Chapter 28: Recovery (Legolas & Co)

c/w: more trauma processing, injury/medical care, violence

(~***~)

When Thranduil finally returned after many hours, Legolas was still sitting patiently with Lossrilleth, who slept as deeply as elves ever do. The few sources of light above now glimmered with moonlight.

"She is in a healing trance," he whispered as Thranduil came up the hallway towards them. "Which she would barely succumb to for fear of you. If you wake her now…"

But Thranduil held his hands up in surrender. "Peace, ion nin, I am sorry," Thranduil said to Legolas's surprise. It shamed Thranduil to see the wary accusation Legolas wore on his face as he assessed how dangerous his father was at that moment.

"If I may use your bow, I will go out and look for food. It is late enough that men should be sleeping. As unpleasant as it is to see what has become of these halls, we are safest here while she heals."

Legolas agreed, still watching Thranduil carefully as the older elf prepared to sneak out to hunt. Thranduil stopped before he left, considering that his son had chosen to stay with Lossrilleth for as long as she slept, rather than put her down to free himself. Thranduil brought a water skin over to them.

"Do you need anything?" the old king asked.

Legolas shook his head but looked down at the wounded elleth with a pained expression. "I need her to heal and not to die, but you cannot give me that."

"I do not believe she has a mortal wound. It is likely it will pain her for a long time, but she will live. I think we will be able to continue on in a week or two." Some reassurance based on experience he could offer at least.

Legolas only nodded, not looking away from her. It was disturbing to watch another elf sleep so deeply. He wondered where she went in her dreams. He prayed she was not about to follow in his mother's footsteps.

"I will thank her properly in the morning," Thranduil said quietly and made his way out, bow in hand. Legolas looked up in surprise, but Thranduil had already turned around and did not see.

(~***~)

When Lossrilleth began to wake, she felt as though she was swimming to the surface from the bottom of a deep well. She reached and reached for a light that seemed always just out of her grasp. As though from far away, she could hear an indistinct voice.

Legolas was watching the elleth in his arms with distress. She had been asleep for a long time – the light of day had come and gone already. Now she was showing signs of waking, but it seemed as though consciousness was evading her. Elven healing trances could be tricky, he knew that much.

"Lossrilleth wake up," he encouraged her, shaking her a little. He tried to keep his own fear hidden, instead projecting care and safety that might call her home. "Come back to me, please."

Her eyes fluttered open, then shut again. She raised her hand to his chest and hissed as the movement provoked a pain in her arm. She turned her face against him and gripped his shirt. Her mind felt slow, her body, heavy.

"You are still here," she muttered.

"Of course. I promised you I would stay. Have I ever broken a promise to you, meleth?" He took hold of her hand against his chest. It felt frigid. He checked her temperature elsewhere – her cheek, her neck, her arm. It wasn't just her hand. Legolas turned to his father, who was waiting nearby.

"Adar she is freezing and cannot seem to wake," Legolas told Thranduil fearfully. He had never concerned himself much with healing, so he was not sure – how bad was this?

"I am awake," she protested faintly. She turned her face so he could look into her eyes, though she continued to let him support her full weight.

Thranduil stood and made to walk over to them. Lossrilleth pressed herself harder against her husband. She was painfully aware that she was weak and confused. She could remember falling asleep in fear of Thranduil's temper.

"I am sorry to have frightened you, iell nin," Thranduil told her. Her flinch made him feel ashamed all over again. "May I look at you, please? We want you to be well."

Lossrilleth looked to Legolas, who nodded at her. "He is calm now. Let him help," he whispered into her ear. She finally agreed, though she did not release her grip on Legolas's shirt.

Thranduil checked her arm first, removing the bandage to assess the state of her wound. It was starting to close up well, he thought. She would have a deep scar, though. He felt her cold hands and forehead, and looked into her eyes, which were not focusing well. Her lips were so white they almost looked blue.

"She lost more blood than I had hoped," Thranduil concluded. "But it is good that she is awake now."

He'd caught an underweight grouse the night before, but returned before he could look for more. He had discovered their pursuers camping out under the trees and decided it would be better to take what he already had and retreat back to their hiding place. He doubted a human watchman would be able to surprise him, but there was no reason to tempt fate tonight.

When he had prepared the fowl to be spit-roasted, he had wondered if Lossrilleth might need the organ meats after her ordeal. He was glad now he had saved them for her.

"Sit her up," Thranduil instructed his son. He handed the younger elf the cooked liver and kidneys he'd saved and placed a full water skin beside them. "She should eat all of that and take as much water as you can get her to. I am going out again to see if I can catch something larger. A deer's liver would be better for this than a half-starved bird's."

Legolas was relieved that it took little coaxing to get his wife to do as Thranduil had suggested. Once she smelled the meat he offered to her, he doubted he could have stopped her from devouring their entire thing even if he'd wanted to. Temporarily sated, Lossrilleth woke up enough to worry back at him.

"Legolas how long have you been sitting here? Surely you also need food and water – at the very least. Go and care for yourself. I am not going anywhere."

He was reassured to see her looking a little brighter – enough that he did as she asked and saw to himself while she rested nearby. As soon as he had had a chance to move, relieve himself, and eat something, he returned to her. He didn't want her lying against cold stone long when she felt like a block of ice.

Wrapped in his cloak and leaning into his warmth, Lossrilleth felt content, although she was still more fatigued than she had ever felt in this elven body. She could tell that Legolas was still painfully anxious. Lossrilleth turned in his arms so she could look into his face.

"I will be alright," she told him, hoping to ease his worry. "You have taken good care of me. I will recover with some time."

He kissed her forehead, then rested his own against hers. She could feel a tremor pass through him. "I thought you might not wake again. I could not bear to think it." he told her.

She held his face in both hands and made him catch her eyes. "I am still here with you, Legolas. This is not the story of your mother repeated. If I was going to die from this, I think I would be gone already."

She could feel some relief wash over him. Underneath it, she could tell he was drained. Not in a physical way as she was, but still – he needed rest. Her poor husband, she thought. He hadn't been exaggerating back in Anfalas when he'd asked her to be more careful. It seemed he really could not bear any more loss right now.

"Lie down here with me," she said. "I am not quite ready to sleep again, but you should. I will wake you if it is needed."

"Not until Adar comes back," he protested. "I will rest here with you, but I cannot sleep until he is here to keep the watch."

When Thranduil returned with a doe that would feed them for days, he found the two younger elves lying together, wrapped in their cloaks: Legolas deep in reverie, Lossrilleth still and quiet, keeping watch over them both with tired eyes.

"I think this injury is too close to an evil memory you both share," she whispered to her father-in-law, "I do not know what happened to your wife. No one has ever told me that tale. But I can tell it was terrible. It is not fair to you, perhaps, but I think he needs you not to fall apart."

"He needs us both. He has lost too much," Thranduil whispered back to her. "But I do not think he can remember that day. He was too young." He pushed the ghost of a child's wail from his mind. Ignored the phantom feeling of a small hand pulling at his hair.

"Something in him remembers. Some old dread that has no words. There is only so much I can do," she said, feeling a little helpless in the face of this mysterious old pain. She ran a gentle thumb against Legolas's jaw, where her hand rested.

Thranduil released a deep sigh as he lowered the deer to the floor.

"I cannot fix this for him either," the old king told her. Lossrilleth took in Thranduil's look of concern and resignation.

"It never stops, does it?" she asked the older elf. He gave her a quizzical look. "Being a parent. They grow up, but it does not end."

"No," he replied honestly. He had sympathy for the young mother. Whenever they found Angharad, he expected she would need a great deal from both her parents.

"It only changes. We can only do the best we can. Some things people have to face by themselves. Even our children."

A long silence filled the space, interrupted only by the sounds of him dressing his catch.

"I am grateful to you, Thranduil," he heard her whisper. "Notwithstanding that… difficulty… when we arrived here."

He shook his head at that comment. She had put it more generously than she could have. "I am sorry for that. It will not happen again."

"That would be best," she agreed tactfully. "Nevertheless, I thank you for your generosity with me. My parents are long dead. I could never find my way through all of this without guidance."

Thranduil had finished with the deer and was washing his hands as they spoke. He dried them off and walked quietly over to where the younger elves lay resting. Legolas still seemed to be in a trance of his own, his mind closed off to the world outside. Perhaps his son's wife was right, Thranduil thought. Legolas was healing himself from a different kind of wounding.

The old king knelt beside his daughter-in-law and rested his hand on her shoulder.

"I am sorry your own father is gone. Whatever wisdom I can claim is at your disposal, iell nin. We are all your family now. We will always look out for you, do not doubt it. You have our love."

"Thank you," she replied, feeling a little teary. Thranduil could still see dark circles under her eyes – a strange sight for an elf.

"If you can get free without waking him you should come and eat this liver," he told her. "Raw is better for you now, I think. Then you should go back to sleep. You still do not look well to me."

She extracted herself from her sleeping husband carefully to do as she was told. They were both in good hands. Not perfect. But good enough.

(~***~)

The elves spent the next three weeks waiting out any search parties that might be looking for them, giving Lossrilleth ample time for rest. When she was feeling well enough for a walk she followed Legolas as he explored the empty halls of his old home, pointing out locations of various memories. As depressing as the state of things were now, she was glad that he shared as many happy or exciting stories as sad or frightening ones. They both looked over the mess in the throne room with raised eyebrows.

As she healed, the elves began planning their next move. Their inventory of supplies was now painfully thin. The availability of game and foraged plants was their saving grace for the moment. They also had the good fortune of not losing their money or gems. It would be worthless until they could get to a town other than New Esgaroth, but after that it would be a good thing indeed.

There was the option of trying to go to the Grey Havens, but it was a very long and difficult journey to undertake, especially given that they had no reason to trust Masterson's word about the alleged caravan.

Thranduil was of half a mind to sneak back into New Esgaroth, take Masterson hostage, and interrogate him until they got some kind of truth out of him. Lossrilleth was not happy about this idea. She did not want to tangle with muskets again for any reason. She agreed that he was their likeliest source of real information, but how would they keep the corrupt peacekeepers away this time?

Lossrilleth gave a passionate speech about the evils of guns, which had ripped apart the fabric of her country in the past. Neither of the older elves had ever seen her offer such an unequivocal denouncement of anything, complete with Sindarin curses Legolas had not even known that she knew. She tired herself out so much with tears of impotent fury that Angharad was out there alone at the dawn of the age of firearms that she had to sleep deeply again that night.

"I think we just uncovered the evil of her age," Legolas commented to his father, still feeling a little shocked at the sight of his wife cursing anything to the void of Melkor.

"Indeed," Thranduil replied. "I think the weight of knowing what may come is as heavy on her as the burdens of the past are on those of us who have lived long."

It had occurred to him that as brave as her rush to save him had seemed at the moment, it required even more nerve than they had known if she feared and hated these weapons so completely. He excused himself to hunt, looking for an appropriate outlet for the dark feeling that was brewing in his chest at the thought of it.

Late the next morning over breakfast the elves were quiet, each in their own thoughts. They were still not sure what to do next. Lossrilleth was in more pain than she liked to let on, although she was not fooling Legolas. She had started fixing her clothing to get her mind off it, using her head covering to make a pair of sleeves to replace the one that Legolas had cut off her.

Thranduil was privately convinced that they needed to try to kidnap Masterson. The man had the information they needed. He highly doubted that the fiend had managed to pay the armed men to watch his house at every hour. But he was not sure how to broach the subject again given Lossrilleth's feelings about the gunmen.

As for gaining attention against the Valar's instructions, the man would not make a scene if he were dead – another plan that he doubted his daughter-in-law would accept easily. He did not doubt that the villain deserved it after what they had seen, but she might not agree and Thranduil did not want her tired out two days in a row. She was so close to being better, but not quite there yet.

Suddenly, Lossrilleth's distant expression changed into something more akin to confusion. She whipped her head around to Legolas who had begun to look alarmed not seconds after her.

"What are you feeling?" Thranduil demanded of them. It had to be Angharad.

"She is afraid," Lossrilleth managed to answer. Before Thranduil could say anything else the younger parents' eyes took on a simultaneous wild look.

"Legolas help her," Lossrilleth said breathlessly. "I am useless for this."

Thranduil approached Lossrilleth carefully. Legolas looked like he was deep in concentration; his father did not want to interrupt him.

"Lossrilleth,what is happening?" he asked her quietly, crouched down beside her.

"She is in a fight, fleeing from soldiers," she answered, her voice strained with distress.

"Can you show me?" Thranduil asked her. Lossrilleth focused on his face, leaving the vision to see with her real eyes. They both knew she could do this with some effort: Galadriel had taught her how long ago. It was very intimate to share with her father-in-law, but this was a moment of desperation.

"There is a young dwarf with her who is an ally. Are you going to have a fit about it and distract us?" she demanded to know. Two warriors helping could be better than one, but only if Thranduil's personal feelings stayed out if it.

"No," Thranduil promised. "Show me."

Lossrilleth shifted her mind as Galadriel had shown her and let him watch with her. Somehow, miraculously, in her great need, Angharad had managed to push through to her parents so they could see what she saw even as it happened. Before her was a forest of some kind. In the distance between the undulating green tree trunks, they could see a group of uniformed men brandishing weapons, advancing quickly towards her.

(Is that bamboo? Lossrilleth thought to herself.)

They could feel her fear and sense of urgency as she shouted, "Ginnar, open the lock now."

She looked behind her at a young dwarf who was working hard at a large padlock at the end of a chain. A group of desperate, dirty looking humans were shackled to the chain. They shouted at the dwarf in a language the elves could not understand. The lock popped open with a crack and the young dwarf pulled the chain free of their manacles.

(Are they speaking Chinese, or something like it? Lossrilleth thought to herself. It didn't sound like Japanese, Korean, or Thai from the bits she'd heard here and there.)

Angharad shouted at the people in the same language even as she thought to her parents, "I do not know where to go!"

The girl picked up a plain wooden staff at her feet and began to swing it, testing its balance. Legolas and Thranduil recognized immediately that someone had trained her – to her this was a weapon.

Legolas began speaking with her even as Thranduil scanned the environment that he could see through her eyes.

"Legolas," he said, tapping his son's knee. "The ruin behind those trees off to the left. Make a chokepoint in the doorway."

Legolas saw it as soon as Thranduil brought it to his attention.

"Go into the ruin and block the door," Legolas thought to his daughter. "If they can only come in one at a time, they will be easier to handle."

Angharad shouted again at the dwarf and the thin, terrified group of humans, gesturing toward the ruin. They all ran – the soldiers' voices coming ever closer behind them.