It has been some time, but I hope I didn't make you wait too long. As I said, I have some major papers to finish, and exams are coming in a week. I just finished a paper about prostitution in the 18th century, so I should have a little more time. Anyway, one more chapter for this story!
BETA: thewayfaringstrangers
GaleEnjolrasKili: Thank you! Yeah, I think you can use that word :P I am glad you found it too! ^^
Glorelwen:Thank you! I fear I will not... I think it is a miserable story. If you want to, I can send you the plot though?
Jasper6509: A bear-hug? Fun! I think Legolas would like it ;) If he wakes...
Missteigne: Mes excuses pour le retard. J'éspère qui vous lirez ce chapter aussi? Comment vous sachiez qui je comprends le français? Il y a longtemps que j'ai dû l'écrire, alors excusez-moi les fautes :)
ShadowHawq35: Thank you! I was not too certain about it... I have a minor writer block, I think, but your review made it better. Thank you! :)
SpiritArcher55: Thanks! I hope you will forgive me this long wait too :)
TheButterflyCurse996: I don't remember how I thought about it. I know, I have of those moments... ^^ Just kidding :P
Ynnealay: No, I think she is just worried :) I'll think about your request ;) Ever seen Supernatural? There they kill people all the time (and resurrect them, fortunately :P)
"The sun is rising." The silent voice broke the fragile silence and woke the assembled nobility in the Hall of Fire. Breaking out of his half-sleep, Aragorn raised his gaze to the window, and smiled. The sun was climbing in a gentle glow of rosy fire, while a warm breeze broke through the chillness of the night to stroke his face. He closed his eyes for a moment, enjoying the pure scent of the air.
"We should go." Elentìriel sounded impatient. Disturbed, Aragorn opened his eyes again, and nodded.
"I rather doubt Gandalf will tolerate us there, but we can have a look," he remarked, and rose. To his surprise, only Elentìriel followed his example. Arwen just kept sitting.
"You two can go," she said calmly. "You can help Mithrandir with the ritual if aid is required, but knowing our wizard, he will chase us away if we troop around him like curious flies. No, I think I can be of more use in the healing hall, with Eowyn and Faramir. We do not know how the elves will react to the cure." Aragorn smiled.
"Ever the wise, melleth nin. I will come to you as soon as the ritual has been fulfilled." He lowered his head in a greeting and left the hall of fire, the warm home where they had spent the eternal night. The almost inaudible steps of Elentìriel followed him, though she didn't say anything. Aragorn remembered the conversation they had had, and laid a hand upon her shoulder as they walked.
"He will be alright, Tiri." The she-elf smiled in thanks, but in her eyes, Aragorn could read her disbelief. Still, he did not pursue the matter. Soon, very soon now, this nightmare would end, for thebetter or for theworse.
They reached the high plain at the moment the sun touched the silver tree, setting it on fire. Aragorn took a moment to breath in the freshness of the air, and enjoyed the living rain on the tender branches of Telperionion. Movement at the court seized his attention.
"I assume you have ignored my request to grant me some peace?" a gruff voice asked. The wizard was kneeling, spreading some white chalk on the pavement to make sure there would be no interruptions in the pentagram, and didn't even look up at them. Aragorn smiled.
"We thought you might want some aid," he answered calmly, not at all impressed by the wizard's stern voice. Gandalf huffed, but didn't contradict him. Instead, he pushed some tiny branches intoAragorn's hands.
"Here. When I say so, you have to light these with the fire over there," he pointed at a torch near the wall, "and give some flame to the candles in the pentagram. Make sure you don't cross the lines!"
"I won't. How long until everything is ready?"
"Not long. At least not if you don't disturb me. Now be of help and sit over there, young king." Grinning, Aragorn retreated, and walked over to Elentìriel. The maiden smiled.
"I told you so."
"I know. But I can light the candles, and you can't," he replied childishly, and was rewarded with a laugh. For the first time in days, the she-elf seemed more at ease. Perhaps seeing the pentagram had calmed her, or perhaps Telperionion had woken in the sun and was talking to her. Whatever it was, Aragorn was grateful for it. Elves seemed to have a peculiar effect on their environment. Their joy could enlighten a room, but when they grieved, the sadness was laid as a suffocating cloak over the city. The king prayed there would be reason to laugh again soon enough.
And that he would share that laugh with Legolas.
Before he could fall in dark thoughts, Gandalf walked over to them.
"I have been calling three times, Estel. You seemed to be deep in thought." Aragorn shook his head incredulously.
"You did? Perhaps you are right, I was thinking about something." He didn't wish to spoil Elentìriel's mood, and didn't elaborate. Instead, he looked at the pentagram.
"The candles?" The wizard nodded.
"The candles. Remember, don't cross the lines!"
"I won't," Aragorn promised, and walked over to the pentagram. Just as he went to kneel, a gust of wind hit his face, almost knocking him over. Frowning, he looked to the south. Dark clouds were assembling above the city, almost blackening the sky. Already, lightning was sending white bolts to enlighten the darkness. A cold wind was growing in strength. Aragorn shivered and looked at Gandalf. The wizard's face was grim, but he merely nodded at Estel.
"Light the candles, young king. It seems Saruman won't let his curse be so easily overthrown, even in death. Make haste!" He walked over to make sure the chalk wasn't blown away, while Aragorn tried to set fire to a piece of wood. Soon enough, he managed to let a spark spring forward, but before it could eat its way into the branch, a gust took it away in darkness. The king cursed softly. He shifted his body to better shelter the branch, but the storm had grown in velocity, and the wind seemed to come from every direction now, swirling around him.
"The wind is too strong!" he cried to Gandalf. By luck, the storm took his words to the wizard, and he turned.
"Do not stop! Keep trying! We need the candles!" Cursing more harshly, Aragorn looked at the wood again, and ricocheted the metals hardly upon each other. There were sparks enough, but none of them lived long enough to set fire to the wood. Absorbed in the battle, Aragorn barely looked up when Elentìriel knelt before him, shielding the flames with her body and forming a protective area with her hands. With her aid, finally the wood was set in fire. Quickly, he lit the candles.
"Mithrandir!"
"I see it! Go inside, young king!"
"But Gandalf-"
"Do as I say!" The wizard stood on the end of the protrusion of stone, facing the storm much as he had once, long ago, faced the Balrog. His staff was aflame and sending white beams in the eye of the storm. Aragorn hesitated.
"Go!"
"Come." Elentìriel took his arm and brought her lips to his ear. "We will only distract him. Let us see to Legolas!"
"Alright!" he screamed back. Together, they struggled their way through the storm. When they reached the gates, they threw all their weight against them to slam them shut. Eventually, that worked. The silence was deafening after the rage of the storm. Disheveled, they looked at each other.
"I hope Gandalf knows what he is doing," Aragorn stated worriedly, staring at the now closed gate.
"I am sure he does." Even though her voice was calm, her eyes were weary too, but she shook her head and took Aragorn's arm impatiently.
"Let us go to Legolas. We are of no use here anymore." The king nodded. Silently, they walked through the paths, until they arrived at the Hall of Healing. There were quite some maidens and servants walking around there, ignoring the thunder that shook the building. Near one of the windows, a group had huddled around a bed with a pale elf in it. When Aragorn and Elentìriel came closer, Faramir looked up.
"How is the ritual going?" Aragorn raised his shoulders.
"I don't know. Saruman must have spoken a protective spell about it. Gandalf is now trying to break it, but he sent us away."
"Can we do something?"
"No." Aragorn sank down on the bed, and studied Legolas. Elentìriel had been right. The prince was not doing well. His skin was almost as pale as the sheets that were covering him, except for his lips, which were red with the blood trickling out of his mouth. Gently, the king swiped it away with a clean rag. The elf didn't move a muscle. He almost looked as if he were dead. Only his difficult, slow breathing indicated that he still lived.
Closing his eyes, Aragorn laid his hand upon Legolas' heart. Beneath his fingers, he felt a slow beating – too slow. It was as if he was fighting every time to beat again, as if he just wanted to go to sleep and stop moving.
Aragorn gulped. When he had been a child, he often had fallen asleep on the elf's chest, listing to the steady drumming of his heart. It had always been strong, assuring him that he was still alive, that the prince wouldn't leave him like his parents had done. He had heard the heart beating rapidly after they had escaped from angry twins, or orcs. He had heard it beating calmly when the elf was sleeping. He had heard it fluttering when he was nervous, or excited, or angry. Now, it seemed as if he had to encourage it to keep drumming, don't stop, don't give up, keep playing the beat to me.
Hold on, Legolas. Please.
"Aragorn." Disturbed, the king looked at Elentìriel, but she was ignoring him. Instead, she was looking at the gate. A rather sottish wizard had appeared in the gate, and was now striding towards them. He nodded at one of the servants.
"Can you get some hot tea for an old man? With sugar, if you please." The man bowed, a little intimidated before the great wizard and his stubby eyebrows, and hastened away. Groaning, Gandalf let himself fall on the seat Faramir had quickly freed for him. Then, he looked at the friends around Legolas's bed, his eyes lingering on the elf for a second.
"I activated the pentagram. It should work soon now." He looked up, and smiled. "It is over." A sigh of relief was heard. With moist eyes, Eowyn turned to Faramir, who enveloped her in an embrace. Arwen squeezed Aragorn's hand delighted. Only Elentìriel didn't move.
"How long? Before the spell will work?"
"I know not for sure…"
"Guess." The wizard answered her steeled gaze.
"Not long. Minutes, perhaps an hour." Even after these words, Elentìriel only allowed herself a small smile, that didn't reach her eyes. She still looked worried – and Aragorn understood why, now that he had seen Legolas' condition. Something had to change, and quickly. He grabbed the prince' hand.
"Hold on, Legolas. We found the cure. Everything is going to be alright. Just… hold on a little more." Whispering, he examined the elf closely, searching for any sign of chance. Was there a little blush on his cheeks? His breathing going easier? His heart beating stronger? For a moment, he felt hope, but Elentìriel shook her head, sensing what he was thinking.
"Only imagination, Estel. Nothing has changed. Mithrandir, are you certain the spell is working?" The wizard frowned.
"Patience, lady Elentìriel. Magic is an unpredictable thing. As I said before, it can take up to an hour before we see any improvement."
"I don't think we'll have to wait an hour," Faramir said excitedly. "Look!" Quickly, Aragorn followed his pointing finger, and smiled. Two dark brown eyes were blinking, and staring sleepily at them. The young elf – a bard, if Aragorn was not mistaken – was still confused, but he was awake at last. Immediately, Elentìriel went over to his bed to rapidly sooth him in elvish. The young elf smiled.
Everywhere in the Hall, servants and maidens were now rushing to several beds. Sounds of hushed talking and curious questions filled the room. Aragorn smiled, and turned to Legolas, fully expecting to see blue eyes staring back at him, but was disappointed. The young prince was still lying motionlessly and pale on the bed, his eyes closed.
Gently, Aragorn shook his hand.
"Legolas. Wake up. Come on, my friend. It's time to wake." It was to no avail. Worried, the king looked at Gandalf.
"Why doesn't he wake?" To his dismay, the wizard also seemed troubled. He checked his breathing, and laid his hand upon his forehead, and frowned. Aragorn didn't like the look in his eyes at all when he looked at him.
"Estel…" The wizard hadn't called him by his elvish name since he had found out about his heritage. "Legolas has fallen deep in this illness. He has survived the plague longer than anyone here. You must prepare for the worst, Estel." Aragorn shook his head.
"No. I will have none of this! First Elentìriel, now you! Legolas is going to be alright, do you hear me! He can't die! We found the cure!" The wizard sighed, but raised no objections. Instead he looked at the pale prince.
"Then pray, Aragorn. And hope he will find his way back."
And amidst the sounds of waking, a silent circle was formed, waiting.
As always, please review!
Love you all!
xXx Archiril