A/N: Warning - Violence and death continue in this chapter.

91 - The Smell of Smoke

Thranduil caught Tauglang as its hilt came hurling toward him, spinning back an instant later to meet the two spiders bearing down on him with Gaelang in his other hand. He engaged them with redoubled effort, the twin blades darting out to strike weak points in the spiders' natural armor, steadily taking small steps back as he tried to draw nearer to Elluin. He heard no sound from her, but could hear no shouts of alarm from those of his soldiers that were fighting closest to her.

The two swords gave him an advantage of reach and defense he had not anticipated. He found that against the spiders, the additional spike was a much better deterrent as defense than his armored arm, and it allowed a better range of attack. He could distract them with one blade and then use the other to puncture their brains through their eyes.

Now free to move about more easily, he took a moment to survey his surroundings. To his surprise, Cembeleg had taken the rest of his soldiers and abandoned the gate to join Legolas and his company further toward the east, where a fortunately diminishing horde of Orcs was still burning and attacking. There were still spiders attacking all around him, but these were also decreasing in number. Just another ten or so. He shook out his arms, breathing deep and willing himself to disregard the burning of his muscles, and leaped again toward the beasts.

~.~.~

Elluin's hands were slippery with blood as she wrapped another long piece of linen torn from her chemise around the wound in her thigh. She tied it as tightly as she could, even though the pressure and pain made her nauseous. Or did the spider release some venom into her leg when it bit her?

She glanced around to make sure she was still somewhat sheltered behind the wall of Elven soldiers, then examined the spot on her other leg, right above her ankle, where the two punctures from the spider's fangs were sluggishly bleeding. There was a purplish tinge to the blood, confirming her fear that the brief bite was still long enough for the spider to release some of its venom. There was nothing she could do for it, now. The best she could do was avoid further injury.

Carefully, Elluin tried to rise to her knees, to move further toward the center of the ring of soldiers around her and give them more room to maneuver. But she flet like fire was shooting from the spider bite, and her skewered thigh was throbbing and gave out under her weight. She was left dragging herself weakly backwards, toward where she knew the silvery-haired figure of her husband was fighting. Her vision swam after a few moments, and she realized that she had dropped flat on the ground. She closed her eyes tightly, willing herself to regain enough control of her body to rise, but not succeeding.

The battlefield gradually became quieter around her, with only a few more beastly shrieks to send shivers down her spine. In the distance, she could hear Elves shouting victory from where she knew Legolas and his men had been fighting the Orcs. Good, she thought. But there were terribly few voices.

Suddenly, she felt an arm beneath her, raising her up to a sitting position. "Elluin, look at me," Thranduil entreated. She obeyed, blinking to focus on the iced blue eyes staring at her intently from his blood-smeared face. She raised her arms to embrace him, inordinately thankful that she was able to do so. He immediately pulled her to him in response, neither of them heeding the grimy plates of his armor preventing closer contact.

"Are we safe?" she asked.

"Yes, my heart," he replied, drawing back to evaluate her again. "The spiders and Orcs are defeated. It appears Legolas is well. Can you walk?"

She shook her head. "I need to get this leg stitched," she said.

"Should I wrap this?" he asked, motioning to the bite marks.

"No. Better to let the bleeding carry out as much poison as can be," she said.

Thranduil looked around. She knew he was wondering where he could take her. She needed a healer, as did many of the soldiers. A shudder ran through her as she recalled the brutal spider claws scraping or penetrating Elven flesh during the fight all around her. A distant part of her wondered where the servants were, and the villagers that had come from the south. As if on cue, Cembeleg sounded the horn, apparently having received report from Elven scouts that the threat had been thoroughly eliminated. It would bring all the surviving Elves out from hiding. The breaking dawn would help illuminate their paths.

The Elves were already hard at work patching up the wounded until other help could be found. Others were carrying the bodies of fallen Elves to the open space a stone's throw from the surviving solid wall of the throne room, half of which was now a smoking pile of blackened timbers. There was hope, then, for the Elves that had fled into the passages to the rear of the building, Elluin concluded with relief. But the pain made her thoughts sluggish and Thranduil had picked her up even before she was aware, responding to a voice quickly closing in on them.

"Your chambers are intact, sire," she heard Galion say. "I am assured the way is safe."

Elluin was happy to find that the steward was right, with only the smell of smoke to taint the comfort of the royal chambers. Naudeth and Maethon met them outside the door, both their faces pale and grim past the relief of seeing both their king and queen alive.

"Is it safe to bathe her?" Naudeth asked as they walked through the lantern-lit receiving room, unsure from whom to expect an answer, as Edlenel cracked open the door to the queen's dressing room.

"Just a cloth and basin," Thranduil ordered, quickly bringing her to lie on their bed, over which someone had already spread an additional cloth. "Galion, what healers are left?"

"Gwedhil is on her way," came the swift reply.

"Will you allow us to wash the queen, sire?" Naudeth asked nervously. "I believe it would aid the healer's efforts."

"Of course," Thranduil said. Edlenel disappeared, presumably to fetch the warm water and other supplies.

Sulros peeked from behind the door to Thranduil's dressing room. He froze upon seeing Elluin, making no sound to summon his charge as he had clearly intended.

Elluin felt a spark of amusement, dulled though it was past the stinging and throbbing of her legs, as Thranduil stayed seated on the bed by her side, uselessly assessing. "My love," she told him, "go for a while to your dressing room and clean up."

Galion recognized the request for privacy and bowed himself out with a mumbled promise of setting the household to rights. Thranduil reluctantly rose, worry marring his features as he stepped away, recognizing the wisdom in his wife's words. "I will return shortly, my heart," he said, and followed his body servant away.

Naudeth approached silently, setting to work with gentle and rapid fingers. "I can see you are uncomfortable, my queen," she said, not meeting Elluin's eyes. "I think it might be easier to cut the dress away."

Elluin nodded her assent, but the motion gave her another bout of dizziness and nausea.

"A basin," she whispered. Naudeth brought one over just in time for the queen to fill it with bile streaked with red. The body servant set it at the other side of the room, knowing it would be good for the healer Gwedhil to see when she arrived. Elluin lay back, breathing deep and slow to try to calm herself. The venom was working on her.

Edlenel soon returned, speaking uncharacteristically little as she and Naudeth sat the queen up, cut away her gown and chemise, and wiped away all the grime they could. They carefully avoided both the open wounds above her ankle and the increasingly crimson cloth wrapped around her thigh.

By the time she was dressed again and the cloth beneath her on the bed replaced with a new one in preparation for the healer's attention, Gwedhil had arrived with Orthoril, who had tonight abandoned her usual position as the queen's clerk to act as the healer's assistant.

"My lady, please drink this," Orthoril urged as the ellith entered, Gwedhil's eyes already beginning their evaluation. "It is a restorative tea."

Elluin recognized the herbs and sipped from the steaming cup the assistant handed her. "Gwedhil, will you not be needed with the soldiers?"

"We have other healers," she replied firmly, beginning to tie a second tourniquet above Elluin's thigh wound in preparation for unwrapping it. "I believe I will not risk giving you a sedative to drink for the stitching, my queen. With the bite…"

"I know," Elluin muttered, then flicked a hand in permission. From what they had seen of spider bite victims in the throne room before they fled, the heart became slow and irregular. A sedative would likely compound the effects more than it would prevent the muscle spasms the venom also caused.

"How are you feeling, my queen?" Gwedhil asked as she worked to prepare for the task.

"Lightheaded and weak," she said quietly. "And…frightened. I believe the venom is taking hold."

"This marigold paste should help draw it out," Orthoril said as she smeared it on.

"Do not fear yet, my queen," Gwedhil said. "There is still life in you. And the sun has come up." Blood welled from the now bare thigh wound, lit now more with golden sunlight than the lanterns of the room. The elleth wiped the blood away quickly, packing the wound with yarrow before taking up the chamomile oil for the skin she would stitch.

Thranduil had walked in as they spoke, now clean and wearing a simple tunic and leggings. He walked over to sit carefully on the bed beside Elluin while the ellith worked. His presence was a welcome distraction from the sting of the stitching.

"She has lost so much blood," he remarked. "Will that not hinder her ability to fight the venom?"

"That is not for me to say, sire," the healer replied with a regretful tone. "These spiders are so new to us. We do not know what to expect."

"Our librarian and all our books are gone to the northern fortress," Thranduil lamented.

"I doubt any would have been of help, my king," Gwedhil said patiently. "I hear not even Mithrandir knew anything about them."

"No," he reluctantly agreed.

"Nearly done, my queen," the healer told her patient. Elluin was squeezing her eyes shut against the pain and dizziness, and could only hum a brief acknowledgment.

~.~.~

Gwedhil and Orthoril left soon after to organize their supplies in the receiving room, leaving the king alone with Elluin. Thranduil took his wife's hand. Her grip was weak, as was her smile when she turned her eyes toward him. He did not know if it was due to her physical state, or her sorrow about the night's events. "You smell much better now," she remarked.

"Maethon thought the lavender scent would help with your nausea," he said. He was trying to push down the panic rising inside him. But he was not yet so distraught that he could not form regrets about the past. He sighed deeply. "I am sorry, my heart. I should have sent you north to the safety of the new fortress with the bulk of our people, months ago."

"Nonsense," she replied immediately, her eyes earnest. "Travel over open lands presents more of a risk, which you knew. No one could have predicted this."

He shook his head. "We could have—"

"No, Thranduil," she snapped, though she could not raise her voice. "I feel now that this was inevitable. Your sense of foreboding… It would have continued until this attack, regardless of what we did to prevent it. The dark power in the southern forest has been waiting, it seems."

Thranduil felt a chill down his spine. Thinking back to the midst of the battle, he had felt the same darkness emanating from the spiders as when they had visited his father's old fortress. Whatever now resided in Amon Lanc had indeed grown powerful.

"Elluin, I will see that shadow destroyed," he swore.

"Good," she said. "There is also…the prophecy." Elluin winced.

"Are you in pain, my heart?"

She released a breath. "That is irrelevant, Thranduil. Listen." She looked at him seriously, and he was obliged to swallow back his concerned questions to obey. "Remember Cirdan's prophecy. I would see Greenwood freed."

He recited dutifully,

When pilgrim's quarry flees the dell

And Greenleaf stands where grandsire fell

Cast down will be old enemy

And Greenwood evermore be free

"Yes," Elluin whispered. "Make the sacrifices worthy. So many Elves…" She trailed off as the tears began to fall.

"I will remember. I swear it," he answered. Then, as if the vow broke a dam within her, Elluin began to weep in earnest.

Thranduil pulled Elluin carefully into an embrace to comfort her in her grief, but was determined not to allow any thoughts about the soldiers lying motionless in neat rows outside into his own head. Not brave, loyal Telior, whom he was not quick enough to save and fell before the gates by his side. Not intelligent Tinalfir, or strong Delwion, or sharp-eyed Sadron. And certainly not Nidhair, who had been one of the only friends he'd had across the ages of his life. His resolution to remain unmoved failed.

It took Thranduil many long moments to regain his composure sufficiently to speak, and he relaxed his hold on his wife enough to dry her tears with a soft cloth.

"Let us set aside our grief for now, Elluin," he ordered softly. "Let us focus first on the body's hurts, before the heart's."

She made a valiant effort to obey. "Are you sure you are…unharmed?" she asked feebly, her breath still coming short. Thranduil fervently hoped this was due to her weeping and not to the spider venom.

"I am unscathed, my heart. Worry not for me. But tell me honestly, how do you feel?"

Elluin looked dejected and did not meet his eyes. "I fear that…once the pain subsides, I may…feel nothing at all."

Thranduil's heart froze. The idea was long in entering his head, so much did his spirit rage against it. He forced calm onto himself to do it enough justice for a response more reasonable than a burst of infuriated rejection.

"Do not lose hope," he urged.

"You know I would never leave you willingly," she said in a rush. The effort caused a sheen of perspiration on her skin, which Thranduil wiped away quickly.

Footsteps could be heard in the hall, which the healer's murmured greeting in the receiving room did not detain.

"Legolas," Elluin breathed in relief as the Elf halted in the doorway. The prince took only the space of a heartbeat to catch his breath and assess the view. Elluin lay halfway in his father's lap. The bulk of a heavy bandage could be seen on one of her legs beneath the blanket, and the bitter, tangy scent of healing herbs permeated the air even more strongly than the lingering smoke. His mother's face was more pale than he had ever seen it, and her watery eyes lacked their usual brightness.

He ran to her bedside and took the hand she offered, noticing how she watched him. Her grip was barely there, and her skin was cold and clammy.

"What news?" Thranduil demanded, also studying his son.

"I am unhurt," Legolas started, knowing from experience that was what Elluin most wanted to know. It worried him that she did not ask it outright, and he wondered with a renewed pang of fear if she was too unwell to do so. But he could not ignore his father's question and dutifully gave his report. "The Orcs and spiders are all dead, and we are using the fires the Orcs started to burn the bodies," he told them. "Cembeleg has been leading a final search of the area. Many of the survivors from the village have been safely gathered again. We…lost many of our soldiers."

The sorrow echoed in his parents' eyes.

"Benavorn?" Elluin asked, clearly eager to know the fate of the last of her Silent Guards.

"He reached me in good time with his message that you had escaped the building, Mother," Legolas said. "We changed tactics accordingly, but we were so hard beset that Benavorn was obliged to join the defense at my side. He took an Orc blade that was meant for me. He was alive when I left him in the care of the healers, but I have not visited him since."

She gave a small nod of acknowledgment.

"And then I heard that you had been injured," Legolas said inquiringly.

"A skewered thigh and a bitten ankle," Thranduil summarized.

Legolas had seen years ago what spider venom could do to deer with just one bite. The gravity of the situation dawned on him. He saw the determined denial in his father's hesitant glance, only barely overcoming his despair. And in his mother's sapphire eyes, which held his calmly, he saw resignation to a fate that was still uncertain, and love that nearly bowled him over. He kissed her hand on impulse, and could find no words.

Gwedhil and Orthoril came in with a steaming cup, encouraged by Thranduil's gesture. Legolas reluctantly relinquished his place by his mother's side to allow them access.

"Has word been sent to my aunt in the northern fortress?" Thranduil asked as he helped to sit Elluin up a little more.

"I believe Lord Galion is seeing to it, my king," Gwedhil said. "But with the distance, I doubt we will receive any message in reply before sundown."

Elluin winced as she swallowed the broth, but did not protest.

"Rest, now, my queen," the healer instructed. "Sleep, if you can." Elluin obediently closed her eyes, leaning into her husband's warmth.

"Orthoril, would you send someone to ask after Benavorn?" Thranduil asked when the healers were stepping away.

"I will go," Legolas decided. Love for his mother and love for the rest of his people warred within him. But he knew that caring for them was a way to honor her and all that she had taught him. "There are other things I must attend to, as well. I will return soon," he promised. He received a smile from her and a nod from his father, and fled.