Chapter Fifteen

Aragorn sat for a long time, holding his dearest and most trusted friend in his arms and terrified that the elf would die there. The man had his right hand spread flat on Legolas’s chest, so he could satisfy himself that the elf was still breathing.

The athelas was apparently not working. Why? the ranger wanted to know. Why was this powerful plant, used so successfully, so often and for so long, not doing its job now? There was a reason, and Aragorn knew he had to find it.

The man raised his head, clenching his teeth in determination. There had to be something more he could do. He was unwilling to just accept the impending death of his friend. He had done that already, because that perceived death had been out of his hands, and the evidence had pointed in that direction. Now he felt that Legolas’s fate was in his hands, and he just had to find a way to make it come out in his favor.

Aragorn would need to fight as hard to save the archer as he had ever fought any enemy. After all, wasn’t this infection an enemy? Such infection was unnatural in an elf, and anything unnatural had a cause beyond the norm. It could be fought, and it could be defeated, if that cause was found. And he knew Elladan and Elrohir were right there ready to do whatever they could to help.

As much as Aragorn hated to disturb Legolas by questioning him, the ranger needed to know more about the wound that he was sure was a bite, because he had the nagging feeling that the answer lay in obtaining that knowledge. With a deep sigh, he looked down at the elf’s ashen face and said. “Legolas?”

“I am awake,” the elf replied, to the ranger‘s great surprise. Legolas had been so still and quiet, since his wound had been treated, that Aragorn was sure he had been asleep.

“These marks on your shoulder are from a bite, aren’t they?”

Legolas blinked, sorted through the question and then nodded.

“Can you tell me about the bite? Was it done by one of the howlers?” He could think of no other creature who might have done it.

“Yes. Is something wrong?” There was a small note of alarm in the elf’s voice.

Normally the ranger would not even think of trying to hide anything from Legolas. It rarely worked anyway. Right now, however, he was going to see how far he could go before even the muddled mind of his friend picked up on the evasion. “I thought maybe there was more involved than just being bitten. Was there?”

Legolas frowned, trying to remember the events that led up to and then beyond being bitten. It was difficult to concentrate, but he forced himself to sift through his memories. “It was the leader.“ He tried to recall other details but couldn’t bring any more to mind. He shook his head in frustration and then went still, a blank look crossing his face.

“Did this leader do anything else to you besides bite you?” Aragorn gently reminded the elf, aware that he had forgotten what it was he was trying to remember.

Aragorn waited as Legolas again struggled with his memory. It pained him when the elf’s concentration again deserted him, and he once more looked out into the dark night and smiled. “Do you see the beautiful stars, Estel?”

If only he could just let his friend enjoy the stars he loved so much. Even if they weren’t there to be seen, he knew Legolas would find joy and peace in imagining their sparkling beauty. But there was no time for such indulgences. He had to find out if there was any information Legolas could tell him that might be used to save the elf’s life. “Legolas, will you listen to me?”

Aragorn felt Legolas move his head to look up at him. The elf’s eyes were wide and expectant. “Did you ask me a question, Estel?” he inquired.

With an inner sense of urgency that he wasn‘t willing to transmit to the young elf, the ranger calmly asked again, “Did something happen after the howler bit you?”

All three of the Rivendell brothers were totally unprepared, when Legolas laughed softly and then said. “I bit it back.”

“You bit the howler?” Elrohir asked in surprise, not completely sure that the ‘it’ Legolas mentioned referred to the howler. Deciding it did, Elrohir was tempted to say, ‘Good boy,’ but thought that was a bit out of place under the circumstances.

Leoglas’s smile broadened. “I did,” he answered proudly. “I bit it on the arm.“ Then he paused before adding, “I drew blood, and that creature made me swallow it.” He scrunched his face up and made a gagging noise. “It was worse than your athelas, Estel.”

There was a moment of silence before Aragorn said, “It must be the blood,” He had reached the only conclusion that made any sense to him.

Elladan nodded. “So it is probably the howler’s blood that interfered with Legolas’s natural healing ability, leading to the infection.”

“And is now interfering with the athelas,” Elrohir added.

“Yes,” Aragorn agreed. “That has to be it. However, these howlers exist nowhere else in Middle-earth, that we know of, and we know nothing about them or their blood. So how do we reverse what that blood has done to Legolas?” In his mind, he said, ‘Before it’s too late.’

“I know who they are,” Legolas answered and laughed again. When no one made a comment, he thought perhaps they didn‘t believe him. “I really do know who they are.” His tone was insistent.

Realizing that Legolas must have learned something about the creatures while he was their prisoner, Elladan said, “Tell us about them.” When all he got was another blank stare, the elder elf said, “Legolas, it may help to make you well, if we know more about the howlers.”

Legolas perked up. “It will stop the pain?” he asked with hope shining in his blue-gray eyes.

“We hope it will, mellon nin,” Aragorn said, unable to make a firm promise that might prove to be false. “Now please tell us all that you know about the howlers.”

Legolas began his tale. It took a while, because his wandering mind kept getting in the way of his narration. He paused often, either to stare out into space or to correct himself, when he wasn’t sure he had said the right thing.

As a result, the story was halting and disjointed, and it took all three of the archer’s friends to sort through the information and bring some kind of order to it all.

Legolas knew he wasn’t telling the story exactly right. He again shook his head in frustration, seemingly after every sentence he uttered. Finally, he looked up at the man holding him and said, “I am sorry, Estel. I cannot think clearly.”

“You are doing fine, Legolas.” Aragorn squeezed the elf’s hand in encouragement.

“Just take your time,” Elrohir said, adding his own encouragement.

When the elf reached the part about who the howlers were and how they came to be on Orod Moru, he had three pairs of wide eyes staring intently at him.

“They were Drúedain?” Elladan asked in disbelief, using the proper name for the Drughu.

Legolas smiled. “I told you I knew who they were.” The elf was exceedingly pleased he had been able to get that part of the story out so it was understood. He sensed that his friends were very anxious to learn what he had to say about the origins of the howlers.

The three brothers looked at each other. “I never would have guessed in a hundred millennia that these creatures had once been the kin of men,” Elrohir said, shaking his head.

“Nor would I,” Aragorn agreed, still rather amazed. He had thought that Legolas was going to tell them things that he had observed while in the company of the howlers. It certainly never occurred to him that they could be able to speak in any tongue but their own. So it was a great surprise when it dawned on him that the only way Legolas could have learned that kind of information was if he and the howlers had been able to communicate. “They speak the Common tongue?”

“They do,” Legolas said, grinning. “I talked to them, and they talked to me.” His grin faded, as he frowned once more, thinking that there was something not quite right about that statement. It didn’t occur to him that only the leader had spoken to him. None of the others ever had.

“Everything must have been stripped from them except the ability to speak Westron,” Aragorn mused, not understanding the reason for that but forced to accept it nonetheless.

“Taking the identity of those people, who opposed him, is just another example of evil that can be hung around Morgoth’s neck.” There was anger in Elladan’s voice.

Not knowing that there was a small undiscovered contingent of Drúedain left, Elrohir said, “Now that entire race of men has vanished from Middle-earth. These creatures certainly have no humanity left.”

“No,” Legolas replied. “They have no souls. That is what the leader told me.” Despite everything that the elf had endured since the howlers captured him, he still could not find in himself any true hatred for them, though he seemed to remember killing two of them, who had tried to prevent his escape. He also vaguely remembered that they wanted to do something really dreadful to him. He just couldn’t recall what it was. Added to that was the fact he had never been in the cavern and thus hadn’t seen the bones and the horror they represented. If he had, his opinion of the howlers would surely have shifted much more toward what Aragorn and the twins thought.

The archer’s eyes grew distant, when he found that he could no longer concentrate on anything but the gnawing pain in his shoulder and the intensely uncomfortable heat that was consuming his body. These two things combined to exhaust the elf. All conscious thought left him, and Legolas once again stared up at the night sky. Soon his eyes closed, and he drifted off into a troubled sleep.

As interesting as it was to Aragorn and the twins to find out about the howlers’ origins, it still didn’t give them any answers. No matter who these creatures had been before, they were howlers now, and the brothers still didn’t know how to combat their obviously toxic blood.

“If only Ada were here,” Elrohir remarked. Then he looked at his youngest brother. “I am sorry, Estel. I know you are a very good healer and have done your best for Legolas.”

“Don’t apologize, Elrohir. You’re right. I, too, wish Ada was here. There is no healer like him in all of Middle-earth. He would surely know what to do.”

“I can see only one solution,” Elladan said, the frown of deep thought still on his handsome face.

“What is that?” Aragorn asked, eagerly awaiting the answer, since he had none of this own.

“We must capture one of the howlers.”

The ranger stared at his oldest brother. “I assume you want to get some of its blood.”

Elladan nodded.

“And then what?” Aragorn asked. “We have no way of making an antidote, Elladan, even if we knew how. Ada is the expert there. Remember he is the one that made the anti-venom that cured Legolas two years ago.”

“He also had his whole workroom and all his herbs, potions and formulas at his disposal,” Elrohir said, “We have nothing.”

“Then we must find something,” Aragorn insisted. He wanted to say that he was not going to just let Legolas die, but he knew that his friend might hear those words, even if it looked as if he was asleep right then. The elf’s confused mind did not recognize the fact he was dying, and the ranger was not going to the be one to inadvertently let him know that his closest friends believed his condition was that serious.

Elladan reached up under his cloak and put his hand on Estel’s shoulder. “Whatever we do cannot be done until daylight. For now we keep him comfortable.”

“There is one thing we can do for all of us,” Elrohir said, pulling his cloak free of Estel and Legolas and turning to his left. He reached for his pack, as Elladan asked him what he was doing.

“We must eat to keep our strength up. I have a feeling tomorrow may be harder than today has been.” He was prepared to argue that point, however, neither of his brothers offered an objection.

Elrohir drew out a package wrapped in dark cloth. When he opened it, several pieces of cheese and some dried meat was soon revealed. Along with it were about half a dozen pieces of lembas bread. The elf grinned as he held the cloth out for Aragorn and Elladan to pick what they wanted.

When they pushed back all the cloaks around them, a voice cut through the silence. “Do I not get anything to eat?”

“Legolas,” Aragorn exclaimed somewhat startled. He was now exceedingly glad he hadn‘t said anything about Legolas‘s true condition. The elf might well have heard every word. “I’m sorry, mellon nin. I didn’t realize you would feel like eating. Here, take this.” The ranger then offered a piece of dried meat to the elf.

Legolas took the meat from Aragorn’s hand and bit off a small piece. He began to chew it slowly, almost as if the effort of going any faster would be too taxing. Yet he did finish that piece and then bit off another.

Unknown to him, Aragorn was grinning. The man knew that if Legolas was hungry, his condition might not be quite as dire as he had earlier feared, though that belief alone was not enough to truly ease his mind.

In the meantime, Elladan had retrieved his water skin from his own pack and offered it to Estel, who let go of Legolas and took the container. He held the mouth of it in one hand and the other he put under the bottom for support. He tilted it up and took a long drink from it.

After Legolas had finished eating his piece of meat, Aragorn offered him another, but Legolas shook his head. The man had hoped the elf would eat more, but even this tiny bit was better than not eating at all.

When Elladan held his water skin against Legolas’s lips, the archer began to drink greedily. The dark-haired elf was well aware that the heat of fever had caused such a thirst, and though he wanted to help him quench it, Elladan knew better than to let Legolas drink his fill. He did not want the cold water to cause Legolas’s stomach to cramp. Reluctantly, Elladan pulled the skin away. “That is all you can have for now, Legolas. You do not want to make yourself sick.”

Legolas laughed. “I am already sick,” he informed his friend, as he reached out with his good right hand toward the water skin.

“Not the kind of sick that will make you lose all that is in your stomach,” the elder twin told him. “Doing that will also hurt your shoulder immensely.”

After thinking Elladan’s comment over, Legolas nodded and said, “I will drink more later.” Then with a sigh, he relaxed back against Aragorn’s chest. “I will sleep now.” In less than a minute, he was doing just that.

The three brothers finished their own meager meal and satisfied their own thirst.

“As soon as we have enough light, we will seek out a howler,” Aragorn told his brothers. “Then we’ll find a way to use it to help Legolas.”

That plan sounded so simple. He didn’t think about the fact that the chances were quite good that it was he, his brothers and his wounded friend, who would become the ones being sought.

TBC