A/N Well, well, well. The last chapter didn't end to prettily. Maybe this chapter will brighten the day for our hero's, though. :)
Disclaimer: not mine.
Chapter Ten
Legolas forced his heavy eyes open and jolted his tired body upright. The action alone was enough to make his head spin sickeningly and his wounds awake with a fiery agony, but what he saw turned his heart to ice. Eldarion was struggling against Madoc who head a knife pressed against the little boy's throat, drawing a thin line of blood.
"Let 'im go!" Legolas slurred out in a whisper, his abused throat unwilling to corporate with what he wanted it to do. The hate in his blazing eyes, however, was untouched by his weakness and Madoc had to steel himself from taking a step back. Legolas gripped the side of the bed and began to attempt to ease himself up, even though he was weary down to the bone.
"You! You where the second man!" Aragorn snarled out in shock, freeing himself form Dirhéal and starting towards Madoc with unbridled fury, his attention completely focused on his son. Madoc laughed, and began to shuffle backwards, keeping the young prince in front of him.
"You have lost!" he jeered, grabbing Eldarion by the hair and forcing his head back so that his throat was exposed, "Don't think that I won't slit his throat if either of you move," he warned darkly. Eldarion let out a shuddering sob and Aragorn whispered his name softly in desperation. What happened next took the King by such a surprise that he hardly had time to register the blur of movement behind him before something crashed over his head and everything went black.
Dirhéal stepped away from the crumpled form of the king with a grin and tossed aside the remaining shards of the bottle he had just used to hit Aragorn over the head with.
"Now what?" he asked Madoc, easily overriding Legolas' ragged whispers of denial and insults as the injured elf struggled to find enough energy to get to his downed friend's side. Eldarion was crying harder than ever, but with the knife pressed against this throat, he dared not call out to his father.
"Here, take the boy! I will finish the job on both the elf and the king," Madoc snapped through a whisper. He feared that they had already created too much noise and that someone might come to see what was happening. Shoving Eldarion none to gently to the other man, Madoc hurried towards the downed king, his favorite knife clutched tightly. Eldarion began to scream for his Ada through the rough hand that Dirhéal had clamped over his mouth.
"Take another step towards him and I will kill you!" Legolas breathed darkly form his corner. By some miracle, the prince had managed to pull himself into a half upright position, leaning his full weight against the upturned bed. In his violently trembling hand he grasped a small, but sharp, knife which Aragorn had used for cutting bandages.
Madoc laughed sneeringly, turning his attention to the elf instead.
"You can't even stand properly, how do you except to kill me?" he jeered, twirling his own weapon menacingly as he paced over and stood in front of the struggling elf. Legolas glared defiantly up, even as sweat began to bead his brow from the effort of reaming upright.
"Go kiss an orc!" he spat, much to Madoc and Dirhéal's amusement. Behind them, Aragorn began to stir. If Legolas could only keep the two men distracted for a little longer…"Ie amia holma ve," he whispered with as much hatred and spite that he could muster. He slipped lower against the bed and leaned further back against the wood, panting heavily. Aragorn rose like a ghost in the background and began to creep forward, flexing his fingers in preparation for the fight that was about to happen. /At least I don't smell like a fish/
It is a good thing that you have such a hard head, my friend, Legolas mused, opening his mouth to deliver another insult. That was when it happened. Madoc had had more than enough. Raising his arm he jumped towards the elf, aiming his shinning danger for the center of the elf's open nightshirt, right where his heart was.
Legolas had a mere second to react and out of natural instinct that came with being a warrior as long as he had, he let go of the bed and attacked back. Lunging forward with the small medical instrument clutched tightly, the elf thrust it upwards. Their bodies connected and both knives meet flesh.
Legolas let out a yell as Madoc's weapon sliced through his arm and slammed back into the wooden bed, pinning him there as well. His own knife jerked violently in his weak grasp as it entered Madoc's upper belly, entering in through the hilt, and then was wrenched from his grasp as the assassin crashed into him. The elf cried out again as the knife in his arm was jerked forcefully, tearing further into his flesh.
Madoc landed against the elven prince and remained still. The sheets and bed linen surrounded the pair quickly began to turn an ominous crimson color, the stains spreading far too rapidly.
Eldarion began to scream hysterically, his shrill sobs of terror drowning out Aragorn's own cry of fear. They didn't know whose blood was staining the ground, nor could they clearly see who had been injured. All they knew was that Legolas had been hurt and that neither elf nor man was moving.
Dirhéal numbly let go of the prince of Gondor and backed towards the door. His partner was either dead or would soon be, he was alone. Turning to flee, the man came to nose to nose with an incredibly angry King of Gondor, who had blood dripping down the side of his face from the nasty gash to his head.
"You can beg for mercy or you can fight. Either way you lose." Aragorn whispered as fire flew from his grey eyes like Mt. Doom itself. He slowly advanced forward, forcing the other man to back pedal or be trampled. Dirhéal sneered in an imitation of his normal bravado and curled his upper lip, spitting in Aragorn's face.
"I would rather die!"
"You might just get that wish!" Aragorn returned, raising his voice to be heard over Eldarion's continuous shrieks. By now the sound of pounding feet could be heard streaking down the corridor towards them and Dirhéal knew that this time was up. Someone had heard the commotion and sounded the alert. Springing forward, he roughly shoved Aragorn aside, causing him to rock back unsteadily and slam into the nearby white wall. Dirhéal wrenched the door open and charged out like a mad bull, only to find himself running into a pack of soldiers who had their swords drawn and at the ready.
It was too late to do anything. With a look of terror stretching his face, Dirhéal tried to slide to a stop, tried to scramble back into the healing room, but in the next instant he had been run through like a piece of meat on the first soldiers outstretched sword. The man wore a similar expression of horror, but couldn't do anything to stop. The traitor was dead before the sword reappeared through his back, the weapon having gone straight through his black heart.
Aragorn missed it all. Having fallen to all fours after hitting the wall, the king crawled swiftly towards his screaming son, who was sitting where he had been dropped seeming petrified. His wide eyes were staring at the blood covered ground with horror.
"Shh, Eldarion, it is alright now. No one is going to hurt you," Aragorn murmured, gathering his child up into arms and squeezing him lovingly. The boy continued to sob and buried his face into his father's tunic, allowing him to just hold his shaking body, "Eldarion," the king whispered once again, stroking his dark hair as he rocked gently back and forth. His eyes flickered nervously towards the pile the still bodies by the bed and his heart gave a nasty lurch, "You have been such a big boy today, I am so proud of you. But I need you to let me go so that I can care for Uncle Legolas, alright?" He was forced to raise his voice as the sounds of the guards trying to figure out what was going on with a lot more shouting then he deemed necessary.
Eldarion began to cry all the harder and clung to Aragorn, unwilling to let go, "Please, Ada, don't leave me!" he begged as more tears slipped from his wide eyes and damped Aragorn's shoulder.
"I won't, I'll be right here, but Uncle Legolas needs my help right now," Aragorn pressed, trying to convey the urgent situation in a way that the little boy would understand. He glanced once again at the blood staining the ground…there was so much blood, and he didn't know how much of it was Legolas'. Gently, but quickly, he pried Eldarion's arms off from around his neck and placed him back on the floor, squeezing his hand softly.
"I'm just going to go right over here. Nothing is going to happen to you," he assured, touching the child's quiver lower lip tenderly to stop the scream that appeared to be forming again. "Trust me." He waited until Eldarion nodded, and then pulled away, his attention now completely focused on the two figures on the floor.
"Legolas! Legolas answer me!" he called urgently, reaching the pale elf's side. Madoc was laying a top the elf and the man rolled him off. A strange gurgling was coming from the assassin and Aragorn only had to get on look at his grey face and blank eyes to know that he wasn't long for this world.
"Aragorn…" Legolas wheezed raggedly beside him and the man's heart leapt. He turned back to the elf just in time to watch his eyelids flickering open, revealing glazed, diluted eyes.
"Legolas, are you hurt, where are you hurt?" the man demanded, his eyes instantly locking onto the knife that was pinning his friend to the wood. He reached out, his fingers gentle as he pulled back the blood stained material. Legolas drew in a sharp breathe, his eyes drifting tightly shut against the onslaught of pain.
The gurgling next to them increased and Aragorn turned his attention to the man, keeping one hand on Legolas' arm. Madoc's lips parted with another gurgle and wet blood began to drip swiftly from the corner of his mouth. And then he stilled in the dreadful stillness that only death could provide. A bubble of blood formed at his lips, and then with a burst it pop and Aragorn knew that the assassin was dead. Reaching out, Aragorn slide the man's eyes shut.
"E-Eldarion?" Legolas asked haltingly, regaining Aragorn's attention as he tugged feebly on the man's sleeve. "Is, is he safe?"
"Shh, don't talk." Aragorn shushed; laying his blood coated fingers lightly against the elf's lips to further stall any words, "Eldarion is safe, we are both fine." Someone tapped him on the shoulder and the king jumped lightly, twisting to see who it was.
"My Lord, you have to leave," a solider ordered, trying to pull the king upright by the arm.
"I am fine, no one else is going to try and attack me." Aragorn augured shrugging the hand off, "What I need to do is take care of Legolas. Remove the bodies then come back for more orders." He glared softly at the man as if daring him to contradict his command. When the man turned helplessly to do what his king had asked, Aragorn turned back to his injured friend, his face considerably softer.
"Legolas, I need you to stay awake," he said hurriedly to the elf whose eyes had slipped close at the inattention. With what seemed to be a massive effort, Legolas pried his eyelids open, squinting up at his friend with exhaustion written in the lines of his face. "Just for a little longer, then you can sleep to your heart's content," Aragorn assured as he reached down and gently touched the rapidly forming finger shaped bruises around the elf's throat, wincing as he did so.
"Eldarion is alright?" Legolas repeated distractedly, leaning his head back against the wood he let his eyes slip close despite Aragorn's earlier order.
"Yes, yes he is." Aragorn reassured, ripping open the elf's night shirt so that he could better see the knife wound. Probing the wound with careful fingers, he frowned, "Brace yourself, Legolas, this is going to hurt." With that, he pressed his hand against the elf's shoulder to hold him still, and grasped the knife still embedded in the skin and yanked back hard.
The knife came free with a sickening squelch and a spurt of blood and Legolas tensed, grinding his teeth together to keep from crying out. Aragorn covered the wound with his hand, adding pressure to stop the bleeding.
"That wasn't much of a warning…" Legolas grumbled through his teeth in elvish, panting lightly. Now that the knife was no longer there to hold him up, he began to slide weakly down towards the floor, leaving a wet stain of crimson behind him. Aragorn helped ease him down so that he was laying on his side and then went back to adding pressure to the wound with part of a sheet, a soft smile on his face.
"At least I gave you one. Sometimes I don't," he reminded, lifting the cloth slowly, before pressing back down. Legolas stifled a groan. They were silent for the few minutes, Legolas too exhausted to speak and Aragorn to busy working.
"Estel…" Legolas finally whispered breathlessly. Aragorn looked up anxiously just in time to catch the elf's next words, "I think I am going to pass out…" The perfectly white elf moaned as he let his head loll to the side, resting it upon some of the nearby sheets.
"No, don't do that!" Aragorn urged, scrambling to his feet and looking around the trashed healing room for some of his favored herbs. Eldarion, meanwhile, had managed to shake himself partly out of the terror that had encased his limbs and refused to let him more. Crawling forward towards his Uncle Legolas, he sat gingerly down beside the elf. Reaching out he gently began to pet the golden hair, sniffing lightly as he glanced nervously.
"Uncle Legolas, are you going to be alight?" he asked in a thick, choked voice.
"Of course, little one," Legolas replied, feebly forcing his eyes open and focusing on the child though the effort obviously cost him. This seemed enough to satisfy the young prince, however, and Eldarion lay down next to his friend, curling up against the side of the elf that wasn't covered in blood.
"Good," he said, laying his head on the elf's outstretched arm. A second later, Legolas' head tipped to the side and his eyes rolled back into his head.
"Legolas!' Aragorn called a moment later, dropping back next to his friend witha tin clutched tightly in his fist. When he saw that Legolas had given in, he stopped unscrewing the lid, a painful fondness lighting his eyes, "Get some rest," he murmured, looking at the pair.
"Will he be alright?" Eldarion asked tiredly, cuddling closer to the prince's side.
"I believe that he will be, if he gives himself time to rest and recover." Aragorn replied gently, ripping one of the sheets into bandages and packing it firmly against the prince's still bleeding arm.
"Sire?" the solider was back, standing at attention. The bodies of Madoc and Dirhéal had been removed and several servants had entered into the room, beginning to clean up the dreadful mess.
Aragorn looked up, biting his lips indecisively, his mind split in two. He needed to take care of Legolas and his injuries, that much was clear, but Eldarion also need his love and care…Making his decision, the king opened his mouth.
"Please stay with Lord Legolas, keep pressure on his wound," he ordered, changing places with the man. "I'll be back within fifteen mintues." Bending low, he gently planted a kiss on Legolas' brow, a promise that he wouldn't be gone long.
Gathering Eldarion up in his arms tenderly, he hugged him close as he hurried to find Arwen. The queen would be able to calm their son and spread the word that Legolas' captors where dead, leaving him free to return to the injured elf's side.
TBC...
So you guys want to know what is funny? Before this story, I never missed updating. I hadn't had to skip an update in like two stories before this one. And now I am doing it to you not once, not twice, but three times. That is correct. Sadly, I am the course of moving and I will be traveling Friday and will not be updating. But I swear that this should be the last time for a while that I can't update.