Chapter 23

The Dwarf, the Thief, and the Cure

May 12

Lothlorien

The shout came almost too late. Without even recognizing the voice, Legolas whirled around, reaching for an arrow over his shoulder, and found himself face to face with Tantur.

Treachery!

It was a face so altered he scarcely recognized it. The hesitant smile had changed to a leer, and his pleasant eyes and slim face were already twisting into a mask of fury as he aimed his bow toward the sound of whomever had called out and fired. There was a dull thunk of the arrow meeting flesh and a groan before Legolas released his own arrow. Thrown off by confusion, he missed the fatal mark and Tantur screamed as it imbedded itself in his shoulder.

Aragorn had barely moved more than to turn around and the sudden metamorphosis caught him off guard as Tantur suddenly flew into him, knocking him to the ground. Legolas was already moving again, drawing his dagger and rushing for Tantur's exposed back, but Tantur rolled over just then, carrying Aragorn with him and leaving the king's chest as Legolas' target. The elf pulled up short as he saw the dagger lying across his friend's throat.

"Let's just be careful with that, Legolas," the traitor wheezed, surprisingly drained by the struggle. The arrow had snapped off from its head and now a piece of the shaft stuck out of his shoulder like a standard. "Now get back!" Tantur yelled suddenly, dragging Aragorn to his feet as he stood. The ranger was truly shocked, but more irritated with himself at the moment. He should have moved faster and why hadn't he recognized Tantur's treachery long before now?

Legolas complied with the order, raising his hands, one still holding the dagger, as he backed away. "You don't want to do this."

"Shut your mouth!" Tantur hissed, pulling his knife tighter against Aragorn's throat.

Again Legolas complied. His mind was scrambling to orient itself around this revelation; try as he might, he couldn't yet think of a way out of their current predicament.

"You! In the trees! Get out here where I can see you!"

There was a long pause before the order was obeyed. A short, muscular figure came limping from the trees, adding another layer of astonishment to an already surreal scene.

"Gimli?!" The elf watched as the dwarf staggered out to a point just beside the tree's base. His right leg was bleeding from Tantur's arrow in his thigh.

"That's right, laddie," Gimli grunted dryly. "I was hardly going to let the two of you have all the adventures to yourselves."

"What are you doing here?" Tantur's clearly didn't like the dwarf's sudden appearance, for there was no telling whether or not he was alone, but the man was in too deep to back out now.

"I came to tell Aragorn and Legolas about you, as a matter of fact." Gimli grunted as he leaned against the tree for support. Legolas wanted to help his friend, but he didn't dare move with Aragorn's life in the balance.

"Tell them what about me?" Tantur's eyes flicked from the dwarf to the trees around them.

"That you're a dirty no-good traitor, basically," Gimli replied, his dark eyes steely. "It seems Duurben discovered your dealings with the other side and I arrived in Minas Tirith just in time to be told the news," he shifted his words back to Legolas, "so I set out to find you and warn you. Obviously I was a bit late."

Aragorn's mind was groping like a hand in the dark, discovering new obstacles of unknown size with each flailing reach. He could not absorb all this information so quickly, and he still had no idea what Tantur planned to do.

"You were betraying us all along," he whispered around the blade at his throat, and it was not a question.

"Of course I was," Tantur spat in the king's ear. "I set the snake in your room that night. You were too dense to think of it; indeed, I was worried someone would. How foolish of me."

"You were the one!" Aragorn's voice suddenly rose with unsuppressed emotion. He had set out on a quest for healing and justice, only to find out that this man, nephew of his good friend, had been the architect of his burden from the first. When they had saved him in Koparin, when they had found the dwarves, when they had entered Lorien only this morning — all the time they had been looking outward for their enemy, only to find he had been lurking invisibly at their side. Aragorn was suddenly at a loss for words.

"But why follow us?" Legolas stalled for time.

"That was my blunder," Tantur growled. "I was bitten by the viper when I set it loose, and though I had stolen all of the lhandlas and so was able to keep the poison from overcoming me too quickly, I was not recovering. Then I overheard you speak of this tree and knew you would be heading for it. I took a chance to save my life, it is simple as that. And now we will see if your elven magic is really all the stories say it is…"

Legolas could not understand for a moment…and then he did. "Tantur, you speak of what you do not understand—"

"I understand! I understand that if I don't have whatever sap that tree holds I won't last another fortnight. I understand that if you don't give me what I want your friend will have his throat slit before you have a chance to plead for mercy! I haven't lived my life this long to be killed by a foolish blunder!"

"This will be just as foolish if you don't listen," Legolas said, low and urgently. "Aragorn must help me retrieve the sap or it could have deadly consequences."

Not surprisingly Tantur laughed at that. "Certainly, Legolas, a worthy try — but you won't blame me if I don't believe a word of your pitiful lies."

"He speaks the truth," Aragorn shifted experimentally, but Tantur held fast. "It is a part of the—"

"Be silent!" Tantur was getting steadily more aggravated. He had been feeling the poison more potently for the past few days, and the wound in his shoulder was only adding to his discomfort and weakness, but in a burst of vicious adrenaline he moved the arm he held around Aragorn's waste to grip the man's hair and jerked him around, slamming him against a tree. Legolas came a whole step closer before Tantur tipped Aragorn's head back and pressed the blade hard against the king's jugular vein, and the elf was forced to stop again. The traitor's eyes cleared a little, and it was instead a cold look of distaste that he turned on Legolas. "You get it for me, 'your highness', and stop making excuses. I am not in a mood to be patient."

Legolas was reaching the end of his plotting, and had thus far come up dry. The thought of what he might have been forced to witness, had he not stopped, was distressing him terribly. There was only one possible hope now, and he stooped to retrieve the vial they had brought.

Gimli had slumped to a seat against a large stone. He was furious with himself for not running just a little faster over the last mile to Lorien, and now he felt utterly useless for coming all this way.

"I'm sorry lad," he whispered gruffly, pressing hard against his thigh to stem the bleeding.

"This is not your fault Gimli," Legolas turned earnest eyes toward his friend. "We're not dead yet. I am glad you came when you did. Just be still and wait; this man is about to bring his own doom upon himself."

The dwarf watched in confusion, but nodded microscopically.

"How could you do this to Duurben?" Aragorn murmured.

"Oh…Duurben." There was a sneer in Tantur's tone that was unmistakable. "My honorable uncle. Family are such useful tools; so trusting and so gullible, and they very often have all the right connections. I never could have gotten to where I was without him. Does it give you comfort that I admit it fully?" Tantur laughed at that and Aragorn could only shut his eyes. Oh, Duurben, he grieved silently for his friend, this is a treachery far worse than I could have imagined.

Legolas stood before the tree now, his hand outstretched, almost touching the bark. It was like a sleeping animal which Legolas was unsure how to wake. At last he pressed his hand against the bark…waiting… he felt the sap moving unnaturally fast beneath the layer of bark, drinking life from more than just the air and ground. For a moment he stood there, almost as though he were lost, then he felt it. Something was whispering to him, or was it singing; singing in his heart and his mind, but not his ears.

Here I am…here. Here I am. But where is other? The friend, closest to my heart? What has become of him? Where?

Legolas had the strange feeling that these were almost his own thoughts, but they couldn't be. But in a way, he realized, they were. He was Legolas Thranduilion, his father had fostered this tree alongside his friend, his dear friend. Always together they had retrieved the sap. Now where was his friend?

Legolas glanced to where Tantur was holding Aragorn against the tree and realized this was the only way to save him. The only possible way.

Reaching up with his knife, Legolas pressed the blade into the bark and slit a small cut, burrowing deep beneath the surface to where the sap flowed. Almost immediately a dull amber liquid began to drip from the cut. It was tinged black and as he caught the sap in the vial he almost felt the whisper telling him stop, warning him away from the ill-taken liquid.

Slowly corking the vial, Legolas moved towards Tantur, careful to keep his hands away from his sides. He walked until he was mere feet away from the traitor and the king.

"Tantur—"

"Give it to me!" Tantur demanded harshly.

"Let Aragorn go," Legolas replied slowly, still holding the vial in a closed fist.

"First give me that bottle," Tantur let his blade drop at last and stuck it in its sheeth, keeping his other hand tangled in Aragorn's hair, before reaching for the vial in Legolas' hand.

There was a silent moment as Aragorn and Legolas looked at the swirling liquid, and then at each other, knowing the potency contained in that meager glass. But Tantur would not heed; he had refused the proffered mercy, and now his crimes were about to claim him.

"Give it to me," Tantur said, in a low and ominous voice, and his eyes were dark with desire.

Legolas at last handed it over, his eyes saddened. Greedily snatching the vial away, Tantur pulled out the stopper with his teeth and pressed the bottle to his lips, drinking the entire draught before tossing it aside. His eyes flashed with the sudden rush that coursed through his system, but he did not recognize it for what it was.

"Release him," the elf commanded.

Tantur laughed. "You truly are a fool, Prince Legolas. You didn't think I would actually release your friend did you? I have a job to do, a mission to complete; maybe if I kill the king as I was instructed to do, I will even get into Vardnauth's good graces once more." Tantur already had the knife back in his hands and just as Legolas lunged forward, the man brought the blade back up to Aragorn's throat.

There was an endless moment in which Aragorn's face was composed, his entire body still and waiting. Legolas shouted his name, lunging for Tantur's knife hand. Gimli cursed unintelligibly, hoisting himself halfway up— and then everything stopped.

The knife dropped and struck the hard ground with a muffled clink, and Tantur's face became a mask of terrible agony.

Sinking to the ground and dragging Aragorn down with him, Tantur jerked like a man struck again and again by lightening. He wretched, his back arching, and coughing in great wrenching sounds until blood began to coat his mouth and spatter the ground. His face had turned pale, his lips blackened by the poison rushing through him, his eyes bulging. Twisting and jerking fit to break his own bones, Tantur could not even scream out the pain he felt as the thick substance he had willingly drunk coursed through his body and burned at his stomach. He clawed at the ground and clung convulsively to Aragorn's hair. Gasping in hideous croaking sounds as he continued to jerk and spasm grotesquely on the cold forest floor. Then suddenly there was a hiss and a thunk and the traitor fell limply against the ground, his body unmoving and an arrow sticking from the back of his skull.

For a long time the entire clearing was still and quiet. Legolas stared down at the man he had killed and let out a slow breath. Mercy, after all, for he knew that a quick death was better than whatever else the poison might have done to him.

Aragorn was shifting around, trying to stand up. Dropping quickly to his side, Legolas pried open Tantur's dead fingers and pulled Aragorn's dark hair free of their grip. Without that hindrance, Aragorn rose to his feet and stepped back, staring down at the contorted body before him.

"Are you alright?" Legolas asked quietly. "Aragorn? Aragorn look at me." The human turned and looked at him, his gaze unfathomable. "Are you alright?" Legolas asked again.

"I? Yes." Aragorn nodded slowly, feeling old and very tired. The man's gaze strayed back to Tantur, focusing oddly on the crooked way the man's wrist had bent itself. "Legolas," Aragorn's voice was low and desperate, "what if it doesn't work? How do we know it won't—"

"Arwen will not die," Legolas replied firmly. "Not like that, not from this. But we must move quickly, my friend, or other forces may do their work before we can intervene. Come."

Aragorn nodded once, twice. "Yes. We have no more time to waste."

The two started back to the tree, and Aragorn pulled out the other vial he had brought. They had intended to get two samples of the sap to bring back, but there was no way they could use the one Tantur had drunk from, so one would have to do. He handed it to Legolas.

He saw Gimli, sitting again, with a relieved look on his wrinkled face. Aragorn smiled, and said, "Always arriving right when we need you, eh Gimli?"

Gimli laughed gruffly at that. "Oh, but always late as well. You two will have a good laugh hearing what I've been through."

Legolas laughed merrily at the dwarfs' blessedly cheering words. "Ah, so you can best our tales of battling in a besieged Kopairin, meeting a veritable tide of dwarves on the road, being captured by Corsairs, and traveling all the while with a masked enemy, can you?"

Gimli glared good naturedly. "I knew you two were behind all that rubble and mess at that harbor town."

"And you weren't late," Aragorn added seriously. "Another moment and might well have killed us both."

Then, walking in pace with each other, the two friends' paths split. Legolas stopped on the far side of the tree, feeling like he was meant to be there, while Aragorn was meant to be standing opposite him, the tree in between. The assurances he had given Aragorn before were now completely justified and even if Aragorn could not feel the same comfort, Legolas knew all would be well.

"What do I do?" Aragorn asked with a wry smile. "This is elf magic of a particularly strange sort."

"Just touch the tree," Legolas smiled back, and both touched the bark of the twisted tree.

The reaction was immediate. All of a sudden the sap that had been flowing quickly beneath the bark was fairly humming through the cycles of the tree. A light seemed to catch on the branches and light up the leaves, warming the branches with a touch akin to sunlight. There was a dazzling display of flickering reflections like firelight and a tuneless song whistled through the wind in the twigs and leaves above. Legolas and Aragorn's eyes met from either side of the trunk, friends defined by every sense of the word. Loyal, protective, trusting, sacrificing, loving, understanding, something in it echoed true and right with this strange tree of the elder days, and all at once the cut Legolas had made in the tree dripped a golden sap, pure and clean and almost glowing from within.

Quickly gathering the liquid from the flow, Legolas removed his hand in order to cap the vial, and all at once it stopped. Aragorn dropped his hand as well as the light faded, the sap slowed, and the warmth dissipated into the chilled air.

Aragorn glanced over at Legolas, who was carefully wrapping the vial of warm liquid in cloth and stowing it, and smiled.

"You were right my friend, I felt something then; it felt strange at first, but familiar."

Legolas nodded. "Yes, it was familiar. You and I have seen its kind many times in our lives."

"Such joy, and life… and yet," Aragorn looked at Tantur where he lay upon the broken forest floor and let out a breath, "such hard repayment."

"You saw it in his eyes; the transformation was an old one. We did all that we could, mellon-nin — Duurben to raise him, his friends to guide him, and at the end you and I to warn him from death. But he made his own decisions, and reaped their reward."

"Indeed." Aragorn nodded. His head tilted with a frown. "I wonder who this 'Vardnauth' he spoke of was; the name chills my heart in a way I cannot describe."

"I do not recognize the name. Come, Aragorn, we will bury Tantur here, in the place where he fell. Then we must be moving on."

"And now," Gimli spoke up loudly from where he sat, "you have someone to make sure you don't kill yourselves again!"

Aragorn laughed. "Gimli, what would we do without you?" Legolas opened his mouth and Aragorn held up a hand. "As you say, my friend, we must be moving on as soon as may be. We still have a long journey back to Minas Tirith."

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As the three friends traveled back out through Lorien, they came upon a collection of buildings on the ground. They were built into the trees and appeared to Aragorn to be living quarters; sitting inside they could see abandoned possessions: elven furniture, garments, books, and trinkets that spoke of the civilization gone from this ancient place. It sat silent and untouched in eerie safety from intruders, but vines were growing in through the windows, and a coil of ivy was twining around the legs of a writing desk.

Drained as he was by the entire ordeal in Lorien, it occurred to the man that this place held no real peace anymore. After the passing of the elves it was like an empty shell, overcome by the things the forest's people had tried so long and hard to keep from it.

Aragorn was just about to speak these thoughts aloud when Legolas came up short, motioning for the other two to stop.

The moment the rustling of footsteps through leaves had ceased, Aragorn could hear what the elf had heard moments before: the sounds of quiet conversation.

Legolas gave his friend a confused look before turning and heading in the direction of the noise.

Passing a few more of the dwellings in the trees and through a row of closely grown bushes, the three friends came upon a truly odd sight. Three elves were to be seen, loading up a cart with crates of papers, rolls of parchment, and stacks of leather books; it looked very much as if an entire library was being moved.

Two male elves seemed to be carrying most of the heavy items. Both looked very similar with long blonde hair common among Lorien elves. The elven lady, however, was different, for her hair was long and dark and almost curled at the very bottom. She wore an emerald green cloak that fell all the way to forest floor and had on a burgundy gown which rustled through the leaves as she moved. Her face was pale and her eyes dark; it was the eyes that suddenly looked up and, though the friends had thought themselves well concealed, spotted them immediately.

"Do not linger among the bushes Lord of Mirkwood and King of Gondor. It is not fitting to do so when we would enjoy your company."

Aragorn and Legolas could not have been more startled, and as the two blonde elves turned to look in their direction as well, all three companions stepped into full view.

"Welcome, my lords," the lady bowed her head and smiled. "I am afraid we cannot offer you much hospitality here, but feel free to make yourselves at home."

Aragorn frowned faintly. "How do you know us…?"

"When we do not know you," Legolas finished the thought.

"I recognize the Lord Thranduil in his son," the lady answered, binding three rich colored books together with a long braid of leather. "And I have seen King Ellessar on his visits to the Lady Arwen when she dwelled here with her kin." She set the books down and walked a few steps closer to the companions. "As for myself, I am Tindu, and these are my nephews, Rúmil and Orophin." She gestured towards the two male elves who bowed in turn. Aragorn knew Rúmil and his brother Orophin fairly well, and he had known their brother Haldir especially well, but had never had a chance to meet their aunt. Tindu suddenly dropped her gaze to look at Gimli.

"This is Gimli, son of Gloin," Aragorn supplied the answer to the unspoken question. The three companions, confident now there was no danger, moved over to the cart. "He is our traveling companion and trusted friend."

"Is a pleasure to meet you, Gimli son of Gloin," Tindu replied with another small bow.

Gimli returned the courtesy before sitting to rest his wounded leg.

"Tell us, my lords," Rúmil questioned as he helped his brother lash a crate to the cart. "What brings you to this vacant place?"

"The antidote of the Lorien and Mirkwood Lords' tree," Legolas replied, causing the elves to look at him in surprise.

"Did the tree not appreciate your company?" Orophin joked wryly, noting the various injuries the three had sustained.

"Alas, we had a traitor among us." Aragorn shook his head as he related Tantur's treachery, ending by describing his demise.

Latching a small box, Tindu slid it into her saddle bag and then paused as she looked at Aragorn. "Something troubles you, Elessar. Perhaps you have found more from this traitor than you first sought?"

Aragorn frowned a little. "I cannot tell. Tantur made mention of someone before he died… It cannot be another traitor, I did not recognize the name. Likely it is no good to me."

"Say on," said Rúmil, quietly encouraging.

"Indeed, for Tindu knows everything," Orophin teased, stepping aside quickly when she made as if to throw a book at him.

Aragorn smiled dryly. "That must be useful."

"My nephew is incorrigible. I would force a confidence from no man. I am neither wise, nor very learned." She gave him a tired smile. "I am an historian. There is a difference. Such virtues are not required for the occupation."

The human cast a glance at Legolas and Gimli. Legolas raised his eyebrows, indicating the decision was Aragorn's, and Gimli looked sulky, indicating he had caught not a word of the grey-tongued conversation and disliked being left out.

"If you have traveled, you might have heard of him," Aragorn said slowly. "Is the name Vardnauth familiar?"

In truth he had expected an apologetic denial, or at most a vague recollection. He was then surprised to see Orophin drop his load of scrolls, Rúmil's head fly up, and Tindu stop abruptly where she stood. The faces of the brothers were suddenly dark, but the elven woman's expression was utterly unreadable.

"Tindu?" Rúmil said slowly. Orophin's fists were clenched, his knuckles white.

"I know," she brushed them off, still looking at Aragorn. "Are you certain of the name? Yes, of course you are. A strange and evil day to take my leave." Her voice had sunk to a whisper.

"Lady Tindu," Legolas pressed gently, "who is Vardnauth? There is a mystery in your answer greater than the name itself."

Tindu did not seem to hear him; it was Rúmil who answered. "Vardnauth was Tindu's student — her apprentice, as it were."

"My only student."

Orophin turned away with a jerk, catching up the scrolls he had dropped and loading them in silence.

"Rúmil?" Tindu said, straining for steadiness.

He nodded, as if he already knew what she needed.

"Orophin," Rúmil beckoned his brother, "we have to get the last crates from the scriptorium."

When Orophin moved off in acquiescence, Aragorn wondered if he were imagining the strange glitter in the elf's eyes.

"Just what have you uncovered, lads?" Gimli grunted, his dwarvish accent seeming thicker than ever.

"We don't know yet," Legolas replied.

Aragorn held Tindu's gaze for several long seconds. Yet for all her years, it was the elf who dropped her eyes from his. With a movement like a sigh, she sank onto the lid of a carved chest. Her gray-green skirts fell limply around her, flattening like wilted leaves.

"The tale is a long one," she said, her voice not supposing that such an excuse would deter her audience. "But old folly and grief must always be exhumed, I suppose, so that the past may not repeat itself. The folly was mine, so must be the tale…"

Authors' Note:  Those of you who read 'Darkest Night' will recall the brief cameo of a female elf named 'Narandune'. To refresh: each of us girls chose an elvish name when we decided to dress up for Two Towers, and while we were at it we chose a homeland and someone already in the stories to whom we could be related. Hannah chose Narandune of Rivendell, daughter of Glorfindel, and Sarah chose Tindu of Lorien, aunt of Haldir, Rumil, and Orophin. When we decided to write 'Darkest Night', we thought it would be cool to give Hannah a cameo in it! Happily, rather than getting shot down for Mary Sue inclusion, it went over very well. So we decided to include Sarah's alter-ego for this fic. Simple? Well, unexpectedly, Tindu's role grew completely away from 'cameo' ground until she is very much her own character and very little Sarah's elven persona, but we thought you might find the trivia of her origins amusing!