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Aearlinn	By : narcolinde Category: -Multi-Age > General Views: 9032 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own the Lord of the Rings (and associated) book series, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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Aearlinn - Thyrin Trenor

Lindir sighed and shook his head, frowning in sad dismay over the limp and senseless figure reposed upon the bed, naked and bound. The defenceless posture made Legolas seem even more like a youth just shy of majority and the restraints were just wrong. It was too much to bear. He turned his attention to Elrond, seated on the edge of the bed, and watched as the healer tended his lover, gently arranging the sylvan's sweaty hair, brushing it back from his wan face, then taking up a cloth soaked in a soothing athelas infusion and wiping away the salty smears of tears and perspiration from the archer's countenance.

When the Noldorin Lord reached the slender neck he paused, rewetting the cloth, and delicately dabbed at the angry abrasion encircling the base of the throat like a necklace, ugly and red as the mark of a hangman's noose. The Wood Elf made a faint, plaintive noise and his arms twitched against the hithlain cords bound about the crease of his elbows. Elrond dipped the cloth again and quietly shushed him, carefully bathing each underarm where the fiery rash was even more apparent. Legolas had scratched himself raw and the shallow scrapes were not sealing over, no doubt due to the residue of the toxin still present.

Elrond was at a loss over how to cure it, for as yet he hadn't figured out what type of substance had caused the outbreak. Yet he was more hopeful of discovering the solution now that Legolas was unconscious and thus unable to feel the torment the poison worked upon his skin. He regretted having to resort to drugs, yet when none of the medications he'd tried produced any results, not even the camomile lotion that had so effectively eased Estel's discomfort after becoming entangled in poison ivy, the Lore-master had deemed there was no other course. Legolas had been going mad with the agony, which increased and spread the more he rubbed the afflicted areas. Tying him down had only increased his panic and the sylvan had ceased hearing his lover's reassurances, pleading to be let loose to fly into the woods, there to seek solace amid the trees. This Elrond had feared to do, for though Imladris was safe from intrusion by any enemies, still the symptoms might worsen and the Elven Lord wouldn't permit his love to endure the torment alone.

"Will you at least untie him now," said Lindir darkly, for it was like a sword through his soul to see the youthful archer so helpless and debased. The raw, bleeding patches were an abomination and not only this, but the scarring retained from older wounds stood out starkly on the otherwise perfect form. Elrond did not answer him but did pause long enough in his care to obey, turning to his old mentor to hand him the ropes, eyes wide in apology. The minstrel snatched them up and cast them away across the room with a curse. "He begged you, Elrond. Was there truly no other way?"

"Do not imagine I enjoyed this," hissed Elrond, angry to be placed in the role of antagonist. He rose and brushed past the singer, pacing into the bathing chamber to retrieve a clean, white cotton sheet with which to cover his beloved's cruelly used body. "You were not here when I brought him home the first time. You have no idea how much it rips my heart into rags to see him suffer. He will forgive me." He spoke that last part in faltering tones, wondering if it would be true or not. The look of betrayal and accusation in the sylvan Elf's deep blue eyes had been crushing to behold and even now Elrond flinched at the recollection of Legolas' last word before slipping into oblivion: 'Liar'. A small sigh escaped him as he fanned out the linen and draped it over the unconscious patient. It was true, he was a liar, and yet he had meant no harm by it, only hoping to soothe Legolas' mounting terror.

"I had to do it!" he burst out suddenly, answering both the minstrel's impeachment and the internal one, rounding on his old friend with such vehemence in his face and manner that Lindir was startled. "He needs help; can't you see it? How am I to aid him if I can't learn what's wrong? How am I to figure that out if I must stay by the bedside and comfort him through the strain of the poison's brutal effects?

"Tell me, Lindir, another way, if you can, for I welcome any ideas on the subject. If I didn't bind him, he would have gouged his skin so deeply there would be scars left behind. If I permitted him to flee the house, what would become of him if the symptoms become more dangerous still? What if his throat swells until he can't breathe?

"None know more than I how he fears to be drugged. Do you think his pleas were ignored solely to spare us the sounds of his cries and wailing? The panic has driven his reason aside; he is operating on pure instinct now, yet even that might fail him here. What if he succumbs to this madness and gives in to the grief I have worked so hard to dispel? Could you live with it if he took his own life, alone out there in the forest?"

"Peace, peace!" Lindir exhorted, genuinely moved by Elrond's explanation and obvious distress over such hard choices. "It just hurts me to see him like this."

"Then you understand my own pain. I promised to stay with him while he was under the influence of the sleeping draught, yet this I cannot do. I have to find the cure before he wakes, Lindir. You can see that, can't you? Was I so wrong to make a false pledge in such circumstances?"

"I think you have already answered yourself and I will not add to your regret anymore. I will stay beside him if that will ease your heart a little, Elrond." Lindir went forward and clasped the Elf Lord's shoulder before sitting on the edge of the bed. He took up the cloth and dipped it, wiping the fluid over the abraded neck again.

"My thanks, Lindir, that does grant me peace of mind. I don't want him alone; whoever did this may try to do him further harm if no one is near to watch." With that and a weak smile, Elrond moved from the bedside and pulled open the doors of the archer's clothes press, right next to his, and immediately a strong, sweet, familiar scent wafted into the room. Elrond gave a low growl and slammed the door with a reverberating clash that made the panel rebound.

"So it was cinnamon?" asked Lindir, worried by the Elf Lord's violent reaction. "I guessed it might be, for Erestor told the tale about Legolas' intolerance for the spice."

"Aye. This is all my fault, for had I not joked and boasted about the results of his reaction to it, maybe none of this would have come to pass." The smell intensified and Elrond rethought his action. Instead of trying to seal the odour away, he began pulling all the clothing out, burying his nose in it, and if the scent seemed to be coming from the article he threw it to the floor.

Before long he had dropped all of the silken small clothes upon the rug and stood glaring at the inanimate heap of garments in disgust, hands on hips, contemplating whether or not the aromatic ingredient could be washed from the fabric. He couldn't get past the vindictive attitude that had prompted saturating the archer's undergarments with something so virulent, where the heat of his body and the close contact against bare skin would be most unbearable. At last he swore and bent to scoop them all up, carrying them to the hearth. Into the grate he stuffed them and set the cloth afire.

That done, Elrond went searching for the silver tin of the spice he was known to keep in his study. He was very partial to cinnamon and liked to sprinkle it over buttered toast in the morning and stir it into his wine in the evening. Since learning of Legolas' peculiar allergy, he had stopped adding it to his food or drink, worried about kissing his love and making him suffer a recurrence of the cold sensation. He found it, as he suspected he would, but when he opened the container it was nearly empty, only a few grains of the ruddy brown powder sticking to the sides and bottom. He carried it back and showed Lindir the evidence grimly.

"I'm surprised anyone would try to hurt him so severely," murmured Lindir, not liking the mounting fury evident in his Lord's visage. "No doubt they never imagined he would suffer such terrible anguish. Now that you know the cause, will you be able to ease the symptoms?" The minstrel hoped this query would turn Elrond from the desire to seek out and punish the perpetrators in favour of aiding his lover.

"No, for I have never seen it as a toxic agent. I don't recall any other cases in which an Elf…" Elrond broke in mid-sentence, staring at Legolas strangely for several seconds, for he suddenly remembered a story Celebrian had repeated long ago about an elleth afflicted with a sudden dislike for the flavour of thyme. Anything consumed that had the herb in it made her vomit almost immediately. The Elven lady in question was of sylvan descent, one of the folk who had inhabited Amon Lanc before the Necromancer drove them away to Lorien.

"What is it?" demanded Lindir.

"Nothing that will help, unfortunately, for while there was a similar incident in Ages past the only treatment known was to avoid the offensive substance. We shall have to trust to the natural ability of the body to heal itself."

"How long will it be?"

"I know not," Elrond shrugged. "I hope the burning diminishes before the potion wears off. I don't want to induce sleep again, for the after-affects are almost as terrible for Legolas. Lindir, I must find the fiends who did this. Will you stay with him?"

"Of course, mellon, but why don't you remain here and keep your word; let me take Glorfindel and have the offenders apprehended. The Council will see to their punishment."

"No. I caused this to happen and I must see to it such a thing never happens again. I need to make it unmistakably clear that Legolas is as much a citizen here as anyone else and will be granted the same rights as every other Elf." As he spoke, Elrond drew near the bed and leaned over his love, carefully lifting the fallen eyelids to reveal only the bald whites of the back-rolled eyes. He sighed and straightened up, moving back to the study where the tell-tale sounds of clinking glassware indicated he was preparing yet another concoction. He returned with a small vial of amber fluid and set it on the table by the bed. "When he wakes, make him drink this right away. It will ease the headache and nausea. Then come find me; I will be with the Council."

"Wait!" called Lindir but Elrond was already stalking through the sitting room and next the door to the apartment slammed shut with a loud report.

The hours of the night passed slowly and Elrond returned to his suite before dawn, for it did not take long to discover that Figwit, along with two of the novice warriors and a tailor, had conspired to cause the disaster. Figwit turned himself in and told Elrond the whole story, for the sounds of Legolas' suffering had made him repent his malicious actions. The others, however, feared the punishment with which they were sure to be sentenced and had fled from Imladris. Glorfindel set out with a small contingent of soldiers to catch them and bring them back, and if Elrond was surprised by the strength of his captain's wrath he didn't remark on it. A short conference with Erestor and it was decided that the trial should be held for all three together and thus the Council was not to be summoned until the Balrog Slayer returned. Thus, the Lord of Imladris was free to stay beside his beloved's bedside, gently bathing the slowly healing wounds and murmuring soft promises of amending his errors.

Now as it came about, the offenders had not had time to get too far from Imladris' borders and Glorfindel guessed rightly that they were fleeing for Lothlorien. He captured the renegades easily where they were attempting to cross the grassy plains of the Angle, for they surrendered at once when they realised who was running them down. This was in part due to the fact that the criminals discovered their way ahead blocked by Mithrandir and Elrohir, who were nearing the ford. By the time the sun had just tipped the horizon with gold, they were all back in Rivendell. Erestor sent word to Elrond and the lore-master left the insensible sylvan again in Lindir's care, eager to confront the servants who had betrayed him so terribly, though his anger was tempered with enough remorse of his own to keep from any unjust reprisals. The ultimate result of this sequence of events, however, was that when Legolas finally awoke, Elrond was not there.

Lindir was staring out into the fair morning, appreciating the song of the birds as the world awakened to the new day, plucking absently at a lyre he'd brought with him to while away the time. The strident sound of a moan, a chord of pure misery, recalled him swiftly to the bedside where he found the wild elf curled up in a knot, one arm shielding his eyes from the sun and the other wrapped around his middle. He coughed and gagged a bit and the minstrel feared he was going to be sick. He hurried over and placed a comforting hand on the archer's trembling shoulder as another groan issued from the miserable elf.

"Lie still, breathe deeply," he whispered, cognisant of Elrond's warnings about the fierce stabbing pain of the migraine the drug induced, accompanied by high sensitivity to light and sound. "I have some medicine for the headache, Legolas. Do you think you can sit up?"

"Gal…Galbreth?" the sylvan mumbled in confusion, staring through slitted eyes at the bleary face and its long fall of golden hair. He blinked, frowning, and licked his lips, coughing again.

"Nay, 'tis Lindir, mellon. Can you not see me clearly? Who is Galbreth?" asked the singer, helping Legolas prop himself up on an elbow. As he watched, the Wood Elf's eyes cleared, his focus sharpened, and he recognised the Green Elf. Lindir smiled, but the response returned was not what he could have expected, for the archer's features contorted into such an expression of grief-stricken pain and sorrow that it made the minstrel's heart skip. The next instant Legolas exhaled a sharp gasp and curled up on the mattress again, clutching at his stomach and struggling for breath.

"Ai! What is it? Does the drug always have this effect? Elrond said nothing about it. Legolas, can you speak to me?" Lindir was worried, gently shaking the elf's shoulder.

"Elrond?" the Wood Elf cried brokenly. "Where's he? Not here, not here, alas."

He sounded thoroughly distraught and seemed not to notice the singer at all, which made Lindir frightened, for he had long suffered from grieving sickness himself and knew the signs full well. "I'll go get him straight away, pen neth. Lie still now and try to relax. Do you hear me, Legolas? I'll be right back with Elrond, all right?" He shook the elf harder and finally this elicited a shaky nod and a muffled sob.

"Need to get out, please," Legolas' whispered words were entirely missed by the minstrel, for he was already running through the study and soon left the apartment.

Which was the exact thought on the Wood Elf's addled mind though his choice of destination was somewhat different. He must have fresh air and the light touch of the wind in his hair, the cool sweetness of water from the brook in the garden, the feel of soft grass under his feet and the song of the trees to soothe his tormented soul. With effort he raised himself and sat on the edge of the bed, holding tight to the sheets, head lowered and eyes scrunched shut. The pain in his head was blinding, pounding in time to the pulse of his blood, and he ground his teeth in agony. When at last he was able to open his eyes, he was shocked to learn he was naked. Then it all came back in a flood of memories and he groaned over this latest humiliation. He struggled to stand as a wave of vertigo swept him sideways and he found himself clutching to the bedpost as if for dear life, eyes squeezed closed against the reeling room.

When he opened them he identified the reason for his near-fall: his legs were still entangled in the sheets, which his movements had dragged from the bed. Of course he couldn't go out naked again; anyone might be in the gardens, specifically Erestor who took a stroll every single morning. Fortunately, there was something else on the floor and with slow, careful movements, still anchored to the post, he crouched awkwardly down until he could snatch it up. It was Elrond's sleep-shirt, laid out by the valet the night before and forgotten, and Legolas pulled it over his head, glad Elrond was taller for the thin chemise reached almost to his knees. The activity initiated another round of dizziness and then another strong cramp through his gut made him double over. That was when his heart froze, terrified the pain was because something was wrong with the tiny life just settling within him.

His instincts screamed for him to get up and get out, for he was not safe in Imladris, where everyone had the sanction of the Lord of the realm do do what they would, even to poisoning him.

Blessed Elbereth, protect my child! I need help and it can't be had in this place. Don't take back my faer dithen; I promise to leave here as soon as I can ride.

Legolas prayed and it seemed to work for the spasm passed and he was able to stand upright. Determined to reach the restorative Music of nature, he struggled to get out on the balcony, tottering unevenly and using whatever pieces of furniture was available for support. He made it and leaned heavily on the railing, panting from the effort and the pain in his head that nearly obliterated the ability to think. Two stories below, the dew-damp, fair green lawn beckoned. That being the case, he hauled himself up over the banister, hung by his hands a moment, and simply allowed himself to drop. He did this every day and it was no distance at all for a Wood Elf accustomed to jump from much greater heights to the forest floor, but because he was still unsettled by the after-effects of the sedative, Legolas landed in a graceless clump and lay still, fingers entwining gratefully in the lush emerald blades.

The sudden appearance of a Wood Elf falling from the sky quite startled Mithrandir, who was seated in a comfortable chair enjoying a morning smoke, for Elrond did not permit the habit indoors. He choked on the drawn vapours and coughed as he jumped to his feet, glancing up at the overhanging balcony with disapproval written on his wrinkled and scowling face. Once he could inhale again he returned his attention to the new arrival, stepping over to where the elf was pushing himself up to a seated position. The elf clutched his head between his hands and moaned, rocking back and forth a bit, and the old Istar knelt down next to him.

"How now, elfling?" he said with a kindly smile. "Where did you fall from?" He reached out, intending only a friendly pat on the back, knowing this must be Legolas, and found his hand rudely shoved away as the sylvan scrambled beyond reach as if he hadn't even seen him. Well, this was exactly the case, for Legolas was of course very disoriented and the pain slicing through his brain coupled with the dread fear of losing the life he had been graced to create was all that occupied his thoughts.

"Nay! Leave me be, Muilengôl! What do you want of me?" he demanded, recognising that this was one of the Maiar though he had not met one before. The words had hardly left his lips before he was once more clutching at his middle as another wave of discomfort seized him. He struggled not to let it show and failed.

"Don't be alarmed, Legolas, for surely you know I am Manwë's own messenger and would never do harm to you. Let me help you, for it is clear there is something serious amiss." Gandalf hoped to calm the archer, having heard the whole lurid story of the cinnamon saturated under-garments, and it was obvious that he was not well yet. Mithrandir was astounded to hear the gasp that left the young one's lungs and see the look of stunned amazement evinced by his gaping mouth, huge blue eyes staring at him in awe and wonder. He was even more perplexed when this expression of reverent surprise was slowly replaced by one of deep gratitude and palpable relief. Before he quite knew what was happening, Mithrandir found his hand grasped in both the elf's as Legolas bent over it and kissed it repeatedly, quietly giving thanks in a jumbled mixture of Nandorin and Sindarin praises.

"Eglerio Elbereth! Eglerio Sulimo, Hîr od Valinor! You are learned in the healing aarts? My thanks a thousand times and more, ithron sael, and my bow to protect you would you but aid me now!"

Of course Mithrandir could not know of the silent entreaty that had just moments ago sped from the sylvan archer's soul to Elbereth Star-kindler. And was she not the beloved wife-mate of Manwë and had this wizard not just announced himself the disciple of that very King of the West? As far as Legolas was concerned, his prayer had been received and answered with unheard of speed. This he took as a hopeful sign that his child would be spared, yet his misgivings were not entirely allayed as the insistent cramps continued to afflict him every now and then.

"Peace! No need for such pledges, elfling, I will gladly assist you. But come, you ought not to be out here in the garden when you are unwell. Let me get you back inside and then…"

"No! No! I have just escaped and will not go in!" The Wood Elf frantically tried to get his feet under him but didn't succeed for Mithrandir quickly caught him at the elbow and refused to let go.

"What? Escape? Calm yourself, you are overwrought, for only within will you find healers. Indeed, there is none better than Lord Elrond. He will see that you come to no harm."

"You know nothing! They hate me here! He's a liar who doesn't care about anything but his exalted reputation and I will never go in again! You are false; why did you come here? Ai, how could I trust you so foolishly, for no doubt you are the friend of these people!" Legolas' was struggling desperately to get loose but though he kicked and thrashed and struck the wizard with his free hand the Istar remained firm. It didn't take long for Legolas to deplete what little strength his fear gave him, for the activity only exacerbated his migraine and another sharp cramp made him hunch over with a miserable moan.

"Well, if you wished your escape to remain unknown, you have just ruined it, elfling. Any number of Elves must have heard you," complained Mithrandir, rubbing his shoulder where a particularly potent kick had landed.

The outburst disturbed him deeply and he decided that Legolas' half of the story, which he had yet to hear, must be sad indeed. He glanced behind him across the terrace, fearful to find Erestor or Glorfindel running from the house to learn what all the fuss was about. He met instead the piercing gaze of an Elf who had obviously both seen and heard the sylvan's desperation and shook his head to prevent Elrohir from revealing his presence, for it was he. Gandalf didn't think Legolas was in any state to withstand the younger twin's aggresive disdain. In fact, he didn't believe the Wood Elf could bear the strain of dealing with Elrond's censure for leaving his room and quietly muttered a small incantation that would prevent anyone from recognising who was by the wizard's side, should they be spotted walking across the lawn.

Which was a wise thing to do for of course Elrond was at that moment just entering his empty chambers and hastened to the balcony, knowing Legolas generally came and went that way. As soon as he heard the plaintive voice arguing with the wizard he leaned over and called down. "Mithrandir, where has he gone? Why didn't you stop him?" He peered at the Elf by the wizard's side in bewilderment. "Is that Rumil with you there? When did he arrive?"

"Nay, this is not Rumil. I am sorry, Elrond, but Legolas seems determined to avoid you for the time being. He was heading in a vaguely easterly direction across the gardens and I've got a nasty bruise on my left shoulder as proof of my efforts to prevent him from leaving. You will have to discover his whereabouts without my further assistance," he intoned somewhat dramatically.

"I must discover his whereabouts," Elrond repeated in a rather strange manner. "I'm sorry, mellon, he is not well just now. Normally he would not do you harm, I assure you," insisted the Lord of Imladris with his more customary courtesy and grace. He waited until Mithrandir acknowledged his apology with a grim smile and a nod and then turned back inside. He and Lindir set forth to search for Legolas, each taking a different section of the gardens, each laded with a vial of the restorative tonic the sylvan had never ingested. They passed very near to the wizard and his charge without giving them a second look.

Legolas watched them go with wonder and gave the Istar a wry smile. "Mayhap you are the answer to my prayers after all," he said cheekily.

"Hah!" exclaimed Mithrandir and laughed. "I will help you but we must have a healer see to this, for you are bleeding a little. Here, lean upon my shoulder and let's move down by the brook." Mithrandir was gratified to note that the Wood Elf's frenzied emotions had quieted and slowly led him away from the house.

Elrohir followed but kept to the shadows of the trees and the shelter of the shrubs so to remain hidden. He was as shocked by the Wood Elf's condition as the wizard and found that rather than hatred for the Elf he felt a growing pity tinged with compassion. This was enough to invite investigation, and as he had already discussed his ideas about enchantment with Gandalf, he couldn't help but think this was another sort of spell. He just couldn't quite get the notion to assume the weighty certainty of fact, however, for Legolas had no idea he was even near Imladris.

Perhaps the spell was cast to garner Mithrandir's aid and I am just affected by association, being nearby. He rejected this thought almost the instant it formed, for it was impossible that Gandalf would be unaware of any magic aimed at him, nor would he fail to nullify it.

As soon as Legolas could hear the soft ruffling of the flowing stream he broke from the Maia's hold and careened drunkenly to the bank, collapsed two feet from the water's edge, and dragged himself the rest of the way until he could at last plunge his throbbing head into the cold fluid. Then he drank long and greedily, rolled to his back with a sigh, and instantly regretted it as the bright light of the morning sun pierced his brain. He sealed his sight with a complaining grunt. He heard the wizard take a seat beside him and sighed, cautiously turning over before trying to focus on his new ally.

"Don't you know any incantations to promote healing among all the spells and liturgies of your Order, Saelben?"

"Nay, I know not one, for I was not an apprentice to Estë but to Manwë, he the chief over all, even of the Fäanturi. Aewnedil is learned in herb lore and such but he is far from here. We must rely on other means to improving your health. Now then, there must be some among the curing class that have earned your trust and friendship, for by all accounts you had to spend many days in the House of Healing when first you came to Imladris."

"I would sooner trust my health to the blacksmith in Dunnland than to any of them!" spat Legolas, and he truly did, turning his head aside and gracing the grass with a small bead of saliva. "Besides, they will just tell Elrond everything right away and I have important things to discuss that are nobody's business but my own."

"Hmmmm. I'm not sure it's wise to try and hide such an important fact from the one you love, Legolas, but it is not my decision to make."

"What do you mean? What do you know?"

"Never mind, it's more suspicion than knowledge, young one, and time will tell at any rate. What are we to do about this? I must get you aid but you won't let any of Elrond's staff touch you. Quite a dilemma you've set before your saviour. Ah! Of course, the Dûnadan will do nicely."

"The what? Man of the West? You want me to trust my care to some human?"

"Not just any human, Legolas, but a dear friend and a Man of Destiny. He is very much a part of the cause for which I have been sent to Middle-earth. Now that I let myself think on it, you are mixed up in it, too. I should have known." The old wizard chuckled as if at some joke and shook his head, but instantly left jollity aside when Legolas cringed and folded up again, clutching his middle with a frightened moan.

"Ai, it's much worse now. Mithrandir, if you say he can help me I will trust your word. Who is it and where is he to be found? I don't know if I can ride," he gasped out when the spasm eased.

"That won't be necessary for he is here in the valley. You know him as Thorongil or Aragorn and he learned much of the healer's craft when he was fostered here during his youth."

"Then it's hopeless!" cried Legolas. "He will only go running to Elrond straight away!"

"No he will not. If you ask his discretion he will grant it; for the trust between physician and patient he holds sacred. Come along, can you walk? He is sure to be in the gardens and if we go now we should meet him as he returns to the house."

He helped Legolas up, concerned with how light-headed the simple act of standing made the Wood Elf. Together they ambled through the glades and dells of the Last Homely House's extensive gardens until they came near to the Trysting Bridge and sure enough, there came the Man, arm in arm with Arwen Undomiel, their heads bent together as they whispered and giggled like secret lovers would. They were so engrossed in one another that it wasn't until Legolas exhaled a shocked breath that they noticed the other two. The couple shared a concerned glance and then Arwen shrugged.

"Mar govannen, Mithrandir," she said and then transferred her stare to Legolas, who blushed to the roots of his hair and looked quickly away. Arwen smiled sympathetically and squeezed Aragorn's arm when he sent her a probing look. "Mae govannen, Legolas. Although you do not look well yet, I am happy to see you up and about."

"Thank you, my Lady," the sylvan stuttered, attempting a small bow that made his stomach lurch and the world spin. He moaned in misery and clutched more tightly to the wizard's robes to keep from toppling down to the earth again.

"What's this?" cried Arwen in alarm, detaching from Aragorn and flying to the Wood Elf's side in concern. "You are certainly not recovered enough to be wandering through the estate." The lady felt his forehead, which was damp with sweat, and frowned, turning her displeasure upon the Istar. "Mithrandir, how could you permit this? He should be abed, for I can tell the after effects of one of Adar's sedatives and this one is suffering a pronounced reaction."

"I assure you I had nothing to do with his leaving his bed," huffed Gandalf. "In fact, I am seeking someone to help him out and naturally thought of Aragorn. What say you, Dûnadan? Will you deign to treat a Wood Elf with your skill?"

"That will do, wizard. I don't share those unreasoning prejudices as well you know." Aragorn glared at the Maia a moment before turning his attention to the sylvan and passing a critical eye over the debilitated form. He caught the young archer's guarded gaze and smiled congenially. "Will you accept my care, Legolas?"

"I'm not sure. I…I need to ask things and I…"

"Say no more, I understand," the Man held up his palm to stop the halting words and then took the Lady's hand, raising it to his lips briefly as he smiled into her grey eyes. "I would ask your pardon, but I can't breakfast with you this morn. Will you still ride beside me in the hunt?"

"You are forgiven and I will have no one else as my partner. I will go attend our guests, for I can well imagine my father's distraction if Legolas' departure from the house was without his sanction." At these words she sent the Wood Elf a pointed glance that made him turn an even deeper shade of crimson as he muttered something in Nandorin and stared studiously at his toes amid the grass.

Aragorn watched, a whimsically voracious smile upon his lips, until her comely shape was barred from his sight by distance and the abundant foliage. Then he regarded his new patient frankly, hands on hips as he looked him over from crown to soles. "Now then, please sit before you collapse, for I perceive you are exhausting your strength just by standing there. What would you ask of me?" He joined the wizard and the sylvan on the turf and waited until Legolas shot Mithrandir a pleading look that made him sigh in exasperation as he heaved himself up to his feet again. When he was far enough away to afford the two some sense of privacy, the sylvan at last spoke.

"First of all, I must know how you stand on the question of allegiance to Elrond. Will you withhold knowledge from him that is private to me or will you divulge all should he demand it?"

Aragorn was dismayed to hear this proof of Legolas' displeasure with Elrond, though he had wondered why the wizard had brought the young Elf to him instead of the renowned healer. He decided, based on the bitterness in Legolas' tone, to let it go for the time and concentrate on securing the sylvan's trust. "I count myself an ally to Imladris, that is true, but my duty as a healer is to my patient. What you ask me to hold in confidence I will keep secret to the grave." This strong affirmation didn't seem to appease the Elf, for Legolas was shaking his head.

"Nay, those are fine words but how can I know you mean them? Elrond must certainly command more of your regard than I ever could, despite your assertions of fair-mindedness."

"I am equally uncertain of your trustworthiness to keep my secret, yet you haven't heard me demand any assurance," retorted Aragorn, but he didn't say it unkindly for he doubted Legolas understood that he held such privileged knowledge, and this was born out by the archer's immediate denial.

"I have barely met you! What can you mean?"

"Why, you have witnessed my devotion to the fair Evenstar and hers to me. This is not something known to Lord Elrond, for he has as much as forbidden me to think on her until I have raised my station among my people to that of the very highest estate," answered Aragorn, letting his new friend, for so he hoped Legolas would be, search his honest gaze to the very depths of his soul. This obviously amazed the Elf, unused to having a Man be willing to permit such a thing, and his brows rose as he surveyed the human.

"I am happy for you, then," he said at last with the most dazzling smile Aragorn had ever seen on anyone save his Lady love. It made the Man grin in joy to finally be able to share his giddy exuberance with someone who would not frown and caution him that he had reached too high. "I wonder if your training exceeds the needs of the battlefield, though," Legolas continued, the smile leaving his eyes as another wave of nausea turned him pale as water and he rubbed his stomach.

"I have been taught as much as any other healer here. Tell me, are you in pain or do you feel the need to empty your stomach?"

"Both. But what about matters pertaining to the creation of new life, have you any experience in that area?" continued the ailing sylvan.

"Child-bearing?" Aragorn stared at his patient quizzically, not sure if the Elf was about to admit some indiscretion that had compromised his relationship to the Lord of the Valley, for it seemed so unlikely considering all he had heard of the bond between the two.

"Aye, that is what I mean." Now Legolas looked to his right and left and over his shoulder before he leaned in very close so to whisper in the Man's ear. "I carry new life and fear that Elrond has unknowingly poisoned our child with his potions." Then he sat back to gage the effect his words produced. Startled bewilderment could not come close to describing the open disbelief displayed upon the Man's countenance as he once again let his scrutiny pass over the body before him, lingering at the juncture between the torso and the legs, hidden beneath the thin night-shirt. It made Legolas go scarlet again and he shifted uncomfortablely.

"Forgive me!" Aragorn stuttered. "I understood you were male, that is I was told this by Arwen and Mithrandir both, yet…"

"I am," shrugged Legolas, "but that term doesn't mean the same among my people as it does among yours, or even among the Noldorin folk here. Please, I must know if the child is endangered; will you not help me?"

"Aye, aye, of course," Aragorn stammered, remembering at last the terrifying words Legolas had whispered. "He doesn't know then?"

"Nay." Legolas stubbornly set his jaw and defiantly dared the mortal to question him further, pleased when the Man declined to do so.

"All right, I shall need to examine your body and that can't be done here in the open, for at any time someone may come wandering through. Will you consent to accompany me to my rooms?" asked Aragorn.

"Examine me? In what way?" Legolas scooted backwards a little bit. "Can't you just determine the risk based on the ingredients of the sedative?"

"Yes, partly, but I fear to let it go at that for there is a tinge of blood on the hem of that chemise. Are you having any pains?"

"Yes, strong ones that make me shake!" Legolas was now alarmed again, hearing the healer confirm, as it seemed, what he suspected. "Can you make it stop? Can you save my babe? I can't lose him, I can't!" Legolas was near mad with grief and protectively covered his abdomen with both arms, his eyes bright with a wild light of unbearable despair.

"Peace! You mustn't assume this is happening, that is why the examination is required. I won't know until I can place my hands on your body and learn if the safety of the womb has indeed been breached. Trust me, if there is anything to do to protect both you and the child, I will see it done." He gripped the Elf at the shoulders and shook him a little, forcing him to focus on his face and voice, determined to impart hope and forestall the inevitable sorrow should the worst be the case. Aragorn was in truth not as confident as he tried to project, for he had little doubt that if Legolas lost the child he would die, and quickly.

"Come, we are not too far from the house and my rooms are on the ground floor. We need not encounter anyone to reach them." He rose and pulled Legolas up bodily, and noting the wobbly shaking of the archer's knees, effortlessly hoisted him up in his arms and set off across the grounds, ignoring the feeble protest the youth made.

Now Elrohir was still there, skulking in the shadows, and while he witnessed everything some of the words were couched in tones too soft for him to discern, that last outburst from Legolas had been loudly expressed. The younger twin stood for a moment in paralysed amazement, torn between belief and denial. Of course he'd seen Legolas uncovered and knew his genitalia was not as other males, yet such aberrations generally resulted in sterility. Well, he followed, realising that part of his dream, though distorted by his guilty desires, had been prophetic. He couldn't help being curious of the results of Aragorn's exam. Everything played out nearly the same as in the nightmare, but of course knowing now what Aragorn was doing between the sylvan's legs, Elrohir found he could feel sympathy for the frightened Elf, who was crying steadily from the humiliation of enduring such violations of his person, clinical and necessary though they were.

"Fear not, " Aragorn announced with evident relief, "the bleeding is external, for some of these raw patches aren't entirely healed over and your activity has aggravated the wounds. I can feel no undue swelling nor detect any leakage from the womb." He moved from between the raised knees, lowering the night shirt back over the exposed crotch, still in wonderment over the unique arrangement.

Being a healer, he couldn't help but be intrigued, and had perhaps investigated more thoroughly than he needed to. The gentle palpation of the testicles, while not appreciated in the least by Legolas, had convinced him they were at best immature and probably incapable of producing potent seed. The female organs were undeniably viable as the internal exam easily confirmed the small walnut sized uterus and the paired ovaries. As for means of pleasurable experience in the act of coupling, he could find nothing of the female's clitoris while the prostate was located much more forward than normal. He doubted Legolas would feel much enjoyment in being taken anally while vaginal penetration must stimulate the hidden male gland and produce a satisfactory outcome. He smiled down at the tear-streaked visage.

"Then what of the pains?" asked Legolas, still afraid to hope all would be well.

"I think it is easy to surmise, taking in your reduced state. The sharp pangs result from hunger, deep and long unsatisfied. How many days have passed since you ate any sustaining food, Legolas?" the Man asked, truly concerned to find someone this thin in Imladris. The Wood Elf was all lean wiry muscle and sharp angular bones, without a lick of fat to soften his shape or guard against the depletion which would overtake him while the babe developed.

"I don't really know," admitted Legolas quietly and wouldn't meet the human's gaze. How could he tell this person he hardly knew about sorrow and guilt that ran so deep it consumed him? The child within him was his only hope for redemption.

"It won't do," scolded Aragorn mildly, moving away to prepare the very same restorative Elrond had left with Lindir. He bought the glass to the bed and helped the Elf sit up. "This will ease the migraine and calm you stomach's lurching, but you need to eat properly or you won't have the strength to bear this child. It can't be done alone in the best of conditions, and yours is hardly that. You must speak with Elrond and let him aid you."

To this Legolas didn't reply, merely swallowing down the medicine obediently. He wasn't going to tell anyone of his prayer and its outcome, that he would leave for Aman and give birth there where the Valar would care for him and the child.

Aragorn sighed, recognising a stubborn streak when he saw it and possessing wisdom enough not to combat it. The Elf couldn't hide the truth from Elrond for long in any case, for as slight as it was Legolas' body would give away his secret in a matter of weeks. He moved over to his clothes press and withdrew a shirt and trousers which he draped across the back of a chair. Then he rooted around in his pack for a minute and brought forth a small leaf-wrapped packet. This he handed over to Legolas, sitting next to him on the bed as the archer opened it to find way-bread within.

"I expect you to swallow down all of that and remain abed, resting until the dizziness has passed. Wear those, if you wish, for while they will be ill-fitting you can hardly go unnoticed back to your rooms in that sleep-shirt. Above all else, eat a nourishing meal several time every day or you will weaken your body and by so doing endanger your child. I must go, for I am expected to join the hunt with the Men of Gondor. Do you wish me to tell Elrond where you are?" A slight shake of the head was all the answer he received, for Legolas was working on an enormous bite of the bread, his hunger at last demanding attention.

Aragorn rose only after the very last crumb disappeared and then stood for a moment looking down at his patient with compassion, for he looked so utterly forlorn and lonely, and on impulse bent to press a kiss to his forehead, brushing back the long golden strands as he straightened. "Be at peace and stay as long as you need. No one will come looking for you here." With these words he turned to leave but found his progress stalled as his hand was grasped by the sylvan.

"Aragorn, is my babe truly well?" he implored, still clutching at the mortal's hand.

The Man smiled gently and patted the tense fingers wound around his. "Aye, all is well, but the anxiety and stress you are suffering are far more harmful over the long term than one dose of sleeping potion could ever be. You must give me your word that you will heed my instructions."

"You have it, and my undying thanks, Estel." The sylvan again presented that bedazzling smile and squeezed the Ranger's rough hand before releasing it to permit his exit. As the door shut he sighed, settling comfortably back into the pillows and finally permitted himself to relax, softly humming as he caressed his flat belly where the child lay sleeping within.

TBC

Thyrin Trenor: Secrets Told

Galbreth: beech tree, from a dialect of Doriath

faer dithen: little soul

Muilengôl: Veiled magic-a Doriath-derived name for wizards.

Eglerio Elbereth! Eglerio Sulimo, Hîr od Valinor!: Praise Elbereth! Praise Sulimo (a name for Manwë) Lord of Valinor!

ithron sael: wise wizard

Saelben: wise one

NOTE: Well, the Wood Elf is finally making new friends and while he is sad and bitter from what he believes to be Elrond's lack of care and concern, he hasn't completely given up. He has strong reasons for wanting his child to survive beyond the basic instinct to procreate. Those two will have it out next chapter, for Legolas realises he is too ill and weak to ride for at least another day. He will finally speak his mind and tell Elrond just how awful it's been these last ten years, and how much he needed the Elf Lord's love, which he believes he will never receive. Elrond has a sure fire way to prove otherwise. As you can probably tell, Elrond began to suspect the impossible, and you can bet he used his skills as a healer to confirm those suspicions while Legolas was unconscious. The secret is out. Yes, he knows, but hasn't had the chance to speak of it with Legolas, of course. And I know I just left Elrohir where he was, peeking in through the windows of Aragorn's chambers, with Mithrandir lurking not too far away, but be assured he is not going to do anything to hurt Legolas. Let's not forget that Elladan should be riding up on a newly purchased horse any time now, too. Everybody is almost there.:)

© 06/25/2007 Ellen Robey
THANKS to Wreath of Roses, you are NOT an annoying person for figuring it out! I appreciate it, this tells me I haven't made the idea so obscure that folks won't believe it at all. Fear not, Legolas' little problem with cinnamon is not permanent and has more to do with his pregnancy than a true allergy to the spice. It's one of my favourites,too, along with nutmeg.

Thank you kl for those encouraging words!

And thank you to deLurker for the praises, too!

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