Chapter 12 – Of Elves and Pain

Elrohir watched his brother in desperation. If they lost Legolas this way, his human brother would be devastated, and a part of him would surely die along with the elf prince. Soaking a wad of clean bandage that he had found in his pack into the bowl of cooling herbal mixture, he squeezed out the access fluid and handed it to Elladan.

“We have to risk it,” he said quietly.

Aragorn nodded comprehendingly at his brothers. Fear ate at his heart as he thought of the danger of removing the bandages, but he knew that it had to be done. “The wounds have to be cleaned to prevent infection. It would be pointless if we got him home only to lose him to infection.”

Elladan agreed grimly and instructed Aragorn to prepare some athelas paste while he and Elrohir proceeded to wash out the wounds. They had decided to start with the wound on his back in hope to clear away any lingering poison. Keeping pressure on the stomach wound, the twins rolled the elf onto his side, exposing his back. While Elrohir held the elven prince in position, Elladan discarded the sodden bandage into the fire and proceeded to cut away Legolas’ tunic, exposing his bare skin so that he could work more efficiently. Upon removal of the cloth, blood gushed out from the elf’s back, flowing down his side and soaking rapidly into the bedroll beneath him. Elladan gritted his teeth and worked fervently, cleaning the stab wound as best as he could before accepting a new bandage that Aragorn had prepared with a thick layer of athelas paste smoothed over on one side. Pressing the fresh material onto the cut, Elladan felt Legolas jerk violently beneath his hands. The three brothers winced in unison, their faces taut with worry and guilt.

“We must continue. The faster we finish, the better it is for him.” Elrohir’s words sliced through the heavy tension, and he quickly guided Legolas onto his back, using the wood-elf’s body to press down on the bandage.

Lifting the other soiled bandage off the elven prince’s midsection, Elrohir removed the remainder of his tunic and moved it aside to allow his older brother better access.

Rinsing the bloody cloth in the bowl, Elladan washed out the wound on Legolas’ stomach gingerly. He also did a quick assessment and was greatly relieved that the deep wound did not damage any of his vital organs. Taking a newly prepared bandage from Aragorn, he laid the cloth across the wound and increased pressure until the blood stopped seeping out from the sides of the material. Motioning Elrohir over to him, the older twin wrapped a broad bandage tightly around the wood-elf's abdomen with the help of his brothers, tying it off securely at the side.

*****

Legolas drifted in and out of consciousness. One moment he was floating in a peaceful oblivion, the next he was thrown into a nightmare of agony as white-hot pain overwhelmed his senses. He could not remember what had happened, or why he was being tortured as such. All he remembered was that he was forced to fight Aragorn by a human whose name escaped him, but before he could ponder the situation, another flare of pain ripped him away from all coherent thought and sent him spiraling back into the welcoming darkness.

The next time his head cleared enough for his mind to function, he was aware of the soft material he was lying on. Voices drifted in and out of focus, sounding muffled and far away, and he could not understand a single word, his brain still too fuddled to process anything aside from the fierce ache that accompanied him every time he woke. He felt hands moving about him and then a sharp sting as something warm dribbled onto his back followed by an explosive pain. He had no strength to muster a scream any longer. Only his body responded by going into a convulsive spasm, but the pain faded away somewhat as he felt someone press something warm against his skin. His brain finally registered the sweet scent to be athelas, the herb that had saved his life so many times.

The hands continued to work on him. The numbing effect of the herb masked the pain, reducing it to a more tolerable level. They finally stopped fussing over him, and he felt something thick and heavy being pulled over his body. He was grateful for the warmth that it provided. The people continued to chatter softly beside him, and the familiar voices offered him some comfort as he slowly drifted back into oblivion.

*****

“That is all we can do for him now,” Elladan said grimly as he wiped his hands on his cloak. “Let us rest for a while before continuing our journey.” Turning to Aragorn, the elf inquired about the horses. “Where are they?”

“Where are who?” Not quite sure who his brother was referring to and having forgotten all about the horses, the ranger arched an inquisitive eyebrow at Elladan.

“The horses, silly. Where are the horses,” Elrohir explained with a faint smile seeing the confused look on Aragorn’s face.

“Oh!” Leaping to his feet, the man let out a shrill whistle and within seconds two honey-colored horses came tottering into the clearing, obviously excited to see their riders.

Iarephel lowered her head and nuzzled Elladan on his arm, and the elf reached out to stroke the mare on the nose. Alquamor, on the other hand, buried his muzzle in Elrohir’s hair, nipping at the younger twin’s hair playfully.

“It’s good to see you, too,” Elrohir patted the horse on the head, and the creature let out a small whiney in return, expressing his own gladness in seeing the elf.

The horse continued to pull on the elf’s hair, eliciting a small chuckle from Elrohir, but the chuckle turned into a soft groan as he strained the muscles in his neck while trying to pull away from the overly enthusiastic animal. His reaction was instantly caught by Aragorn, who squinted at him.

Elrohir cringed inwardly and berated himself for letting that moan slip from his lips. The shallow cut on his neck had finally stopped bleeding, but it had taken longer than it usually would have…much longer. Also, even though the wound had started to close, the intensity of the pain had not faded. He had been hiding it well. Even Elladan had not noticed anything… until this moment. Now his older brother glared at him. A scowl broke out on his face, and Elrohir flinched under the scrutiny of his siblings. Shifting uncomfortably, the younger twin avoided their gazes and searched frantically around the campsite for something to divert their attention away from him. His eyes fell on the flask of water, and he put on a sweet innocent smile in an attempt to hide his discomfort.

“Uhh… anyone want tea?” he asked nervously, while scooting slowly away from the two advancing form.

“Don’t make me hurt you more than you already are,” Aragorn threatened darkly. “Let me take a look at that cut.”

Elrohir sighed dejectedly, his shoulders sagging in defeat, and he suddenly found the grass to be very interesting.

Aragorn reached out and placed his fingers under his elven brother’s chin, tilting his head up gently and prodded lightly around the small cut.

Elrohir winced and pulled away from the ranger’s touch, swatting the hand away from his face. “I’m fine,” he insisted firmly. “It just hurt a little, that’s all.”

“Uh huh.” Aragorn looked at the elf incredulously and shook his head at his brother’s stubbornness. This trait seemed to be a trademark of all elves, and he had grown accustomed to it after having spent almost two decades with them.

“Here.” Elladan spoke up suddenly from beside Elrohir and pressed a cloth that he had soaked in the athelas mixture into his hand. “It may help ease the pain.” He indicated for his younger twin to clean out the wound himself.

Taking the cloth with silent thanks, Elrohir dabbed it tentatively on his neck. Aragorn and Elladan chatted quietly as Elrohir worked earnestly on wiping off the dried blood that had caked around the wound. A soft curse halted the conversation, and the two turned towards the younger twin, who was staring at the piece of cloth in his hand.

“Now what?” Elladan complained gruffly.

“I think I broke it,” came the sheepish reply.

“Broke what?” Elladan leaned over and swore under his breath. “Can’t you do anything right?” he scolded his younger brother, but his voice held a tinge of worry instead of anger.

“Hey! It’s not my fault! I didn’t do it on purpose…” the younger elf sighed dejectedly, as his brother took the cloth from him and pressed it onto the bleeding wound gently.“Does it hurt?”

“Quite a bit,” Elrohir admitted ruefully. There was no point lying now that they had already found out.

Aragorn watched the exchange glumly. He was concerned, but he knew that Elladan would tend to his brother and therefore did not interfere.

TBC…