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Sacrifice Under Shadow  by daw the minstrel

I borrow characters and settings from Tolkien, but they are his, not mine. I gain only the enlarged imaginative life that I assume he intended me to gain.

Many thanks to Nilmandra for beta reading this for me.

*******

4.  Eilian’s Story, Part II

Legolas grabbed another handful of snow and thrust it against the wound on Eilian’s hip, hoping that the cold would slow the flow of blood that still trickled steadily onto the ground beneath him.  Even in his unconscious state, Eilian flinched away from the icy touch on his skin where Legolas had enlarged the tear made by the Orc’s sword, cutting away the cloth despite Eilian’s need for warm clothes, both because he needed to see the wound and because he feared the cloth had been contaminated with the poison. Legolas had to clasp Eilian firmly to his chest to keep him from squirming away.  His brother’s eyes were closed, he noticed worriedly.  That was not a good sign.

As he waited for the snow to have an effect, he turned his head constantly, listening for any sound of Orcs that might come to him over the rising howl of the wind.  He and Eilian were somewhat sheltered beneath the evergreen, but Legolas was by no means certain that they would escape the attention of passing Orcs if they caught the scent of blood.  He heard what sounded like two different calls from Orcs, but they were at least a mile away.  He did not find that far enough to be comforting and knew he needed to work quickly, but he could not move his brother until he had gotten some control over the bleeding.

At last, he decided that the snow had done as much good as it was going to.  Working rapidly before the bleeding could start again, he removed the emergency healing kit attached to Eilian’s belt, pulled out a small package of herbs, and sorted through them, fingers fumbling in his haste. He cursed softly. Where was the haru?  Triumphantly, he seized the light silvery leaves. It would be better if he could grind them and mix them with a little water to make a paste, but he had no time. He shoved the herb in his mouth, chewed it, and then spread the resulting pulp on the gash in his brother’s hip as he spit out the residue.  Haru was supposed to slow bleeding, but Legolas had no idea if it would be effective against the Orc poison.  Eilian’s blood stained the paste almost as soon as Legolas had finished spreading it on the wound.

He needed to get pressure on the wound, he thought frantically. He pulled the bandaging from Eilian’s healing kit, folded it into a pad, and clamped it over the injury.  Then, working with his free hand, he unbuckled Eilian’s quiver and tugged on the strap, dragging it off of his brother as it came unthreaded from the loop in the quiver.  He pressed the center of the strap on top of the pad and then drew the strap around Eilian’s lean hips and cinched it tightly to hold the bandaging in place.

He wrapped Eilian’s cloak more closely around him and pulled off his own to layer over the top.  As he did so, he noticed that the rune of protection that Eilian wore around his neck had slipped out from under his tunic, and he tucked it in again, fervently hoping that its magic would somehow help.  Then, drawing a deep, shaky breath, he sat back on his heels, able to take a second to think for the first time since the Orc had come out of nowhere and attacked his brother.

The wound had needed immediate care, but Legolas was almost as worried about the cold as he had been about the scimitar cut.  For a moment, he contemplated building a fire, but his ears had told him that there were Orcs in the area and the possibility that they might smell the smoke made him dismiss that idea out of hand.  Still, he needed to warm his brother somehow.  Panic welled up from his gut, but he pushed it firmly down again.  You can do this, he told himself.  You have to do this! Eilian needs you.  The Shadow is fanning your fear.  Get hold of yourself!

His instinct was to keep his brother among the trees, for it was natural for him to see safety there. But the storm was growing worse, and despite his effort to stay calm, it was with a prickle of fear that he admitted to himself that Eilian would not live out the night if he did not find them better shelter. And the only shelter he could think of was the caves in which the Orcs had been camped. They were not far away, and given that the Orcs had undoubtedly had a fire in them, he might be able to risk lighting one there too.  The smoke would spread less, and the Orcs might think that any smoke that did escape lingered from their own fire.

Of course, if they were close enough to smell the smoke from the cave, then that would probably mean they were seeking shelter there themselves.   That thought made his heart quicken a little.  But I cannot see that I have a choice, he thought in despair, and rose to his feet with Eilian cradled gently in his arms.

He listened for one last time and then stepped out from under the protection of the evergreen.  The wind struck him with a force that made him strain against it.  He had thought that the storm was fierce even in their hiding place, but out in the open, he realized that snow was falling thick and fast, and the wind was driving it into drifts that were now thigh deep.  He ducked his head and struggled toward the right hand cave entrance, picking his way carefully around the mounds of snow that undoubtedly hid the corpses of Orcs.  He could see an occasional arrow protruding and was suddenly acutely aware of his empty quiver.

He paused at the cave entrance and listened but heard nothing.  Still, he hesitated.  Perhaps the trees were safer after all.  Then Eilian shifted slightly in his arms and moaned, and reminding himself of the peril in which his brother lay, Legolas ducked through the low entrance into the cave.

The reek of Orcs struck him like a blow and, for a moment, he held his breath and then had to force himself to let it out and draw in the foul air.  But he did it.  Eilian needed shelter and Legolas was going to see that he had it.  The cave in which he stood was very small, perhaps ten feet by ten feet, but the ceiling rose a good twenty feet over his head.  A second low opening undoubtedly led to the central cave.

Still worried about what he might find in the other two caves, he lowered Eilian gently to the rock floor against the small cave’s back wall.  He had never lifted his brother before, and Eilian was heavier than he looked, the muscles in his torso adding hidden weight to his slim frame.  As Legolas rose, he flinched to see the fresh blood on the sleeve of his tunic.  Evidently, even being moved from the trees to the caves had made Eilian’s wound begin to bleed again.  As had been the case since his brother had been hurt, he felt the urgent need to do several things at the same time, fearing that his failure to do any of them immediately would cost Eilian his life.  But an Orc’s arrow or sword would kill his brother more quickly than his wound would, and Legolas knew that he needed to make sure the cave was safe before he tried to stop Eilian’s bleeding again.  He drew his sword and stooped to slide cautiously through the entrance into the middle cave.

He found himself in a large space, and he relaxed a little when a quick glance around told him that it was uninhabited.  Again, he was assaulted by the stench, which was worse in here because this cave had evidently been the one in which most of the Orcs had camped and their offal was scattered about.  Indeed, the remains of a fire still smoldered near the entrance, driving home to him how short the time had been since the Orcs had begun to emerge from the cave to muster for action.  The battle had seemed to last for hours, and although he knew from experience in other battles that that had probably been an illusion and that events had moved quickly, the warm embers of the fire still surprised him.  There was firewood stacked near it too, and he nearly wept with relief at this gift that the Orcs had unwittingly left for Eilian.

Eager to get back to his brother and build a fire, he moved swiftly toward the opening into the third cave.  This one led down a short tunnel to another small cave that was empty.  As soon as he was sure of that, he whirled and raced back into the central cave.  He would use the wood to build a fire in the cave where Eilian now lay because the smaller space would be easier to keep warm.  He was hurrying toward the stack of wood when one of the charred bones on the floor caught his eye.  He froze, staring at it, and suddenly, his stomach twisted in a spasm, and he turned aside to retch.

For a moment, he stood shaking, and then he drew a deep breath and steadied himself.  Eilian was waiting with his life in Legolas’s hands; there was no time for this self-indulgent horror.  He turned back and keeping his gaze firmly on the wood, he filled his arms with it and the nearby bit of kindling and slipped back into the cave where Eilian lay.

He hastily arranged the wood as close to Eilian as he dared and then lit it using his flint and tinder. The Orcs had found good, dry wood, he thought grimly as the fire caught, and once again pushed aside the thought of what they had cooked over their well fed fire.  He took his water skin from its place under his tunic and set it next to the fire.  Despite its proximity to his body, it had grown slushy during the hours that the Elves had kept watch on the cave, and he and Eilian were going to need water.  He placed Eilian’s water skin next to his own and then turned to the task of once again slowing his brother’s bleeding.

He could not bear the thought of putting snow against Eilian’s hip again, for his brother was already colder than was safe. So this time he immediately used the herbs and bandaging from his own healing kit and cinched the quiver strap as tightly as he could.  Then, after a second’s hesitation, he used some of their water to rinse out the bloody bandaging he had just removed.  The healing kits had held only a small amount, for they were not intended to be used for any length of time. It if had not been so cold, he could have used his dagger to cut strips off their cloaks, but Eilian needed every bit of warm clothing they had between them. He laid the used bandaging near the fire to dry.

Then he glanced quickly at Eilian.  Legolas intended to try to rouse him, hoping that even in his weakened condition, Eilian could use his control of his body to help keep the cold and poison at bay. But there was one more thing Legolas had to do before the snow outside became too deep.  Steeling himself to go back into the storm, he ducked out of the cave again and set about gleaning arrows that he yanked from the rapidly freezing bodies of Orcs.  Even after staying away from Eilian for long enough to grow anxious, he could find only a dozen or so that were usable. They would have to do, he thought. He needed to wake Eilian now if he ever expected him to wake again.

Eilian had stirred slightly during the time Legolas had been out of the cave, and the color in his face was less ashen.  The fire must be helping, Legolas thought, with his heart leaping.  Perhaps he could now wake Eilian up enough to be useful. He bent to remove his own cloak from around Eilian and put it on.  Then he sat down next to his brother with his back against the cave wall, pulled Eilian up to lean against his chest, and wrapped his cloak around both of them, hoping he could help his brother by sharing the warmth of his own body.

He had a sudden vivid memory of himself as an elfling sitting on Eilian’s lap and fighting sleep while his brother told him a story about a fawn that had wandered too far from home and was looking for its mother again.  He knew how the story would end, for in Eilian’s stories, the baby animals were always gathered into someone’s loving keeping, but he wanted to stay awake to hear Eilian tell it.  Now he looked down at his brother’s dark head.  “Wake up, Eilian,” he crooned.  When there was no response, he shook Eilian slightly.  “Wake up now. I need you to tell me a story, so I will not be so afraid.”

Eilian stirred slightly, and Legolas shook him again.  “Come, Eilian.  You have slept long enough.  Wake up now.”  His brother’s dark lashes suddenly fluttered, and his eyes opened, only to slide in confusion around the scene in front of him.  “Did you have a lovely sleep?” Legolas teased, echoing Gelmir’s words to him from what seemed at least a month ago, and knowing that his voice was much too shaky to reassure Eilian of anything.

Eilian turned his head at the sound of Legolas’s voice and looked even more confused to find himself cradled in his little brother’s arms.  “What happened?”

“The Orc captain took a slice out of your hip,” Legolas said.  “And something on the sword is making the wound bleed. Remember?”

Eilian wet his lips, and Legolas stretched to reach one of the water skins and offer him a drink.  “Now I remember,” Eilian said.  He considered his surrounding for a moment. “Are we in the Orc cave?”

“Yes.  Fortunately the Orcs are not.”

Eilian tried to sit up straighter, but Legolas restrained him.  “I have slowed the bleeding, but movement seems to speed it up again,” he said.  “Stay still.”

“My patrol is probably battling those Orcs,” Eilian protested.  “They need me.”

“They do not need you dead,” Legolas said sharply, “and a blizzard is in progress. I expect that both the Orcs and our companions have sought shelter until it passes.  All we have to do is wait until the patrol comes back for us. Lie still, Eilian!”  He tightened his grasp around his brother’s shoulders and was relieved when Eilian suddenly slumped against him.

They sat in silence for a moment and then Eilian groaned softly, alarming Legolas. “Maltanaur is going to kill me,” Eilian groaned, and Legolas surprised himself by laughing.

“He will probably kill me first,” he observed, “especially if he thinks I have not done a good job of caring for you, so stop squirming.”

With a sigh, Eilian relaxed against him. “You are mighty bossy,” he said, a little drowsily.  “You are still my baby brother, you know, even if you are a warrior.”

Legolas smiled slightly but did not like the way that Eilian’s eyes were drifting shut again.  “Help me pass the time by talking to me,” he urged, hoping that Eilian would stay awake better if he was speaking.  “Tell me more about yourself as a novice. What did Adar say about you being flung across the river from a bent tree?”

“He did not know.  Lómilad believed that what happened among the novices was his business and not that of the novices’ families.”

“But Ithilden must have known,” Legolas protested.  “When I was novice, he always knew when I had gotten into trouble. The masters sent him a report.”

“Ithilden was away,” Eilian said.  “He used to command the troops from the field then, you know.  He would travel from patrol to patrol with his aides and his guards to get a sense of how matter fared. And, as it happened, he and Adar were very worried just then about rumors they had heard about increased trouble in the southern part of the woods. So he had gone to check with all his captains about what they had observed in their areas.  As I said, I was too self-absorbed to think much about that then though.”

“When did you realize how serious matters were?” Legolas asked.

Eilian sighed.  “Even as dense as I was, it did not take too long.  No one could have lived with Adar and Ithilden and stayed as selfishly engrossed as I was for long.  Even the day I jumped the river, Adar was worried and I knew it. I just chose not to admit it, for then I would have had to behave differently, and I did not want to do that.”

 

~*~*~

Eilian walked into the family sitting room where he expected to find his parents sharing a cup of wine before evening meal.  His mother was alone when she turned to smile at him, however.

“Hello, my sweet one,” she said. She eyed the silver trimmed black tunic and leggings into which he had changed when he came home from training.  “You look very dashing tonight.”

He smiled back at her, his spirits rising, as they almost always did in her presence.  He strongly suspected that she sympathized with some of his adventures more than she ever admitted, especially in his father’s presence.  He bent to kiss her cheek.  “You look beautiful as always, Naneth.   Where is Adar?”

“He is still meeting with his advisors,” she responded as he went to pour himself a cup of wine. She shook her head when he offered to refill her cup.  A small frown puckered the skin between her eyebrows provoking an instant desire to smooth it away in her second son.

“We did a treasure hunt at training today,” he told her and was immediately rewarded by seeing her smile at his enthusiastic tone.

“Searching for arrows?” she asked.  “I remember when Ithilden did that, and, as I recall, he enjoyed it too.”

Eilian shrugged. “Ithilden probably enjoyed the drill,” he observed a little resentfully.  He sometimes grew tired of hearing about how Ithilden had done as a novice.  Ithilden had had the excitement of battling Orcs to look forward to when he finished the training, Eilian thought, not boring routine patrols.

“Ithilden was not born grown up, you know,” Lorellin chided gently.  She looked at him thoughtfully.  “Are you going out tonight?”

He nodded. “Gelmir and I are going starwatching.”

“Celuwen is not going?” his mother asked, sounding faintly surprised.

He scowled.  “She says she is needed at home, whatever that means.  Celuwen is behaving very strangely these days. I cannot make her out at all.”  As he spoke, he suddenly realized that he had been hurt when Celuwen had told him that he had behaved ‘stupidly’ in jumping the river and that, moreover, she would not come out with him that night.  He looked up from his wine to find his mother regarding him steadily.  “What is it?” he asked.

She smiled slightly.  “Have you talked to Celuwen about why she acts as she does?”

“No,” he frowned.  For some reason, he found it harder to talk to Celuwen these days.

“She has been your friend for a long time,” Lorellin said gently.  “Do you not think she deserves a chance to talk to you about whatever is bothering her?  You are not usually so ungenerous toward your friends, iôn-nín.”

Eilian grimaced.  For some reason, he found that the idea of talking to Celuwen was both enticing and alarming.

“I thought you liked a challenge,” his mother prodded, and he glanced at her to see an expression on her face that he could not read.  If he had not known better, he would have thought she looked a bit mischievous.

The door opened and Thranduil entered the room, drawing Eilian to his feet. Thranduil crossed to where his wife sat and kissed her brow.  “Good evening, my love.”  He accepted the cup of wine Eilian had poured for him, sank into a chair, and took a deep draught. Then he waved Eilian back into his own chair.

“Was it so bad?” Lorellin asked sympathetically.  The creases were back between her eyebrows, Eilian noted.

Thranduil grimaced.  “Bad enough. We will see what Ithilden has to tell us when he returns and then decide what to do.”

“Is this about the trouble that seems to be happening in the south?” Eilian ventured to ask.  He had heard exciting rumors at the warrior training fields and was reasonably certain that Ithilden was away exploring them.  If there was anything to the rumors, he was sure that Ithilden would find out.  His brother was sometimes maddeningly controlled, but Eilian also firmly believed that Ithilden was also the most formidable warrior he knew.

“You do not need to concern yourself about this now, Eilian,” Thranduil said shortly. He set his cup down on the table next to him rather more forcefully than was necessary.  “Let us talk about something else.”

“Excellent idea,” Lorellin agreed. “Let us talk about the summer solstice celebration.  May I borrow some of your attendants to help decorate the green?”

Thranduil smiled at her. “You may have whatever you like, and you know it,” he told her.  At that moment, a servant came to tell them that evening meal was ready and the three of them moved to the dining room where they continued to talk about the upcoming feast.  They had finished their soup and were starting on the venison stew when the door opened and Ithilden came striding into the room, his wet hair suggesting that he had returned only a short while ago and bathed hastily.  Eilian blinked, for his brother’s face looked more weary and strained than he had ever seen it before.

“Ithilden!” their mother cried, rising to embrace him.

“Good evening, Naneth,” he responded, kissing the top of her head.  “Good evening, Adar.”  He patted Eilian’s shoulder on his way to clasp arms with their father.  The servant set another place at the table, and Ithilden sat down, accepted a plate of stew, and began to eat with what looked like relish.

 “Would you like me to tell you what I learned now, Adar?” he asked Thranduil.

Their mother looked as if she would protest, and Eilian was not surprised when their father said, “No. Eat your meal, and we will talk later.”  But he did feel a stab of disappointment.  Whatever Ithilden had been doing was probably exciting, and he wanted to hear about it.  Ah well, he was going out with Gelmir anyway, and he knew that several pretty maidens were going to be in the woods tonight too.  He could amuse himself quite nicely without knowing about what was troubling Ithilden and Thranduil, he thought.

***

Eilian stood at the edge of the rocks and looked down at the pool in the bend of the Forest River, a good twenty feet below.  A short distance away from him, Fendîr hesitated before drawing a deep breath and then pushing off to dive into the water below.  Eilian clapped his hand lightly.  Fendîr would scramble up a tree quite happily, but he had never been fond of diving from the high rocks.  Eilian thought he deserved credit for hiding his nervousness.

“Good!” called Thelion.  “You next, Siondel.”

When the novice masters had announced after mid-day meal that the youngest novices would spend the rest of the day practicing rescuing drowning people, Eilian had scarcely been able to believe his ears.  Between the treasure hunt the day before and swimming today, they would be doing something fun for two day in a row!  Although Thelion was the blade master, he had somehow been designated to supervise them. From some good natured remarks directed toward Thelion by the other masters, Eilian suspected that he had won the chance to take them swimming in some sort of lottery.  On a hot day like this one, even the novice masters were looking for relief.

They had practiced dragging one another from the pool for an hour or more, and then Thelion had sent them first to a low ledge and then to this higher one to practice diving. Siondel now followed Fendîr into the pool.  Gîl-Garion stepped up to take his turn.

Eilian watched them idly.  Diving from the upper rocks held no terrors for him. He had done it regularly since he was an elfling.  It was exhilarating but not particularly challenging.  His eyes were suddenly caught by a figure on the path that ran along the edge of the pool: Ithilden stood watching the novices.  He did so from time to time, claiming that assessing potential warriors was part of his responsibility, but Eilian could not help but feel that his brother was scrutinizing him in particular, and he was not always sure he was living up to his brother’s exacting standards.

A sudden idea popped into his head, making his heart speed up a little.  He sidled up to Gelmir.  “How much will you wager that I can dive so as to splash Ithilden?” he whispered.

Gelmir looked at Ithilden standing on the path, and his eyes widened.  “You would not dare!”  Gelmir was a little afraid of Ithilden, not as afraid as he was of Thranduil, but afraid nonetheless.

Eilian grinned.  “Do you want to wager?”

Gelmir frowned.  “Eilian, the rocks are close there.  I am not sure it is such a good idea to dive near them.”

Eilian looked at the rocks Gelmir was talking about and felt a pleasant tremor of apprehension.  “That is what makes it fun to do.”

“Your turn, Eilian,” called Thelion, and, ignoring Gelmir’s frantic mutters, Eilian stepped to the edge of the rocks, eyeing the water near his brother. If he wanted to splash Ithilden, he needed to enter the water less than cleanly, but he would need to be very careful if he also did not want to knock himself senseless on the rocks.  He drew a deep breath, bent his knees, and then launched himself into the air.  For a second, he sailed effortlessly, and then he twisted his body slightly and, with a brief sting to his side and a painless scraping sensation along his left shin, he plunged into the cool, green water.

Before he even surfaced, he was certain that he had succeeded in sending water out of the pool and onto his brother’s tunic and leggings, but the first thing he did when his head broke out of the water was to turn toward Ithilden to make sure.  His brother was hovering at the edge of the pool, with his clothes well splashed and fear on his face.  Eilian suppressed a grin and swam to where Thelion waited for him, his face pale.

“Get out!” Thelion snapped, and Eilian grimaced.  He supposed he could not expect Thelion to be happy that he had splashed the troop commander.  He pulled himself out of the pool and onto the rocks near where the blade master stood.  “Let me see your leg,” Thelion said, and suddenly Eilian realized that blood was seeping lightly from a scrape along his left shin that was beginning to sting a little.   Thelion inspected the scrape and then stood and looked at Eilian with anger plain on his normally amiable face.  By this time, Ithilden had reached them.

“What was that supposed to be?” Ithilden demanded, grasping Eilian’s arm and turning his brother to face him.

“It was just a joke, Ithilden,” Eilian protested.  “Surely you do not mind getting a little wet on such a hot day.”  Ithilden drew a deep breath and was seemingly unable to speak. To Eilian’s surprise, his brother’s hand trembled slightly on his arm.

“Let me do this, my lord,” Thelion said.  “This is a matter for the novice masters.”  Ithilden looked at him for a second and then gave a curt nod. He released Eilian’s arm and strode away without another word.  Eilian watched him go, astonished at his brother’s public loss of control.

“Eilian,” Thelion said sharply, and Eilian turned back to him.  “As I understand it, Lómilad reprimanded you yesterday for needlessly endangering yourself. Apparently, he made no impression. I am assigning you to cleaning weapons in the armory for the next week.  If you so much as jump from a stool to the floor, I will see to it that you work there for the next month.  Do you understand me?”

Eilian blinked.  Thelion was the most easy-going of all the novice masters, and Eilian liked him.  Thelion’s disapproval bothered him more than he liked to admit.  “Yes, I understand,” he said.

Thelion nodded. “Good.  You may go.  I suggest you try to make peace with your brother.  You frightened the life out of him.”

And suddenly, Eilian was ashamed of himself.  Ithilden had looked tired and strained the previous evening.  He should have been trying to ease his brother’s worries, not add to them, but it did not come naturally to him to see that Ithilden even had worries.  “Yes, master,” he said and began to dry himself and pull his leggings and tunic on.  He would go and apologize to Ithilden and assure him that he would behave more sensibly from now on.  He left the pool, where Thelion was now waiting for Gelmir to make his dive.

 

~*~*~

“But when I got home, Ithilden was talking to Adar in his office and then he left that very afternoon with a party of warriors to ride south and see for himself what was happening near Dol Guldur,” Eilian finished.  “So I never had the chance to talk to him before he left.”

Legolas had listened with interest to this tale of events that happened before he was born.  The flow of blood from Eilian’s hip had slowed, he noticed with satisfaction, and his brother felt warmer, but he was tiring and Legolas feared that he would soon slide away into a sleep too deep to be good for him.

Suddenly, he heard a distant sound through the constant howl of the wind.  He sharpened his attention and heard it again.

“What is the matter?” Eilian asked, having evidently felt Legolas grow tense.

Legolas hesitated but then decided that Eilian needed to know what they faced.  “I hear Orcs,” he said.  “I think they are coming this way. Do you hear them?”

Eilian lifted his head from Legolas’s chest and listened.  The sound of rough voices came again.  “I hear them,” he breathed.  He listened again and then they looked at one another.  “There are more than two or three,” Eilian said.

Legolas nodded and began to slide out from under his brother.  “You stay as still as you can,” he said. “I do not want the bleeding to start again.  I will lead them away from the caves.”

“No,” Eilian began to protest.

“Yes,” Legolas said firmly, picking up his bow.  He looked at Eilian who was, he knew, helpless to stop him from doing what he intended to do anyway.  “Stay awake,” he instructed.  Then he bent to place Eilian’s hand on the hilt of his sword.  If Legolas did not succeed in leading the Orcs away, he doubted that Eilian would be able to defend himself, but that could be all the more reason for his brother to have his sword to hand.  “I will be back soon,” he said, straightening again, and ducked out of the cave entrance and into the snowy night.





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