Chapter 20 – Test Subject

Legolas jerked violently, his back arching sharply in Aragorn’s grasp, and the man heard a crack as the extreme movement caused the bones in his battered body to shift and grind against each other unnaturally. For a moment, Aragorn thought the elf was going to break into two.

Sheer unrelenting agony wrenched the prince’s consciousness back toward the cruel world of pain from the dark void that it had taken refuge in. The elf writhed and thrashed wildly as the anti-poison worked its way into his system, searing his every nerve as it attempted to neutralize the poison. A loud groan rose from the prince’s throat and quickly manifested into a heart-wrenching howl. The thrashing and writhing continued for several more seconds, but let up slowly until the elf stopped completely. Finally, he lay limply in Aragorn’s arms, breathing raggedly as he fought for air.

Noting that the bleeding had slowed considerably, Elrond let out a tired sigh and quickly laid new bandages over the wounds, but before he could even clean his hands, Elladan and Elrohir came crashing into the room. They skidded to a stop mere inches from the bed and regarded their father in shock.

“What happened?” Elladan gasped, his voice laden with worry and fear as his gaze shifted from Legolas to his father’s bloodstained hands.

Elrohir wore the same expression as his older brother, and both of them stood paralyzed at the sight. Elrond opened his mouth as he formulated an explanation, but as he began to speak, Glorfindel crashed into the room unceremoniously, braking to a halt as he noticed the crowd.

“What happened?” the warrior demanded nervously.

“We’ve just asked that,” Elladan informed the blond elf lord.

“And father was just about to explain when you barged in,” Elrohir chided mildly.

Glorfindel rolled his eyes at the twin sons of Elrond and turned his attention back to his friend, his demeanor turning grave again.

“Elrond?” the blond elf prompted, eager to find out the reason they had been jarred out of their elven dreams and brought halfway down the corridor without their footwear. Glorfindel had just noticed that in their haste, none of them had the sense to put on their boots.

“I think we managed to develop an antidote...or at least something of that nature,” Elrond said as he applied the new bandages to Legolas, with Aragorn’s help.

Glorfindel raised an eyebrow at his friend’s words. He was certain that Elrond had not told them everything. “What do you mean ‘something of that nature’?”

“We worked up something to stop the bleeding. However, the poultice will not ease the pain, and he would have to endure the hurt until the wounds are healed completely,” Elrond explained patiently as he finished off his task. Motioning for his youngest son to lay the prince back down onto the bed, the elf lord watched as Aragorn arranged the young elf comfortably under the blankets. Tucking a strand of stray hair casually behind his pointy ears, Elrond stood and brushed the wrinkles out of his tunic.

Determined to find out more information, Glorfindel tried to gain his friend’s attention by grabbing the dark-haired elf’s forearm. “How do you know that it only stops the bleeding and not the pain?”

The question was answered by a small grimace, and Elrond withdrew his hand away from Glorfindel’s touch a little too quickly. The elf lord regretted his unintentional display and prayed that none had noticed his uncanny action. But luck was not at his side this day.

“What is wrong, Adar?” Elrohir jumped to his father’s side. Aragorn and Elladan also appeared beside him in a blink of an eye.

“Nothing.” The elf lord tried to dismiss the group of inquisitive onlookers, but Glorfindel’s gaze was persistent.

“Elrond, do not try to brush us off. We are not easily fooled.”

The three children nodded in agreement, as the blond warrior reached out and took Elrond’s hand, smoothing back his sleeve to reveal a lightly bandaged forearm. Realization dawned on them immediately.

“You tested it on yourself!” Aragorn almost shouted. He could not believe that his father would take such risk to develop an antidote to save his friend, and he felt even guiltier than he had before. It was he who had led Legolas into this mess, and now his father had to suffer in trying to undo his mess.

Sighing in defeat, the Lord of Imladris sank into the chair that had suddenly appeared behind him. “I cannot ask someone to do something that I’m not willing to do myself,” he justified, while pulling his sleeve over his arm and hiding his secret behind silky material.

“You could have tried it on me,” Elrohir said softly.

“Nay. It took us quite a while to get your bleeding under control and break your fever. I did not want to risk it.” Elrond waved his hand in dismissal. “I am fine. Do not worry.” Turning his attention to his twin sons, Elrond regarded their tired faces. “The two of you look exhausted. Go back to bed.”

When Elladan and Elrohir started to protest, Elrond graced them with ‘the look,’ and they finally relented and left the room reluctantly. Having settled the twins, he now turned to his youngest son. Aragorn shook his head, knowing exactly what his father was about to say.

“No, I’m staying right here...with him,” the young man told his father evenly, and when Elrond’s stern gaze did not waver, he pleaded. “Please Ada, I need to do this. I have to see that he is all right.”

The elf lord’s features softened at his son’s words, and he sighed resignedly. “Very well, you may stay, but if you insist on camping here, you better get comfortable. Go find yourself some blankets.”

The smile on the ranger’s face broadened at his father’s approval, and the man slipped out of the room in search of the items he needed to set up a temporary outpost in the elf prince’s room. Glorfindel watched in amusement as the young man made a beeline out of the room.

“It’s amazing how these two have grown so attached to each other, Elrond. They’re almost inseparable.”

“Yes, but Estel is mortal, and one day he will depart from this world. Legolas will be left alone to mourn his passing... though now we don’t even know if he will outlive Estel...”

Glorfindel laid a comforting hand on his friend’s shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze. “He is strong. He will pull through. Come,” the blond elf guided Elrond to his feet and pushed him gently towards the door, “you should get some rest.”

Elrond nodded warily. He did not deny the fact that he was worn out. The many tedious hours of working to determine the contents of the unlabeled bottles had drained him both physically and mentally. He had insisted that his healers get some rest when their tasks were done, and he had spent the last few hours testing the antidote against the poison that they had extracted from the mysterious plant, which also happened to be found in Legolas’ blood. Unfortunately, they were unable to determine what toxin heightened his sense of pain, but Elrond thought it would be wiser to stop the bleeding first, before dealing with anything else.

Dragging his feet heavily across his bedchamber after Glorfindel left him by the entrance to his room, the elf lord sank into his bed with a soft moan. ‘I’m getting too old for this’ were the last words he muttered before his head hit the pillows.

*****

TBC…