If we do not arrive at this lake… a cranky Elladan thought, and then stopped his annoyed thinking with an amused frown as the very lake over which he grumbled came into view. It was a small lake, truly, but the water was fresh and no algae covered its surface, which glimmered orange in the setting sun's reflection. The range of the Mirkwood Mountains loomed in the distance, and it was from them that a small river of water, less the breadth than that of even the Enchanted River, flowed into the cerulean lake. This will be perfect. Ringed with grass, the water was tempting Elladan into a swim. He knew he smelled of horses and blood, his clothes were filthy, and his hair tangled. He rolled his head around on his neck, stretching the tense muscles there in anticipation. Water to drink, and a good soak!
"At last!" The Ranger reined his horse into a stop along the smaller trees as the forest thinned into small brush and plants before it became the thick, tall green grass around the lake. Elladan suddenly wished to lie in that grass under the stars. "I was beginning to think that this lake was a figment of your imagination, Legolas," Estel suggested with a grin.
The Wood-Elf smiled wanly. "I am glad it is not. I was beginning to doubt this myself. I cannot remember, but I believe I was an Elfling last I saw it."
Elladan was the first to dismount, hopping off his horse with an excited smile; he immediately went to his twin, helping Elrohir to slide Tirn from off the horse and safely into the elder Noldo's arms. As his younger twin groaned, dropping from his horse with less ease than his elder twin had, Elladan carried Tirn to the lake quickly, laying him on the verdant shore. His broken collarbone and the surrounding swollen tissue protested his carrying the sentry, but this pain the Noldo hardly noticed, as excited as he was at the beauty of the lake and to be off his horse. This is a fine place to spend the night.
With Elrohir's help, Aragorn and Legolas dismounted, also, and the three followed Elladan to the water's edge. Leading the tethered horses to the shore, Jalian let the tired equines drink from the lake, kneeling down beside them to cup the water in his hands and drinking from them with sloppy sounds. Elladan laughed, joining the merchant. "We have not been without water for long, but I find myself thirstier just looking at this lake," he told the human, helping himself to the clear, cool liquid.
Jalian rubbed some of the water in his hands over his face, and then his face dry with his dirty tunic. "If we fill all those flasks we collected, we ought've enough water to last us until Mirkwood."
"Let me help you, Le –" Something fell to the ground with a heavy thud, and both mercenary and elder twin looked behind where they knelt to see that Legolas had not waited for Elrohir to help him, and had plopped to the grass. From the droop of the Silvan's shoulders and his heavy lids, the younger Elf was depleted.
Elrohir, who had been trying to hurry to aid the Prince, huffed in exasperation, and instead turned to the Ranger to be of aid to him, but the human was eying their environment and had no intention of sitting.
"I think I will stretch my legs," Aragorn told them before taking off through the grass. Walking the edge of the lake, the Ranger stopped to inspect the ground, kneeling to ascertain whether an animal, Elf, human, or less savory creature had recently visited the water.
He is checking for tracks, Elladan decided, wiping his wet hands on his breeches as he sat back in the grass. He was pleased to see that even in his injured state his younger brother had not forsaken his instincts to assure his and his companions' safety. It is well he thought to do so, for none of us are as able as he is in this skill.
"What're we doin' first?" the mercenary asked Elrohir, looking to the twin for guidance.
The younger twin had decided to sit himself, and he then lay back, crossing his arms under his head. "Fill the flasks. Start a fire. Find something for dinner. Take a –"
"I, for one, would like a bath," Elladan inserted, interrupting his rambling twin, and stealing unwittingly Elrohir's next suggestion before he could make it.
"I'll stay here with this one," the mercenary offered, pointing to the unconscious Tirn. "And I can build the fire and get together something to eat if the rest of you want a bath."
How thoughtful of him, the elder twin noted with no spite. "Thank you, Jalian, but don't you wish to bathe, also?"
The mercenary looked nervously at the surrounding forest, saying, "Never felt right about being in Mirkwood, 'specially not when naked."
Although Jalian's sentiment was heartfelt, Elladan could not help but laugh. "You needn't be unclothed to wash away the foul smell, Master Human." Sputtering for a moment, the mercenary turned his flushed face towards the water and fell silent. Sweet Eru, now I have offended him. "I am sorry, Jalian. I meant no insult. I was merely teasing you."
The mercenary cleared his throat, flashed Elladan a smile, and then replied, "Nah, no offense taken. I'm sure I smell worse'na Orc." He glanced at the Silvan sitting in a subdued manner next to Elrohir, "Perhaps I'll take a bath later, when everyone else is done."
Very thoughtful, the Noldo decided upon realizing Jalian's purpose: the mercenary did not want to make the Silvan uncomfortable with his presence while Legolas bathed.
"I am sure that will be fine." Picking himself up from the grass, Elladan went to their steeds. He untied from them the multitude of flasks and containers that the mercenary and his twin had collected, telling Elrohir and Jalian, "We should make preparations for the night. The sun is nearly spent. Help me, muindor?" Elrohir nodded and stood, grabbing more emptied flasks.
"I'll get some firewood," the mercenary stated, and suddenly everyone's short reprieve ended, except for the Wood-Elf's, who did not even seem to detect that the others were bustling about him, but sat watching the water of the lake silently.
The twins walked around the edge of the water, following in the nearly indistinct footsteps of the Ranger as he preceded them, though Estel walked more slowly, taking his time as he made certain their campsite would be safe. Only three more days, the elder twin told himself, watching Aragorn grimace as he rose too quickly from his inspection of a set of tracks. Three more days and then Aragorn can stop worrying, Legolas can be with his father, and Elrohir can be relieved of us. Elladan stopped at the influx of water from the small stream, dipping the first flask in the flow of water as it rushed past them and into the lake.
"Tirn's condition is not worsened, but it is no better," Elrohir told his twin, filling a flask, also.
"I know, muindor. Perhaps this is a good sign. His body could be recovering, and even though he does not wake, it does not mean he will not awaken when his body is well enough to do so," the elder Elf told Elrohir, trying to bolster his twin's flagging good humor. The younger Noldo did not reply but filled the flasks with him, and when finished, they returned to the mercenary, who had been joined by the Ranger.
Elladan dropped his flasks to the ground, asking, "What did you find, Estel? Are there any inhabitants of the forest nearby of which we should be worried?"
"None but deer and other, smaller animals." Taking up one of the full water skins, the Ranger opened it, pouring the water into his mouth with relish.
"I have just filled that, Ranger," Elrohir derided, picking up a limb of the firewood the mercenary had collected and tossing it at the human healer. Aragorn caught the branch before it hit him. Expecting his brother to throw the branch back at him, Elrohir pointed his finger at the Ranger, warning, "If you throw that at me, I will throw you in the lake."
Estel studied the limb, Elrohir, and then the limb again. "That is hardly an effective threat, muindor. I would be happy to throw myself into the lake, if it would save you the trouble."
"And what of me?" Elladan asked. "I think I'd like to be thrown into the lake, also, Elrohir."
The younger twin nodded happily. "I wonder if it is possible to throw oneself into the lake. Perhaps we should try, for I believe I could use a bath." Looking to the darkened sky, the sun had set but a bright moon overhead gave them sufficient light for some night swimming. "Come, Jalian. If you will build the fire, I will move Tirn. We should not camp right next to the lake, so let us make our fire and beds behind the thicket."
While Elrohir gathered the fallen sentry in his arms, carrying Tirn to where he intended them to spend the night, Jalian gathered his kindling and Aragorn gathered the bags of food and medicines they would need. Legolas did not move, nor did he seem to notice the others' absence.
Kneeling in front of the Silvan, Elladan asked him, "Would you like to come with us, Legolas?" The Prince did not stir but sat lifelessly on ground, staring at the lake with a vacant gaze. Slowly, so as not to startle the Wood-Elf, the Noldo placed a hand on the Silvan's shoulder, "Legolas?" The archer lifted his head sluggishly to face Elladan. "Do you wish to bathe with us? We can find you some clean clothing, also."
Giving the elder Elf a small nod, the Wood-Elf stood with Elladan's help: the Noldo kept his hand on the Silvan's arm, walking with him to the lake. He looks as though he will fall asleep at any second.
"Elladan," his twin said, taking the archer's arm in his. "Go see to Aragorn. I will help Legolas."
The elder Noldo did as his twin asked of him. A bath at last, he thought, untying his tunic eagerly as he walked to where the Ranger stood.
Elladan's hands wavered in their task: Aragorn had unfastened his own tunic and removed the linen over his wounds to bathe, and though Elladan had seen the wounds his brother bore, without the covering of either bandage or tunic and laid bare, the Ranger's injuries staggered the elder twin as he saw them in their entirety. We could have lost him, he thought again. The healer's flesh was bruised, the skin reddened with fever and the gruesome, scorched holes in the Ranger's chest and belly made the Noldo wish Ament were alive just so he could kill the mercenary again. Elladan tore his eyes away from the pitiful sight, thanking the One that the Ranger's distant Elven heritage would likely aid the human in a faster recovery of which most humans would not have the benefit.
Instead, he focused on the nearby grazing horses, thinking, Estel will heal. He is too stubborn not to heal.
Legolas gave up trying to undress himself: Elrohir would take over untying any knot the Prince's fingers found, or unclasp any button he tried to open.
He did not want to be nude in front of the Noldor or Ranger, not out of fear of them, but of their reaction to his body's condition. If they looked upon him with the same pity Aragorn had bestowed upon the Prince when first he had realized the Silvan had been ravaged by Ramlin, Legolas was sure he would fade from shame, if not sorrow. Elrohir held onto his arm, standing with the archer, and as nude as he was, also. He did not offer his help: he merely gave it.
Taking a cloth in one hand, the younger Noldo poured into it some oil soap that someone had brought with him, and then helped the Silvan to crouch in the lake's water. Thankful that his lower body, at least, would be hidden, the Wood-Elf did not protest when the twin began to lather his back, pushing Legolas' dirtied hair away from his neck to clean the blood there.
"We are like children, Legolas, who have been playing in the mud puddles," Strider called to him from where Elladan was giving him the same treatment, soaping the Ranger's back and arms.
"Yes, Aragorn. Very naughty children who have more blood on them than in them," the elder twin retorted, slapping the cloth against his brother's head. "Stop moving! You are not getting your chest or stomach wetter than necessary, Estel. You will soak away the scabs there."
Elrohir laughed with his brothers while Legolas could only smile unthinkingly his appreciation of the brothers' jollity. The younger twin moved on to washing the submissive Silvan's arms, careful not to scrub too hard. He enjoyed the sensation of the water, of being clean of the blood and dirt, of being cared for, but still, the Wood-Elf trembled under the Noldo's touch. Stop it, he told himself. It is only Elrohir.
When the younger twin began to wash his chest, it seemed that he noticed the Prince's discomfort, for he handed Legolas the cloth wordlessly. His tremors stopped, and the archer began to wash himself perfunctorily until Elrohir grabbed his arm, ceasing the Wood-Elf's harsh swipes across his abdomen. "More caution, Legolas, please."
He sat on the rocks under him, washing himself under the vigilant gaze of the younger Noldo, who had begun to clean himself, also. With measured, slow strokes of the cloth, the Prince cleaned his skin, his thoughts only of the water. The depths in the center of the lake called to him: he wanted to be out there, and once he was done washing, he moved instinctively to reach them.
"Let me wash your hair," Elrohir prompted, grabbing the Wood-Elf's arm and pulling Legolas towards him. "Lay back."
The Noldo placed a hand behind the Silvan's neck and drew the Wood-Elf down to the water, wetting the archer's head before soaping his scalp, which was sore from where Ramlin had yanked his long hair. His hair was also filthy with blood and the dirt from where he had been entombed in the fallen roof of the cave. All this washed away under Elrohir's gentle hands, combing through his wet hair. It hurt, but no more than the rest of his body, and so he let the Noldo continue, if only so that the twin would leave him so that he could sate this desire to swim out to the center of the lake.
"I am done, Legolas," Elrohir told him, helping the Prince to sit up in the water once more.
"I wish to swim," he told Elrohir, and was surprised at how weak his voice sounded.
Elrohir frowned, wiping his own washed and sodden hair out of his face. "You should not soak in the water, Legolas."
More than meager velleity, the Silvan's longing to feel the cold liquid surrounding him would not be dissuaded. "I want to bathe, Elrohir, not merely sit in the water."
Pursing his lips in disapproval, the younger twin finally nodded his head, but warned, "Not for long, Legolas."
The Silvan waded further into the lake, the rocks and silt under his feet making for a treacherous journey as he walked his way into the depths. He knew that the others watched to see that he would not drown himself: he did not bother to look to confirm this, but he could feel the others' eyes on him. Legolas was tired, more exhausted than he had ever been, and his entire body throbbed, some places more than others, yes, but even places he was sure he had not injured were sore. He was too tired to think, too tired to breathe, and too tired to care.
In the middle of the body of water, the Silvan could still stand on the bottom of the lake and the liquid barely reached his upper chest. This water seemed much deeper when I was young, he thought, bending his knees so that he could submerge completely, dunking his head under the surface. The Noldo had already helped him bathe, but the Wood-Elf wanted more than that. He wanted to be engulfed in the water.
Most of all, the Silvan wanted to float away, to drift in the current until it carried his broken body away from the ever present sorrow weighing him down, pulling him under. But this was a lake, not a river, and its gentle lapping of the grassy shore was its only movement. It could not take him where he sought to go, a place he had never been. He did not understand the meaning behind his longing to drift away with the water and did not trouble to ponder upon it. Legolas lay himself out in the lake, letting his body float where it would. He did not sink to the bottom, but nor did he crest the gentle waves above head.
"Legolas! Let us get dressed and have something to eat!"
Through the inches of clear water overhead, the Prince heard the Ranger's apprehensive call. He did not wish to rise from the welcoming, cold liquid surrounding him, where the moonlight undulated on the surface above him with each slight movement of his body, and the dark of the depths under pushed the scant light askew. The lake buoyed him lovingly between the thick, whelming mantles of water above and below, the coldness seeping into his flesh: he was caught between them.
"Legolas!"
Sighing under the water, the Wood-Elf spared only the moment it took as the last air in his lungs slipped upwards in small bubbles, breaking through the water, and joining the sky overhead wavering in his vision, before he followed the bubbles. The Elf swam up the short distance to the surface of the lake, planting his feet firmly on the ground beneath him as he stood. Immediately, his lungs sought the air he had deprived them, and the force of his quick inhale set him into a fit of coughing.
"Valar, Legolas, I thought you had decided to become a fish," Elrohir teased, his voice coming closer to Legolas than he expected. In trying to whirl around in the water to find the Noldo, Legolas slipped on the rocks beneath foot, and almost fell backwards – the younger twin caught the Prince's arm. "Careful," he intoned, hefting the Wood-Elf back to his feet, "we can't have you drowning when we're so close to Eryn Galen, can we? I would hate to report to your father that you survived being kidnapped only to drown while bathing."
Legolas tried to smile, but even the muscles of his face did not wish to cooperate: the Noldo stared at him, his own teasing grin diminished. "Come. Sit with me on the bank, and I will see to your wounds." Strider and Elladan sat there already; the elder Noldo and human both wore their breeches, and Elladan was winding bandaging around the human's upper arm.
The last thing the Wood-Elf wanted was to sit naked on the grass with the Ranger and two Noldor, but he didn't have the strength to argue, and so allowed the younger twin to lead him out of the water and to the shore. "Sit here, Legolas," Elrohir prompted, pointing to where his satchel of herbs and clean leggings were placed.
Those belong to Tirn, the Prince noted absently, the soft, dark green material evincing exactly whose breeches Elrohir had borrowed. Quickly replacing his own breeches, the Noldo sat before Legolas.
The younger twin spread a fresh coat of pasted herbs and then bandaging around the injuries on the Silvan's wounded thigh, his almost completely closed gouge wounds from the trap in which he had become caught, and some of the more serious cuts on his legs from the broken arrows he had slid across while battling Melfren. "Legolas? Are you well?"
He met the twin's gaze with some difficulty, his head had begun to pound, and his chest felt tight, as if it were drawing into itself: he tried to nod his head but the Ranger yelped in pain, and the Silvan jumped in surprise.
"Damn it, Elladan. You're taking skin off!"
Legolas focused his weary eyes on the Ranger and elder Noldo sitting nearby. Elladan was using his dagger to ladle a tincture onto Strider's chest, where the flesh had been burnt. Slightly digging his blade's point into the human's wound, he argued, "This is the alternative, Estel, so do not complain. What we should have done is cut away the burnt skin and sew the flesh together, but we do not have the herbs to render you into a deep enough unconsciousness that you would not feel it."
The Ranger looked properly horrified at this suggestion, but jested, "If you keep prodding at it as you are, I will fall unconscious from the pain, anyway."
"Legolas?" Again, the younger twin was speaking to him. The Prince could not understand what the Noldo wanted, but Elrohir eyed him nervously and shifted on his knees before the Wood-Elf. "Never mind," Elrohir told him with a sad smile, rummaging through his satchel and bringing out a roll of linen. "Once I have wrapped your thigh, we'll get these breeches on you and then you can sit by the fire. Your skin is freezing."
True to his word, when Elrohir had tied the linen, he grabbed the leggings he had brought with them, instructing the Silvan, "Let me pull them over your legs, Legolas, and then you can stand to pull them up." Without waiting for the Prince's complicity, Elrohir threaded each of the Wood-Elf's feet through the leggings, and then slowly rolled the breeches, several sizes too large for Legolas, up the archer's legs. He ignored the Elf's hands on him, not caring in his exhaustion what the Noldo wished to do to him, as long as in the end Elrohir would let him sleep.
Upon their returning to the campsite, bathed and mostly clothed, the mercenary had quietly left the area, not stating his reasons for doing so, but no one had asked. Since Elrohir had told them all of Legolas' decree that the mercenary was pardoned of his culpability in the Wood-Elf's abduction, they had accepted the mercenary with a modicum of trust. With the Prince's pardon, none else had the reason to doubt the human, for none else had been harmed by the mercenary other than Legolas.
Elrohir gathered up his satchel and told the Prince, "I'm almost finished. Allow me to see to your other wounds, Legolas, and then I promise I will let you sleep."
Legolas neither agreed nor argued, and so the Noldo settled down beside him, drying the young Elf's chest so that he could wrap bandaging around the archer's bruised, cracked ribs, and thereby cover the long cut on his torso, also. The Silvan was not faring well at all: the dark circles under Legolas' eyes were so black that the Wood-Elf appeared to have coal smeared around them.
He breathes too shallowly, the Noldo noticed, wrapping the bandage around the Prince's upper arm and tying it off quickly. It is no wonder he has not expelled much blood today: he has not followed Elladan's advice to cough. If the archer's lungs had filled with blood, there was little that Elrohir could do for him, especially as the Silvan refused any herbs to aid his healing other than pastes and oils the Noldor had used externally.
Legolas fell asleep before the Noldo was finished; his head lay forward on his chest as he sat hunched over, his arms lying limply in his lap. Brushing the Silvan's tangled but clean flaxen hair away from his closed eyes, Elrohir fought the urge to shake the Wood-Elf awake, for he was disturbed to see the Prince so utterly exhausted.
"You must sleep tonight, Elrohir," his twin told him, kneeling down beside him and speaking in the same tone that his brother had always used on him when trying to order him by way of his being Elrohir's elder, if only by moments. "You and Jalian sleep, and I will wake one of you for the second watch." Together they laid the Wood-Elf onto the blanket under him, carefully laying his head on a rolled, empty satchel.
"I will take a watch," Aragorn offered, unfurling his bedroll onto the grass between the two fading Mirkwood warriors. "Although not the first one, please."
"No. You will sleep. I will take first watch, Jalian can take second." Crossing his arms over his chest, the elder twin glared at Elrohir as he laid yet another blanket over Legolas' sleeping form. Aragorn, not willing to argue overly much, shrugged his shoulders and laid down on his bedroll, smiling at the twins while they glared at one another.
Because he was truly tired, and because he knew he would be needed tomorrow more so than during the night, Elrohir submitted, saying, "Fine, muindor. But wake me should you need me."
Abruptly, the deafening sound of Jalian's footsteps as he ran towards the campsite alarmed the brothers: Elrohir jumped up from where he sat, followed shortly by Elladan, who had just settled next to Aragorn to help themselves to the lembas and dried meat the mercenary had laid out for their dinner. Ere the mercenary had entered the clearing, Elrohir and Elladan both had their weapons in hand, which startled Jalian when he burst into the campsite. "What is it, Jalian?"
The mercenary grinned sheepishly at them, and then shook himself, tiny droplets of water flying off his clothing in all directions. "Nothing, mates. Just washed the foul smell away, is all."
Teasing the human good-naturedly, Elladan told the mercenary, "We thought a band of Orc was on your heels, Jalian!" Snorting, the mercenary and the elder twin began to speak of the coming night and their turns in taking watch over the sleeping companions.
Elrohir, miffed that his twin had won their argument so easily, replaced his weapons on the grass beside the bedroll his adamant twin had laid on the grass. He sat upon it, grabbing a satchel from the nearby pile. The Noldo looked inside, and seeing the goblet was still within, finally laid down to rest.
At least we will have no grave to dig this morning, the Ranger told himself, stretching out carefully as he let himself wake. We will have more daylight by which to travel, or perhaps we could hunt for some fresh meat. The healer was hungry for something other than lembas and dried venison. He had been forced to drink enough steeped herbs last night that he facetiously mused, realizing his mouth was parched at the moment, I have drank more water in the last day than fills the lake, and still I am thirsty.
Even with the careful tending by his brothers, his injuries had gone too long untended, and so the healer's scorched flesh was burning with fever, his body sweating lightly though the morning air was cool. He could hear the twins speaking in hushed tones across the way, and thinking that they were trying not to rouse him from his slumber, he kept his eyes closed, unable to hear of what they spoke anyway. A soft sniffle awakened him completely.
Sweet Eru, he decided, something is wrong. Something has happened. Aragorn sat up hurriedly, casting aside the blanket he had been using.
He surveyed the campsite, noting that Legolas, Tirn, both twins, and the mercenary were all there. Jalian was tending the horses, glancing occasionally at the twins with worry, while Elladan and Elrohir sat close to each other, facing away from him as they whispered. Who is crying? He listened for a moment, not moving or catching the twins' attention, to hear a second soft sob coming from his brothers' direction. Elladan was shaking his head, and he turned to his twin, allowing the Ranger to see that the elder Noldo cried, too, though it was Elrohir who gasped with the each lamenting inhale as he sobbed uncontrollably, quietly, as they spoke. Watching Elladan take his twin in his arms, Aragorn noted that the younger twin's weeping only seemed to increase, and thought, Elrohir may be suffering from fatigue. He is overwhelmed with the effort of caring for us all.
Again, the human looked around the clearing, seeing that the Wood-Elves were both as they had been left the night before, neither having moved in the night. The Ranger could contain his inquisitiveness no longer, and queried softly, "Elladan?"
The elder twin did not loosen his embrace of his twin as he addressed the Ranger, nor did his eyes meet the Ranger's as he tilted his head in Estel's direction. "I am sorry, Estel."
The healer was nearly panicked; he threw his blanket completely off him and prepared to rise, to comfort the weeping Noldor for whatever ailed them. "What is it, muindor?"
"He has passed. His faer is with Mandos now," Elladan said, finally looking at the young human, his grief-stricken face making the human wish to cry though he could not yet fathom of what the Noldo spoke.
Once more, the Ranger regarded the campsite with a maelstrom of dread whirling in his mind. He asked himself, Whom does he speak of? His eldest brother had returned to comforting his twin, whispering soothingly to the distraught Elrohir: Aragorn warily, unwillingly looked to the Elf beside him. It cannot be, the Ranger wondered, shocked to see confirmed what Elladan had claimed. The noble chest did not rise with breath and the pale visage had grown gray, the bright blue eyes opened but unseeing.
The Wood-Elf was dead.