Elladan took up the thread of narration, "We expected Melfren to flee, muindor, but he did not. He came back to the clearing ere we could discern which way he had gone. We were unprepared." Disgraced by his inability to aid the Ranger and Prince in their battle with the witch, the Noldo gestured towards the duo with his unbound arm, saying, "But as I was incapacitated for most of the time, it would be better should Estel or Legolas tell you, Elrohir."
"Melfren cast a spell on us," the Ranger stated, covering his mouth to hide another yawn. "None of us could move."
"Except when I flew across the clearing," the elder twin joked gaily, receiving a trenchant glower from his stressed other half: Elrohir leant forward, placing his elbows on his knees to listen absorbedly to the story.
"You would not be so happy to hear that Melfren almost killed you while you were unconscious, Elladan," the Prince chastised. "Had Strider not distracted Melfren, you may well not be here to make such jests."
"How did Aragorn distract him?" Elrohir asked, looking very much like an Elfling listening to a terrifying bedtime story.
It is a frightening tale, at any rate, the Wood-Elf decided of Elrohir's rapt attention: he snorted, "Strider distracted Melfren by making him angry."
"Estel!"
Their tiredness and relief at finally being safe was making them somewhat giddy, it seemed, for even the anger the twins had displayed earlier was now lessened. Aragorn lifted his shoulders slightly before letting them fall with obvious uncaring, his response to Elrohir and Elladan's simultaneously voiced disbelief said dryly, "It was all I could think to do." Tilting his head to the side in thought, the Ranger added, "I believe the witch's transformation was not complete, for Ament's fury for us remained."
"Your inciting his anger is likely what caused the spell that held us motionless to be broken," the Silvan explained, the epiphany coming to him quickly. "Melfren could control Ament's body, but not when Ament's anger became greater than Melfren's control."
The Wood-Elf and Ranger contemplated without speaking for a few minutes until Elrohir eagerly, impatiently cleared his throat. "And?"
Legolas could not help but to smile at the Noldo's impatience. If he thinks he has missed a fine battle, he would be sorely mistaken. "And," the Prince said, drawing out the word slowly, "the witch…" He stopped, amending, "Ament tried to kill me. I rolled away and Strider attacked the mercenary."
"But I could not stop him," the Ranger sighed. "When he threw his dagger at my chest I was sure I was dead."
"As was I, muindor." Elrohir sat upright, physically shaking off the terror at seeing both his brothers injured and seemingly deceased. Even Legolas had thought the Noldo and Ranger dead as he had followed Ament into the woods.
"I saw Legolas running after him, and it is the last I remember." Strider yawned again, chafing his bearded face with the heels of his hands. "It does not explain how you slew Melfren," he prompted the Wood-Elf.
He could never explain how he had chased the mercenary through the forest, how his own hatred had kept him afloat in his submerging, discolored grief. He did not want the others to know of Ament's words, that the mercenary would receive his contrived revenge with the Prince's eventual death. So instead, the Wood-Elf told them succinctly, "I chased him through the forest and caught up to him. He fell to the ground. We struggled but I gained the upper hand, pinning him to the roots with Elrohir's sword." The Elves and Ranger did not question him for more information, and for this, the Silvan was grateful. "I did not want his blood upon my hands, for I wanted to give no more credence to his claims against my father or myself," he finished, seeing plainly from Elrohir's aggrieved expression that the Noldo remembered the horrific sight from his ken into the Prince's suffering in that moment of resolution. "So I let the spiders have him."
Jalian, who had remained quiet for some time now, piped up from across the clearing, saying callously, "He'll likely turn sour the spiders' stomachs."
Although his sentiment was serious, the disfigured mercenary's spiteful words were darkly comical to the Elves and Ranger, and after glancing at each other in ill-hidden hilarity, they broke out into raucous laughter at the odd image Jalian had shared with them. For his part, the scarred human merely smiled confusedly as their amused cachinnations died. They sat in the comfortable quiet of the forest's night, listening to the chirping of the crickets for a long time.
This tale is over, the Silvan thought. Telling the account had exhausted him and reliving it had grieved him; however, the Prince was glad the tale was told. If I do not make it to Eryn Galen, then they will have some explanation to give my father.
"Ilúvatar has certainly been busy keeping us safe," Elrohir mused after a long silence, shaking his head in bewildered amusement and staring blankly up into the night sky.
That, my friend, is an understatement.
The tale seemed too outlandish for any to believe, and had not the Prince lived it, he would have doubted such a story could be true. Chance had guided Strider to stay in Fulton the same night that Ament and Ramlin visited there; it was merely a fortuitous decision on the part of Elladan and Elrohir to meet their human brother as he traveled home; according to the twins' account of Tirn's search, fate had led the sentry to meeting the Noldor and to following the Anduin south such that they discovered the mercenaries' tracks in the copse of trees. Legolas was not sure, and he did not wish to attribute his becoming caught in the animal trap to anything but his own foolishness, but to the Wood-Elf, it was providence that had led him to the snare. Had he not been caught or any of the other Elves or men around him not been inexplicably drawn together, the odds of Ament and Ramlin's plans coming to fruition, or other Elves or men dying in their trying, would have been much greater. It had worked out for the greater good in the end, after all.
Injured and grieving as he was, Legolas smiled, agreeing with Elrohir, "The Valar must have blessed our every step."
Even those that led me into the trap, he added to himself, laughing at his thoughts, and earning him several very bemused stares before the clearing became still again. Tirn's part of the story they would not hear this night. It was apparent that the sentry had been caught in the collapse and had his throat slit by Ament, but what else the Wood-Elf could tell them would have to wait, should he ever awaken. Ramlin, Ament, Doran, and Meika's stories had died with them, and so too might Tirn's. Each of the Elves and men became immersed in his reflections on the revelations exposed, though none felt any sense of closure by this denouement, especially lacking the pieces of the mystery from those without the voice to tell them. It did seem that the greater part of the story was laid bare before them, though, and their curiosities satisfied.
The Wood-Elf and Ranger had yet to hear all of the twins' apparent disgust, but neither desired to, and Strider evaded for them both, laying himself on the ground to face the shadowy night sky, "Let us speak more of this tomorrow, brothers. I do not know how much longer I can remain awake."
Smiling without humor, Elrohir handed Legolas a blanket, which he promptly spread over the Ranger. "Go to sleep, then, Estel. We would not have you lapsing into dreams while you sit, lest you injure yourself further."
The human thanked the Prince, yawned, and then closed his eyes. Before long, Strider's breathing had evened, and he slept peacefully. The Noldor and Jalian sat quietly, each lost in his own thoughts. Jalian's explanation for Ament and Ramlin's deviant thinking left them all with much upon which to ponder, but Legolas did not waste his effort in considering the human brothers' reasoning behind their actions: nothing could ever hope to explain to the Prince their hatred for Elves, and their treatment of the Ranger and himself. He had lived to see the mercenaries dead, and now he would die to see his friends live: his heart rejoiced when the ancient oak tree sang to him of its approval of his plans to endure, lifting his grief for a brief, wonderful moment, and filling him with hope.
Looking up to the benighted sky, the Wood-Elf smiled, letting the dim light of the stars shine down upon his face. His part in the story was almost complete.
So that Aragorn and Jalian would not grow cold, the elder twin lit a blaze in the fire pit the mercenaries had been using. The yellow, multifarious eyes of the unnameable creatures in the trees irked Elladan's sense of safety. He was certainly not used to camping in the Mirkwood forest and had little knowledge of the oddities hiding in the boughs above, drawn to the campfire, but it mattered little when the Ranger had begun to shiver. If he had been willing to admit it, Elladan would also have found that his sympathies extended to the scarred mercenary, as well. Regardless of Jalian's past deeds, Elrohir currently held some respect for the mercenary, and his twin's opinion was enough to sway Elladan's feelings about Jalian... for now. He had the strange feeling that while he had been with Estel and Legolas, the human and his twin had found a common ground between them, and it was on this that they had based their tentative confidence in the other.
Of course, as furious as he currently was with his human brother, the twin was also more worried than he had ever been over the Adan. Aragorn has more explaining to do than retelling the horrid facts of this farce he has used to keep the Prince in captivity. Sitting beside the Ranger and the Silvan, Elladan examined his sleeping brother's bandages: he slid the blanket from the human's chest, carefully exposing the charred punctures on the pierced flesh of his adopted sibling's torso by unwinding the linen holding the swatches of bandaging in place. He has been through much, the sorrowful Noldo thought. He daubed more ointment over the burns, pausing each time the Ranger stirred. The gashes on the human's legs, throat, forearm and the scissions on his upper arm and chest were furiously red. They are becoming infected but not too badly. He has been too long without proper care.
Finished seeing to the Ranger, Elladan noted that his twin and the mercenary were finally collocating their paltry provisions into satchels. Perhaps Legolas knows of a stream or brook somewhere close. We do not have the time to travel to the river for water, he contemplated, shaking the last drops of water from the flask they had used for their dinner onto a clean cloth. He wiped the Silvan's upper arm, where the skin and muscle had been sliced nearly to the bone. It had stopped bleeding, but Elladan knew it was likely only because the Wood-Elf had little blood to spare. Too tired to argue and strangely more tranquil, the Prince did not refuse the treatment.
"It is your turn, Elladan," his twin told him, settling behind Elladan to prod the set of his broken collarbone. Recoiling at the handling, he felt Elrohir grab the back of his tunic, saying, "Be still or I will just wait until you are sleeping." His twin checked the lump on Elladan's scalp and the gash on his forehead before concluding, "You do not appear to be concussed too badly. In fact," the younger Noldo teased merrily, "your flight across the clearing seems to have knocked some sense into you."
"How is that?" the Wood-Elf asked, flattening the blanket inattentively over his human companion. By dint of sheer willpower, the Silvan managed to fight slumber, but even now, as he spoke, the young Elf's eyes closed and his head dipped forward under the weight of trying to remain conscious.
"Because he is submitting to a healer." Laughing, the Noldo stood, collecting the used linen and other items and walking to the fire pit. "Let us all get some rest," Elrohir suggested, throwing the soiled bandaging into the flames before adding another small limb, stirring up a cloud of ash and sparks in the process. "I will take first watch."
"I will take first watch," Elladan countered. "You rest with the others, Elrohir." His twin, while uninjured, was clearly strained beyond endurance. Having to care for his two wounded brothers, a comatose sentry, and a grief-stricken Wood-Elf with none but Jalian's help had already exhausted the younger twin.
"Tomorrow night you may take a watch. Tonight you sleep," the younger twin insisted.
The Wood-Elf argued, also, saying, "I will take a watch tonight. You will need rest, too, Elrohir."
Removing the herbs from his satchel that he had earlier tried to convince the Prince to take, Elladan took up his brother's cause when Elrohir sighed brokenheartedly. The young Noldo was having a more difficult time than Elladan in trying to help the Wood-Elf, and so Elladan tried for him.
"Please, Legolas," he said quietly, not wishing to wake the sleeping Ranger, "take these. You will only sleep the night." He held the herbs out to the Silvan. When it seemed the Wood-Elf would refuse, Elladan petitioned, "Tomorrow we will need you to guide us to the King's halls, Legolas. We need you to be rested."
Legolas had shown his worth several times over, and were he healthy, Elladan would gladly place his life and those of his brothers in the hands of the Wood-Elf. Looking to the Prince now, though, he could see that the archer could barely keep his eyes open. He was not only injured, but also gaunt with fatigue.
Suspiciously did the Wood-Elf glare at him; however, Legolas laid himself down on his side without accepting the dried herbs the twin wanted him to consume. Elladan traded a knowing, indulgent, and thoroughly worried look with his twin as the Prince moved to be closer to Aragorn. Placing his head on the gnarled root of the tree against which he lay, the Silvan gripped the exposed root with one hand, and with his other hand, he held tight to the corner of Estel's blanket from where it lay on the ground beside him. Before long, the emaciated and battered Wood-Elf's eyes were closed and only the railing, rattling sound of his lungs showed the young Elf lived at all.
Replacing the herbs once more in his satchel, Elladan waited until it was apparent that neither the Wood-Elf nor the Ranger would awaken before he told his twin, speaking so softly that he knew Jalian would not hear, "Legolas will die."
"His death would be no different than Tirn's," the younger twin told his older sibling, matching the soft tone of his voice to keep their conversation private, and sharing his brother's recognition of Aragorn's part in it. "They are warriors, Elladan, not innocents."
"Tirn had a choice."
"And so did Legolas, as he has told us. And had he not, it would be Legolas' forgiveness Estel should seek, not ours," Elrohir argued, handing his twin a second blanket.
He was well aware of this, and knew how irrational his anger towards the Ranger was, but Elladan was ashamed of his younger, human brother for aiding in that from which Elves could not recover. Not even Valinor could soothe this hurt, should Legolas live long enough to sail. And Thranduil. What of him? He has lost much already: to lose both his wife and his son.
"Elladan –"
Spreading the blanket over the slumbering Wood-Elf, the elder Noldo looked tearfully to his twin, preempting his brother's comfort. "Enough, Elrohir. Let us think of this later."
Elrohir did not argue further, but pressed a third blanket into his twin's hands, begging, "Sleep, brother."
He lay himself down close to the Ranger and Silvan, unwilling to admit his own tiredness but longing to be free of his worries, and the story of his brother and the Wood-Elf's torment.
Before long, however, his own eyes had closed, evincing the depths of his exhaustion and injuries, and he slept. Tomorrow he could contend with Estel's irrational actions and the two dying Wood-Elves. Tomorrow they would depart. Tomorrow the sun would rise again and perhaps then, providence would guide them once more under the auspices of Eru's creation to a safer and more optimistic hereafter.