Forever Afternoon
Chapter Five
Word Count: 3,463
Rating/Disclaimer/Summary: Same as chapter 1, really
Author's Note: I decided that I should add Gandalf to the main characters on this story, since he has played a larger part than I thought he would. I knew that everyone from the fellowship would be making an appearance eventually, but he started maneuvering people, and he got himself a bigger part than he was supposed to have, crafty old wizard that he is.

On the bright side, I believe that I have managed to resolve the subplot for Legolas and Aragorn, which means they can get back to their more important task of finding Gollum, and the others are in place where they need to be. Well, almost.

Unexpected and Unwelcome Things

"I go no further."

Sérëdhiel felt her stomach twist, and she shook her head. She had expected this, but she could not allow it. She would not separate from her brother, not now. They needed him. Alassë's child was coming, and he should be there for that. "Varyar—"

"No. I betrayed Legolas, and I do not care if he said he forgave me. His is not the only opinion that holds sway in Greenwood, and I will not have my presence endanger any of you. In my 'death,' I had redemption. If it becomes known that I am alive while you are in need of this sanctuary, you will lose it, and you may even find yourselves imprisoned because of my actions." Firyavaryar's resolve carried through into his voice, and she did not know how she could convince him to come with them. "No. I go no further. Nostalion can find me if I am needed, but I do not believe I will be."

"You cannot expect us to leave you alone when you are wounded. Varyar, this is insane," Idhrenion said, shaking his head. "It is also wrong. My child should not come into this world without the one who sacrificed everything for it to even be possible. I need you there. Alassë needs you there."

Varyar snorted, glancing toward where Alassë sat, panting and glaring at all of them as the pain overtook her. "Your bond does not want me there, and I am certain I will see enough of this child so as to become tired of its very existence. Go. Do not make her suffer because you are all too cowardly to proceed without me. I am not worried."

"Call me a coward again, and it is not Greenwood that you will have to fear," Nostalion told him, and Varyar laughed. Sérëdhiel shook her head, not understanding their humor—she had never liked its darkness, but she knew that bound them together as gwedeir.

"Go on now," Firyavaryar said. "If you do not, you will all have to fear Alassë's wrath after the child is born and she is able to move again."

Sérëdhiel grimaced. She knew that Varyar was right, but she did not like this. She rarely disagreed with her brother's orders, and this should not be one of those times, but she did not like leaving him behind. She never had, even if she knew that he could defend himself. "You are wounded."

"And only time will heal it. Go."

"Someone is coming," Nostalion said, taking her by the arm and leading her away from her brother. She wanted to pull free and yell at him, scream and call him the worst sort of names for agreeing to this separation, but she knew that they had their reasons for it. She could not forget that the last time they left Varyar, he had almost died, and she did not think they would get another miracle. He would die the next time.

"We should not leave him."

"We must. Alassë needs shelter, and they might not all be as forgiving as Legolas," Nostalion said. "And the prince is not in Greenwood, so we cannot depend on his intervention."

Sérëdhiel stopped, frowning. "Legolas is gone?"

Nostalion nodded, pulling her forward. "I do not know exactly where he is, but he is not within the borders of this land. From what I can tell, he is still in the region of Rhovanion, but that area is large, and I cannot be more specific. I cannot quite tell as my ability does not follow a map."

She knew that, and she understood it. She did not like this any more than she liked leaving Firyavaryar behind. "If Legolas is not here—"

"We will manage."

"Sérëdhiel?"

"Ehtyarion," she said, relieved to hear the elder elf's voice. Turning to face him, she forced a smile as he frowned at her. She did not know how pleased anyone from Greenwood would be to see them after the way they had left last time. "I am glad you have found us. We have had some trouble, and Alassë is ready to give birth. Can we please beg of you temporary shelter?"

The captain of the guard frowned, looking from her to Nostalion. She could not decipher anything from the look that he gave her husband—she did not know if he was glad to see his nephew again or upset with him for their current state.

"You are wounded."

"It is minor, and it is Alassë that concerns me. She should not have had to flee while in labor."

"No, she should not," the guard agreed. "We must get her back to the palace. Where is she?"

"This way."

"You have come here during a dark time, stranger. What business do you have here?"

"I am Strider, a ranger of the north," Aragorn answered. "I hope you will understand that my business is my own."

Beside him, Legolas shifted, betraying his discomfort. Perhaps they should not have come. Aragorn had thought it best that they did, since he knew that Legolas would have no peace until he knew what had happened to force the elves to flee to his father's lands. All the same, he was worried. He did not know what could have happened to this place, and if it was as bad as the trees had suggested, then Legolas himself could be at risk here. Aragorn would not let him be captured or harmed, not again.

"There aren't many that have business here."

"We were passing through," Aragorn answered, though he did not want to explain why they had chosen to do so. "We saw the smoke from your village, and something drew us closer. What has happened here?"

"Elves," the man spat with anger. "Filthy elves."

Aragorn was forced to restrain himself from reacting, and he did not know how Legolas managed to stay calm when the spittle landed near his feet. "Elves? What about elves?"

"Had a few of them here not long ago. They hid in a house, did some sort of ritual, and our children got sick. When we confronted them, they killed Gûrdramm, our blacksmith, and a few others. We have just finished burying the last of them."

Aragorn held back a grimace. He did not want to hear that, and he did not know how to react to it, either. He did not believe that some group of elves—not Mirkwood elves, that was certain—that had come to this village and poisoned its children. He did not know why any of the elves would, though he could easily see where this misunderstanding had turned into tragedy.

"Are the children still sick?"

"The first one's fever broke last night. It just took those creatures being driven from here for them to start their recovery."

Aragorn knew that was not the only reason for the children's illness starting to turn, though he doubted that he could change their opinion after what had happened during the confrontation. "Would you allow me to see them? I have some training in healing."

"That's what they claimed. Are you an elf, too?"

He reached up and pushed back his hood, and then he held back the part of his hair that had fallen over his ears. "I am not. I am a ranger, and I have learned much of healing in my life, but if you do not want my help, I will not force the issue."

"I know what you could do if you really wanted to help," an angry woman said, folding her arms over her chest. "Go hunt down those elves and make them pay for this."

"That is not necessary," another woman said, shaking her head. "If you would have listened to them, we could have avoided all of this. Maybe Gûrdramm would not be dead—"

"You can say that because it is not any of your children that suffered. Yours are fine, not a one of them got sick. You think you would say that those elves were not monsters if your son was lying there with a fever? No, you would not," the first woman told her, pushing the smaller one out of her way as she went back into her home. Aragorn looked at Legolas, meeting the elf's eyes under his hood. Legolas nodded.

"If you would let me see any of the children, I will do what I can to help," Aragorn said, knowing that Legolas would slip away to speak to the one woman who did not share her village's hatred of the elves. "It may be something that I know nothing about, that I cannot hope to fix. I do not know that I can do anything, but if I can, is it not better that I try?"

The first man who'd spoken stopped, hesitating. He looked toward the woman who defended the elves, and she nodded, but his look darkened before he turned back to Aragorn. "Fine, you can look, but do not think it will be easy. You will not be left unattended. I am going with you."

Aragorn had not expected it to be anything else, and he knew that by splitting up, he and Legolas would learn the truth of what happened here. He followed the man he assumed to be the mayor or chief—whatever he called himself—into the house behind him.

"Here, ranger," the mayor said, gesturing to the bed where a small child shuddered, still ravaged by fever. Aragorn knelt down beside the bed, looking at the girl with pity. "You see what those elves have done."

This was not an elven sickness—elves did not get sick—but Aragorn would not argue with the other man, not until he had done everything he could for the girl.

"You seem prone to injury, gildin."

"Prone to trouble," Firyavaryar corrected, opening his eyes to look at the Istari. Now that he was awake, he could feel the bark digging into his back, though it was quickly overtaken by the pain in his side. "Or cursed by the Valar. I think that depends on the perspective and if one believes in them."

Mithrandir did an impression of an old man, leaning over him and holding onto his staff like he might fall without it. "You believe yourself cursed?"

"I did not die," Varyar reminded him. That would have been enough, but he could add many other reasons. The first and foremost of those, though, was half the reason he hurt now. "And I am still a walking plague. You expect me to consider myself blessed?"

"Perhaps not," the wizard agreed, sitting down next to him with an exaggerated groan. "Or perhaps there is a reason why you still carry that plague."

Varyar snorted. "What, to kill ignorant edain?"

"No," Mithrandir said, and Firyavaryar did not know how much of that incident the Istari was aware of, but he had to assume that Mithrandir knew more than what he had said, "but there may come a time when such a gift will be needed in battle."

"Do not call it a gift," Varyar told him, his voice cold. He would never consider what Draugminaion had done to him a gift. He killed everything he touched. He could not touch his family without gloves. This was torture, one without end. He could not even have the escape of death. And this was a gift? "I have already killed one Maia. I can make it two."

Mithrandir laughed. "Perhaps you could. That does not mean that you should."

Varyar grunted. This was not amusing. "Yes, you have some part yet to play in this Middle Earth. I know that is what you like to say, and I do not doubt that it is true for you. However, whatever that part is, it has nothing to do with me, so leave me in peace."

The Istari raised an eyebrow. "This is peace?"

"Very well. It is a most uncomfortable tree that does not care to have an Avari resting against it," Firyavaryar muttered, wanting to close his eyes again. He should have been asleep so that he could heal. "What do you want, Istari?"

"Why do you assume I want something?"

"I have never known a time when someone approached me that did not want something, not since the day I met Ogol disguised as a trader," Varyar said, and while he knew that he should make his siblings and Legolas exceptions to that statement, he could not. Their demands were not as painful as the others, but that did not mean that they asked nothing of him. Legolas wanted a friend and understanding. His family wanted so much more.

"And you assume me to be like that."

"You are like that. You will send us all to our deaths someday." Firyavaryar was no longer a child desperate for help that the Istari had never given him, longing for comfort and was given some obscure and meaningless riddle instead. He had seen too much and suffered too long to trust anyone, and though he knew he could not blame Mithrandir for those things, he could not forget that he had asked for help and gotten nothing. He would have done anything for the wizard to undo what Ogol had done, but Mithrandir had not. He just said that Firyavaryar had a part to play in Middle Earth.

"Are you so certain of that?"

"I am." Varyar stiffened, staring at the Istari with sudden suspicion. "Where did you send Legolas?"

"I asked Aragorn to track a creature down for me."

"Aragorn?"

Mithrandir smiled. "Ah, yes. You would know him as Estel, though I believe your name for him is echil."

"And Legolas went with him."

The Istari nodded, giving Varyar a look like he might a favored pupil, but those days were well behind him. He was no longer seeking knowledge from wizards and trying to escape one that had marked him.

"They were both willing to undertake the task."

"You mean that he was willing to follow his echil as much as the echil was him. What have you sent them into?" Varyar demanded, pushing himself up from the tree. "I did not save that human and almost condemn my childhood friend for you to use them as pawns. What is this task? Tell me, now."

"You said it would have been different if they had listened."

The woman lifted her head, frowning as she looked at him. "We should not be talking. Condir would not like that."

Legolas nodded. He knew that no one in this village wanted to hear her opinion of what had happened, but he needed to know the truth, and her version of it would be the most honest. He thought she was unbiased, and she might be the only one who was. "Please. Tell me what happened."

She sighed. "I do not think that the elves had anything to do with the children falling ill. We did not even know that they were elves until Gûrdramm grabbed their leader. They had rented a home on the outskirts of the village—Barnost overcharged them for it, as it was in a poor state. They undertook repairing it themselves and never complained. That is what I mean—they did not come near us. They did not even speak to us. How could they have poisoned anyone?"

"You do not believe it to be some kind of evil magic?"

She snorted. "I may live in a remote village, and I may not have seen as much of the world as you have, ranger, but I am not a fool. I do not think all elves use magic or that they must be evil if they do. It is true none of our healers know what ails those children, but then we are not skilled healers. If we had only let that woman—elf—look at them, things might have been different. Instead, Gûrdramm confronted their leader and died."

Legolas hoped that Estel could help the children. He himself did not know enough about healing. He had never been interested in learning about it, though he should have been. Part of his trouble was knowing good healers, and with such experts around him, why did he need to learn? He was almost always the one injured—it was either him or Estel, or so the twins would claim.

He missed the twins. Perhaps if they had stayed, Legolas and Estel would not be trying to find some way of fixing their friendship.

"I hope my friend can help the children."

"As do I," she said, forcing a smile. "I do not know what brought you here, but I hope your coming is a sign of change—positive change—that means that our current darkness will not last."

"What happened to the elves?"

"I do believe they meant it when they said that they wanted to leave in peace. They—"

"Dartha!" A man grabbed her by the arm, dragging her away from Legolas. "You know better than to talk to strangers. Did you miss what happened the last time? People died. And those elves got away with killing them."

"We didn't have to fight them—"

Legolas could not hear the rest of their argument. Dartha was pulled into a home he assumed was her own just as an arm clamped down on his. "You. Ranger. You don't have permission to be out here on your own. Condir wants you in with your friend."

"I am not a healer," Legolas started to protest, but he stopped himself, not wanting to create more problems. If his hood was pushed back and he was discovered to be an elf, both he and Estel would be in trouble—and those children would continue on without treatment.

"That does not matter. We do not trust strangers around here."

No, and after what happened, he did not think they would for a very long time, but Legolas did not want to add to that. He thought he understood now, but he did not know how to help either side. He did believe that it was only a misunderstanding brought about by their understandable fear for their children's lives. They had assumed that the strange illness had to have come from the strangers, as might seem logical under the circumstances, and that had led to a confrontation that turned violent.

It was a stupid, terrible tragedy, and Legolas wished that it could have been prevented, but he did not know if there was any way that it could have been.

"I am taking you to Condir now. You should not have left him or your friend."

Legolas grimaced, but he forced himself not to fight as he was led toward the mayor's house.

"It worked," Condir said, shoving past them as he ran out the door, almost knocking Legolas' expert into the side of the building. "Quick, you! Find more of this weed. Now. Whatever that ranger did is working."

Legolas reached up to make sure his hood was in place, and then he ducked inside the house as the mayor continued giving orders. "Es—Strider?"

"In here," Estel called, and Legolas went around the corner to find his friend by the bed of a little girl. "He thinks I have worked a miracle, but I believe she was already on the mend long before I did anything—this is just the natural progression of the disease. I have only relieved a bit of her pain."

"Nevertheless, I believe that you have done a great thing for this village," Legolas told him. "I did get some of the story from Dartha before the man I assume was her husband ushered her away. It is basically what we heard before—the children became ill, the strangers were blamed, and when they confronted the leader of the elves, the blacksmith died. Dartha believes the elves only acted in defense and that their healer would have helped the children if they had let her. I do not know if we would have a chance to speak to her again."

"I think, after I have seen to the other children as I promised, that we should go. While this 'miracle' has pleased them, it will all end if they discover you are an elf, and I do not think we should be here for them to learn that."

"No, I agree," Legolas said. "You have allowed me to satisfy my curiosity and my fears about this incident. Let us not delay our true task any longer."

Estel looked at him. "I allowed you?"

"It was your idea to come investigate."

"I knew you needed answers."

"I did. Thank you, Estel. You are a true friend."