air of dignity while being stared down by the now-narrow gaze of the elvish lord. "With some… Cherries."
The sympathetic hands that still rested on their faces turned on them quickly, giving them each a light slap across the head before returning to the sides of the exasperated Lord Elrond.
"Fools! Filikion bursts into my chambers, speaking of mine and Thranduil's sons having done battle, carrying a wounded ally and themselves looking barely better off... and I instead discover you are a mere pair of elflings who have not yet identified quite how one should consume a cherry!" Elrond speaks loudly, his voice easily carrying in the wind, audible to any curious enough to listen in.
"You have scared half the town - now go and wash! And change! I do not wish to see you until you have made yourselves presentable"
"Father, please, allow us to first see Isiltirmo, for he is-"
"Safe in the hands of our most capable healers," Elrond interrupted Estel's plea. "I would like you there when he wakes, but I would like your appearances to be befitting of the Heir of Isildur and the Prince of Mirkwood when he does."
Calming somewhat, Elrond asked, "Is there anything that the healers need to know when tending to him, that you may have noticed when binding his wounds?"
"Poison." Estel replied, and concern returned to Elrond's face.
"Of what sort, I could not tell you," continued Estel, "but I could see a dark irritation spreading around the wound on his leg, which is his most severe injury."
"We did not bear witness to the attack," clarified Legolas. "We came upon him long after he had become injured, and had been walking a way on his own. It is lucky that we found him when we did, as his strength failed shortly after he saw us."
"And what of the rest of his company? Do we know what fate has befallen them? Perhaps I should be arranging a search-party."
Legolas's face stiffened at the thought of his father's company being in similar danger. He voiced his next thoughts carefully: "While I know not the fate of the company, I think I would advise against venturing out, my lord. The only words Isiltirmo spoke before unconsciousness claimed him were that my father was safe. Had something ill befallen the entire company, he would have sought to warn me. Instead he chose to re-assure, leading me to think he means for us to avoid charging blindly."
The elf-prince's voice grew more confident with each word. "Nay, let us not return to the woods where an unknown danger lies. I am confident that this is not what Isiltirmo would wish. Let us wait for him to wake, so that we may better understand what has happened."
Elrond considered this, and after a brief moment agreed. "I believe you speak truly, it would be foolhardy to send anyone into danger blindly if we have been told expressedly that no one is in need of immediate aid. Thank you both. I would like your presence in the houses of healing after-"
He held up a hand as he saw the two friends immediately make towards the houses.
"After you have made yourselves look respectable."
And with that the elf-lord turned and began to make his way up the stone-cut stairs, while Estel and Legolas slunk to the bath-house. They had better sense than to continue to argue.
"We do not look that bad." Estel complained as they made their way there.
"My friend, you could pass for a wandering beggar who has not seen soap or looking-glass in many months," said Legolas with a light laugh, "as, admittedly, could I!"
…
Having bathed and changed, the pair re-joined Isiltirmo. Some colour had returned to his skin from the various concoctions that were being either slathered on his skin or poured expertly down his throat, but he had not yet awoken.
"How fares he?" Legolas asked.
"He is strong, my young prince. He is simply exhausted now, and his body needs time to recover. I do not think that any of his wounds are life-threatening, provided we are able to stop the poison." Elladan began.
His brother seamlessly took over speaking mid-thought, "It appears that the salve we have prepared is preventing the poison from spreading further, but we have yet to make the effects retract. He may be off his feet for several weeks, but I would expect a return to consciousness within a day."
"It could have been far worse had he been allowed to further bleed, Estel. His wounds were bound skilfully." Elrond had come up behind the man and the elf, and praised his foster son's skills. Estel smiled in response, proud to receive his father's approval.
With their patient's wounds bound and treated, Elrond and the twins departed, leaving the pair of friends with Isiltirmo to wait. They settled in, Legolas perched on the windowsill and Estel on a chair near the bed, and waited. The injured elf slept for many hours, and it was well after dusk, when Estel was beginning to himself struggle to fight sleep, that Isiltirmo began to stir.
"Legolas, Estel…" came the weak voice of the elf.
"We are here, my friend," assured the prince.
"I seem to find myself in Imladris," mused Isiltirmo, almost to himself, "thus I must surmise you brought me here? Thank you, my lords, I am glad that I encountered you when I did, for my strength had been waning."
"Think nothing of it. We are glad to hear your voice again."
Before they could ask him anything further, the twins shooed Legolas and Estel away in order to re-examine their patient, and even managed to coax him into consuming a hot healing soup. Elrond joined to observe halfway through their routine, and was pleased to see the patient was alert and seemed to overall be mending easily.
They did worry over his leg - the infection had neither worsened nor lessened, and the patient informed them of a constant throbbing pain he felt in it. He was frightened to discover he could barely move the limb, but the healers assured him that it was early yet, and encouraged him to give it time.
With the healing routine complete, the twins left the room, leaving Isiltirmo in the company of Elrond, Estel, and Legolas, and muttered a barely-heard warning not to over-stretch the patient.
"Come friend," said Elrond. "We have been eagerly awaiting your awakening. Tell us of the journey of you and your company after leaving Imladris."
The elf considered his thoughts carefully a moment, then began his retelling.
"We rode hard when we left and reached the mountain pass in the late afternoon. While we would ordinarily camp this side of the pass, we found ourselves feeling unsettled. None of us could name what instilled this sense of dread, but we all felt it, and so we decided to carry on riding well into the night.
The High Pass after dusk took on an evil air, and we felt shadows around us. I was certain we were not alone - every time I turned my head, I would catch the briefest glimpse of something, or somethings, creeping in the periphery of my vision. Our party rode largely in silence, so we could easily hear when strange whispers would fill the night. The air as well was foul - ripe with orc-stench or something of that ilk.
Only after midnight, when we had put some distance between us and the dark pass, we gained the confidence to pitch camp in some trees nearby. We all agreed that something was amiss.
I know this pass is well travelled, and I worried that those shadows may not stay simple shadows were a smaller or more mortal company to attempt passage. Imladris, my lord, is far closer to the pass than Mirkwood, and we agreed that you needed to be warned.
I put myself forward to act as messenger, to return to Imladris to bring you these tidings. Thranduil was hesitant to let me leave alone, but I argued that as a lone traveller I would have a much better chance of sneaking by unnoticed. Confident that the king was far enough away to be out of danger, I turned back and attempted to again cross the pass in the dark. I had nearly made it through, but ai! I was ambushed. Though I made my best attempt at stealth, what lay in those shadows had keen senses, and I found myself fighting off several goblins and odd men.
Goblins alone would have quite surprised me - they do not frequently dare venture this close to elf lands, nor do they have particular motivation to ambush travellers in the night at random.
The men surprised and unnerved me even more. Before doing battle, I tried to speak with them, to appeal to their kinder nature but ai, Elrond, they seemed un-hearing. If they had not had such excellent aim when attacking me I would have said them to be un-seeing as well, for their eyes seemed so unfocused and blank. They seemed like shells, husks. As if the fëar had been stripped from their mortal shells, which were left to be puppeteered by some unnamable force.
Unqüa atani. Unqüatani. Hollow men. Or so I would call them. They told me not their purpose, but they seemed to sense mine, and sought to stop my journey. I fought them with all my strength, but in truth it is by sheer luck that I am not now sitting in the Halls of Mandos."
The party grimaced at this admission.
"There were 5 goblins, and 3 unqüatani. The goblins I slayed with my knife, but the numbers were overwhelming and I took an arrow to the chest while doing so.
When I had taken out the goblins, I ran, for I dared not face the three men. They seemed not to have any instinct to preserve themselves, and such reckless fighting was sure to result in casualties - for both sides. The men followed me out of the pass, and a faster one caught up with me as I reached the forest, for I was already growing weak from the arrow-wound. The man who caught me gave me this wound you see on my leg, and the blade burned my flesh like fire when it struck. The Valar must have been smiling kindly on me that evening however, as I managed to turn the fight on this unqüatan and slay him. The others seemed hesitant to stray further from the pass, particularly seeing the loss of their friend, and so I was able to continue to run.
The hours blurred together after that, the effects of my wounds compounding, and I once again thank any Vala that may be listening that the young prince and man found me when they did, as I fear what my fate could have been in that forest."
The mood in the room was dark.
"This is most troubling news indeed," said Elrond. "And you know nothing of the purpose of these… these hollow men?"
"Not much beyond what I have already told you my lord. They did not speak. But they appear dangerous, and I sensed they were linked to a greater power."
"Then we will need to confront this power, for it must be great indeed to take residence so close to our borders. For now however, I must thank you deeply for the message and implore you to please rest, as we have sapped enough of your strength."