Chapter Nine
Eomer, Offa and Higa met with the rider Halma had sent. The man was exhausted, soaked and travel stained, having ridden straight from Fangorn. He carried with him another ominous wooden box. He set it on the table, all the men eyed it with horror.
"We found this, Lord King," the man said. "Halma didn't know what to make of it. We searched everywhere in the vicinity, but this was all there was. The remains of a fire were there, with a lot of blood. It was quite a way from the original camp site. We'd never have found it without the dogs. Halma is still searching for the rest, and Eothain is raising such a ruckus that we'll have the Ents at Helm's Deep before the week is out."
"Good" Eomer grunted, "I want to talk to Treebeard."
Offa gently pulled the wood casket towards him. "May I?" he asked, looking at his King. Eomer nodded, and Offa opened the box.
The smell knocked them back for a moment. It was the horrific odour of charred and rotten flesh. The remains of a boot, with the foot still inside. The edges were fire blackened and had been chewed by scavengers. Eomer felt his stomach lurch, while Higa covered his mouth. Offa removed it respectfully from the box and examined it carefully.
"It's like the hand, Eomer King," he said. "It's been pulled away, not cut. And burned? Perhaps the perpetrator was trying to get rid of the body?" He turned to the rider. "Did you sift the ashes?"
"We looked for big pieces, but I don't know about sifting," the man said, a rag over his nose, looking at Offa in horror. "Isn't this enough?"
"It doesn't answer my questions. Maybe there was something in the ashes that would have helped?" He turned the mutilated boot in his hands, examining it in the muted light from the window. Something gold glinted in the baked mixture of mud and blood on the sole.
"What's this?" he said, gently pulling at it. A few strands came loose in his hand.
"Elf hair." Eomer said grimly. "Legolas'. It's been burned, look at the ends."
"Trying to burn all trace of them?"
"Then why leave the elf alive?" Higa asked. The others turned to him, speculatively. "If they were trying to cover up what had been done, it would have made more sense to kill the elf. Obviously they had him at their mercy, if they could get his hair. Why leave him alive, to tell the tale?"
"Nothing about this makes sense!" Eomer exploded. "We're not getting any answers from Legolas, and after last night, Offa, you'll understand if I'm a little worried about bringing it up again!" The healer nodded. "But there's been no hint of trouble anywhere along the borders of Fangorn. No marauders, no wild men, nothing. Not so much as a corn crib disturbed. Was it only because they were in Fangorn itself? But they had Treebeard's leave to wander there, wherever they wanted to go."
It was Higa who voiced what they were all starting to think. "Maybe Treebeard isn't in charge of Fangorn any more?"
"Higa," Eomer said, command in his voice. "You start getting a second war band together. Prepare for hard riding. When Aragorn gets here..." he trailed off, conscious of Offa's eyes on him.
"If Legolas needs me here, I'll stay, and send Aragorn. Whatever this is, gentlemen, we have to deal with it. Now." He turned to the messenger. "My thanks for this, Ortha. Go, rest up, get something to eat. You can return to Halma in the morning." The man nodded, grateful to have discharged his grisly duty.
When Eomer returned to the King's Chamber, he noticed that the elf's head was unbandaged, the lamplight glistening on the stubble that remained. He questioned again what freak mischance had destroyed the right side of his face while the left was bruised but unbroken. Malwyn rose from her chair to greet him quietly and yawned.
"Off to bed with you, Malwyn," he told her, in a voice remarkably like her own. "We can't have our best nurse dropping from exhaustion."
"I'll not fight you on that, Eomer," she said, stretching. "Was there news?"
"Nothing that makes any sense. I don't want to tell you here," he whispered in her ear, not wanting to wake the elf. "Your main concern needs to be him. I'll tell you all in the morning."
"Aye, there's nothing I can do about it anyway. He took the news about his hair hard, but he's fighting something deeper underneath. You'll need to be gentle with our lad."
He bent to kiss the creased cheek. "I've never been anything but," he told her, shooing her out the door to her own bed.
Poking the fire, he stepped around Hroth. The dog slept lightly, so Eomer figured the elf was dozing comfortably. He poured himself wine, sat down and kicked off his boots.
He stared at the flames and tried to make sense of the facts he had. Something was stalking Fangorn. If the Ents themselves couldn't contain it, it must be horrific. But nothing outside Fangorn had been touched. Gimli had been torn apart, in the most barbaric manner. Someone had tried to burn his body. Who? Why?
The whine of the dog alerted him, even before he heard the mutterings from the bed. Putting his cup down hard, spilling the wine on the wood, he crossed to check on the prone figure. Legolas was still asleep, but his dreams must have become agitated. He twisted his head back and forth, his face contorted in fear. Eomer reached out to touch him gently.
An earsplitting roar, full of hate and pain, broke from the elf, startling the man, the dog. Hroth began to bark loudly, Eomer hissing at him to shut up, even as he grabbed at the writhing form on the bed. Legolas shrieked louder, fighting the man, landing blows with unconscious fury, screaming his defiance. Eomer desperately tried to pin him down, to keep him from pulling at his wounds, his splints. But even with his body broken the elf was still stronger than he was. The bruised eyes opened, unseeing, while the elf battled him as if demons drove him.
"Let him die!" the elf screeched, kicking out with both legs, the splints shattering under the force. He tore at the bedclothes with his feet, scrabbling for purchase, sending feathers flying.
"Legolas!" Eomer yelled, trying to break through the terror. "Legolas! You're home! It's over!" The elf caught him in the face, cracking his lip.
Offa slammed the door open, running past the barking dog, Malwyn at his heels. He took in the scene instantly, nodded at Malwyn. They piled on the bed, helping Eomer to subdue the crazed elf. Between them, they managed to stop the thrashing, holding him down. Higa arrived, panting, in time to mix powders into a cup at Offa's shouted instructions.
The elf was sobbing now. "Let him die, he's had enough, let him die," he begged his captors. Eomer was crying in horror, while Malwyn was entreating the elf to wake up. "Please, take me instead, let him go!"
Higa brought the cup, but it could not be brought to the brawling elf's lips. Malwyn looked at Eomer, mouthing, "Forgive me," and slapped Legolas hard, across the stitches in the cheek. The elf stopped for a second, and she did it again.
Eomer roared in rage, but the elf's eyes were clearing. Malwyn's voice was a whip in the muted darkness.
"Enough!" she barked. "You stop that right now, my lad, and lie still. It's over!"
The elf looked at them, heaped on him, pinning him down. Confusion filled his face. "What?" he asked, staring at the faces around him.
"You just lie still." Malwyn said again, her voice showing no trace of the tears in her eyes. "You had a nightmare. That's all. You're home and safe!"
"Malwyn," Eomer growled, rage choking him. Offa put a hand on his arm, shaking his head.
"Now, you're going to let us see what you've done to yourself. You're going to stay calm," she ordered, easing the pressure on his shoulder, where she held him down to the bed. "Eomer is here," she nodded at the king, "so you can talk quietly to him."
"'Mer?" he asked, looking up, puzzled at the man's split lip.
Eomer tried to get his emotions back under control, the mix of fear and anger still consuming him. He took a deep breath, let it out slowly, accepted the cloth Higa handed him and dabbed at his lip, tasting the blood.
"Bad dream," he said. Legolas winced as Offa's capable hands ran over the broken bones, the shattered splints. The healer looked at Malwyn, shook his head, and they began to repair the damage.
"Get that into him," Offa said, "this is going to hurt."
Legolas accepted the cup without protest, drinking down the bitter brew. Eomer looked at him, worried and frustrated.
"Talk to him, Eomer," Malwyn hissed, her hands busy wiping blood from torn wounds.
The elf was still confused, the drugs now muddling him further. "'Mer?" he whispered.
"Right here, love," he said, running a hand over his hair, trying to think of calming things, when his mind kept screaming, "Who? What?"
"Stars?" Legolas asked, his eyes drifting to the window. "They out?"
"Still raining, love," Eomer said, "When it clears up, we'll make sure you get out to see them. Have to wrap you in blankets, though, the nights are getting cold."
"'M'n elf" Legolas slurred. "Don' feel col'"
"You're an injured elf, and I'm not taking on Offa. He says you need to stay warm, so warm you're going to stay. I think you've got every quilt in Meduseld piled on you." He gently stroked the shorn head, trying to calm the trembling in his hands.
"Yer shakin'" the elf said, trying to smile.
"You always do that to me," Eomer told him, smiling back. "Can't help myself."
"Los' m'hair, 'Mer," Legolas said sadly. "Not good lookin' anymore."
Eomer bent to kiss the shaved scalp. "You look pretty good to me, love."
"Nah, I'm ugly." The words were softer now, sadder. "Damn Ent." Eomer froze, but never took his eyes from Legolas' face. "Whyn't he kill me too?"
"Don't know, love," Eomer said, gently, his mind racing. "I'm glad he didn't. I need you."
"Need you, too. Not th'same, wi' Gimli." The eyes closed, but the elf kept talking, the drugs slurring his words, his thoughts. "Gimli, was bes' frien' I ever had."
"I know, love." Eomer said, "I know what he was to you."
"Soul frien'. Unnerstood. Cravin' for you. Always. Now'm ugly."
"Never," Eomer said quietly. "You're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen."
"Ha!" Legolas snorted, "jes' sayin' tha'." He opened his eyes, looked with longing into the hazel gaze that stared back. "Gimli's gone, 'Mer."
"Yes, love, I know."
"Tried to save 'im, couldn'." He twitched as Offa reset the knee, splinting it back into place. "Hurts, 'Mer," he mumbled.
"I know, love."
"Stay here wi' you always now. Don' wanna travel, not wi'out Gimli."
Eomer gently stroked his cheek. "I'd give everything I have for him to be here with you, the pair of you setting out on the road again."
"I know." Legolas sighed. "He tol' me. Called me a fool. Me!" he smiled sadly. "Gone, 'Mer. Couldn' save him. Tried. Failed. Not good enough.."
Eomer continued to sit beside him, stroking the cheek, while the elf slipped back into unconsciousness. Offa finished his work, settling the breaks, rebinding the wounds. Malwyn helped silently, her eyes full. Offa and Eomer used the sheet to move the elf to the cot while she quickly stripped and remade the bed, then tucking Legolas in as tenderly as if he'd been a child.
When they were done, she crossed the room and held out her arms to Eomer. He went into her embrace willingly, allowing himself to cry the tears he would not show the elf. After a moment, he dried his eyes, squared his shoulders and looked at her with his jaw set.
"Eotha?" he asked softly. "Like that?"
"And then some," she said, quietly. "It's a hard road, for both."
"We'll sing for Gimli, then, and fight like hell for him." Starting with Treebeard, he thought to himself.