THREE
Black Star
I bid thee come, this I pray.
Show me again the light of day.
Hope is struck, is now forlorn
Within my heart a darkness borne.
Fading, fainting time of loss
Comes to us now to pay the cost.
Will you remember me until the end?
I bear your memory forever, my friend.
Dawn over Imladris was grey and cold, the rain having slackened to a persistent drizzle, the fury of thunder and lightning left behind. The only light remaining from the previous evening was a pair of candles stubbornly guttering along and the faint glowing embers in the fireplace. As the pale dawn filtered through the cloudy sky, Legolas reached up to rub the back of his neck, having spent the entire night at Aragorn's side in a high-backed chair.
The twins had both dozed off some little while ago at his insistence; Legolas could easily guess that neither of them had slept much since Aragorn's collapse, and as quickly as Elrohir in particular fell asleep, he'd known that he was right.
Aragorn was still and pale; a touch to his forehead told Legolas that the fever was still blisteringly present. Taking the cooling cloth once more, Legolas dampened it and replaced over Aragorn's forehead.
"Feels…good." The soft whisper was so unexpected that Legolas nearly jumped in his seat. Leaning forward, he placed his hand upon the ranger's shoulder.
"Estel?" Legolas murmured, smiling a bit. Aragorn's eyes opened partially, and a painful wince crossed his features. "Easy…don't move."
"Dizzy..." Aragorn murmured softly, struggling to focus his gaze. He blinked slowly, dazedly. Legolas kept his hand upon the ranger's shoulder, a gentle point of contact.
"Just rest, mellon nin." Legolas encouraged. "You've been very sick; the fever is not yet broken."
"Legolas?" Aragorn murmured, as if just realizing who was sitting at his side. "How did you…?" Legolas smiled again, his fingers tightening briefly upon the man's shoulder.
"You can thank 'Ro for that." He said softly. "He thought I should be here to nursemaid you." The sparkle in the sapphire eyes drew a wan, faint smile from the ill human.
"Nurse…maid me…?" Aragorn closed his eyes again; despite his relief at seeing Legolas, the dizziness nauseated him. "Fussy…Elf." Legolas' smile faded in spite of the light jest. Aragorn was still terribly ill and it worried him greatly.
"Stubborn human." The archer traded back gently, allowing another brief smile to cross his features. Rising silently, Legolas crossed over to a nearby table and returned a moment later with a cup of water poured from the pitcher there. Settling on the edge of the bed, Legolas slipped his left arm beneath Aragorn, propping up the weakened human's head and shoulders, and with his right hand held the cup to Aragorn's lips. The human moaned sharply, and Legolas bit his lower lip briefly. "Goheno nin, Estel. Avon thelo naegra le." Forgive me, Estel. I did not mean to pain you. "Sogo tithen." Drink a little. He encouraged, tipping the cup just enough for the water to touch Aragorn's lips.
At the liquid's cool touch, Aragorn opened his mouth, swallowing reflexively and eagerly at the water. After a moment, Legolas pulled the cup back cautiously. "Not so fast…easy, mellon nin." Despite the thirst generated by the high fever, the elf was unwilling to risk upsetting Aragorn's stomach. The sickness the ranger suffered was bad enough without such aggravation. Aragorn paused as directed, letting his head lean back against Legolas' arm.
"Hannon le…" He murmured quietly, just resting on his friend's strength. Gratitude flooded through him for Legolas' steady presence, and a soft sigh escaped him.
"Estel?" Legolas inquired worriedly. Aragorn seemed so fragile; but then again, anytime the human was injured or ill, the dread of his mortality seemed to clench the elf's heart like a vise. Blue-grey eyes, somewhat dulled by the illness, looked up at the elf who supported him and a faint smile crossed Aragorn's features.
"Worrywart." He accused lightly. "I am glad…you're here." It was a simple enough answer, but it carried so much more, Legolas realized, in the face of the horrid nightmares that Aragorn had endured. Setting aside the cup, the elf brushed his hand gently along the feverish face.
"So am I." Legolas reassured. Shifting slowly so as to minimize the hurt to Aragorn's aching head, he eased the man back onto the pillows. "Go back to sleep, Estel. You must regain your strength to fight this sickness." Legolas' eyes widened as Aragorn unexpectedly gripped his sleeve, fingers tangling desperately in the silken red fabric of Elrohir's tunic.
"Do not…make me go back…" He pleaded, and Legolas' expression grew anxious.
"Back? Back where, mellon nin?" The grip on his sleeve grew tighter, as if Aragorn were trying to convince himself of Legolas' presence.
"It will…it will destroy…" It was as if a candle had been snuffed out and the ranger was dissolving into delirium once more, his eyes fever-bright and panicked. Legolas laid his hand over the one that had such a tight hold on his sleeve, swallowing tightly.
"Estel…" Legolas murmured softly. "You are in Imladris, mellon nin. Nothing will touch you here." Even more frightening than the sudden grip on his arm and the abrupt terror, was the sudden slackness of Aragorn's fingers as the ranger's hand slipped away from Legolas' grasp and fell aside. "Estel!"
"Black…" Aragorn whispered fearfully. "Don't make me…" The heart-rending plea trailed off as the ranger's eyes slid shut.
"Estel!" Legolas cried out again, hands moving to grip the human's shoulders as if to shake him awake once more, but his fingers simply trembled against his friend's arms. "Estel…"
The frightened voice of the Silvan archer was enough to awaken the twins, who both sprang up out of their chairs before either of them was fully awake. Stumbling toward their mortal brother's bedside, Elrohir reached them first and placed a hand upon Legolas' shoulder.
"Legolas?" The younger twin demanded anxiously. "What happened?"
Elladan was kneeling at Aragorn's other side, his palm resting lightly against his foster brother's forehead. Unlike the febrile terrors that had gripped the ranger earlier, Aragorn was now so still that only the faint sound of his breath indicated that he still lived.
"Valar…" The elder twin breathed out.
"I don't know!" Legolas answered Elrohir, his voice taut with anxiety. "He…Estel woke up, and…he took a little water…" The Silvan was trembling now, grateful for the steady hand of the Peredhel twin on his shoulder. "And then he begged me not to make him go back…"
"Back where?" Elladan inquired curiously, much as Legolas had a moment ago. The blonde elf shook his head a bit, just as confused as the twins were.
"I don't know." Legolas replied quietly, his throat tightening. Black, Estel had said… "Somewhere dark." The archer finally murmured. "Dark and lonely."
Rain began to patter against the windows again, although it was not the voluminous storm that had broken upon them the day before, more of a steady, soaking sort of rain. Legolas raised his head, looking at the falling rain absently as if he were looking beyond it, seeking something much more pleasant. Swallowing tightly, he looked back to the hand he held, Aragorn's fingers curled loosely around his own.
I cannot leave you there, mellon nin. Legolas swore silently to himself. I will not abandon you to darkness as long as I draw breath. Thoughts were beginning to gather within him, but he would not speak of them, not yet. Curling his fingers closer around Aragorn's limp hand, Legolas very simply once again began to sing, hoping against hope that perhaps the melody, perhaps his voice, would reach through to Aragorn wherever he had been imprisoned, through the blackness that pressed upon him.
Legolas' voice was soft but steady, determined, tender. It did not cease, even when the door opened to admit Lord Elrond; he was going to save his friend. By whatever means necessary, he was going to rescue Estel. Even if it meant giving up his voice, or his life, to do so.
"It is so simple." The soft voice; honeyed and gentle as it had always been, murmured into the quiet. It was the last bit of beauty still left to her and so she spoke often, even if it was to herself, just to remember that it remained. To remember what it felt like to be lovely and unspoiled.
At the same time, however, there were mirrors everywhere. Hanging in silent accusation of what she had become, reminding her every single day of her burning pain. She no longer shied away from them as she once had, despite whatever anyone else might think of their eerie reflections.
Not that there was often anyone else to comment upon them—or upon her. The other brand that remained with her was the loneliness, the indefinable, interminable aching loneliness that seemed at times to suffocate her. Did the Firstborn feel these pangs? She often wondered if they recalled her tears…so much brokenness, so much forgotten. At one time, she had wondered almost as much what the Valar had against her to decree her fate, but she didn't think on that much any longer. Valinor, it seemed, was silent.
Now, it appeared that her rescue was close at hand. The burden that she had carried for so long could finally be released, and the wonder of that made her smile slightly. Such an unexpected thing, and from a most unexpected source. "So simple." She repeated to herself softly, and she paused before one of the mirrors that lined her hallway, looking upon the reflection with a distant sort of comprehension, one hand reaching up to her cheekbone. Her fingers trailed down her face briefly, before she turned away and continued on down the hall. Smiling faintly, she wondered if he would find her beautiful, or if like all the others, would forget her to the end of his days.
Time seemed to have distilled itself into a single awareness: Estel. Little else registered with Legolas as he kept vigil, bathing the fevered face with the cooling cloth, speaking softly, sometimes singing and refusing to leave Aragorn's side.
For a frighteningly long span of time, there had been no movement, no response from Aragorn since his earlier slide into feverish unconsciousness, and Legolas feared that the Halls of Mandos might open their doors to receive the young ranger right then. At last, however, a delirious partial awareness returned to Aragorn, allowing Legolas to coax more water into him.
Elrond approached the bedside with another cup and he held it before the Silvan archer. At Legolas' curious look, the Elf Lord nodded reassuringly.
"It's for the fever." Elrond said quietly. It was not a cure, for Elrond was uncertain as yet of that, but if the fever remained too high for too long, it could cause a whole other set of problems. Legolas shifted a bit; once again, moving to support the weakened ranger in such a fashion that Aragorn could drink from the cup.
"Estel?" Legolas prompted gently. "Echuivo, saes, mellon nin." Wake up, please, my friend.
The first thing Aragorn was aware of was the insistent pain pounding through his head like a cave troll on a rampage. He couldn't seem to make his mind remember a time when it didn't hurt, and his initial wish was to simply fall back into the oblivion that kept him from the sharp ache, until conscious thought reminded him what waited in those black recesses. That was enough to prompt him to force his eyes open just a bit, and he swallowed thickly as his stomach protested his bid for wakefulness. Estel... He heard his name whispered nearby, and for a moment, he wasn't entirely sure if it was his imagination playing tricks on him or not.
"Ada?" Aragorn forced his voice to work; it came out as a weak murmur. A cool, gentle hand touched his face, and somewhere above him, he was aware of the same voice that had uttered his name.
"Nay…" Legolas continued; his hand at Aragorn's face. "Na Legolas, mellon nin." It's Legolas, my friend. "Echuivo an nin, saes…" Wake up for me, please.
"Ll…Legolas?" Aragorn echoed slowly, forcing his eyes open a little more. Eyes slightly unfocused, he directed his attention to the figure at his side and a faint smile touched his lips. For his own part, Legolas was grateful to see Aragorn a bit more lucid at this waking, despite the obvious pain written in the pale features. "I knew…you were…too stubborn. It…it could not take..." A sharp wince drew the human's eyes tightly closed, accompanied by a soft gasp.
"Shh, mellon nin." Legolas reassured, moving to stroke his thumb along Aragorn's forehead, seeking to ease the ache. "Baw pedo…boe polod lín." Don't speak; you need your strength. After a moment, the blonde elf looked up, pausing to take the cup from Elrond's hand, and he put it to Aragorn's lips. "Sogo sen, Estel." Drink this, Estel. Aragorn's expression twisted into a grimace of disgust as the draught's scent reached him, and Legolas resisted the urge to grin, despite the knowledge, that if it smelled bad it likely wasn't going to taste that much better.
"I haven't seen a face like that since you were seven." Elrond said gently, leaning down to brush the back of his fingers along Aragorn's face. "Take the draught, ion nin…you'll feel better for it." The Elf Lord smiled a bit. "Even if it doesn't seem like it by its strength." After several minutes, most of the medicine had been swallowed, and Elrond took the cup back from Legolas.
"Ego ad an idh, Estel." Go back to sleep. Legolas soothed, hoping anxiously that this time the suggestion would not send his friend back into the fearful pleading to stay awake, knowing that the weakened, ailing human needed as much rest as he could get. The elf's fingers returned to the gentle massaging to try to ease the terrible headache that seemed to refuse to release his friend.
"Don't let it..." Aragorn started once again, but eyes glassy with fever and pain eventually slid shut once again. Legolas frowned anxiously, but his hand did not stray from Aragorn's forehead. The pain in his friend's eyes had been enough to stab at his heart. After several more minutes, simply resting within his sworn brother's embrace, Aragorn's breathing slowed into sleep, his taut frame relaxing abruptly against the elf. Legolas eased Aragorn back onto the bed, covering him with the blanket, and he desperately hoped this sleep would be peaceful, unbroken by nightmare or pain.
"He should sleep a few hours' time." Elrond said quietly, as if reading the wood-elf's mind. Truly, he shared the same concerns, and he offered the Silvan archer a slight smile. "I put a sleeping herb into the draught; it is my hope that it will give him some unbroken rest as well as take the fever down."
Legolas glanced around and then back up to the Elf Lord.
"Where are Elrohir and Elladan, my Lord?" He asked perplexed, not having noticed the twins' departure in his concentration upon Aragorn. That drew a soft chuckle from Elrond, who shook his head slightly.
"I sent them to break their fast." The Elf Lord said simply, despite the lateness of the morning hour. "As I should do with you, young Prince. Your father would never approve of my sending you home as a scarecrow, for the love of my son or not." A dark eyebrow rose slightly.
"My Lord…please…" Legolas pressed his lips together slightly. "Please do not make me leave his side." He finally, asked, with what he hoped was the right mixture of respect and determination. For I must soon enough. The thought made him cringe inwardly.
"I will not." Elrond promised as he moved to a nearby chair now, settling into it with a soft sigh. "I instructed Elladan to bring you something to break fast when he returns." Motioning slightly toward his youngest son, Elrond said, "As they have no wish to leave him either, I am sure your wait will not be long."
Legolas nodded absently, looking up to watch the rain still pattering gently against the window. His eyes held a deep regret within them, but there was little he could do about it except what he must. Finally, the Silvan archer drew in a deep breath, and looked over at Elrond.
"I hope the rain passes by soon." He said oddly, almost absently, and Elrond frowned slightly, having an uncomfortable inkling as to what the wood-elf was referring. "Tomorrow I ride for the Dúnedain encampment." He said simply in answer to the unasked question. "Whether the rain has stopped or not."
"Legolas!" Elladan exclaimed, disapproving. "You just got here. What if Estel…"
The twins had returned, arriving in the doorway just in time to hear Legolas' declaration, and their features mirrored each other's surprise and dismay. Legolas might have found the identical expressions almost comical except for the circumstances under which they were displayed.
"I will bear the burden for that alone, Elrondion." Legolas said respectfully. "But you must see it yourself. This is an unnatural illness." Sapphire eyes turned calmly back to Elrond, whose expression bore the painful truth of it. Legolas was right. "Something did this to Estel, and I mean to find out what happened." The Silvan elf was determined. "I will not sit by and do nothing if the cause of his condition can be discovered."
There was a breathless sort of silence for a long moment, as if the idea was being weighed, and Legolas did not meet anyone's gaze, simply looking back down into the stilled face of his sleeping, suffering friend. I will not leave you in the darkness, I promised.
"You will not go alone, Legolas." Elrond pronounced at length, and Legolas did look up now, his own eyes bearing some dismay now. "If you are correct, Estel met with something more than just the Dúnedain and some Orcs. I will not explain to your father why I was so foolish as to send you off on this errand without aid."
"My Lord…" Legolas inclined his head slightly, despite feeling his ears color a bit with a slight flush. "It is merely that I do not wish to part El and 'Ro from Estel when…" His voice faded a little. "…when he might be lost to us." It was a painful thought, but one that must be spoken; he would not have Aragorn face his final moments alone should it come to that.
"It is not my sons that I intend to send with you." The Elf Lord smiled ever so slightly at the now-puzzled Mirkwood prince. However, he was not forthcoming with his choice for Legolas' companion, instead turning to the twins who were still standing in the doorway as if rooted to the spot, perhaps to prevent the Silvan archer from departing. Elrond motioned now for them to enter the room fully, as Elrohir still bore the tray they had brought up with them from the kitchens with Legolas' breakfast upon it. "Eat something, Legolas, and then we will discuss this further." Rising and passing his sons by, Elrond left the room, presumably to see to whatever arrangements he had in mind.
"I'm not certain if I should be relieved or afraid." Legolas teased the twins lightly, attempting to set them more at ease. "A journey with the Peredhil is often a perilous undertaking, to be sure but perhaps I should prefer that to your father's tender mercies."
"It would serve you right if Ada was thinking of going with you himself." Elrohir muttered as he came closer and handed the tray over to the Silvan elf, and Legolas nearly dropped it in his surprise.
"You don't…you don't think he really would, do you?" The blonde archer looked from one twin to the other, and met identical deadpan expressions. Sighing softly, the Silvan elf regarded his breakfast and began to eat, knowing he would do Aragorn no good to start out on this journey in poor strength. Elladan shook his head slightly, a faint smile upon his lips now.
"Fear not, mellon nin." The elder twin said gently. "Ada wouldn't do that to you." He smirked a bit; despite the seriousness of the circumstances, he could not resist returning Legolas' jest. "I think." At the archer's startled look, Elladan allowed the smirk to blossom into a gentle smile, and he reached over to nudge Legolas' shoulder gently. "No, Ada will wish to stay nearby Estel, although I think he must agree with your assessment if he is willing to let you go without so much as a threat to make you wait until your escort arrives from Mirkwood."
Legolas nibbled on a slice of cheese, another slight flush coming to his features. He had quite forgotten about them; likely, the escort would arrive soon, perhaps by nightfall, as they hadn't been that far behind him and Lord Elrond's messenger probably had a lengthy message for him from his father. A slight frown briefly marred the prince's features as he considered that prospect, but perhaps the rain had slowed the warrior party and they would not arrive until after he was well away on his quest. Any reprimand from his father would have to wait; Estel's life was more important.
"I wish you weren't going." Elrohir said softly, and this time his voice lacked the sharpness that it had when he'd suggested that Elrond might be accompanying Legolas himself. The younger twin had such a look of upset on his face that Legolas felt a guilty twinge in his chest. The Noldorin elf now looked up into Legolas' eyes and sighed softly. "I mean…I know you're right. This isn't just something simple. I just…" Elrohir dropped his gaze a bit, feeling guilty himself, perhaps a little foolish. "We need you here, Legolas. Estel needs you."
"Estel needs a chance to survive. I…feel if we cannot find aid for him soon, Estel will leave us for the Halls of Mandos." Legolas said earnestly, unable to express how strongly he felt about it, how his senses fairly screamed to him about the danger to Aragorn. The anxiety had risen during his quiet care of his friend under Elrond's watchful gaze, and he knew that this was something beyond the Elf Lord, beyond Rivendell. "I cannot simply watch him leave us without trying to bring him that aid."
Elrohir nodded slightly, his hand coming up to grasp Legolas' shoulder in a firm gesture of friendship.
"We will plead the Valar to watch over you, to bring you safely back, and to grant you success."
"That is all…" Legolas said with a truly warm smile for both twins. "…that I could possibly ask. Hannon le, Elrondions…I will return as swiftly as I may, and may the Valar show mercy upon Estel."
The Black Star rose in his dreams. It meant to consume him; meant to consume them. Them who? He felt his mind ask him, drowsily, dazedly. Ada. Some reasoning part of his mind told him. Ada did this to me…he put something in that draught to make me sleep.
He couldn't sleep. He had to…needed to tell them…tell…them.
Pain seared through his head and had he been conscious enough to do so, he might've screamed. However, Elrond's medicine was doing its work, keeping his body insensate, trapping him within this living nightmare. The Black Star was the only reason his mind also wasn't insensate, the only reason he could not truly sleep as his body craved him to do.
Fire. Fire leapt up to lick at him, it seemed like, and if he could have, he would've writhed away from it. Somewhere that still reasoning part of him explained that it was a fever, but he knew it was only present because of the dark thing eating at him.
Come and I will show you...
Aragorn mentally twisted away from the memory; again, if he had been fully conscious he might have tried physically to squirm away. The burning touch, the taste of fear, the promise…the promise of ruin… Things forcibly dragged from him that he did not desire to give away, the tears…
It had been buried, that memory. Embedded and covered over until the moment of his collapse before his brothers. Well it was a living thing, now. Living and threatening to swallow him whole.
Perhaps I will grant you this one mercy…
Suddenly the iron grip on his mind eased just the slightest bit—as it had in other lucid moments—and simply allowed his mind to fall to the power of Elrond's herbs and Aragorn knew nothing more as the comfort of honest sleep claimed him.
Elladan looked up as his father entered the healing room, and offered Elrond a small—but genuine—smile.
"Ada…I think the fever's finally breaking." The older twin said cheerfully. "Estel is much cooler to the touch and he has been sleeping very peacefully…not a single fever dream."
Elrond smiled as well, crossing the room in very fluid steps, bending down to place his palm upon Aragorn's forehead. Just as Elladan had pronounced, the heat he felt was much less than it had been earlier, and his human son's breathing seemed to be deep and even, signaling an easy sleep. Still, he had no illusions, and a slight shiver swept up his spine.
"Respite." He murmured more to himself than anything, but Elladan had been more than close enough to hear, and he inclined his head a little, regarding his father curiously.
"Ada?" Elladan prompted, frowning a little. "What do you mean? He'll be rid of the fever altogether soon…"
"No." Elrond replied, a slow shake of his head. "This is temporary." He didn't know how he knew it, but somehow he did. Legolas was right; something unnatural was driving this. "Estel is merely being given respite. Make no mistake; we are in a war for his very life."
"Do you…do you think it is a spell, Ada?" Elladan asked the question he had feared to since Legolas had announced his plans. Elrond hunched his shoulders briefly before replying.
"I know not. If it is, it is one outside the bounds of our influence." At his son's troubled and confused expression, the Elf Lord shook his head slightly. "Not stronger, El." He said gently. "Simply of a different nature. Not one that I understand at this time. As with poison, the source must be known in order to devise a cure."
"And Legolas is going to charge off looking for that source." Elladan said anxiously, wearily. "You know Estel will simply kill us if any harm comes to Legolas."
Elrond only half-heartedly smiled now, his fingertips still brushing affectionately along Aragorn's brow. He feared that if any harm came to Legolas, their best hope of keeping Estel with them would perish, and two Elven households would be in deep mourning, not just one.
"Then we must pray the Valar let no harm come to him." Elrond drew a measured breath before speaking further. "Where is our Mirkwood friend? He has scarce left Estel's side since his arrival."
"He is preparing for the journey, Ada. 'Ro went with him to help him provision." Elladan replied, earning an approving nod from his father.
"He should take Lospód; his own mount has not yet had sufficient recovery from the hard journey to Rivendell and Lospód is the swiftest horse in our stables."
Elladan grinned a bit; he always did upon hearing the horse's name. 'Snowfoot' had been Estel's idea, something of a jest, really but the milky white socks on all four of the horse's feet seemed to merit the somewhat fluffy name…not at all the sort of name one would expect of a true warhorse. His mortal brother had taken such teasing for it yet somehow…the name had actually stuck.
"Legolas was nearly convinced that you meant to travel with him, Ada."
"Was he, now?" Elrond favored his son with a warm look. "I'm sure you two had nothing to do with that." He glanced out the window at the steadily falling rain. He too hoped it would stop soon; likely Legolas would wish to leave at first light and the journey would be difficult enough without having to contend with swollen creeks and flooding.
"Ada…" Elladan trailed off, uncertain. Elrond smiled at his eldest son.
"It is in the hands of the Valar now, ion nin. And the hands of one very stubborn Silvan prince."