A/N: Okay, I just got home from a two day trip to a river in NJ...don't ask me where, I have no idea...anywho, here's another update for ya. I said last time that if I got enough reviews, I would let Legolas live. I'm not going to tell you if I was satisfied or not, or if he's gonna live...hee...I'm gonna let you find that out for yourself. Enjoy!
(special thanks to Kelly! I never thought you would bother to read this!)
I severely hate that response ban! Whoever created that rule is goin' down!
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Disclaimer:It's all mine, mine I tell you! Wait, it's called a disclaimer. Sorry, silly me. It's not mine. -sheepish grin-
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ch.9 (is it nine? i don't know, i lost count, lol)
Elrond waited impatiently with Arwen and Estel in the doorway of their home, waiting for the twins to return. He held Estel's hand tightly in his own. The boy sniffled and tears ran down his cheeks as he realized that his elven friend might not be alive. His heart wrenched with worry, as did Arwen's. She stood slightly apart from her father and brother, her eyes searching the woods for the group. The three of them were silent as they waited. They never could have imagined such a thing happening in Rivendell. Its woods were normally peaceful and mild.
"Ada!" Estel shouted, pointing. He tugged urgently on his father's robe sleeve. The group of horses and their riders were returning. The horses were slightly scratched from the battle with the wolves, the elves also a little battered, but everyone was fine. Everyone but the slumped form held in Elladan's arms, the golden hair falling about his proud and bruised face. Blood covered a great amount of his body and the wounds he had received from the wolves were clearly visible.
"Legolas!" Estel shouted, running quickly forward as the elven prince was taken from the horse's back and set gently upon the ground. Elrond strode swiftly after his youngest son, his brow furrowed in a deep frown of anxiety. The elf guards moved away when the elven lord approached. Estel was already by his friend's side, gripping the cold fingers in his small hands. Elrond knelt down beside the still form of the young elf, his heart clenching as he saw the deep gashes and bites that marred the prince's normally flawless skin. Elrond checked Legolas' heartbeat. It was slightly faster than it should have been, as was his breathing, but he was better than Elrond had expected from one as severely thrashed. Legolas was indeed strong.
Noting how dim Legolas' elven glow was, he quickly motioned for the guards to move the prince to his room. Two elves lifted the young elf gently between them, careful not to irritate any of the injuries. Khílya hovered uncertainly beside them, following as they made their way to the house, but a firm yet gentle hand stopped her. Five more sets of hands joined the first, pulling her slowly back towards the stables. The loyal mare bucked against them. She wanted to stay by her elf's side. He had been like a parent to her, raising her and treating her only with love, she was now as protective of him as a mother watching over her colt, and did not want to leave him behind as grievously wounded as he was.
Elvish thrummed in her ears, but she tilted them back angrily and the soothing words went unheeded. If it were possible for a horse to scream, she would have, but she settled on screeching, which was as close to screaming as she could get. There had never before been a louder or more restless horse. She tugged against the hands restraining her until the elves were forced to loop a rope around her neck to keep her back, for just holding onto her mane would have hurt her. Little did they know that they only hurt her more when they slid the rope over her head. They dealt her a wound to her pride and trust as they pulled her forcefully over the dust and pushed her into a stable. The rope remained around her neck, for none wished to get close enough to remove it. When horses as stubborn as Khílya got into a rage it was best to leave them be. They left her thrashing uselessly in the stable, the rough hemp of the rope digging into her already injured flesh, making her bleed. She felt utterly helpless trapped in the small wooden box and she had never hated the confines of a stable more.
Khílya kicked out at the door again, wishing she could break the sturdy wood down. It held though, and it was a tall door that was up to her chest. There was not enough room in her stable to leap over it and she tossed her head from side to side, hating the feeling of the cage she had been forced into. She wanted to see her elf. She wanted to help him. Yet she was not to be released. She rested her head huffily against the door, her brown eyes roving angrily around as if daring anyone to get too close. Now that her rage and adrenaline had faded away, the wounds the wolves had given her earlier stung and she wished someone would see to her hurts. No one came, though, and she had to deal with the pain for the rest of the night.
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tension builds...lol
"Is he going to be alright, Ada, is he?" Estel asked in a small voice as Legolas was lain on the bed. Elrond began hurriedly removing the prince's tunic.
"I'm not sure, Estel," he muttered, preoccupied with his task. Arwen placed her slim hands on the boy's shoulders as a comfort, but her own beautiful face was troubled by Legolas' condition. She watched silently as the shirt concealing the elven prince's wounds was removed, revealing the horrible state he was in.
Legolas' thin frame was covered with bruises and scratches, but that was not what concerned Elrond. What concerned him was the deep gouge that had been carved into the younger elf's side, still bleeding freely. Pus slowly oozed from the wound. The flesh around it was jagged and torn. Elrond also noticed a bloody gash on Legolas' shoulder as well, in no better shape than the one on his side. They were clearly infected and would need a deep cleaning.
"Elladan, get the salves needed from my office. You know the ones. Get bandages as well. Elrohir, get water and cloths, we're going to have to staunch the bleeding," Elrond ordered quickly, noting how Legolas' natural glow was slowly becoming dimmer and his breathing more ragged and uneven.
The twins nodded grimly and quickly strode from the room.
"Arwen, please put Estel in bed. I would rather him not having to witness this," the elven lord whispered. As soon as the command left Elrond's lips the boy shook his head quickly.
"No, Ada, I wish to stay," he said, tears forming in his wide silver eyes. "I do not want to leave Legolas now."
"Estel, please do as I say," Elrond argued. He sighed and passed a hand over his face. "What you will see will only grieve you more." He was touched by the young boy's loyalty, but Estel should not witness what was going on in this room.
Arwen slowly turned Estel around, murmuring soothing things in Elvish to calm the hysterical boy. He let the tears fall freely from his eyes and slide down his cheeks as he shook his head.
"No, I am staying, Ada," he said defiantly. "It is my wish. I can't leave him like this, I can't. Please…" Elrond searched his son's eyes for a moment before nodding to Arwen.
"Seat yourselves in that armchair over there," he ordered as the twins returned with the supplies needed. "You must not get in the way." Arwen placed Estel on her lap and held him close as he watched the scene over her protective embrace. Elladan and Elrohir knelt down next to Legolas' bed, across from their father, and awaited instruction.
"Alright, Elrohir, bathe his wounds," Elrond said sternly. "Elladan, help me make the correct salve for Legolas' injuries." Elladan grabbed the salves and herbs he had gathered from his father's office and walked around the bed, placing himself next to the elven lord and helping to measure out the certain ingredients they needed to make the special medicine for the prince's wounds.
Elrohir doused the cloth in cool water from the basin he had brought and gently washed the blood from the wounds. He tried to be careful, yet Legolas stirred restlessly beneath his placid touch, moaning softly in distress. He tried to shy away from the treatment being administered to him, but the younger twin held him gently down as he worked. He earned his patience and soothing touch from years of working with wounded warriors, and now he was using every skill he had learned from experience to make this less painful for the prince.
Elladan worked swiftly with his father, adding the right herbs his father indicated into a stone basin on the table. The contents inside had become thick, exactly the way they needed it, and they turned back to their patient. Elrohir had just finished cleaning the wounds that scarred Legolas' torso. Elrond and his son knelt down next to the bed, taking the salve in a cloth and holding it readily over the deep wound on his side.
"Hold him down, Elrohir," the elven lord instructed calmly. "I'm afraid this will hurt him." The younger twin did as he was asked and lay across the still form of the elven prince, gripping his forearms tightly. He noticed suddenly how hot Legolas' skin was, and yet how he was trembling slightly beneath his palms.
"Ada…" he said uncertainly. Elrond glanced at the younger twin, but did not respond. He and Elladan pressed the bandage to the wound. Legolas jerked and beneath them, a cry of pain escaping his lips. He attempted to twist away, but was held firmly down by Elrohir, whose concern was growing. Legolas' eyes snapped open, but were unseeing, and the youngest twin saw how the pupils were dilated almost to the edges of the irises. Legolas thrashed beneath the stinging medicine being applied to him in fevered delirium, groaning softly through his teeth.
"Daro, saes, daro…" Legolas muttered quietly in Elvish, still trying to flinch away from the ones causing him pain. "Stop, please, stop…" Elrond's heart wrenched, yet he showed no emotion outside. The pain Legolas was going through was necessary. He counted down the seconds that required him to hold the salve to the wound, wishing for Legolas' sake that the time would go faster. Behind him, Estel buried his face into Arwen's chest, trying to block out the prince's pleading.
"Daro, saes, naegra…côeni… " Legolas moaned, his bare chest heaving, his blank eyes roving the room. "Stop, please, hurts…no…" His eyes squeezed shut in pain, and when they opened once again, they were even more confused and frightened than ever. It was the most distressed anyone had ever seen Legolas.
With surprising speed for one as injured as he was, Legolas reached over and grabbed Elrond's sleeve in his fist, his eyes still staring unseeingly at the ceiling.
"I cannot see the stars," he whispered hoarsely. "Nana, I want Ada. I want to go home." Elrond turned his worried gaze to the prince and wordlessly commanded Elladan to hold the bandage with the medicine to Legolas' side while he inched closer to the younger elf's head. The prince's fist was still balled in the fabric of his robe, and Elrond gently pried the fingers away before holding Legolas' hand firmly in his own.
"I want to go home," Legolas repeated, staring at some specter all save him couldn't see. Elrond noted the glazed look and dilated pupils in Legolas' eyes, and he pressed his hand to the prince's brow. Legolas jerked slightly beneath the touch and turned wild eyes to the elven lord, seeming to stare right through him.
"It killed her," he whispered, his voice rising with each shaking syllable. "I let it kill her. I did nothing. It was all my fault, all of it!" Elrond smoothed the golden hair away from Legolas' face and lay his palm on the prince's brow, feeling the fever that had risen from the injuries.
"Sûicen, Legolas, sûicen," he murmured. "Naesôc-ý huiln faë. Sûicen, cuithé, ïoneh un edi-veintê. Relax, Legolas, calm. None of it was your fault. Relax, child, son of the forest." The soothing Elvish words calmed the prince down some, and he rested back against the bed, breathing deeply. "Forgive me," he hissed through his teeth. Elrond tightened his hold on the trembling fingers he held and shook his head.
"There is nothing to forgive," he whispered. Elladan removed the salve after the time was up and efficiently bound the wound with a soft bandage, using his gentlest touch so as not to stress the injured elf any further.
"Get ready to apply the salve to his shoulder," Elrond ordered quietly. The twins nodded, though they dreaded the thought of putting Legolas through another cruel ordeal such as the one through which he had just suffered. They quietly repeated the process, coming with much the same results, though it did not last as long, for the elven lord remained by Legolas' side, whispering soothingly in Elvish to take the prince's delirious mind away from the pain his sons were inflicting upon him. Estel huddled deeper into Arwen's arms, hearing the wounded elf's anguished cries and pleas, and wishing desperately for his family to stop hurting him so. Tears coursed down his cheeks and sank into the soft fabric of his sister's dress. He buried his face into her side, letting her wrap her arms tighter around him. Soon his ears could take no more of the distressed tirade coming from the elf and he slid out of Arwen's arms. She made a grab for him but did not reach him in time and he rushed to his foster father's side, reaching out to gently brush the golden hair away from Legolas' face.
The elven prince froze at Estel's light touch, his eyes flicking back and forth in confusion. He released Elrond's hand and reached over his head to where he had sensed the boy. A small slender hand grabbed his own and held it tight. Legolas felt tears on his fingers as the boy pressed his cheek against the limp hand held in his. Estel reached out with his other hand and gently brushed the prince's cheek with his fingers.
"I'm here Legolas," the small boy whispered, and the elf relaxed visibly at the soft words. "Don't worry, I'm here. You need not worry, anymore." Legolas' breathing deepened and he closed his clouded eyes slowly, allowing the presence of the boy to comfort him. Elladan, amazed at how simply his brother had calmed the feverish elf, removed the medicine and bound the wound, relieved that the prince was not in pain anymore. Instead of moving immediately to the injury on Legolas' leg, they let him rest a few minutes and recover whatever shred of reality he still had.
Estel continued to hold his hand and speak soothingly to him, telling him of how he had one time found a raccoon's nest, where she was nursing her young. The others in the room highly doubted Legolas heard a word the young boy said, thinking that the prince was only comforted by the sound of the little one's voice. As Estel described the raccoon infants to his near unconscious friend, Elladan saw to the wound on Legolas' leg. The gash itself was not particularly bad, but the muscles and tendons in Legolas' leg were stretched and torn from when the wolves had dragged him across the ground and when they had played a game of tug-of-war with him. Elladan winced sympathetically as he pressed the medicine to the gash, hearing Legolas' hiss of pain.
"I know, Legolas, I know," he muttered compassionately as the elf he was tending to tried to pull his leg away. He held a firm grip on the area just above the wound, almost an inch below from Legolas' knee. Elrohir moved in quickly to help hold the limb still.
"Keep talking to him, Estel," Elladan instructed. The boy did as he was told and launched into another tale of his mischief making with his siblings, trying desperately to distract the elf from the pain. He leaned in close and whispered in Legolas' pointed ear, pressing the side of his head to the prince's temple. He just wanted the young elf to know that he was nearby. Legolas was soothed by the voice in his ear, and he steadily relaxed, his grip on the boy's hand never lessening. The twins bound the last wound and covered him with a light blanket, trying to help ease Legolas' furious shivering. His skin was still hot to the touch in a fever, but his delirious mind was now relaxed. Legolas opened his eyes, which were not as glazed or clouded with confusion as they had been before, and gazed first at Elrond, then at Estel with a small smile of gratitude. Then his eyes slowly closed, and his fingers went limp in Estel's hand.
"Ada?" the boy questioned the elf lord. Elrond smiled and shook his head as he wrung out a cloth and placed it on Legolas' burning brow.
"He merely sleeps, ïon-nîn," Elrond reassured his son. "He needs the rest after what he has gone through tonight."
"His eyes are closed," Estel observed worriedly, remembering that elves normally sleep with their eyes open.
"That only reveals how weary he really is," Elrond whispered, binding the minimal injury on Legolas' wrist from when the wolf had bit him to force him to drop his weapon. "Those wolves were cruel."
"That still troubles me, Ada," Elladan whispered from the other side of the room, where he was cleaning up the herbs and salves they had used. "Those were no ordinary wolves. They were far too large, and…I sensed…a certain intelligence that a normal wolf would not have, as well as an aura of…"
"Evil," Elrohir finished for his twin with a shudder. "I think that is why the wounds they gave Legolas affected him in such a way. I think they passed some evil to him somehow." Elrond frowned at this news and rested his palm against the prince's fevered brow, closing his eyes and concentrating deeply. He did sense a shadow hanging over Legolas' mind, hovering just beyond awareness. For now it was mild, not truly affecting anything, yet it was there nonetheless. Elrond would have to extract it later. For now he would let Legolas rest and try to break his fever.
"Elladan, please make some tea and gather some Banii herbs," Elrond instructed, taking a cool cloth and placing it on Legolas' forehead. "You know how to make the medicinal tea."
"Yes, Ada," Elladan replied quietly, leaving the room. Arwen stood from the chair and looked over her father's shoulder at the pale elf resting on the bed.
"He will recover, right?" she asked. Elrond sighed and lifted the cloth from Legolas' brow.
"Most likely," he replied. "The worst that can come from this is he will be feeling miserable for a few days, and to an elf, of course, it seems like your body is failing you. He will be fine, Arwen, do not fret." The maiden nodded and fell silent. Estel watched his friend's still face nervously, absently twirling a lock of Legolas' golden hair between his fingers. He still held the elf's hand, not quite ready to let it go just yet. He started and leaned in closer when Legolas moaned softly and shifted on the bed. His eyes slowly opened, the look dazed and confused, but not delirious as they had been before. They focused on the worried faces around them and instantly clouded in remembrance and pain.
"How do you feel?" Elrond asked softly, placing the cool cloth on his brow again.
"It…hurts to…breathe," Legolas managed to say, grimacing as the words rasped from his throat. Elrond reached forward and brushed a lock of hair away from his face while grabbing the nearby cup of water. He lifted Legolas partially from the bed and held the cup to his lips, urging him to drink. Legoals did not argue and took a few droughts of water before sinking wearily back down onto the bed.
"Alright, hush now and rest," Elrond murmured. Legolas did not respond, only nodded feebly and closed his eyes.
"Has…Khílya been…cared for?" he asked, his voice barely above the whisper of a breeze. Elrond inwardly winced as he suddenly remembered the rowdy mount being pulled for the stables.
"She…has been unapproachable for a time," the elven lord settled on answering. "None could get near enough to help." Legolas chuckled weakly, a small smile on his face.
"That sounds…exactly like her," he muttered fondly. "Stubborn horse…" He coughed slightly and jerked, moaning when the motion disturbed his wounds. Elrond put a hand on the prince's chest to steady him and felt the rushing heartbeat beneath his palm.
"Where is Elladan with that tea?" he uttered to himself, taking the cloth from Legolas' brow once again and feeling the prince's temperature. It had risen slightly from the last time he had checked. He turned his head away and looked towards the door.
"Elladan!" he called his eldest twin. "Hurry with the medicine!"
"My stomach…" Legolas groaned, curling an arm around his middle.
"Elladan!"
"I'm here, Ada," a voice called, and the twin stepped through the door with a mug of tea in his hand. "I am sorry it took as long as it did. I could not find the Banii herb." Elrond nodded and wordlessly and took the drink from his son's hand.
"Elrohir, help him sit up," he ordered. The youngest twin snaked an arm around Legolas' shoulders and gently lifted him up, moving slowly so as not to twinge the newly bound injuries. Elrond offered the drink to the prince, but he pushed it quickly away, breaking from Elrohir's grip and rolling onto his side, breathing deeply.
"I don't…feel well…" he moaned, closing his eyes. Suddenly realizing what the disoriented elf meant, Elrond swiftly grabbed an empty basin from a nearby table. Legolas retched for the second time that night, the water he had just ingested leaving his system. (aww...poor guy...) As the elven prince recovered from his sudden regurgitation, Elrond nodded to Elrohir, who lifted Legolas back up again. Elrond waited until Legolas had ceased coughing.
"He cannot keep even water down," Elrond murmured worriedly, almost to himself, then to Legolas, "Drink this, quickly. You will feel better."
"If…such a thing…is possible," Legolas moaned as he accepted the medicine. He was forced to drink the whole cup of warm liquid, even though he had wanted to stop when he was halfway through. The medicine left a nasty aftertaste in his mouth and it churned in his unsettled stomach, wanting to leave the way it had come in.
"Here, lie down," Elrond instructed, pushing gently down on the elf's chest. "It will settle the medicine." Legolas did as he was told and his stomach soon stopped protesting so strongly. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. A headache was beginning to form behind his closed lids and it made him feel worse than before, as if he did not feel horrible already. He felt hot and cold at the same time, and he was shivering, yet sweating. He wished his body would just make up its mind and stop grieving him in such a way.
"Tell me…is this what it is like…being mortal, Estel?" Legolas asked, opening his eyes and gazing at the boy that stood over him. He allowed a smile to creep onto his face. Estel stared uneasily down at him, a smile of his own slipping on despite his troubled heart. He nodded.
"Sort of," he whispered. "Except when I get sick, I'm not as bloody." Legolas chuckled lightly and closed his eyes again. He could feel sleep pulling at him. Elrond, seeming to read his mind, leaned over and kissed the feverish brow of the prince in hopes of a relieving sleep.
"Sleep, young one," he murmured as consciousness crept away from his patient. "You will feel better soon."
I hope so.
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See? He's alive...for now...oh, I feel evil at the moment. Someone stop me, before I do something we all might regret! Oh, and thanx to all my reviewers (especially the ones who sent me chocolate! -squee- Chocolate! Yum!) I really appreciate you reading this! Till next time -Copperfang (the one and only)