To Rekindle Hearts

Chapter Six: The Fall

A sharp crack sounded above the rainwater, and Ithildim watched the man release his hold on Legolas and stumble away from him. Legolas shook his head slightly and then stepped forward and pressed his long knife into Aelfric's chest. Ithildim was at least grateful Legolas was not feeling insensate enough to attempt to put the much larger man in a chokehold or press his own knife to the man's throat.

"You will let my friend leave," said Legolas. "You will let him live, and the king's wrath will be less. Release him now, from the blade and from your men, and once he is far enough away to be safe, you may take my weapon, and slaughter me however you wish. If you will not release him, I do not care what you do to me after, but I will spring upon you now and slam this knife straight through."

Aelfric wiped blood from his face and looked at the blade pushing against his outer clothing.

For a moment, no one spoke. Legolas increased the pressure on the man's chest, and the man grimaced as he felt the sharp tip of the knife push through to the skin covering his sternum.

To Aelfric, the elf looked absolutely feral and desperate, and he did not doubt that he might die by his hand. But, this elf was also injured and not so mighty as he. So Aelfric took his chances. He grabbed Legolas again by the broken arm, even as Legolas brought down the blade so it bit into the back of Aelfric's hand, but not with much force, so that he would not dismember his own arm if the man twisted away. Then Aelfric elbowed Legolas in the cheek and swept his other arm around to twist the knife from his thin wrist. It hit the ground and slid sluggishly on the wet earth toward Ithildim, settling among a pile of rotted leaves near the tree's trunk.

Ithildim watched helplessly. He knew this was over for Legolas, and that it would have been over whether he had provoked the tavern-man or not—no matter how skilled the warrior, an injured warrior could not compensate fully for an injury, a warrior lacking his weapons could not truly defend himself, and without all those things, an enemy twice one's weight was simply not a vanquishable target.

The man picked up Legolas under his arms and threw him onto the ground, digging a punch into his stomach.

Ithildim could tell from the way Legolas had quit retaliating, that he too knew his part was over.

"Is this really just about the winter and someone else's children?" Legolas asked, gasping.

"No," Aelfric said, punctuating the next words by slamming Legolas into the ground by his shoulders. "I held my own son while he died of hunger, and then next held my daughter when she took her last breath. Weakened by cold and lack of food, she was taken by the croup. This is certainly just," he said, punching Legolas again in the gut, "about the winter, and my children, for your kind might have saved us, and you did not."

Aelfric patted Legolas on the cheek, almost paternally, before sitting back on his heels and coldly considering the elf. Legolas' chest heaved and his face was pink from Aelfric's implacable hands, but he pushed himself still onto his elbows, and met the man's eyes fully.

"It is better to me that you are the king's son," said Aelfric. "I will not feel so guilty in taking your life, as I might have in just taking the life of one of his people. It seems so appropriate to take the life of his child."

And then he lifted Legolas by the front of his overshirt, walked toward the faint sound of the stream, and stood Legolas upon the stream's edge, which Ithildim realized now was probably very steep, if not, in fact, a cliff.

"If I do this, you will let my friend go, then?" asked Legolas, meeting Ithildim's eyes over Aelfric's shoulder. Legolas stood on the balls of his feet to alleviate the pressure of his bunched overshirt on his neck as the man held him still by the chest.

Ithildim could not shake his head for the blade was pressed still to his throat, but Legolas saw Ithildim tighten his jaw and blink at him emphatically, balling his hands into fists at his sides before closing his eyes tightly and severing Legolas' gaze. Ithildim breathed deeply to calm his emotions; he felt the blade rise and fall with each tremulous breath—it quivered further with the rhythmic hammering of his anxious heart's blood through the vulnerable vein, making the knife dance to an almost syncopated beat.

Aelfric nodded. "I will let him go. You are payment enough."

Legolas straightened his back and pushed his hair behind his shoulders. He looked Aelfric fully in the face and spoke.

"All right," Legolas said. "Release him."

Aelfric jerked his head over his shoulder toward the man restraining Ithildim. He pulled the blade away from Ithildim's throat and pressed it instead against his chest, and another man stepped in to hold Ithildim's hands tightly behind his back.

"He is safe enough from the blade. We will release him entirely when your deed is done," said Aelfric.

"That is fair," Legolas said, looking for a last time to Ithildim. "You must not harm him."

Ithildim shook his hair out of his face and opened his mouth to speak to Legolas, but Legolas held up a hand, as if to silence him, and Ithildim closed his mouth. He instead shook his head several times and raised silver eyes to the leaves and sky, as if praying.

"The death of a child is never excusable," Legolas said steadily, turning again to Aelfric. "I send love to you and your family, for your recovery from this great trauma."

Legolas paused for half a second to look up to the green of the trees—drawing strength— and then continued.

"Ithildim," he said, and Ithildim's eyes snapped back down from his entreaties to lock with his friend's grey eyes, "do not tell my father this is how I died."

And then Legolas bowed his head and waited for the fall. The fall came after an undignified knee to his groin, which caused Legolas to stumble, straight from the edge of the cliff—backwards—to the unknown depth below.

Ithildim cried out as Legolas disappeared over the ledge, and then he gagged a second later upon hearing the wet thump of his friend's body. The blade was pulled away sharply from Ithildim's chest, so he would not be cut in his ensuing flailing. The men holding Ithildim threw him to the ground as he crumpled in shock; he fell to his hands and knees. The one who had held the blade then caught Ithildim's shoulders in his rough hands and hauled him up; he held them tightly so Ithildim could not flee.

"The King's sprite wanted us to spare this elf," said Aelfric, dusting off his hands and turning away from the steep bank, "and so we will. We will let him go tend to his friend there."

Aelfric pointed his thumb to the ravine behind him.

"There is not a way out," he continued, "and there the king's son will perish, anyway. A fall from such a height even an Elf-warrior cannot survive. And the gully may yet swell with snow-melt and take them both unawares, and do us the favor of sweeping away this crime, so we need not later dispose ourselves of a royal body."

And indeed, there was no sound now from below. No cry of pain had followed the fall; no voice rose in surprise or called out for help—there had only been a heavy thud, and then the continued and never-ending—and now unnerving—pitter-patter of rain. Ithildim felt his skin flush from his feet to his forehead and his ears for a moment roared with the beat of his own heart.

"Please let me go to my people, for help," said Ithildim from his knees, in halting Westron.

"No," said the man. "You have one choice: to go to your friend. We will let you climb down, though, instead of throwing you over the edge. You can either climb down there, now, or we will forsake our word to the sprite and kill you here."

"Fine," said Ithildim.

The man holding him released his shoulders, and Ithildim rose and walked to the edge. The man who had hurt Legolas took a long length of sturdy rope that one of his companions had carried across his chest. Aelfric tied one end to a tree some distance away and then threw the rest of the length over the edge and into the gully.

"Use this," said the man. "We will meet your prince's conditions of the deal. This way, you will return to the King's son—away from the knife and a safe distance from my men—both alive and relatively unharmed, as agreed upon."

So Aelfric guided the rope, and Ithildim scaled down the side of the ravine, and as soon as his feet hit the soft clay of the bottom, the rope was hauled back up and disappeared quickly from sight. The men yelled about something in their own tongue that Ithildim could not at all follow, and then they walked away, leaving Ithildim and Legolas quite alone, and quite helpless.

Ithildim moved to Legolas' side to find his friend's body nearly spread-eagle and sunk several centimeters into the wet ground; the fingers of his left hand were dancing in the stream that ran through the center of the gully. Legolas' face was to the sky, and his eyes wide open to the rain. Ithildim sank to his knees and took his friend's hands—they twitched rhythmically inside his grip.

Ithildim released Legolas' hands and completed a perfunctory inventory of his friend's body. Ithildim gingerly palpated Legolas' abdomen but felt nothing concerning, and his limbs—besides his already injured arm—were all well; there was no dent in his skull, no blood beneath his hair; his eyes were unfocused and unresponsive as if he were badly concussed, but his heart beat steadily, and his lungs drew even breaths.

But there was yet something very wrong.

It was the kind of wrong, however, for which Ithildim knew there was nothing he could do.

So Ithildim bowed his head, pulled both of Legolas' hands into his own and clutched them desperately, and he suddenly cried. He cried for Legolas and for himself—for his anger and sorrow, grief and frustration of the situation; for the burdens he had carried too long and the trauma he had seen and born without speaking of it, day in and day out—to this very moment—without pause.

And now they were here in a canyon, in a deluge, with snow-melt running fast at their side; they were alone and injured, and they were likely both going to die.

From here, we head toward another escape, and then right into the second conflict. Please consider reviewing-thank you for reading thus far!