Resting his back on the wall against which the cot he had been given was placed, the Ranger asked, "Where is Jalian?"
"He is probably hiding in a closet somewhere." Elladan followed his teasing reply with a roguish smile at his twin, knowing that Elrohir would jump to the human's defense.
Jabbing lightly the tumescent flesh over his twin's broken collarbone, Elrohir grinned at his brother's yelp of pain. However, the smile soon faded, for Elrohir realized, Jalian is afraid that Thranduil will not forgive his part in Legolas' condition. Wrapping his twin's forehead in clean cloth, the younger Noldo said aloud, "I do not blame him if he were hiding in a closet. Other than Aragorn, he is the only human in the whole palace, and he is one of the Prince's abductors."
They had been led to a guest room, and at once, the servants of Thranduil had filled the room with food, water, bandaging, and herbs. Despite his desire to crawl into one of the long, soft beds in the room, Elrohir had begun without delay the process of coaxing his brothers into allowing him to see their injuries. He did not wish either his twin or the Ranger to be neglected before meeting with the King, as they did not know when the King would call for them.
A knock upon the door, followed shortly by the entrance of a she-Elf wearing the white apron of the Eryn Galen healers, interrupted the brothers' time alone. After bowing her head to them, the she-Elf apologized, "Normally King Thranduil would have his own healer attend to his esteemed guests, but our master healer, Filron, is currently with the Prince. However, I am here to offer my aid, should you need it."
Looking around to each of his brothers, Elrohir estimated what else needed to be done for his twin and the Adan. Nothing could he find, as he had been busy tending their wounds since they had been placed in the guest room, and so told the she-Elf, "I thank you for your offer, my Lady, but we are in need of nothing."
"Then I will leave you to your rest. I am at your service, should you need me," she stated with a smile. The she-Elf had no more than touched the door's knob when someone knocked upon it. Opening the portal slightly, the healer stood back, allowing the one asking entrance to come within the room.
A messenger, an Elfling no older than Aragorn in years, though less mature in the manner of experience, appeared from the small crack of the ajar door. "The King wishes to speak with you," he told them, looking between the three brothers as if unsure to whom the King referred. His next statement solidified Elrohir's supposition, for the Elfling added, giving the Ranger a curious stare, "Any of you will do, if some of you aren't well, he says."
The Elfling's straightforward, unintentional insult of Aragorn had Elrohir smiling. Aragorn would be better off resting, but there is no doubt that he is coming with us.
In fact, Estel had already risen from his seat on the edge of the bed and was smoothing his unruly hair as he hobbled to the door. There would be no question that Aragorn would meet the King, and as the Adan was fed, his wounds clean, and he had already been plied with a brew for his fever, neither Elladan nor Elrohir bothered to argue with the sick human.
"I will have more herbs and bandaging waiting for you upon your return, my Lords," the she-Elf promised, bowing lightly and then leaving the three brothers.
"Thank you," the elder twin told her departing form, and then stood at the door with Aragorn to wait for his identical brother.
As an afterthought, Elrohir seized the strap of a bag he had carried in with him. Amongst the tins of herbs, the mortar and pestle, and his dwindled supply of bandaging lay Melfren's goblet. Unsure as to why, Elrohir shouldered the bag, wanting to take the evidence of Ament and Ramlin's plans to Thranduil.
They followed the young Elda through the palace. Although carved from the mountainside, the halls were unexpectedly well lit by the moonlight streaming down through airshafts overhead, and the walls were not bare rock, but carved into scenes of eclectic taste. Everywhere there were leaves, flowers, and other scenes of the forest outside hewn into the walls in high relief. The skilled carvings were not a caricature of nature, but homage to it. Elrohir had never seen such a sight.
The Elfling before them would walk quickly as he led the three brothers, but Aragorn's injuries and fever slowed his walking – the young Elda would stop his quick pace, turn to see how far behind him the two Noldor and human were, wait impatiently for them to catch up, and then take off down the hall again. Had they not been on their way to see Thranduil, and had the circumstances of their stay in the King's palace been different, Elrohir would have taken the time to marvel at the young Elfling's enthusiasm, and the beauty of the passage through which they walked.
However, the idea of explaining to King Thranduil why his son was dying of Elven grief, the same grief that had forced the sovereign's wife into leaving for Valinor, the grief that Elrohir was certain could not be overcome by the injured Legolas, sobered Elrohir's amusement greatly.
Thranduil sat in a chair beside the Prince's deathbed. He held the archer's limb to him, his own arm twisted through Legolas' arm, and their hands clasped together. "Sit down, please," he told them genially, quietly, as if afraid to disturb the unconscious Prince. Immediately, the messenger who had guided them here began to move chairs for his King's guests, and the trio waited patiently until the Elfling had finished, bowed happily to his King and smiled at Thranduil's thanks, and then left as quickly as he had come.
"Your Majesty," the twins echoed each other, sitting in the chairs the servant placed at the end of the bed, and leaving Aragorn to choose the only available seat. He sat in a hard, wooden chair across the bed from Thranduil. Before him on the bed, propped up into sitting by a mound of soft pillows and his skin as white as the sheets on which he lay, was Legolas.
"How does he fare?" That is a ridiculous question, Aragorn berated himself, feeling the fool for having asked it.
"The healers tell me that he will not live through the night." Drawing himself up to his full height, his face forming into that of a ruler, rather than a father, the King added, "I would know how my son came to be mortally wounded in the company of the sons of Lord Elrond, a Ranger, and a human from Laketown."
Elladan and Elrohir shared a hesitant glance: Aragorn knew as they did that Thranduil would not react well to their story. However, as Estel believed it to be his responsibility to accept the King's wrath, the Ranger began speaking, seeking to spare his brothers. "I am a Ranger, as you know. In my travels, I encountered two brothers, who sought a goblet for their own devices, a goblet fabled to make mortal men have life everlasting."
Elladan reached into the satchel his twin had brought with them and pulled from it the abominable chalice. "It was hidden within an underground tunnel, a tunnel that belonged to the witch Melfren."
The King smoothed the blankets over Legolas' chest absently, telling them, "I know of him, certainly. He was a bane to my people, but we have heard nothing from him since before the retreat of Sauron from Dol Guldur."
"That is because he is dead, your Majesty," Elladan added, holding the goblet out to Thranduil, who looked at the golden object with disdain, and did not move to take it for further inspection. Nonplussed, the elder Noldo looked at the hateful object himself, turning it in his hands as he continued, "However, Melfren cursed the goblet, such that any who used it would lose himself to the void of nonexistence, while Melfren would return. The mercenaries did not know of the curse, but immortality was the purpose for which the two brothers and their fellow mercenaries wished to obtain the goblet."
Already they had baffled the King. When they had told each other this story, each had known enough to fill in the missing information not provided; but for Thranduil, this information was irrelevant until it was connected to Legolas. Aragorn set about doing just that, informing the King, "The eldest of the two brothers, Ament, blamed the deaths of his parents on you, your Majesty, and sought revenge against you both to cause you suffering, and to usurp your lands and wealth. He intended to use Legolas as the means for this end, to blackmail you into turning over your title and home to him."
"Wealth I might have given him, but Eryn Galen? This human must have been a fool to think I would hand over such a thing, or that I even had the right to do so!"
"Not a fool, your Majesty. Ament was mad, as was his brother. They sought only wealth and destruction," Elladan interjected. The Ranger watched the elder twin replace the goblet back within Elrohir's satchel; the candlelit room seemed brighter with the vile cup hidden.
Crossing his arms over his chest, and with it drawing Legolas' arm to his chest as well, Thranduil asked, "You say these brothers blamed me for their parents' deaths? Why?"
"A band of Orcs attacked Laketown some years ago, mauling a farmer to death in his fields. This man was Ament and Ramlin's father," Aragorn explained.
"I remember the incident," the King told them, shaking his head with his brow furrowed in thought. "But the human was mistaken. Our warriors were on the borders of the forest to keep the Orcs and Wargs from entering Laketown, but some of the foul creatures made it through the lines of warriors. Three Wood-Elves died that day, though I heard of only one human who was slain."
"Ament claimed that his mother soon wasted away from grief," Aragorn added delicately, softly, in respect for the Elf who now did the same in the bed around which they sat. "After this, the two brothers were landless and destitute."
"I would never have considered that the humans would not help their own, though I did not know the children became orphans," he said. Adjusting Legolas' torso so that he lay more fully upon the pillows propping him up, the King changed the topic, asking, "These men captured Legolas to exact their revenge against me?"
It was much more complicated than this. "In part, your Majesty. It was Ament's plan, but he did not abduct Legolas himself. The two brothers I encountered in Fulton, while two other humans, a man named Meika, and Jalian, the human from Laketown, were the ones who took the Prince."
Thranduil rose from his seat, releasing Legolas' hand as he charged, "The scarred one is responsible for this?"
Now very glad that Jalian had not come with them to meet the King, Aragorn thought of a way to diffuse the King's anger, but it was Elrohir, who had remained silent thus far, that spoke. "Legolas forgave him, King Thranduil. Legolas gave Jalian his word that he would receive no punishment for his actions."
"Why?"
The King's simple question could not be answered so simply in return; Aragorn sighed to himself, thinking, I hope, for Jalian's sake, that Thranduil believes Elrohir. The mercenary had helped them before and after Legolas' promise, and it would not be fair for the King to renege on Legolas' assurance of protection. "Legolas forgave him because Jalian aided us in escaping from Ament's plans, because he helped Lords Elrohir and Elladan in safely escorting Legolas and me here, and because Jalian had no part in your son's torment or Tirn's death."
Aragorn realized that he had told the King more than Thranduil had expected, for the sovereign sat heavily in his chair, his face slack and his mouth ajar in disbelief. Thranduil asked, "Tirn is dead?" Nodding, Aragorn watched the King's reaction, and found that the sovereign's shock became a sad smile as he said, "I knew that if any could find Legolas, it would be Tirn." Turning his smile down to the dying Prince, Thranduil told the Noldor and Ranger, "Tirn always held his charge as sentry to be his calling, not merely his occupation."
"He found Legolas, yes, your Majesty, and he died giving his life for his Prince." After speaking, Elladan reached out to place a hand on Elrohir's shoulder. Although Elrohir gave no ostensible impression of the sorrow he felt for the sentry's death, his twin could feel it nonetheless, and so offered his comforting touch. "He died a brave and noble death."
"What of Legolas, and of these men who took him? Where are these men now?"
"They are dead." Happy to give the King some good news, Estel added, "Two of them by Legolas' hand, no less, a third from Tirn's bow, while a fourth one, another man from Laketown who aided Jalian in capturing Legolas, died while trying to aid the Prince and I in escaping."
"You were captive with my son?" the sovereign asked, his attention turning to the bruises and cuts on the Ranger's face and neck. "Why would they want a Ranger?"
However much he wished never to tell the King, Estel admitted, "I was not their captive, your Majesty – at least, not at first." Before Thranduil could question this, and thus become irate, Aragorn explained, "When I met these two brothers in Fulton, I did not know of their plans for revenge. I only knew that they were seeking the goblet, and that with it, they intended to use it against the Elves. To follow them, to find out their plans, I joined their ranks, convincing them I sought the same goal as they.
"I did not know they would capture an Elf, your Majesty," the young human nearly pled to appease his desire to have Thranduil forgive him, even if he did not condone the Ranger's actions. "When Jalian and Meika brought Legolas, I would have taken the Prince with me immediately, had not Legolas been poisoned with blueweed, and had not I desired to know of the goblet, to ensure that it would not be used against the Elves."
Thranduil was listening intently but did not speak, and so Aragorn kept talking to fill the awkward silence, "The mercenaries did not know that the Elf they had captured was Prince Legolas. It was an unfortunate coincidence. Together, five mercenaries, myself, and your son traveled into the south of the forest to find Melfren's goblet."
"That would have taken days of travel. You did not try to aid my son in that time?"
Aragorn swallowed thickly but schooled his features to hide the welling tears he felt to be responsible for the next part of his story. "I tried, your Majesty. The mercenary Ramlin was wont to inflicting pain and suffering, and he was obsessed with Legolas, wishing to harm him…" The Ranger swallowed again, though this time it was the bile of the memory that caused his deglutition. "Ramlin attempted to abuse Legolas. I stopped the mercenary, and Legolas fled."
The King studied Aragorn for a moment, and before the Ranger could look away from the misery and mourning in the King's stare, Thranduil had turned his gaze back to his son. "You say you stopped this human from harming Legolas, but my son now dies from grief. This mercenary Ramlin succeeded in his vile act, then."
"He did, King Thranduil, a while later. I could not help the Prince." Again, the need to receive the King's understanding caused Aragorn to beseech, "I kept him captive with us, your Majesty, so that I could continue my charade to find the goblet. I needed the brothers to trust me so that I can stop them. It is my fault that Legolas was abused, and that he lies before us now, fading. It is as you say. I should have stopped them, I should have helped Legolas."
"Estel," Elrohir admonished gently, "Legolas told us himself that he chose to stay with you after learning of Ament's plans to exact vengeance against his father." To Thranduil, the younger twin explicated, giving his young Adan brother another plaintive glance, "Legolas did not wish to leave, and continued as their captive because he, too, wished to find the goblet, to protect you, and to protect the Elves. When we found him, when he learned that the goblet would return Melfren, Legolas fought with us to kill Ament, to stop Melfren's return. It was his hand that slew Ament before he could become Melfren entirely."
Thranduil, confused and little more knowledgeable about what had happened than before, patted the Prince's arm, his contact with his son rarely ceasing, and his vision always returning to the failing Silvan. "The men are dead, as is Tirn, with my son soon to follow – and all for wealth and this goblet," the King whispered to himself. "I do not understand it, but I wish to hear no more tonight. One day you will tell me all of what has occurred," Thranduil demanded softly, to which he earned a chorus of various terms of agreement from the three brothers.
Indeed, there was no point in telling the King of the minutiae of the story. Thranduil was overwhelmed as it was, for as Aragorn watched, the sovereign rested his arms against the mattress and pressed his face against where Legolas' arm lay between his own. The King wept openly, his shoulders shaking as silent sobs wracked his body.
The Ranger looked to his brothers for some indication of what they should do; however, his brothers, like him, were looking uncomfortably to him and each other. The Ranger had never seen an Elf cry so overtly before, except perhaps for his brothers, but then, he had never seen an Elven father sitting beside his dying son until this night.
It went against the hopes of a warrior to die in such a way. A warrior was supposed to expire in the battlefield, his weapon in hand, slain while fighting – not dying in bed, languishing from injuries more insidious than can be made by arrow, sword, or axe. Legolas deserved a better death than this, the Ranger thought, but then amended, angry with himself for accepting so readily that the Prince would die, Legolas deserves better than death.
"Your Majesty," Elladan said, breaking the silence as he suggested, "we will leave you alone with Prince Legolas. Should you have need of us, we are at your call."
"Of course," the King replied, his voice muffled until he raised his head. Tears streaked down Thranduil's face, and he made no move to hide or wipe them away. "If you've need of anything, ask one of the servants." Standing with his brothers, the human made as if to leave, but the weeping King called to him, "Stay a moment, Ranger."
He settled back in his seat, casting a worried frown with the twins, who only gave him identical, reassuring smiles, and then walked from the room, leaving him alone with the dying Silvan and his grieving father.
"You could have aided my son," the King began, his eyes roaming the body of his wasted progeny on the bed.
Forgetting his manners, Aragorn interrupted, longing to explain to Thranduil that he had done what he thought was best, "Your Majesty, I should have aided him, I know. I –"
It was Thranduil's turn to interrupt, and he held up a hand, which silenced the human at once. "Legolas was a warrior. He has placed himself in danger many times to ensure the safekeeping of our home. Always his heart was set on doing what is good, and not what is good for himself," the King told him, finally turning to face Aragorn, "but doing what is for the common good, whether it be for his people, or what is merely the just course of action."
"I am not sure that I gave him this choice, your Majesty." Estel shifted uncomfortably in his chair, knowing that the King had not heard the whole of the story, but wanting to apologize to Thranduil for his part in it regardless.
The King stroked his son's hand fondly, his eyes returning to the young Wood-Elf's bruised and thin face as he told Aragorn, smiling as he did, "Hold no guilt for your decision. Legolas must have trusted you with his life, Ranger; else he would have slain you at the first opportunity to be free." Taken aback by this frank justification, Estel searched the King's face for the slightest hint that Thranduil was jesting, but though the King was smiling through his tears, Thranduil was not trying to tease the Ranger. "Tirn held this same conviction for doing one's duty," the King continued, leaning forward to adjust the bandage around Legolas' chest. "It is never easy to send one's warriors to their deaths, especially when one's warriors include one's son."
Thranduil smiled at the human, gracing him with a smile reminiscent of Legolas', the Ranger noted. "You made the kingly decision – the right decision. Do not doubt yourself, Aragorn, son of Arathorn. One day you will see that your decision was right, and will not hesitate to make such a choice again, even if such actions never become easier to decide. Being a King is a burden, not a blessing, if the King's heart is true." The Ranger stiffened and opened his mouth to deny his heritage out of old habit, but the sovereign's smile grew, and he told Aragorn, "You did not think I would recognize your name? I am familiar with the world of men, Ranger."
Aragorn fidgeted a moment before the King sighed and returned his gaze to his son. "Legolas and Tirn both made a choice to give their lives for this," the King told him, the tears in the sovereign's cerulean orbs springing suddenly once more, slipping from Thranduil's ancient eyes and down his ageless face. "Their lives are to be given as they see fit, and your cause, their cause – the good of all – was worthy of them. Do not make their actions meaningless with your guilt, for it is an insult."
"The Prince has instructed me much the same," the Ranger told Thranduil, thinking of how son and father were alike.
Beaming down at his Prince, the golden King told the human in a subdued, wistful voice, "Legolas has always been wise beyond his years."
Not knowing what else to say, Aragorn watched the unsteady rise and fall of the Prince's chest. This may very well be the last time I see him alive, the Adan realized, bowing his head at the thought.
Legolas faded ineluctably from his grief and injury. The Ranger would likely never get the chance to speak with Legolas again, and though Legolas had already forgiven the human, Estel sighed with relief that the King had forgiven him as well. Aragorn's shame lifted from him, and the King's words were a welcomed salve to his wounded soul, for if he could not be assured of Legolas' clemency, then his father's forgiveness would have to suffice.
Mistaking the Ranger's thoughtful reticence and stooped demeanor as exhaustion, Thranduil told the human, "Go find rest, Ranger." Thranduil held the Prince's hand to his face, turning Legolas' palm to his cheek in a gesture of unchecked devotion. "Find the Noldor. I would not have them worrying that I have harmed you in some fit of rage," he told Aragorn, smiling knowingly at the human.
Flushing, for Aragorn had considered that possibility more than once during the journey here, the human nodded, standing at once to leave the King alone with his son. "And Aragorn," the King called ere the Ranger had opened the door, "thank you for returning my son to me."
Again, the Ranger only nodded, for his heart, though no longer heavy with shame, could not accept such gratitude. I should have said goodbye to him, he told himself as he walked from the room. Legolas will not be alive next I see him, I am sure of it. The burn of tears threatened, for Aragorn had just seen his last of one of the noblest persons he had yet to meet outside of his Elven brothers and father.
The hall was thick with mourning Eldar – whether these Wood-Elves had some purpose here, or if they were only drawn to the hall because their Prince lay in a room nearby, dying slowly from his grief and injuries, was a matter unknown to Estel. They bowed their heads to him as he walked past, or smiled melancholically at him in greeting, their misgiving tangible.
Quickly, Estel followed the twists and turns of the hallways until he had found the guest rooms. I hope the twins are not here, he thought, wishing for time to himself, if only for a few moments.
Inside the room, there was no Noldor or Jalian. He stretched out across one of the cots, listening to the sound of the Forest River outside. I wonder if Legolas can hear it, he pondered. A tear coursed down his bearded face, followed by another, and then one more, until the Ranger was weeping outright.
Aragorn now remembered what Legolas had told him of the Forest River: the Elf had spoken of the Forest River in reference to his grief, having told Estel that the sound, the break of the gentle waves over the rocky shoreline, was lulling him away from the song of the forest, and into death.
But Aragorn now knew better. The murmur of the Forest River had not called Legolas to his grief – it had called the Prince home.
Rolling to his side and rubbing at his watery eyes, the Ranger let his weary body relax, falling into sleep for the first time in many days with shoulders unburdened by guilt.