Cottoncrow's cry – Chapter eleven
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Gimli's plan was as simple as it was ingenious. As certain as they were that the underground river was the same fedding Cottoncrow's well and was making everyone sick, they were also sure that no one would take their word on it.
A way had to be found for them to show and prove to the villagers that they were speaking the truth, something tangible that every men and women could see and believe.
At the dwarf's request Alumna had gathered as many of her red berries as she could find. Gimli had seen how easily those berries could change the water's color and he was counting on that for his plan to work.
The water would turn red, but they needed that to happen only after they had reached Cottoncrow and explain everyone what they were about to see.
Timing those two events was the tricky part. A system to delay the flooding of old tunnels had been in use by the dwarves for as long as Gimli could remember and no dwarf could remember a time when that system had failed them.
Using a thin thread of cloth from Alumna's long dress, they had stringed a pouch to hold the berries she had brought. Descending on the hole again, in a more controlled manner this time, Gimli hang their contraption from one of the lower roots, choosing carefully one that was the appropriated length for his plans, and let the bag balancing over the running water, almost touching it. In the water he placed two large rocks, directly in the path of the pouch.
Gimli looked around at their handy craft and smiled. It would work.
Making his way out off hole again, cursing the lack of stairs, the dwarf set the old tree root on fire, killing it almost immediately, letting only a slow burn inside. When it burned itself too weak to hold the lightweight pouch, the berries' laden trap would fall in to the water and gash open against the rocks, smashing the berries and tinting the water red.
By the time their mark reached the village, Gimli and Alumna had to be there.
Saying her goodbyes to the improvised grave of her lover, Alumna turned away and raced after her newfound friend.
Oooooooooooooooooooo
Almost all had already arrived, even if the hour was still early. It was a matter of great importance, a life changing experience for then all, for their lives would indeed change after the sun had settled. The Bruisenbite would be gone from their existence and they would be able to breathe easily again.
It was the form of achieving such goal that disturbed some stomachs. Never before in Cottoncrow had there been a public execution of any kind. No hangings, no stonings, no eviscerations, no beheadings, nothing.
Practical things that had never crossed anyone's mind had to be resolved in a moments' haste and the worst of them all had been deciding who would cut the head. Samuel seemed the obvious choice, but the healer explained them that he couldn't be involved directly in the process; he was just a messenger for higher designations. Bomieth was out question, as everyone knew his mind would not be strong enough for something like this. For a while David, the father of the boy who had died capturing the elf, was a possibility. The council, however, feared that with the amount of hate David had for the elf, the beheading might turn in to a too ugly show.
In the end, it had been Tom's name the chosen. Tom was young, able, and the town's butcher. Cutting flesh was part of his trade.
The young butcher had grown pale when the resolution was presented to him. He had no problem in killing animals, knowing that there would be many mouths fed by his killing… but a person?
The council argued that this would save many, as Tom was well aware of, but still, it was with a heavy heart that the butcher accepted the grim task of beheading the stranger.
Oooooooooooooooooooo
The sun had long passed his highest point when they finally arrived at Cottoncrow. Gimli and Alumna passed unnoticed by those they met, as all villagers seemed far more interested on what was happening elsewhere on the village. Guessing what that event might be, the two followed the crowed, a cold feeling burning their stomachs. Gimli for his friend, Alumna for what she was about to do.
They pushed their way front, the dwarf anxious to see how his friend was faring. A few heads turned to look at who was so insistent to pass through. This turn it was the sight of Alumna that caused more confusion and surprise. None had seen or heard anything of her for months now. Most had thought her dead.
She paid them no heed. The same looks and whispers that had driven her away before, were now unable of affecting her. She had been younger then, not so much in years but in experience. What these people thought of her was of little consequence at this point. The only thing that truly mattered now was preventing Samuel's plan from succeeding.
Alumna saw him before Gimli, and her heart skipped a beat, even if she had never actually met the elf. For one insane moment she considered the idea of turning back and blocking Gimli's view. His heavy cursing seconds later told her that it was already too late for that.
The first time he saw him, Gimli wasn't able to recognize his friend. During the most ferocious battles that both had fought side-by-side, it had always been a source of unending annoyance to Gimli the elf's ability to endure all with hardly any dirt on him, not a hair out of line, without even breaking in to a sweat.
The elf he was seeing now had fought a hard battle and the evidence of that was, for once, very clear on him. Legolas was kneeling behind a gray stone that reached his lower chest, hands tied behind his back, wearing a black tunic that struck Gimli as odd and out of place. His face was a collection of smudges, going from the ashes' gray to the blood's red, and his hair… Gimli thought he looked almost human now, with that short length trends, dirty and with eyes that spoke of loneliness and lost. A very young and lost human boy.
The dwarf's strong heart was taut with worry and guilt for his friend. Never before had he seen the elf looking like that, and the sight frightened him beyond words.
Legolas seemed to have sensed Gimli's presence, for his clear eyes searched his friend from amidst the crowd. He found him in the far left, standing next to a tall woman, one Legolas hadn't seen before. Her slender hand was resting on the dwarf's shoulder, in a compassionate way. Her other hand was curled around the pendent in her necklace.
That gesture, he had seen before. In the forest, the day when all had started, the melancholic presence he had felt, the source of all the sadness he had felt. He sought her eyes, hoping to understand her relation with Gimli, but she was looking down, talking to the dwarf.
Someone passed between them and Legolas lost sight of the two for a moment.
He closed his eyes, trying to clear his vision. When he reopened them, after what he thought to be a second later, Gimli was nearer, arguing with the guards in front of him.
"I spit on Samuel's orders!" He blared. "Now let me pass!"
The guards, however, didn't move an inch.
"No one forbids you from speaking with the prisoner. Our orders are to not let anyone near him," the guard explained again.
Gimli angrily agreed with their terms and the guards stepped aside, watching his every move. But Gimli wasn't moving, he wasn't even speaking. He just stared at the elf. Legolas looked positively worse from up close.
"What happened to you, lad?" Gimli whispered.
Legolas made an effort to smile but it was a poor one.
"Too many things," he confessed wearily.
He had awakened to find himself chained to the stone block, kept upright by the metal around his back, able of moving little else but his neck. Not much time had passed since his last attempt to escape, but the square that had been barely filled then, was now alive with too many villagers.
Someone had changed his tunic for a darker one, an action apparently so futile that Legolas couldn't understand it at first. When he started to feel the warm wetness, slowly cursing down his side, Legolas realized that the blackness of his clothing would never show any red stain. It was safer for Samuel if the villagers had no chance to feel sympathy for the prisoner.
He felt thirsty, tired, angry, frustrated and his head kept on spinning in the most dizzying way. His chances of escaping seemed dimmer and dimmer by the moment as the elf came to the sad realization that he no longer had the strength to get away on his on. And what angered him the most was the fact that Gimli, whom he had come to respect and held in high regard, was there, looking at him when felt more helpless and weak.
"You should've stayed away," Legolas said, his eyes appraising his friend's figure. "You look terrible."
Gimli laughed, shaking his head.
"Advantages of being a dwarf… I can look terrible and still look better than you."
And then, as quickly as it came, the amusement was gone from his voice, "We are going to spring you out of here, don't you worry, elf!"
"We?"
"I've met a local, a woman that lives in the forest nearby," the dwarf said, pointing to where he had left his ally. "Her name is Alumna, and she used to be Samuel's wife," he whispered.
Legolas looked in to his friend's eyes, surprised by these news, and only then did he recognize the shinny glint in the brown orbs. Hope.
Somewhere, somehow, Gimli had discovered a powerful ally that could balance the odds at last.
"We discovered some interesting stories about our healer friend," Gimli said, lowering his voice to barely a sound, knowing that Legolas would have no problem understanding him. "Your freedom is but a breath away, my friend," the dwarf said confidante.
"Gather around, good people," Gimli said louder, turning his back on Legolas to face the bystanders. The sight of the villagers' grave expressions and unwelcoming moods made the dwarf dry-swallow and take a deep breath before continuing. His mouth had dried out and he struggled to speak clearly, "Good people of Cottoncrow, there has been some events that have been kept a secret from you," he shouted. "Events that you aught to know about."
The whispering crowd grew noisier and Gimli knew it was time to set their discoveries on the loose and see what damage they could achieve.
"Alumna, tell them all you know," he said with a victorious smile on his lips.
The silence that followed his words was uncomfortable on so many levels that it seemed to never end. The smile on Gimli's face turned in to an ugly sneer of unbelief as he searched the crowd for Alumna's familiar face. The spot where the woman was supposed to be standing was now occupied by and old, curled up woman, holding a little boy by the hand.
"Alumna?" Gimli whispered, refusing to believe in her disappearance. In one terrifying moment, Gimli's whole plan crumbled before his eyes, betrayed by its most important piece. He broke in to a nervous cold sweat, surrounded by angry words spat at him by anonymous voices that the dwarf couldn't place. Rotten food, that unfortunately seemed to be always at hand in these situations, flew by him, missing his figure. Until an egg found its mark and woke Gimli from his panic.
"No! Listen to me!" He shouted back, trying to regain their attention and trust. "Samuel is not who you think him to be!" A rotten tomato flew dangerously close by. "HE IS A MURDERER!"
The food stopped flying.
A murderer?
Legolas looked up, gazing Gimli's back. Had his friend resorted to lie in order to rescue him? He knew that it was not in the dwarf's way to deceive in such way, and he had sensed the evilness in Samuel's heart… but to be able to take another life?
"He killed Bomieth's son… I have discovered his murdered body!" Gimli pressed on, taking advantage of their momentary silence.
"You lie! You making this up to help your monster friend!" A voice shouted.
Gimli was shaking his head in denial, his eyes still searching for Alumna, in a faint hope that she might return. Had she lost her nerve and run away? Had this been her plan from the start? Feeling deeply foolish, Gimli cleared his throat to speak.
"We… I found the body of your leader's son, not too far from here…I can show you the place where he was hidden. I can take there any who wishes to see it."
Murmurs followed, until someone pointed out the obvious.
"How can you tell with such certainty who killed him?" The man paused, "Or even if it is him?"
"Aye… as he told you this?"
"Maybe he killed him himself!"
Muffled by the snickering and jest comments, Gimli's silence spoke volumes. Truth was, he could not. Not without Alumna.
"He means only to distract us. Tis have nothing to do with the curse!"
"The elf still must die!"
"Samuel spoke of a two-headed creature… it is his the second head, maybe he should die as well!"
"Tis our lives at risk… take no chances and kill them both!"
"No, no, NO!" Gimli shouted. This was going horribly wrong. The dwarf quickly revised what he had planned to say and what he had actually said, trying to see where had he failed. He soon realized that he left out an important piece of information.
"Tis not a curse that ails you, tis the water you've been drinking," Gimli added with haste, imposing his voice over the laughs that followed his words. "Bomieth's body was lying in the spring, the same spring that feeds your village's well."
Although none seemed to believe him, Gimli could see that a few were, at least, starting to listen.
"I was there… I left a red mark in the water," he pushed on. "You have only but to look at water in the well and see if the mark has followed the spring's course and arrived here.
Most wanted to ignore the stranger's words, but those who handle animals knew better. They oft lost cows and sheep because of the same problem, the animals falling sick after drinking filthy water. Two brothers, sheppards, walked to the well.
All others fell quiet, watching as the bucket was dropped and slowly pulled up again.
Gimli could feel his heart beating so hard that he was sure everyone around him would be deafened by the sound of it. A thousand doubts raced in circles inside his head, some reasonable, others only insane products of his insecurity.
"Tis red as he said!" One of the brothers said, emptying the bucket in front of all. Reddish, mudded water fell down and pooled in the ground before being slowed by the earth.
"What is the meaning of this?" A confused villager asked.
All around people were arriving to their own conclusions, and Gimli gave out a sight of relief. The may not believe his words for what they were telling, but the seed of doubt was at least planted.
His relief was a short lived one, interrupted by the arrival of the executioner.
The man's large axe was appropriate to his large stature. He was an imposing figure with a black hood covering his face. He stood tall, as a grim reminder that their time had ran out.
"I see none in here with the authority to unsay Samuel's words," the man said, his voice deep and raising no doubts. None, except for Legolas' keen ears, heard the slight tremor that lay under the man's well-gathered composure.
"The Bruisenbite has taken enough from us already!" Another man said. "We can't be risking our lives on the words of a stranger and some tricks in the water!"
"My husband fell ill yesterday," a woman said with tears in her eyes, "and I will not see him die!"
"We have no reason the doubt Samuel's words… he showed us the way to stop people from becoming sick!"
"No one will fall ill again, if you stop drinking water from that well," Gimli said. "No one would have fallen ill in the first place, if your healer hadn't left a body to rotten in your water!"
Some of the villagers, those who had come to that same conclusion, nodded at Gimli's words. Others could not bring themselves to believe that Samuel would be able to take any life. How could water be anything but water, changed enough to turn in to poison and kill them?
Samuel, the healer that had never failed them, one of the most trusted men in Cottoncrow, their future leader if anything was to happen to old Bomieth, he had foretold that a creature with two heads should be relieve of one on this day, at this time. In a battle of words against words, could they ignore Samuel's and throw everything to waste?
"Send someone for Bomieth and Samuel... we need their decision," the man with the axe said. Two men set off running.
"We can't afford to take ill chances... if word arrives in time, we'll obey by it... if not..." the man said, leaving the last words hanging in the air like a vulture. "Time will not repeat itself for us, just because our hands wondered stray."
The axe was, after all, in his hands. The decision, to a certain point, was in his hands too. The hands that were shaking so hard now that he could hardly keep his grip on the weapon.
He felt for their pleat, and in his heart he wanted nothing more that to cut the elf's hands lose and tell them to be gone and never return again. If it was Cottoncrow's fate to perish and disappear from memory due to this illness, then so be it. He was starting to wonder if, mayhap, that wasn't what they deserved after all.
However, he didn't think himself brave enough to master such decision and bare on his shoulders its consequences. And heavy they would be. If the dwarf was right in what he told them, then to spare the elf was the right choice, and he would be seen as a hero for taking it. But, if the dwarf's tale were nothing more than an elaborate lie to save his friend, than his decision would condemn all to death. Blood would be in his hands either way.
Time is a titan, a giant that suffers the interference of no one. So great is its power that it toys with others, seaming to move at a different pace for different viewers. It slows down to a crawl when you wish it to run, it flies like the wind when you need it to stop.
If time couldn't be stop, Gimli wished that at least the sun would. But the bright daystar seemed to care nothing for their troubles and Gimli realized that the sun would set before Bomieth arrived. He could hear himself shouting angry words at the guards, but he barely knew what he was saying. He could feel hands restraining him, but he could not remember the faces of the men to whom they belonged. Their fingers were nothing but claws, preventing him from reaching his friend. The one thing he would remember later was the peacefulness in Legolas eyes when he looked at him.
Gimli's first reaction was one of anger. How could the elf remain so calm? Had he not realized the seriousness of his situation? Was he so selfish that he believed that his death would affect none? How would he face Thranduil later to tell him that his son was dead and that he, his friend, had stood there, watching as it happened?
But Legolas eyes did not waver or blink under the onslaught of Gimli's questions. And, like a gentle breeze whispering in his ear, Gimli understood what Legolas had realized a long time ago.
It wasn't in their hands.
Gimli had done all he could, Legolas had done all he would and now it was the villagers' turn to act. Nothing more they could say that would affect them, for when fear rules people's minds, they will listen to nothing else. Not to reason, not to common sense, not fairness, not even to pity.
Only to self-preservation.
Everyone's hearts were pulsing faster, breathings forgotten, and all eyes trapped in between the two mountains that would hide the sun. When the moment came, the villagers turned as one to the hooded man behind the prisoner. It was time.
Tom, the man behind the hood that did nothing to conceal his identity, tightened his grip on the handle of the axe, feeling it slide away from his sweaty fingers. His eyes stole one more furtive glance the other side of the square, each time hopping to see Bomieth's figure arriving. But only an empty street was there to be seen. The decision was in his hands and he would take no chances, even if that meant to never again have a restful night of sleep.
Legolas rested his head in the cold stone and closed his eyes. He was weary, hurt in more ways than one. He could not see, but every detail seemed to press against him despite his will, demanding to be acknowledged. The heart of the man behind him, beating faster and faster, the deep breaths he took to calm himself, the heat flowing from his body in waves, the sound of the axe's blade cutting the air as he finally raised it.
So there it was. The man had made his choice.
Legolas looked around at the crowd of strangers. They had stopped cheering, no longer enjoying their stay. At some point their presence had passed from joyful to sorrowful. His eyes travelled from the faces that he did not recognize to Gimli's familiar face. Maybe it was a trick of the light, but Legolas believed that the dwarf's eyes looked brighter than usual.
'The harder you try, the more failure hurts'. That was one of the few dwarfish sayings that Gimli had taught him. How he wished to explain to his friend that this wasn't his failure, that it was no one's failure.
All had played their part exactly as they were supposed to and no one could complain of wanting to act differently because, given the chance, most would have done exactly the same.
He would… he was sure of that.
He wanted to turn around and tell the man behind him that there was no guilty in the man's actions. Samuel had killed him already. He could feel life sipping away from his body. The beheading was just the accelerator. The fire had already been kindle hours ago.
Time resumed its usual pace when the axe started its short journey down and Legolas could almost feel its touch on his neck already.
"Stop!"
Most had closed their eyes, not feeling brave enough to witness the actual contact between blade and skin. So, it came as a surprise for many when they opened their eyes and found the elf still alive, Tom seating on the ground and the axe no where near the prisoner's neck. The guard that had pushed Tom was helping him off the dirt and the man that had shouted the order had just reached them, still a bit out of breath from all the running he had done.
Bomieth was no longer a young man, and his house was a bit far from the square, but if he hadn't run, he would have arrived too late. The old man still wore his unkempt hair and dirty clothes, made worse by the large cut in his left shoulder that bled freely down his arm. His eyes, however, were no longer absent of life, but burning with concern.
"I'm sorry for the roughness, Tom, but we needed to avoid this terrible mistake," the old man said, making his way towards Legolas. "Fetch me the keys to this irons!"
"You have finally understood?" Legolas whispered.
Bomieth seemed too embarrassed to look the former prisoner in the eyes, or even to speak to him. He would have rather put actions above words, but some words he could not avoid saying.
"Yes, and it is my blame that it took me so long to understand something so obvious. I have been selfish and blind ever since my son's… disappearance. And as a consequence of neglecting my duties you almost lost your life... I must ask for your forgiveness, Master elf."
Gimli, whom had ridden himself of the guard's hands as soon as he had seen Bomieth scurrying away in to the square, had finally been able to reach Legolas. Bomieth's words came as a surprise for him. The old man talked as if he knew all that he and Alumna had uncovered. Could it be that she hadn't lost her nerve after all?
A boy arrived at a run, carrying the key with him. The presence of the two strangers offered him little confidence and his dark eyes trailed over them wearily as he delivered the key in the hands of Bomieth. The leader wasted no more time and released the prisoner with one turn of the key, wishing that such a gentle twist could have the power to erase all that had happen and redeem him of his actions.
Unfortunately for his conscience, it was just a lock, and its only power was to release Legolas' hands. The elf rose to his feet, forcing himself to stay upright and avoid swinging at the rhythm of the pounding in his side.
"I allowed the wrong man to have too much power… and even so, the power he had wasn't enough for his greed," the old man told in confidence, almost forgotten of the presence of the two friends as he talked to the key in his hands. "Samuel went to my house today… he meant to kill me!" He said, looking up, "and he would've succeeded in this, had it not been for the arrival of my daughter and Alumna. They had always known Samuel for what he really was, as I have, even if I refused to believe it… they have told me everything."
The old man's voice ebbed away like wisps of smoke in a fire place as tears grew in his eyes. He could at last grieve for his lost son, for Alumna had confirmed to him what his heart had known all along.
Wincing, Bomieth moved his wounded arm to fish something out of his pocket. From the gentle way he held the small object, Gimli had no doubts that Alumna had returned the dead man's ring to his father.
"Are they well?" The dwarf asked.
"They are…" the man started but forgot what he was saying next as his eye caught the drop of blood that fell to the ground beneath the two strangers. "Are you well?" He returned the question.
Gimli was confused for a second, until he followed the man's eyes and saw the same he had. His stomach clenched as the answer to that question became clear. He turned to Legolas, looking for the source of the red liquid and in perfect synchrony, another fat drop hit the dirt.
"Legolas…" he called, touching the elf's waist to catch his attention. His ungloved hand brushed against the dark tunic and instinctively recoiled as he felt the wetness. "Darn you, elf!"
Legolas, however, seemed little affected by his friend's swearing. Small, crystalline pearls of sweat gathered in his forehead and his face looked paler than usual.
"Why haven't you said anything?" Gimli asked.
But the elf wasn't answering. Though his eyes were open, they had the same glazed over appearance they took when he slept and Gimli realized that his friend might as well have crumbled to the floor like a sack of bones, because he was no longer conscious.
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Ok, folks, finally managed an update… at last! To those of you patiently waiting for this, my thanks, my apologies and my hopes that it won't disappoint you.
Like I've said before, it has been very hard to update lately, but no, don't worry Kelsey Estel, not suffering from writers block… this story is all complete and begging my hand to pass it to paper… I just lack the time to do it.
Rosie ;) you forgot my favourite: nasty!
GeneralRothman, it's almost ending, both the story and the degree, so things will quite down a bit, soon.
I'm hopping to finish this soon, but I confess that I will need time to dedicate to the final part… These last parts haven't been quite to the quality I had planned for this fic, but a revision of it all is in my future plans, so don't blame me much for the bad spelling and weak writing.
Thank you for all of your wonderful reviews so far, and PLEASE, keep on sending them ;)