Thank you to daw the minstrel for beta reading this chapter

Chapter 8: Challenges

Elrohir entered the healing rooms to see Tarag stretched out on a sleeping couch while a very pretty female wood elf tended him.  The injured warrior was clearly enjoying her ministrations, his eyes never leaving her face as she removed his bandages and checked his wound. She turned slightly, flashing Camnesta a smile and motioning for him to come examine their patient.

Camnesta touched Elrohir’s elbow, encouraging him to come look as well.  Elrohir clasped hands with Tarag as he bent near to inspect the wound.  Immediately his concerns were aroused, for the wound had not yet healed over. He lightly touched the intact skin near the rent flesh.

“The wound is slow to close,” agreed Camnesta, though Elrohir had not spoken his thoughts.  He looked at Elrohir gravely. “As is your own wound.” He nodded for the she-elf to continue dressing and covering the wound, and then led Elrohir across to a separate treatment area.

“Sit here and remove your tunic,” he instructed Elrohir.

Elrohir unfastened the ties of his tunic and pulled it over his head.  Camnesta was standing behind him, and Elrohir heard him make a slight noise of disapproval as he moved closer to him. Moments later he felt the tingling sensation of Camnesta’s touch, as the healer seemed to be tracing his fingers over some pattern in Elrohir’s skin.  To his surprise, Elrohir realized the areas Camnesta was touching were tender.

“Stand up, please, and remove the rest of your clothing,” said Camnesta.

Elrohir did as instructed, forcing himself to withhold his questions while Camnesta examined the rest of his skin.  He sat again when Camnesta motioned for him to do so, and allowed the healer to look closely at his eyes and in his mouth.

“What happened to your back?” asked Camnesta.

Elrohir had to think before answering. “In the woods yesterday, an elf sat on my back.  This morning Glorfindel knocked my feet out from under me and I landed on my back. Nothing more. Why?”

“You are bruised,” answered the healer. “Something in the orc poison has thinned your blood and Tarag’s.  Tarag is not bruised as you are, but he has not been thrown around either.”

“My father may have seen something like this before,” said Elrohir slowly, as he remembered back to all his father had taught him from his studies of poisons and antidotes.

“In Lindon,” answered Camnesta.  “I have heard the story.  Spoiled sweet clover got in the food supply and caused a similar effect.  If this is the same substance, these effects should not last long, but you both must take care to avoid injury until you heal. Escapades with elflings are out of the question.” He smiled at Elrohir.  “Your father is a renowned healer, Elrohir.  I will send correspondence home with you regarding these effects from poisoned scimitars and arrows.  Perhaps your father can discover an antidote.”

Elrohir felt warmth and pride spread through him at the high regard this skilled healer held for his father.  “The animals who ate fresh greens seemed to overcome the effects better than those fed grains.  I do not know if the same effect would occur in elves, but fresh greens in your meals for a few days will not harm you. Lie back and let me dress your wound.”

Elrond did as instructed, finding he trusted and respected this wood elf healer immensely.  Skilled, warm hands dressed and bound the weeping gash on his abdomen, and then he dressed.

“The king wishes to speak with you, but if you wish to return here afterward, I would like to compare healing methods and learn what you use in your warrior antidote kits.  Shadow has returned and I fear that as evil grows, so will the challenges we face in healing. Tarag says you have great skill.”

Elrohir smiled warmly at the elf. “My skill is far less than that of you or my father, but I would like to learn from you all I can and will share what my father has taught me.”

“Return to me, then, after you see the king,” said Camnesta.  He paused, and then added, “And do not let anyone knock you down or beat on you, either.”

* * *

Elrohir found Glorfindel and Elladan sitting with Tarag, but felt no regret at the three of them leaving the injured warrior, for the female elf was hovering nearby, ready to sit at his side again.  One of the king’s guards led them through the winding tunnels to the Hall of the king, and they stepped forward when the herald announced their presence. 

Thranduil rose from his carven chair, and stepped down to greet them. The three bowed anyway, offering him the respect due his position as King even as he descended to their level to show their equality.

“King Thranduil,” Glorfindel greeted him,  “thank you for your hospitality.”

“I hope you found your accommodations suitable,” said Thranduil, mirth in his voice as he looked upon Elrond’s sons.

Elrohir glanced sideways at Elladan and knew his brother was contemplating a jesting answer.  “The dungeons are quite elegant,” said Elladan cheekily.

Thranduil laughed heartily.  “I hear my son did not make it very far down the corridor. He still believes there are monsters in the dark cellars.”

“Legolas is a charming child,” said Elladan honestly. “And our rooms were very comfortable.”

“You were both very kind to play with him yesterday. Have you seen him this morning?” asked Thranduil.  When they all responded they had not, he smiled. “Lathron must have him tied to a tree, then. He was quite set this morning on finding you.  I am sure he has quite the day planned for you.” Elrohir noted that the king seemed to be speaking to Elladan, instead of them both, when Thranduil turned to him. “You must take care of yourself until you heal, Elrohir.” He smiled slyly. “I would not want Elrond to think I beat his son if he hears of your bruised back.”

Elrohir was amazed at how quickly that word had reached the King.  Surely the wood elves must use birds to whisper messages in the king’s ear for news to travel so fast! He smiled in return. “Yes, my lord.”

He saw concern in the eyes of both Elladan and Glorfindel, for they were not yet aware of what Camnesta had found.  He had thought he would tell them after they met with the king.  They spoke with Thranduil a short while longer, made plans to join him for a light luncheon at midday, and heard his plans for a feast that night.  The king then excused himself to return to his duties.

Glorfindel immediately moved behind Elrohir and lifted his tunic. Elrohir heard Glorfindel’s sudden intake of breath, and then felt Elladan’s hands pulling the waist of his trousers back to see the extent of his bruising.

“It really does not hurt and will heal in a few days.  It is an effect of the orc poison,” he reassured them as he turned around and tugged his clothing from their hands.  To his surprise, the expressions that met his as he turned were grief and anger.

“Glorfindel, we did not know,” he said firmly. “I should not have been trying to sneak up on you.”

“I am sorry, Elrohir,” said Glorfindel, his voice full of remorse. “Never would I intentionally hurt you.”

“I know. The wood elves did not know either.  Poisoned blades are a hazard of war.  We can blame the orcs and we can blame shadow, but we will not blame each other or our hosts.” Elrohir’s last words were directed at Elladan, but even with that directive it was several moments before his twin’s anger began to dissipate.

Elrohir took both of Elladan’s hands in his and squeezed them gently. “Do not be angry, Elladan.  I am not and I do not give you permission to be angry on my behalf.” Elrohir smiled to himself at the look of near shock on Elladan’s face at his words.  He knew Elladan was very protective of him, that he always had been.  He had just revoked a longstanding unspoken permission from his twin to feel or act on his behalf.

“Go and play with Legolas, and then join the warriors at the training fields.  I will see you at lunch.”

“What are you going to do this morning?” asked Elladan in a tight voice.

“I am going to speak to Camnesta about healing techniques and warrior aid kits,” answered Elrohir firmly. He pushed his brother gently. “Go.”

Elladan turned to walk away, then came back and enfolded Elrohir in the gentlest of embraces, barely touching him. Without a word, he then turned and walked away.

Elrohir faced Glorfindel and was not surprised at the depth of pain in the eyes of his friend and mentor. He stepped to him and kissed him lightly on each cheek.

“Forgive me, Elrohir?” asked Glorfindel hoarsely.

“Yes and No,” smiled Elrohir. “Yes, because you think you have done something in need of forgiveness, and so I grant it freely.  No, because there is nothing to forgive.”

“Silly elfling,” replied Glorfindel, and Elrohir was surprised to see him wipe a tear from his eye.  “When did you grow so wise?”

“I had good teachers,” answered Elrohir softly.  “I will see you at lunch.”

Elrohir felt those blue eyes watch him until he was gone from Glorfindel’s sight.

* * *

Legolas skipped from stone to stone on the garden path, humming and singing to himself as he played.  He jumped up on to the bench, then jumped over the back and landed in a patch of soft grass.  He somersaulted twice and then swung from a low branch of the beech tree before running back to the path.  He raced back to the palace, but did not see anyone coming, and so skipped back to his area of play.  On the bench lay a small sack filled with his favorite river stones.  Some of these had been chipped and polished into small balls, and he dumped them out on the grass near the path.  He knelt on the ground and began organizing them by shape and size, then placing them into proper position for a game. 

Intent on his play, he did not hear anyone come up the path behind him.  Suddenly, a shadow covered him and his stones, and as he turned to see who was there, a light blanket was tossed over him and he was picked up and tossed over someone’s shoulder.  His scream of delight was answered quickly.

“I warned you, elfling, and I never cast idle threats,” came the voice of one of the twins.  “You are my prisoner today!”

Legolas giggled and twisted and turned, finally managing to poke his head out from under the blanket.  He had just caught a glimpse of dark hair when he was turned over and around, and found himself held securely in the lap of the elf who now sat on the bench. A feather in hand, the twin lightly touched his face and neck, tickling him, as he spoke.

“Are you ticklish, Legolas?” The feather touched his nose and then his neck, and he giggled uncontrollably.

“Yes! Yes!” he cried, squirming away from the torturous feather.

“Hmm….then I think I shall tie you up and tickle you mercilessly,” teased the elf. His fingers joined the feather in their work and Legolas laughed until his sides hurt.  “I shall not stop unless you correctly guess who I am - on the first try.”

“Elladan!” cried Legolas immediately.

The fingers and feathers quickly departed, leaving only a gasping elfling fighting to regain his breath. He sagged against Elladan’s chest, relieved.

“How did you know I was Elladan?”

Legolas giggled.  “Because Camnesta said Elrohir could not play today.  He is still hurt and I am too much for him.”

Elladan rolled his eyes at him.  “I must say I am impressed with the communications system of the Woodland Realm.  Well, prisoner elfling, I can torture you some more, or perhaps you would like to show me around the grounds?”

Legolas chewed on his lip as he thought of his reply.  He wanted to show Elladan everything! But, he wasn’t allowed out of the garden. Just as he was contemplating how he might leave the garden without getting in trouble, Sadron dropped from the tree above them.

“You seem to be caught, elfling,” said Sadron merrily.  “Do you wish me to help you escape?”

Legolas shook his head and laughed.  “No.”  His face fell suddenly, for though he could not leave the garden, Sadron could. He did not wish for Sadron to show Elladan around.  Perhaps if Sadron went with them as he showed Elladan around, he would not get in trouble.  His thoughts were still racing when Sadron spoke again.

“Legolas, your ada has said you may leave the garden today in my care.  Would you like to show Elladan the stables and the warrior training grounds?”

“Yes!” cried Legolas.  He squirmed from Elladan’s arms to stand on the bench next to him and then tugged on Elladan’s sleeve.  “If Sadron comes with us, I will not get in trouble!”

Elladan laughed and stood, and took Legolas’s hand.  Legolas jumped to the ground, knelt to sweep his stones quickly back into their bag, and then took Elladan’s hand again. He did not notice the look that passed between his friend Sadron or his new friend Elladan.

* * *

Despite Elrohir’s admonitions, Elladan had nearly flattened Sadron when the elf appeared in the garden.  He had restrained himself only because Legolas was present. A little voice spoke inside his head, telling him that he should restrain himself because Elrohir had told him he could not be angry on his behalf, but he brushed those words away.   Seeing Sadron had roused his anger again and it did not matter if Elrohir agreed with him or not.

“Legolas, I need to speak to Elladan for a moment.  I think Cúron would like a treat,” said Sadron as they neared the stables. “I will call for you when we are done.”

Legolas looked at them with some confusion, but when the stablemaster called his name he willingly ran inside to visit his pony.

Sadron led Elladan to a quiet area away from the stable hands who were tending horses in the corrals.

“I was told this morning that your brother is still ill from the poison on the orc blade.  I am sorry, Elladan.”

Elladan studied the elf before him, contemplating his words and the intent behind them, but Sadron seemed genuinely concerned.  Before he could answer, the elf smiled and asked, “Would you like to knock my feet out from under me and grind my face in the dirt?”

“Yes,” answered Elladan truthfully, and found a smile tugging at his lips despite his attempts to remain angry.  Sadron held out his hands in surrender, giving Elladan permission to do so. He finally said reluctantly, “Were I to do that, I would have to answer to Elrohir and I prefer to avoid his wrath.”

Sadron was silent, but his expression beckoned for Elladan to continue.

“In truth,” admitted Elladan, “I am most angry at myself.  I know my twin as I know my own heartbeat, and yet I did not know he was ill.  You and your companion would have found your noses in the dirt had I known your knee was bruising Elrohir’s flesh that day you held us down.  I shared a room with him and did not see the bruises that first night.  I allowed him to provoke Glorfindel, knowing that he would end up on his face on the floor, and laughed to see it happen.” He paused as he looked into the compassionate eyes of the wood elf.  “Elrohir is very forgiving, and he sees no cause to be angry with anyone but the orcs.”

“Do you find this to be a weakness of Elrohir’s?” asked Sadron

“No,” answered Elladan sharply. “Elrohir is not weak; he is strong.”

“Then your brother is fortunate to have someone care for him so much,” answered Sadron wisely. He smiled. “The cure for your ailment, my friend, is a good sparring match on the green.  I am sure the wood elves can teach you much.”

Elladan’s eyes flashed in anticipation. Perhaps he would have a legitimate way to flatten the elf! “They may try after they have recovered from the thrashing the elves of Imladris will first give them.”

“A contest!” said Sadron gleefully. “Let us find our elfling and then our captains, for there is much to arrange!”

* * *

Glorfindel glanced at Rawien as the two listened to the ideas being presented by Elladan and Sadron.  Unable to stand still, Legolas was grinning and hopping from Elladan to Sadron.

“An archery contest,” suggested Sadron.

“Swordplay,” added Elladan.

Glorfindel watched Legolas open his mouth, but before the child could say anything, both Rawien and Sadron said, “No, Legolas.”

Legolas did not lose his grin, but instead whispered conspiratorially to Elladan. “Someday they will say ‘yes’ and then I will get my own sword.”

“A tracking competition, with teams,” said Sadron slyly.

Elladan’s eyes flashed. “How would you guarantee that the wood elves would not use the forest against the Imladris elves?”

Sadron laughed.  “I cannot control the forest!”      

“Mixed teams,” suggested Rawien.  “Garthon and Elladan are your primary scouts?” When Glorfindel nodded, he continued. “They would each lead a team of a mix of wood elves and Imladris elves.”

Elladan’s eyes sparkled. “Only if Sadron is on the opposite team.”

Sadron laughed. “I agree!”

Glorfindel nodded, his mind racing through the potential benefits and pitfalls of such contests between warriors.  He could feel the excitement emanating from Elladan, and knew this fierce twin was still looking to exact some revenge on the wood elves. Sadron looked excited about the challenge, though, and the physical outlet of competition would be a fine release. More than likely, the warriors of the two realms would learn something from each other, and friendship and trust would grow in competitions where they worked together.  Tarag and Elrohir would not be able to travel for several days yet, and this would keep the warriors occupied.

Glorfindel turned again to Rawien and smiled.  “Let the games begin.”

They clasped arms in agreement and then felt small hands grabbing on to theirs as Legolas swung from them as if they were tree limbs.  “Yes!” he cried in excitement. “Please, Rawien, can I help?”

Rawien swung Legolas in the air and caught him in his arms.  “Yes, elfling, I think we will have some special jobs just for you.  You may start by leading Elladan back to the palace for lunch.”

Legolas grabbed Elladan’s hand as soon as Rawien set him on his feet and tugged him in the direction of the palace.

“Sadron, you may go spread the word and begin recruiting participants for each contest,” delegated Rawien.  He smiled suddenly. “A competition of ‘toss the elfling’ will never be approved by my wife.”

Sadron laughed.  “I would not cross Tathiel right now. She is as dangerous as a mother bear with cubs.”

As Sadron disappeared into the woods, Glorfindel turned to Rawien. “Come, it is time for lunch. Legolas should have everyone in an uproar by the time we join them.”

* * *

Tying the laces of his trousers, Elrohir moved to stand behind Camnesta. He looked at the sketch the healer had drawn, meticulously colored in shades of yellow, purple, brown, blue and black.

“I think this will be for my adar’s eyes only,” said Elrohir.  When Camnesta looked at him in surprise, he continued, “It would upset my mother, and my brother and Glorfindel have seen the real thing and need not be reminded of it.  It is very well done.”

Camnesta pulled out the other sketches, one of the gash on Elrohir’s abdomen and the other of the wound to Tarag.  “We will do a series over several days, showing the healing progression.  Perhaps it is for naught, but one never knows.”

Elrohir turned to pull his tunic over his head, and found himself face to face with a pregnant she elf.  “Who did that to you?” she demanded.

Elrohir pulled the tunic down as he answered, “It was an accident.”

Camnesta laughed.  “Poisoning with spoiled sweet clover, Tathiel.  He has not been beaten.”

“That is an old tale,” said Tathiel as she looked over the sketches.  “You look as if someone threw you to the ground, then rolled you over and stuck a foot in your back.  This spot looks like the sole of a boot.”

Elrohir grimaced, unsure of what to say, when Camnesta said, “Bruises do take on interesting shapes.  Have you come to escort Elrohir to lunch?”

“Yes,” answered Tathiel, easily distracted as the baby kicked and rolled within her. Elrohir had to restrain himself from touching her belly, but she seemed to notice and took his hand and placed it on her belly. “Feel that kick,” she said, moving his hand as the baby moved.

“I used to love sitting by my naneth when she was pregnant with my sister.  She would speak to the babe and encourage us to do the same. I would feel the baby move and sing to her.”

To his surprise, Tathiel’s eyes filled with tears. “Legolas does that.  He talks to the baby and hugs my belly and tells me he is hugging the baby elfling.”

Elrohir smiled and held his arm out to her, and she led him to the king’s private dining room. They met Elladan and Legolas in the hall outside the dining room, and Elrohir laughed as the elfling flew into Tathiel’s arms.

“Tathiel!  Baby elfling!” he cried as he flung his arms about her belly.  “There is going to be a warrior competition, Tathiel!  With archery and swords and tracking, and Rawien says I can help!”

Elrohir met his brother’s eyes, and for one of the rare occasions in their life he had difficulty reading his brother’s expression. Elladan was guarding his thoughts and emotions, and Elrohir felt bewildered at the wall his twin had put up before him. Why was Elladan upset with him?

“Come, Elladan, we have to tell my ada about the competition,” said Legolas as he again took Elladan’s hand and tugged him into the dining room.

* * *

Lathron watched as Legolas skidded into the room, immediately rushing to their father.  He climbed into Thranduil’s lap, talking so fast that that their father had to cover the small mouth for a moment to stop the child and make him start over in a more coherent fashion. Lathron thought Legolas was more excited about their guests and the warrior competition than he had been about the pony and going tracking.  In the mind of the child, perhaps, it was all related.

All is not well with the sons of Elrond, he noted. The twins had been led to their seats by Tathiel and were involved in polite discussions with those sitting near to them, but Lathron could not help but notice the way that each would glance at the other.  Elrohir looks for reassurance and Elladan is withholding that from him.  Perhaps they have argued.   Voices at the door caught his attention and he saw Rawien and Glorfindel enter the room. Rawien introduced Glorfindel to Tathiel, and Lathron found himself further drawn to the golden haired warrior as he knelt beside the pregnant elf and kissed her hand. He congratulated her upon her child, and Tathiel beamed under his attention.  When all were seated, Lathron could not help but smile to notice that Elrohir was between his twin and Glorfindel. He had heard that Elrohir was suffering from a poison that caused wounds not to heal and the skin to bruise. It pleased Lathron to see that these elves took care of their own.

For they are not so different from us, though they do not seem to understand their surroundings as they might. They are graceful and elegant, and Glorfindel shines with the light of Valinor.  All are attracted to him as moths to the flame.  They grace their environment, whereas we are part of our land.

The arrival of Urithral, Ethiwen, Tinánia and Eärundra completed the lunch. The ellyth quickly moved to sit in spots reserved for them by Elumeril, and Lathron grinned as Elumeril looked at him and then quickly away.  He would not compromise her secret, but as he had taken care of obtaining the silver ring for Elenath, he rather suspected he knew what Elumeril had sent to their sister. 

“Lathron,” said Legolas suddenly. “You have a sword and bow and knives.  Will you play in the warrior games?”

Lathron smiled at Legolas and reached to take him from their adar’s lap and set the elfling in his own place. “I would rather watch everyone else, Legolas.” Legolas’s face screwed up in confusion as he contemplated Lathron’s answer, and Lathron knew that Legolas could not comprehend that anyone would not wish to be a warrior.

“You can keep Elrohir company,” decided Legolas. He flashed a smile to Elrohir across the table, his sympathy obvious for the twin who could not participate.

Elrohir’s eyes turned to Lathron, and Lathron smiled at him as well.  Elrohir’s face softened slightly at the friendly gesture, and Lathron could feel Elrohir’s frustration and sadness at the rift with his brother.  Elladan again had a fierce expression in his eyes at the reminder of his brother’s injury.  Lathron was immediately drawn back to his younger days, when his own fierce brother Bregolas had also reacted that way when Lathron suffered injury. Like Elrohir, Lathron was well able to protect himself.  He suspected that like him, Elrohir usually loved his brother and the relationship with that brother too much to push away the protective sibling.  Apparently this time Elrohir had, however, and now there was a distance between them when normally there was not.  You will work it out, Elrohir, he thought encouragingly.

“Elrohir and I will cheer on the teams and keep you out of mischief,” agreed Lathron, grinning as Legolas’s face went from approving to a scowl at the mention of mischief.

“I do not get into mischief!” he defended himself.  As everyone around him laughed in disagreement, he ducked his head a little and amended, “Well, not very often.”

As soon as the meal was finished, Legolas raced back to Elladan.  “Come, Elladan!” he cried in excitement. “We have to get ready for the games!”

Elladan allowed himself to be led away, but not before locking eyes one last time with his twin. His face betrayed no emotion, but his eyes spoke volumes. Lathron looked away rather than witness that intimate moment between the twins. Then Elladan and Legolas were gone, and from the corner of his eye Lathron saw Glorfindel wrap Elrohir in a gentle, fatherly embrace.  “Give him time, elfling.  He loves you more than his own life and feels he did not protect you, and do not remind me you do not need protecting.  It is how Elladan shows his love.”

Soon all had departed, preparations for the feast that evening and the games the following day lending excitement to the air as everyone went about their tasks with joy.

* * * * *

Author’s Note:  Spoiled sweet clover leads to the formation of a substance that the drug warfarin is based on.  Warfarin is an anti-coagulant, or blood thinner, that was initially used as a rat poison.  It is not often fatal in human poisonings, and the effects intrigued researchers. They studied warfarin extensively and then obtained approval for use as a drug in humans.  It thins the blood, helping to prevent blood clots.  It is not used as a rat poison any longer, as the rats have grown resistant.  The earlier orc poison, used in a previous chapter, was based on the substance found in deadly nightshade.  It causes effects such as dilated pupils, slowed heart rate, dizziness, fever and upset stomach.  It can also cause hallucinations and delusions and poisonings can be fatal, depending on the concentration of the poison used.  As with all poisons, as Paracelsus said ‘Everything is a poison, nothing is a poison. Dose alone makes the poison’