Chapter Thirty One

Just as Elrond was about to reach down and lift Legolas, so that he could wake the young elf up to administer the drug he had brewed, the elf lord hesitated. He looked up and saw the apprehension in Thranduil’s eyes and the anxious look on his face. Elrond sighed. He realized the mistake he was making in not informing Thranduil about the risk involved in administering the drug. “A moment, Estel,” he said, as he stood up.

Aragorn frowned in confusion at his father. He couldn’t imagine why Elrond had suddenly stopped, because he didn’t think his father had changed his mind about what they needed to do. When Elrond approached Thranduil and took the blond elf by the arm and turned him around and away from where Legolas lay, Aragorn suddenly understood. He nodded to himself, feeling that it was the right thing to do under the circumstances.

“Thranduil,” Elrond began, “there is something else I should have told you. And, I need to do it before I give Legolas the drug.”

The level of apprehension on the elf king’s face increased tenfold. “What is it?” he asked fearfully.

Without hesitation, Elrond plunged ahead, “There is a small chance that we may not be able to reverse the drug‘s effect on Legolas, once we reach Rivendell.”

“What are you saying, Elrond?” A knot was beginning to form in Thranduil’s stomach, as he looked into Elrond’s eyes.

Elrond replied as calmly as he could. “I explained to you the need to put Legolas into a much deeper level of unconsciousness. I still believe that is the course of action that should be taken. However, there is a small chance that we will no be able to bring Legolas back to a full level of consciousness.”

“I do not understand,” the elf king admitted. Though as a warrior in his younger days, Thranduil knew the basics of healing. All warriors were required to tend wounds on the battlefield, as well as injuries that were the result of accidents. This, however, was a situation that went far beyond his knowledge or understanding. “Why would he not wake up once you no longer give him the drug?”

“Each dose of the drug only lasts for a few hours. In order to keep him drugged during the whole journey, I will need to administer a number of doses. It will build up in his system. Just discontinuing it will not allow him to awaken on his own. Legolas must be given an antidote, if you will, to reverse the drug’s effects, and it may not work,” he added reluctantly. “Or, he may reach only a partial level of consciousness, a twilight state, so to speak.”

That revelation hit the Mirkwood elf like a physical blow. He came close to taking a step back in shock. With wide eyes, he continued. "You are going to do something that may take Legolas away from me after all that he has been through to return from...the dead?" Fear and foreboding had been replaced with anger. “You had no right not to tell me, Elrond. I am Legolas’s father. I have a right to know all the ramifications of what you do to him. He cannot make decisions for himself right now, so I must make those decisions for him. I cannot make the best decision for him, if I do not have all the facts.”

“You are absolutely right,” Elrond conceded. It was rare that the Lord of Imladris regretted a decision he had made, but right now, he was deeply regretting not having told Thranduil all that he needed to know concerning Legolas. He knew how he would feel in his place.

“The chances of the drug affecting Legolas adversely are very small. But, there is one other thing you need to consider.” He took a breath and then resumed. “Legolas has already endured more pain than most of us could begin to imagine. If we do not give him the drug, he would have to endure more pain on the ride back to Rivendell, and his mind could retreat so far inward to get away from it that the result would be the same, as if the drug could not be reversed. Only, we might not be able to reach him to bring him back. The drug, at least, can be countered. As I said, the chances are small that such counter measures would not work.”

Elrond watched as several emotions played across Thranduil’s face. He was obviously torn about what to do. Finally, Elrond asked, “Do you wish me to administer the drug?” He refrained from adding “or not”, so he would not sound like he was being impatient. It was a tremendously hard decision to make that could affect the rest of Legolas‘s life.

It was a simple question but one that Thranduil wasn’t sure he could answer. He knew without having to ponder it that riding with Legolas would be extremely painful to bear for both of them, physically for Legolas and emotionally for himself because of it. And, it would last for days. Yet, was avoiding that worth the risk of possibly losing Legolas in the only way that counted---his son being able to function properly in his own life? No, he decided. It was not worth the risk. However, what of Elrond’s assertion that Legolas’s mind might retreat from the intense pain and not be able to be reached? That was an entirely different matter.

Thranduil closed his eyes for a moment. What should he do? What would Legolas want him to do? Then, he looked at Elrond, who did not flinch under the woodland king’s gaze. “If it were one of your sons, what would you do?”

Elrond was not expecting that question, but he realized he shouldn’t have been surprised. In this, though, both his healer instincts and his father’s heart were in accord. “I would risk the drug,” he answered simply, then added, “However, you must make the decision that you feel comfortable with. I would not have you feel blame toward me or yourself, if the worst should happen.” It was a blunt statement but an honest one.

The elf king turned to look over to where Legolas lay on the blanket. Seeing his son’s eyes closed and his splinted wrists and ankle made Thranduil’s heart lurch. With a sigh and a nod, he said, “Do what you believe is best for my son. I will trust your judgment in this.”

“Are you sure?” Elrond asked, giving Thranduil one last chance to change his mind. He wanted the king to be at peace with his decision.

“Yes. Whatever happens is in the hands of Eru. He brought Legolas back, so I must believe that he will take care of him.”

Elrond put a hand on Thranduil’s shoulder and squeezed it gently. “I will not keep anything from you again,“ he assured, realizing what a mistake he had almost made.

Then, without another word, he turned and walked back to where Aragorn sat beside Legolas. He knelt down and looked at the man, who he knew had heard every word uttered between the two elven lords. The expression on his son’s face told him the ranger agreed with the decision to tell Thranduil and let him make the choice of what to do.

The dark-haired elf lord resumed what he had started to do before his conscience bade him to talk to Thranduil. He again reached down and this time slid his left arm under Legolas’s shoulders and tenderly lifted him part way up . He secured the elf’s head in the crook of his arm and began gently shaking him and calling his name.

Legolas moaned, at first, but then he began to cry out in reaction to his tortured muscles being pressed no matter how gently the movements were made.

Thranduil knew right then that he had made the right decision. Just those small gentle moves by Elrond had caused Legolas pain intense enough to make him cry out, when he wasn‘t even fully awake. How much worse would the trip on horseback, being held tightly, have been? The woodland king did not even want to think about it.

Elrond was inwardly wincing at Legolas’s reaction but did not stop what he was doing. The elf had to be awakened in order to drink the drug. The procedure that Aragorn had gone through while feeding the comatose elf back in Rivendell would not work here. This drug had to be administered quickly and not in small increments over a period of time, as Aragorn had done.

Aragorn also began to call to Legolas, hoping his voice would help to bring his friend back to consciousness. “Legolas. Legolas, mellon nin, you must wake up now.”

Legolas’s eyelids fluttered, trying to open. His moans increased, and his head moved from side to side, though not violently. He attempted to struggle, but that proved only to increase his pain. He soon clamed down, still moaning softly.

The elf lord and the ranger continued to coax him to awaken.

After several minutes, Legolas’s eyes slowly opened, much to everyone’s relief. No one else had approached, but all had been watching intently, willing the young elf to respond to the two who called to him.

The blond archer stared up at Elrond first and then at Aragorn. There was light in his now focused eyes but no sign of recognition. Neither of the two beside him believed he knew who they were, and Aragorn had to push aside a feeling of fear.

Elrond then called Legolas’s name. When he saw that the elf’s attention had retuned to him, he said, “It is Elrond. Can you hear me?”

Legolas opened his mouth but no sound was forthcoming. It struck Elrond that what he saw in the archer was similar to a very young baby, who could not grasp and interpret what he was seeing but who innately trusted those around him. There was no fear in his eyes. The young elf blinked several times, but there was still no sign he understood what he was looking at.

In a soft voice, Elrond spoke as though Legolas could understand every word. “Legolas, I need for you to drink something. It will keep any pain from reaching you. Will you do that for me?”

There was no reaction, so Elrond lifted Legolas into a full sitting position, securing him around the shoulders with his left arm. Aragorn held the elf’s head upright and steady. Then, with his free hand, Elrond held the cup to Legolas’s lips. “Slowly now,” he instructed, though he thought that probably Legolas would drink purely from instinct.

Legolas drank the warm liquid, as Elrond tipped the cup and allowed him a small sip before taking the cup away while Legolas swallowed what he had taken into his mouth. Legolas was staring straight ahead rather than down at the cup, reinforcing Elrond’s idea that the young elf drank from instinct.

Once, Legolas had turned his head away, indicating he wanted no more, but Elrond kept putting the cup to his lips. Finally, the cup was empty, and the elf lord nodded, handing the cup to Aragorn.

A minute after finishing the liquid, Legolas’s head fell against Elrond‘s chest, and his eyes closed. It was clear that he was unconscious once again, so Elrond gently lowered Legolas back down on the blanket. “We must wait a little while to make sure he reaches the deep level of unconsciousness we need him to be in.” He turned to Aragorn, “Estel, stay with him and let me know when he is ready.”

Aragorn nodded. He had no plans to leave his friend’s side until forced to do so.

Elrond motioned for Glorfindel to follow him, as he walked several yards from Legolas, Aragorn and Thranduil, who had taken Elrond’s spot beside his son.

As Glorfindel made his way toward Elrond, he watched as the Lord of Imladris picked up the arrow, which still had the body of the snake impaled upon it.

Elrond smiled at his long time friend. “Nice shot. The arrow went straight in. How did you manage that?” He knew that if Glorfindel had shot the snake while chasing it on the ground, the arrow would have gone in at an angle.

Glorfindel retuned the smile. “The snake made a bad decision. It was in the process of climbing a tree. I guess it thought that once it got up into the leaves, it could go undetected. Truth be told, that’s exactly what would have happened. I was lucky to catch movement against the bark about twenty yards ahead of me and...” He made a motion, as though he held a bow, pulling back on the imaginary string and letting it go. “Another couple of seconds, and it would have alluded me.” This last was spoken with a serious undertone.

“Thanks to your keen elven eyes and quick reflexes, not to mention your excellent aim.”

“I do what I can,” Glorfindel shrugged, a bit of amusement now entering his voice.

“That has always been good enough for me,“ the Lord of Imladris remarked.

Elrond slid the snake’s body from the wooden shaft. He handed his friend the arrow. He gripped the snake’s body firmly in his left hand and then began winding it around into a tight coil.

Glorfindel knew exactly what Elrond was planning. “You are taking it back to Rivendell to study, are you not?”

“All the research we all did never shed any light on this snake. I thought before, and still think, it is unique in the world. I intend on learning as much about it as I am able. That may sound strange, if in fact, it is unique. Why learn the secrets of a snake we will never encounter again?”

Glorfindel laughed. “I, for one, have never questioned anything that you do, mellon nin. Well, not seriously, anyway.”

Elrond smiled, but his words were serious. “We may be able to find out something that could help us in other areas. It is too good an opportunity to pass up.”

“You have always been curious, and you love to investigate things, especially if they are unusual.”

Elrond smiled again. “That is how I obtained a good deal of my knowledge.” He looked down at the coils of the snake’s slender black body. “Do you have a small cloth sack I can put this in?”

“I have just the thing.” Glorfindel turned and headed across the clearing toward the horses.

While waiting, Elrond looked around the clearing. He had not had the time or inclination to really study it before. The sun had not yet cleared the tops of the cliffs surrounding them, but the light was growing brighter.

Now, his eyes roamed over the trees and the ground near the edge of the tress. As he turned his head, something shiny caught his eye. He walked forward and reached under a small bush. As soon as he grasped the object, he knew exactly what it was: one of Legolas’s long knives.

With a sigh, he held the elven knife in the palm of his hand, noting the engravings along the blade. Elrond turned it over his hand. There was no blood to be seen anywhere on it. *Legolas must have thrown the knife at Mordraug---and missed,* Elrond mused.

Elrond called Elrohir over to him and handed the knife to his eldest son. “Take this and get the other one,” he pointed over to the spot where Legolas had dropped the mate to this one. After seeing the distraught look on Elrohir’s face, he said confidently, “Keep them safe until we can give them back to Legolas.”

Elrohir nodded and took the knife. He knew the twin blades had been a gift from Thranduil on the day Legolas had become a warrior. He remembered how excited Legolas had been, when he had visited Rivendell with his father shortly after, and how proud the young wood elf was of them. He had practiced endlessly until he had become almost as proficient with the two blades as he was with his bow. The younger twin remembered fondly of the many sparring sessions he and Elladan had engaged in with Legolas. Yes, Elrohir would, indeed, keep the knives safe until he could return them to his friend.

Glorfindel retuned to Elrond and handed him the sack that he had retrieved from the pack on his horse. The blond elf took the sack back after Elrond put the snake’s body into it and pulled the string tight. A small smile passed between the two friends, both knowing how Elrond was going to relish his investigation of the black, scaly creature.

Just then, Elladan called everyone to the fire to eat the morning meal. Aragorn and Thranduil were served theirs where they sat beside Legolas. Both ate what was given them without paying much attention.

A few minutes later, Elrond heard his foster son calling him. He rose from his place on the other side of the fire and hurried over to the man. Aragorn looked up. “Ada, Legolas has reached the level of unconsciousness he needs to make the journey to Rivendell.”

Elrond trusted Aragorn’s abilities and did not find the need to kneel down to verify what his son had said was accurate. He merely nodded, then said, “Thranduil, go to your horse and mount. Estel will bring Legolas to you.” He had further instructions for Thranduil, but he would give those once the elven king and his son were in place.

Once Thranduil had settled himself on his white stallion’s back, Aragorn handed Legolas up to him and Elrond approached. “Put your arm around him, holding his arms in place, so that his splinted hands will not be bounced around.”

When Thranduil did as he was told, Elrond nodded. There was just one more thing left to do. He went around to the left side of the horse and carefully placed Legolas’s splinted left foot on top of his father’s boot. He then bound them together with a long strip of soft leather he had taken from one of his pockets. “This is to keep your feet moving together, so they will not bang into each other.”

While that was going on, the twins were taking the camp apart, dousing the fire, scattering the wet ashes and rounding up the eating utensils, Elrond’s pack of herbs and the blanket Legolas had been lying on. Elrohir had already picked up Legolas’s second long knife.

With those tasks done, the six elves and one human started down the trail that would take them out of the valley. Elrond and Glorfindel rode in front, then Thranduil, Legolas and Aragorn. The twins came next and a riderless and very unhappy Elenblaith brought up the rear.

The little caravan made their way through the forest. Forced to go single file through the narrow passageway in the cliff wall at the northern end of the valley.

Once out into the open land, they began to gallop, again grouping into two’s. Elenblaith sped up and passed the twins, making his way up beside Thranduil’s horse. He galloped with his head next to Legolas, occasionally putting his nose against the elf’s leg, as if to assure himself that his master was alive. Thranduil’s presence next to Legolas also gave a measure of comfort to the animal.

Aragorn sighed. He knew not what would happen on the road, but at least, they were now on their way back to Rivendell.

TBC