The pain of his wounded stomach was growing unbearable: Aragorn would never confess this to his brothers, who were worried enough for him as it were, nor did he wish to admit to such weakness in front of the Wood-Elves, but the agony of his belly's scorched flesh was becoming worse, the fever emanating from the wounds intensifying. Only a few more days and we will be in Eryn Galen. I can withstand this discomfort for a few more days.
It was nearing sunrise. The torrential storm had long since stopped the night before, but as she rose, Anor hid behind the clouds – with no warmth and no sunlight, the Ranger's clothes were just as wet as if the rain had never ceased. Aragorn no longer shivered with each gust of wind that blew between the thick, dense trees of the forest, for his body had grown weary of shivering, it seemed, and he only swayed in misery with every forceful zephyr. It is summertime! Why can it not be warm? Even were it balmy, the Ranger would still likely be uncomfortable; instead of freezing, his feverish body would just be burning.
As they had traveled through the night and the better part of today, their arrival in Eryn Galen grew closer and their journey shorter with the harsh pace the Wood-Elves set to take their Prince home. At their current rate, the travelers would be in Thranduil's halls by tomorrow night, or so the warriors had told the Noldor and two humans. For his part, the Ranger could not have been happier to leave the Mirkwood forest. Aragorn had not forgotten that upon reaching Thranduil's halls, he and his brothers would likely receive as warm a welcome as the Ranger and mercenary had been given the night before, when the Wood-Elves had found their Prince in the care of the Noldor and humans.
Thranduil will likely have my head, and rightfully so, the Adan told himself, adjusting his seat on his mare so that he could sit comfortably while turning to glance back at where Legolas was riding with Naiahim.
The young Elda had been passed to different riders during the long hours so as not to tire any one horse, though Legolas had only been passed between the woodland warriors, and not the Noldor or humans. However, the horses were tired nonetheless, for their breaks in riding had been short, and even though they only ambled unhurriedly now, the Wood-Elves would soon prompt the travelers into a faster pace.
With one arm wrapped protectively around the Prince's midsection and another around Legolas' chest to hold him upright, Naiahim stared straight ahead, his attention not on the forest around him, as were his fellow Elves' every sense. The other Wood-Elves were just as protective of the Prince as Naiahim, and the Ranger held little doubt that should anything challenge Legolas' safety, there would be fair warning, even should Naiahim himself not be paying attention. The heavy gaze of the blond, fierce warrior finally convinced the weary Aragorn to turn away from his perusal of the Prince's condition: Naiahim gave a sneer of amusement at the small victory against the Ranger, though Estel paid the Elf no mind.
The group of travelers had not spoken of what had occurred over the last several days while Legolas had been captive to the mercenaries, or of what the Prince had suffered. In fact, other than the terse commands of Captain Salneril, little at all had been said during the long ride, and the Adan had grown accustomed to Naiahim's stares and thinly veiled threats against the humans. His brothers had no clue about the true extent of the aggressive reception the Wood-Elves had given the two humans, and so the twins, while they could sense the animosity, seemed oblivious as to what malicious undercurrent existed, particularly between Aragorn and the warrior Naiahim. If they heard the latent threats or insults against them, neither twin acknowledged the sly invectives, preferring instead to act accordingly, for they were Elven Lords with the reputations of their realms to preserve, and unlike Strider and Jalian, Elladan and Elrohir were with their own kind, and therefore in little danger.
Tuning in to his brother's voice, Aragorn heard Elrohir implore the Captain, "Legolas may be unconscious but his body still needs restful sleep, that which cannot be obtained while being bounced on a horse."
Legolas' abused body could do well with a rest from the continuous jostling of riding a horse, the Ranger agreed but did not say. His opinion was not wanted.
Captain Salneril spoke with no emotion, saying as he nodded his accord, "The Prince will be better aided resting in Eryn Galen, rather than rest here. But we will pause, though only for a short time." At once, the Wood-Elf's horse slowed and the Captain dismounted.
Edgy stares and unspoken worries weighed heavy amongst the travelers: as they dismounted and prepared for their rest, the Elves and men would catch each other's eye only to look down to the ground, search the boughs of the trees, or light upon the fallen Elf Prince rather than look at each other. We are friends to the Prince, all of us, but few of us are friends to each other, the Ranger thought of the Wood-Elves, Noldor twins, and of himself. Only Naiahim was not timid about maintaining eye contact with the Noldor and humans, though anger was the only emotion the Wood-Elf displayed.
Sitting before the Ranger, Elrohir fretted over the human's injuries, shaking his head to himself in absentminded concern. As Elrohir finished unwrapping the cuts on the human's fingers, made by the previous night's altercation with the sharp edge of Maeneros' blade, Estel kept his gaze carefully away from the Wood-Elves, save for Legolas, who was being taken from Naiahim's horse by two of his fellow Eldar. The occasional flicker of a frown would grace the Prince's beaten, contused brow, before the Silvan's face would grow slack once more. He is waking, the Ranger hoped. If he does wake, we will need to keep him alert, and occupied, else he may never wake again.
For the moment, the Noldor and two humans were almost forgotten, so absorbed were the Wood-Elves in helping Legolas. Holding the Prince aloft with the other Wood-Elves, and then walking towards a patch of soft grass on which to lay the sovereign, Naiahim glared at the onlooking Ranger.
"If looks could kill, Aragorn…" the younger of his brothers stated drolly, quietly, while giving the Ranger a wink of one green eye before scooting to his twin to tend the sling wrapped around Elladan's arm.
"It is not his glares that worry me." The human regretted his slip of tongue the moment it came out. He did not intend to rile his brothers by telling them of the Silvans' violent welcome the night before.
"The Wood-Elves believe us to have some blame in Legolas' condition," Elrohir surmised correctly. Tying off his twin's sling with a hard yank of the thick cloth that bound it, and then casting the Ranger a knowing, poignant smile, the younger twin evinced that he could guess what had occurred the previous night while the twins were not in the clearing with the humans. He said, "If we had not met Salneril in the forest while hunting, you might have paid the price for the mercenaries' ills. We might never have known that there were warriors in the forest, much less with you by the cave, if Salneril had not happened upon us."
The younger twin did not mention Jalian, who, Estel saw, was feeding the horses left by the dead mercenaries – the disfigured man would have deserved whatever vengeance the Wood-Elves would have bestowed upon him, had not Legolas already pardoned the mercenary for his role in the horrifying debacle of Ament's failed plans. As if feeling the Ranger's eyes upon him, Jalian peered from around the nickering stallion's head, flashing the trio of brothers an uneasy grin before returning to his task of giving the horses water.
"I would have paid for my own ills," the Ranger retorted, returning the mercenary's nervous smile before staring down at his wrapped hands, "which would only have been just."
A brief touch to his shoulder roused the Adan from his guilty reverie. "Perhaps your decisions were not the best, Estel. We do not know, and cannot know. Maybe there was some way to halt Ament from using the goblet while still keeping Legolas safe." Shrugging his shoulders, the younger twin replaced his healing items back in his bag, before tossing the bag with the others they had removed from the horses for their short reprieve from riding. "It has happened," Elrohir intimated as he closed his eyes and rested his back against the tree behind him, not willing to elucidate on what had happened, for what he spoke of was clear: Legolas' torment at the hands of the mercenaries, but most importantly, the assault the Prince suffered from Ramlin. "Nothing can change what has happened."
Aragorn did not know if his brothers still blamed him for the Prince's circumstance, but they offered solace to him now. Elladan spoke, as well, saying, "Your guilt does not help Legolas." Straightening his arm out, and thereby removing from it the sling Elrohir had only just rewound around the limb, Elladan added as he settled his back against the tree beside his twin, "And we are proud of you, muindor. You have acted nobly."
"Indeed." Elrohir opened his eyes, smiling warmly at Aragorn. "We are very proud of you, Estel, as will father be. You can…" the twin trailed off, whacking his identical brother on the leg when noticing that Elladan had removed his sling. "Elladan! Your broken collarbone is not healed, and you should not use this arm!"
"I will not be able to use this leg, either, if you hit me again!" With a huff, Elladan slid his arm back into the sling, though Elrohir began to fret over his twin, fixing the cloth once more as he reprimanded his elder brother under his breath.
If the Dark Lord himself materialized and asked for directions, Elladan and Elrohir would quarrel about which way to send him. He listened to the twins, enjoying their odd show of affection, and deliberating their assurances to him. I am not sure that Ada will be proud of me, as the twins say. That his brothers no longer censured their human brother regarding the Wood-Elf's ruin was a relief to Aragorn; he did not need them to remind him of the shame he carried for abetting the Prince's attackers, for the shame was foremost on his mind.
Harsh, painful barks of coughing startled the Ranger from his amusement at the twins' bickering and stilled his wandering thoughts. A fit of coughing had taken Legolas, whose body shimmied with the effort of his lungs' vain attempt to fill with air. Someone sit him up, the Ranger thought to himself, waiting for one of the twins to demand such a thing, or for the Wood-Elves to remember the Ranger's advice from the night before. He cannot breathe lying down.
All the warriors save Salneril knelt around their sovereign, encircling him as if each meant to help, but none knew what to do for the Prince. Beside the Adan, the younger Noldo twin shifted with each cough Legolas sputtered – Elrohir's twitchy and tense behavior, the effect of both his worry for Legolas and the consciousness the twin shared with the fading Silvan, was quickly mounting as his agitation increased. Frothy, pink liquid, a mix of the blood and mucus that filled the dying Legolas' lungs, bubbled out of the archer's mouth as it had been doing over the last two days. Neither the gentle words of encouragement nor the bungling attempts of the Wood-Elves to wake the Prince seemed to be working, and finally, when Naiahim pulled free a bladder of water to give Legolas a drink, Aragorn could stand it no longer.
The Ranger rose unsteadily from where he had been sitting by his brothers, and hobbled to where the Wood-Elves surrounded the fading Prince of Mirkwood. Legolas is having a hard enough time surviving his faer's maladies. The Prince does not need his fellow warriors' incompetence in aiding his physical injuries to be what kills him.
"Estel," one of the twins whispered fiercely, trying to stop the Ranger from interfering.
The Adan ignored his brother's gentle warning, for Naiahim already had the bladder uncorked and ready to pour the water into the Prince's gullet. He will drown Legolas!
"Let me see him," Estel demanded, not waiting for their compliance before he was kneeling beside Legolas, having shoved two of the Wood-Elves none too gently out of his way before settling in the grass next to the Prince. "He needs to sit, and he should not be given water while he cannot even breathe," the Ranger complained, not waiting for assistance before he had pulled the Prince's body up.
Hanir aided the human, however, by sliding behind the fallen Wood-Elf to prop the archer into sitting. She acted just in time, for a fist gripping the back of his collar told Aragorn that his presence was not welcomed, and as the Ranger was hauled away from the Prince, Estel's hold on Legolas was broken. Fortunate for the Prince's well-being, Legolas fell back into the she-Elf's waiting arms and not back to the ground.
Legolas was now breathing better for the Ranger's efforts, but Naiahim neither noticed nor cared, for he spat, "Do not touch him, human." Estel was jerked backwards by the hand twisted into the leather collar of his overcoat. Unable to get his feet under him to stand, the Ranger was dragged several steps away from the Prince before, with a yank of his shoulders, he wrested the leather from the Wood-Elf's hand. Promptly, the human fell to the ground, landing with a thud, though he was now free of Naiahim: he moved quickly to avoid the Wood-Elf's attempt to grab hold of him, only to back into the legs of Elrohir.
The twins were behind their human brother, their hands on the hilts of their swords though they did not move to lift them. "He was only helping Legolas," Elladan argued quietly, clearing the few feet between Naiahim and Aragorn such that he stood between the Adan and Wood-Elf, blocking the Ranger's view of the hateful scowl Naiahim wore.
He looks more like Ament every moment, the Ranger mused again when finally he could see the blond warrior once more. Except Ament hated Elves and this Elf hates men. Shaking his head in dark amusement, the healer let Elrohir aid him into standing, allowing the younger twin to step in front of him, too, though it normally would have annoyed the Ranger to be the victim of the twins' over-protection. Now, though, diplomacy was needed, and Aragorn was in no condition to reason with the irrational Naiahim. And much like Ament, Naiahim needs someone to set his bigoted thinking to rights.
"I do not want the human near Legolas. He has endured enough of the foul human's handling, and will not endure it while I still breathe!" Having no qualms about engaging in battle with the Noldor, or the Ranger, at least, Naiahim stepped forward despite the two Elven Lords standing between him and Aragorn, his own gleaming sword already brandished.
"Enough. Let the Noldor aid the Prince," Captain Salneril called. The leader had not deigned to interfere with the scuffle that had occurred, nor did he sound overly interested in keeping Naiahim from killing Aragorn or the Noldor. Indeed, Salneril merely glanced towards them and then turned back to brushing the lathered coat of his horse. "I will not return to the King, Naiahim, to tell Thranduil that his son has died from neglect because your grudges kept aid away from him. Hold your tongue, and hold your temper in check."
Naiahim, as if he were actually some feral and rabid animal rather than just appearing like one, bared his teeth in a show of hatred towards the Noldor and Ranger before complying.
Unaware that time had passed since he had last been awake, the Wood-Elf woke to the sounds of argument and anger, and immediately Legolas thought, Naiahim. We are found. Why the Wood-Elves sounded infuriated and what cost this may demand from the humans and Noldor soon followed Legolas' remembrance of their being found, and so the Prince's consciousness crawled from comforting insentience. His eyes focusing, Legolas looked through the blur to find that above him, the sky was lightening – this in itself confused the befuddled Prince, and he thought, Was it not night when last I was awake?
In trying to ask this question aloud, the Prince could only moan. Legolas panicked, struggling against Hanir, though she tried to hold him to her, to keep him from moving. They could not understand him; he would not be able to stop his fellow Elves from killing the mercenary and Ranger. The soft body behind him shifted, and Legolas' view of the argument changed, as well. Naiahim stood before Elladan, Elrohir, and Strider, his sword drawn. He will kill them.
Although he attempted to speak, to gain the attention of the Elves and human, and to stave off the ensuing altercation, it was Hanir who finally stopped the shouting, for she shouted herself, "Quiet! He is waking!"
The warriors, Noldor, and a lone human crowded around the Wood-Elf, standing together as if nothing untoward had been happening moments before. They are well, the relieved Prince thought, his panic dissipated at seeing that Strider looked no worse than last the Silvan had chanced to see him, and that the Noldor and Jalian were unharmed. How long have I been unconscious?
The Ranger was soon kneeling down beside Legolas, and the archer's head lolled to the side as he attempted to face the human. Taking the Elf's forearm in hand, Strider told the Prince, "I am glad to see you awake once more."
Although he opened his mouth to speak, no air could he find to push the words past his chafed lips. Instead, the Prince formed his features into some semblance of a smile, not realizing how ghoulish he appeared, the bruised skin of his face too thin to hide his prominent cheekbones and proud chin, such that he seemed a macabre sight to the concerned friends around him. His head rolling another time where it rested against Hanir's shoulder, the Wood-Elf turned to face the Captain of the King's warriors; frowning to Salneril, the Prince wanted desperately to explain to the Captain that the Noldor and humans were friends.
Whether the Captain understood his Prince's objective or not, Legolas did not know, but Salneril replied just the same, saying, "We are escorting you, the Noldor, and the humans to your father, Prince Legolas. By tomorrow night, you will be home."
It was as much guarantee for his friends' safety as Legolas could hope for at the moment.
"…the King will want to see you, Prince Legolas. Do you not wish to greet your father? You must stay awake," someone told him. Their voices were coaxing, and confusing. The Noldor, human, and Wood-Elves spoke at once, asking and telling the Prince different things, none of which Legolas could understand.
He did want to see his father, and he certainly did not wish to die. However, Legolas was finally freed of responsibility. With Ament dead, the goblet in the honorable keeping of the Noldor, and the twins and humans on their way to Eryn Galen, accompanied by the Silvan warriors who would now see to his friends' safety, Legolas let himself drift in the absolvitory freedom of death.
He could die now. His presence was no longer needed. Not even when the Ranger began to pat the side of the Prince's face, nor when Naiahim, his anger at the humans and Noldor forgotten, began to say the archer's name in worried repetition, did Legolas try again to speak.
He did not wish to die, not from grief or the pains and injuries of his wrecked body, but unlike his choice to remain in the hands of the mercenaries, or his choice to allow Tirn to trade places with his Prince, this time, the Wood-Elf knew it might no longer be his choice to live or die. Legolas' duty was over, his impetus for living lessened with each difficult exhale of the short breath in which he could barely manage to take. As the fog descended over his thinking, tempting him into sleep with the soothing song of the rush of water over rocks and the odd smell of salt behind which the Prince could not fathom the meaning, the Wood-Elf was certain his life was over, as well.