Chapter Nineteen

A tense silence descended over the small group of four on the lower reaches of Black Mountain. Whatever hope for recovery from their toxic wounds the four had held was now gone. Elladan’s words echoed in the still air. “There will be no antidote---for any of us.” It was a mind-numbing prospect. After all, hadn’t they just heard a declaration of their own doom?

None of them could meet the eyes of the other two. What was the point? The looks they all had were exactly the same. The news Elladan brought was too new to have given them time to sort through any possible chance to find a satisfactory answer. So turning that look on each other now would only re-enforce the reason for it: a feeling of utter hopelessness.

Elrohir was the first to shake himself loose from the stupor his brother’s words had put them all in. He had been the one to ask about the blood in the snow. Now he asked, “Could the dust not have been used?” His question was directed at Aragorn.

The ranger hesitated a moment before shaking his head. His voice was low, as he said, “It does not matter.”

Elrohir bristled. “How can you say that, Estel?’ his voice anything but low. “You told Elladan to bring the blood back to use for an antidote. The blood is in the dust. Why does it suddenly not matter?”

It wasn’t often that the youngest twin became angry with his human brother. More than anyone else in Estel’s life, Elrohir tended to indulge the human, preferring to conspire rather than discipline. It frustrated their father to no end.

“It was a vain hope. I realize that now.” The man finally raised his head and looked at Elrohir. “I had no real way of making an antidote,” he admitted somberly. “Had you brought me the blood, Elladan, I wouldn’t have known where to begin. I don’t have Ada’s workroom available to me, so even if I had an idea of how to do it, I don’t have the other ingredients to mix with it to make it viable and potent. I’m sorry I made you both think otherwise. It’s no consolation to you, I know, but I even talked myself into believing I could do it. I fooled us all.”

“Ada can...” Elrohir began.

“No, Elrohir. He’s too far away. The infection begins and then spreads much too fast. You see what it did to Legolas in little more than a day. None of us would reach Rivendell. Even the healers of Mirkwood are too far from here. We will make it nowhere.”

Another gloomy silence fell over the brothers. Elladan shook his head. “Estel, it is not like you to simply give up.”

Aragorn considered the older twin’s statement. “It’s true that I’ve always refused to give up in any adverse situation I’ve faced, no matter that the odds were clearly against me. More times than I can count, I’ve found some way to accomplish whatever I set my mind to.

“It’s taken me a long time to realize that not all circumstances can be resolved in my favor just because I desire it. Legolas has told me that more than a few times; so have both of you, so has Ada. There are just some things that i can‘t do.” Having to admit that fact was more bitter than the man could express. An incredibly sad look settled over the ranger’s face. “I have finally been forced to accept it.”

The twins exchanged looks. They both shook their heads. Neither had ever seen Estel quite so down. True, the situation they found themselves in was dire, probably as impossible as he said it was, yet he had rarely listened to anyone, who had tried to dissuade him. Seeing the defeat in his eyes now was hard to take.

There had to be something they could do to save first Legolas, who was by far the closest to death, and then themselves.

“There has to be a way,” Elrohir insisted. “We cannot just sit here and watch each other die.” He didn’t realize he had spoken out loud until he heard Estel speak.

“I am all for finding a way, Elrohir. What did you have in mind?” He flinched when he heard the bitterness in his voice. He gave his brother an apologetic look but said nothing.

Elrohir had not taken offence but was forced to admit, “I do not know.”

Aragorn, despite feeling depressed and defeated, was not going to let his brothers’ wounds fester without trying to make them at least as comfortable as he could. So the next several moments were spent tending to the bite wound on Elrohir’s arm and the milder one on Elladan’s neck.

Clean bandages had been retrieved from Aragorn’s pack along with more athelas leaves. The man didn’t think they would do any more good than they had before, but he couldn’t bring himself not to put anything at all on the wounds.

When Aragorn had finished with his brothers, Elladan grabbed the ranger’s left hand and pulled it toward him. There were deep scratches across the back of Aragorn’s hand, which had several drops of dried black blood on them.

The elf looked hopefully at the ranger. “Howler blood.”

Aragorn understood immediately what the elf was thinking. “It’s only a few drops. It wouldn’t be enough to work with even had I the knowledge and means to do it.” Aragorn felt bad that he had to dash his brothers’ hopes yet again.

Elladan sighed. “It was a hope that I spoke of before I thought.” There was still no way there was going to be an antidote. The sooner he accepted that, the easier the burden would be on his mind and heart. He wasn’t at all sure that that was entirely true, but speaking of it did no one any good. Instead he cleaned and bandaged the ranger’s hand and kept his mouth firmly closed.

A soft moan brought all of their attentions to the blond figure lying on the cloak to their right. The ranger and the two dark-haired elves were at Legolas’s side in an instant.

“Legolas?” Aragorn called to his friend. When there was no answer, he leaned over the elf and raised his voice a little. “Legolas, can you hear me?”

With a great deal of effort, the newly conscious elf opened his heavy eyelids, revealing eyes that were dull and unfocused. Several blinks later and they began to clear. The elf, not trusting his voice just yet due to a mouth as dry as sand, simply nodded.

The man relaxed slightly. At least Legolas was able to understand the question. Aragorn had feared the elf’s mind might be even more confused than it had been. The ranger thought back to Legolas‘s remark about the stars, which had been a stark indication of his mental state at the time.

Aragorn didn’t believe that the elf’s overall condition had improved, but still he managed to smile down at the wood elf, when he saw the gaze of the blue-gray eyes fastened onto his face.

When Legolas tried to speak, only a raspy noise came out. He swallowed but was not able to gather enough moisture to ease the ache of dryness in his parched throat.

Elladan, seeking to alleviate the younger elf’s obvious discomfort, reached for his water skin. Lifting Legolas into a sitting position, he handed the skin to Estel, who tilted it so the archer could easily drink from it. Legolas took several swallows, paused and then took several more. The cool water did exactly as it was intended to do by taking the dry, gritty feeling away from the elf‘s mouth and throat. He nodded, when he finally had his fill. “Hannon le,” he said, his voice stronger and much clearer.

When Elladan attempted to lay the prince back down, Legolas shook his head. “No. I wish to stay up.” He looked up at the elder elf, who was still holding on to him. “I can sit on my own.” He smiled to let Elladan know he appreciated the help.

Elladan nodded and gradually released his hold on Legolas, not letting go completely until he was sure the young wood elf could sit up on his own. When he was satisfied, Elladan stood up and moved a few steps away before dropping back down to sit beside Elrohir.

Legolas clenched his teeth in pure determination not to give in to the dizziness that had plagued him for too long a time now. He was not used to the feeling, and he did not like it. Focusing his thoughts on his friends, he tried to force his mind to clear. It worked only to a degree.

Legolas waited for one of his friends to say something. Whenever the four of them were together, there was usually some kind of discussion going on. Now there was only silence. “Is anyone going to say anything?”

“Legolas...” Aragorn began before letting his voice trail off into more silence.

The elf frowned. “Just say it, Estel. I am sure it is nothing I do not already know.”

Aragorn still did not speak. He wouldn’t even meet the blond prince’s eyes. After all, how do you say, ‘You are going to die, Legolas, and there is nothing any of us can to stop it from happening.’ He just couldn’t do it.

Legolas looked to the twins, but even they were silent. There didn’t seem to be anything to do but say it himself and get it out in the open. Maybe then his friends would talk to him. “I am going to die. Is that not so?”

They all knew that keeping quiet was not going to work with this very bright wood elf, though he clearly already knew the truth. Even had he not, none of them would ever have lied to him. They just didn’t want to put the horrible condemnation into words. It hurt too much.

Elladan sighed and began to relate the story---the whole story. He left out nothing that had happened while Legolas had been unconscious. His own words stung him, as he retold the events for a second time, but he forged through every detail of the narration.

The prince’s only visible reaction to the story was the part about the howlers turning to dust. That was completely unexpected, bordering on shocking. When Elladan finished, Legolas just sat without moving or speaking. It seemed that the cloak of silence had descended over him, as well. He was only dimly aware that he was probably feeling the same way his friends were: they were thinking about the others they loved, who were about to die and not about themselves.

As if the mental enormity of the situation wasn’t enough, the world began to tilt and then spin around Legolas. He put both palms down on either side of him on the warm stone. He leaned forward slightly on them for support. He tired to make the maneuver casual, so it wouldn’t attract attention. It seemed to work, as no one questioned his health, for the moment, at least. He knew, however, that it would continue to work only if he didn’t close his eyes, which Estel always considered a sign of misery from the elf whenever he was injured in any way. Legolas forced his eyelids to stay up.

“So we are doomed,” Legolas concluded. He would have smiled had he not thought that might be somewhat inappropriate. He loved his friends and did not want to think of them dying the same way he was, but for some reason beyond his control, the words came out with a touch of humor attached to them. It was probably because he had said those exact words on more than one occasion, when it was certain they were not truly doomed. His words had elicited laughter during those times.

Aragorn easily caught the humor behind the remark and, recognizing it for what it was, just stared at the prince.

Legolas saw the look, of course. “I am sorry, Estel. I know it is a serious situation. I truly do not want to think of us meeting our end out here on Orod Moru. But it occurred to me that we would be dying from the poisoned bites of creatures that no longer even exist. It is ironic, is it not?”

“The infection’s effects have muddled your thinking, mellon nin,” the ranger remarked. “Yet I understand what you’re saying. I hadn’t even thought of that.” He ranger shook his head. “Ironic indeed.”

“We have all been through much in our lifetimes. It was only natural to expect we would meet our end one way or another on one of our adventures.” Aragon looked at the three elves. “How many times have we escaped death, when we should not have.”

It was no surprise, when they all nodded. “I should have succumbed to Mordraug,” Legolas said, his mind drifting back to his encounter with the dark elf that had killed his mother and almost killed him, actually had killed him, in fact. He shook that memory free. If his time left in Middle-earth was limited, he was not going to spend any more of it thinking about that evil creature.

A more serious look came over the archer’s pale features. “Estel, I do not want to die here. Can we not go down to the valley, get the horses and then make our way into the forest. I want to die there, among the trees.”

The elf had spoken so casually about his impending death, he might have been discussing his wardrobe for the day. Then the man realized that Legolas had completely accepted the fact he was going to die. It was not a case of denial hidden behind false bravado. He had come to terms with it.

Looking closely at the archer’s blue-gray eyes, though, showed the man the grief residing there for what would soon befall his friends. And it mattered not when thinking of the death of a mortal or an immortal. When a mortal died any time short of old age, it was sad, because their life spans were so incredibly short to begin with and to end too early was a tragedy. Was the ending of a life that was not meant to end at all even more of a tragedy? Aragorn believed it was.

Aragorn then shrugged and offered a small smile. Their fate was now decided and accepted, so it was time to enjoy each other‘s company as they always had for as long as they were able to share it. He nodded. “I would prefer that myself,” he agreed. He then looked at his brothers. They both nodded in turn. They weren’t wood elves, but dying in the forest was certainly preferable to doing it out here on the black granite slopes of this mountain.

Standing up, Aragorn reached down and pulled Legolas to his feet. “I will carry you.”

“No, Estel. I will walk.” He didn’t think he would make it all the way to the valley, but he would go until he dropped. He just hoped he could reach the trees alive.

While Aragorn and Legolas, leaning on the man for support, started down the mountain, the twins rounded up their packs and Elrohir’s cloak. They were all at last leaving this accursed place, but not without thinking that what had taken place here would alter the lives of their families and friends. There was no way to change that now, so they began to make their way down the trail.

~*~*~

It took less than half an hour, even moving slowly to accommodate Legolas’s pace, for the four to finally find themselves stepping from black rock onto the green grass and soft dirt of earth. The yield of it under their feet as they continued on was most welcome after having tread on so much stone.

Elrohir, his arm hurting more than he was willing to let on, ignored it and went off to get the horses in the smaller valley where he had left them.

When he finally reached it, a sharp whistle bought the four horses running, crowding around the elf in joyful greeting. Mounting his horse, Elrohir headed back to where his brothers and Legolas were making their now painfully slow way toward the edge of the forest ahead of them.

When Elrohir reached them, the three on the ground mounted. Legolas insisted on riding alone. He had to assure Aragorn several times before the ranger would accept that the elf could stay mounted without help. “I have been riding since before I could walk, Estel.”

“Yes, mellon nin, but you were not wounded before you could walk,” the man replied sternly.

“Are you so sure?” Elrohir asked. “He has been injured so often, he must have had a very early start.”

The remark earned Elrohir a very hard glare from the Prince of Mirkwood. However, it was hard to become angry at the youngest twin, since he was actually right. Legolas clearly remembered being injured in a bridge collapse when he was a small child. That little incident would remain his secret.

The one thing that Legolas appreciated the most right then was the fact that even their impending deaths had not changed the way the four dealt with each other. Their long association together often covered an array of emotions. Humor was chief among them, and it was not being abandoned now. For without it, they would surely have all lapsed into depressing gloom.

As soon as they entered the forest, Legolas heard the lament of the trees. They whispered their sad regrets to him. Seeing any of the Firstborn fade brought sorrow to the forest, but the passing of a wood elf, in particular, was a pain to its ancient heart.

Legolas looked around at the beautiful trees that surrounded him and whispered, “Do not be sad, my friends. It is well. I am not afraid.”

TBC