Chapter Two
This darkness feels so comfortable, comforting, folding me into its soft embrace and holding me there, secure. Nothing can reach me here, nothing can hurt me. All thought ceases. Time ceases to exist. All else falls away to nothing. I am suspended in eternity and it feels so good, so right. I have long since stopped wondering about the who and the why of my existence before the dark came and have allowed it to lull me gently into a mindless stupor. I open myself to take it all in, to become one with its glorious touch, its serenity. Darkness floods the whole of my being and I feel released.
Another sound breaks the tranquillity, low and soft like before but somehow more urgent, more persistent. I try to move through the darkness, to escape this unwanted intrusion into my peace but somehow cannot seem to get away. It surrounds me, pulling at my very being, insistently burrowing into my mind until I can stand it no more. I hear a long drawn out scream and recognise it has come from my own mouth. I try to hold on to the dark but it begins to ebb away.
"Saes, please", I am begging to be left alone here in this sanctuary, begging the darkness to enfold me once more but it recedes further and further until at last I am left, sobbing, feeling as if my heart has been torn into pieces as noise and light assault my senses and an aching void fills my whole being.
"Saes, Legolas, please, wake up", the young man is leaning over the unmoving form lying in the bed, gently brushing the long golden hair framing the porcelain pale face with his fingers, repeating the plea over and over in soft tones laced with love. " Legolas, I need you, saes mellon nin, please, my friend, wake up".
He has eaten little and slept less these past days, he doesn't even know how many days have passed any more. All he sees is the motionless being before him and it tears at his heart. Guilt washes over him time after time as he wonders what he could have done to prevent this, he should have been more alert, more aware of what was happening around him. That the elf now lying in front of him also hadn't appeared to sense any danger doesn't enter his mind. He feels that he should have and that gnaws at his heart.
However many times his father and brothers tell him it is not his fault, could never be his fault, he cannot help but play the scene over and over in his head, looking for what he missed, the thing that he could have noticed or done to prevent the horror he could still see in his mind so clearly, from playing out to its present conclusion.
He had no recollection of running over to the stricken elf, stumbling over a tree root and almost falling on top of him in his agitated state. He remembers kneeling over his friend, quickly scanning his body with anxious eyes and noting, with alarm, the growing red stains blossoming over the front of the moss green tunic Legolas habitually wears when travelling. Short, ragged breaths were issuing from lips stretched taut with pain, but at least there were breaths.
Oblivious to his surroundings Estel, struggled against the rising panic he felt rising within him. He needed to remain calm for there to be any chance of keeping life in the torn body in front of him. He needed to disassociate his mind from the who and concentrate on the how, but it was so hard to do when his very soul felt the agony of the separation that could yet happen. Forcing himself to breathe slowly his subconscious took over and led fingers and mind in a well known dance whilst they probed the depths the arrows had penetrated and surveyed their proximity to vital organs. He gave silent thanks to the Valar on realising that the arrows had both been wide of their mark, the one embedded in the Princes stomach was the least of his worries but that which Estel had initially thought to have pierced the most pure and generous of hearts had found rest just above and to the left of the organ.
Blinking back the tears that threatened to blur his vision, the young man knew that although not immediately fatal the wounds may yet kill and quickly reviewed the options left open to him. His pack was out of reach and he did not want to waste time trying to retrieve it so he quickly grasped the hem of the travelling cloak lying bundled under the fallen elf and tore at it to create wads of fabric he could place around the offending projectiles to then push down hard upon with both hands applying pressure to staunch the flow of blood still seeping from both injuries. His tortured mind wondered how this had happened and then, more insistently, why? For the time being he forced the questions to the back of his mind and concentrated on the task at hand.
The red tide appeared to be ebbing as he pressed down on each wound, aware of the pain he would be causing but refusing to let his mind dwell on it. The prince suddenly tensed under his hands, then let out a quiet sigh and went limp, the tension leaving his usually fair face and body as consciousness finally fled. For the longest moment Estels heart leapt into his throat, he couldn't breathe!
" No! Legolas!" His overloaded mind whirled as he tried to articulate his fear. " Don't leave me!"
He tried to scream but no sound could escape from his constricted throat and panic once again threatened to overwhelm healers instict then took over again and nudged his brain back into control as the shaking hand pressing on the left hand wound shifted to rest over where the elfs heart lay and relayed back the fact that there was a faint, irregular heartbeat still present and his stormy grey eyes noticed an almost imperceptible rise and fall in the chest he was staring at with such anguish, showing that there was still life in the frail body before him, albeit one holding on by a very fine thread. The young man knew that they had to get back to his father in Rivendell before that thread let go and he lost the one who meant so much to him, who was the other half to himself, and he didn't think that he could survive if that happened.
Calming his ragged nerves he gently let go of the pads he was still pushing against and removed his dagger from its sheath at his worn leather belt. Removing the arrows was not an option right now, they were better left to help plug the holes they had created in the smooth pale flesh, but if he wished to move the elf they would need to be shortened to minimise the risk of them being caught or pulled and causing further injury. Watching the two wounds carefully he realised that blood was no longer flowing freely from them but the stains almost obliterating the green of the fabric showed that much too much had already been lost. He had no time to loose. Thankful that the prince was unconscious he quickly cut through the first shaft lodged in the elfs stomach and cast it aside with a grimace, as if it burned his hand. He then turned his attention to the second, more perilous arrow, and had just made the final slice through the offending projectile when he felt his right shoulder seized in a vice like grip.