Chapter Thirteen: Trust--Legolas
My footfalls fell noiseless as I walked, gaze wandering from the grass to the branches above me.
The trees were quiet, almost nervous. I had attempted speaking with them, but their voices only spoke with much prodding on my part. They could not offer information on the intruder, only revealing that a malevolent presence had passed through the forest at some time, but the being had been shrouded and hidden from their senses.
I caught glimpses of my warriors as they searched, the unspoken hope being that the unknown person might still be in the near vicinity. Despite what my eyes percieved, my mind was more focused on what was indicated by the grass, leaves, and branches. While it was entirely possible that the trail I was following had ended by the person jumping into the river, something about the lay of the leaves ignited dissettlement.
My hand brushed the blades of green, their smooth texture catching on the callouses of my palm and fingertips. The grass was displaced in such a way that... could it be? I bent closer to the ground, eyes narrowing. With the amount of disturbed grass, but the lack of visible footprints I could only imagine that--my breath caught before I straightened. "Lookout! We've been tricked--" I could hardly shout the words before the air was stolen from the forest, swept into a swirling storm of fear and danger.
The warriors nearest to me froze at my tone, and I caught the sound of a fading cry, the sound nearly muffled by my own pounding heart. My gaze snapped to around me as I recognized that voice all too well.
Forven.
And if the level of barely concealed panic was anything to judge by--
There was no time to breathe as my legs carried me through the forest. Feet seeming to hardly touch the ground, I barreled down whatever path might reveal itself through weave of tree trunks and rotted webbing. The slightest sound of distant movement was all that I could find to follow, hoping--praying--that I was not leading myself further astray.
It could only have been seconds--Forven would not have wandered unreasonably far away--but finally I came upon it. My bow had already come to my hand, arrow fitted to its string. I simply had to find my target.
The scene before me was poignantly breathtaking and with a passing glance I took it in. Forven was on the ground a figure standing above him, sword in hand. Blood dripped from the weapon's blade, a sickening flow of crimson. The unknown figure's hood was thrown back, and I could barely glimpse the malicious expression his features held to. Fury ignited inside me and releasing half of a hastily drawn breath, I let my arrow slip from my bow.
A metallic ring echoed through the forest as my arrow met its mark and the figure's weapon was knocked from his hand. The sword descended as I sprung forward, watching as the intruder's head shot up, his gaze meeting mine. A challenge flashed into his eyes, nearly instantly displaced at my deep throated growl. He took a step back--the sword hit the ground--and my warriors sprung from the trees.
The intruder hardly had time to react. His already faltering footsteps became entirely unsteady when innumberable blades surrounded him, my own arrow being at his neck. The glint of my arrowhead matched that of his eyes and anger thrummed in the breaths of the warriors around me. "Surrender yourself now," I said, voice low and even and barely concealing my utter rage, "for if you don't I am sure death will find you quicker than you'd like."
The ellon before me smirked. "You wouldn't dare."
His words were enough to snap whatever restraint I held to. My face twisted and in one quick movement of my fist, the ellon was on the ground, awareness fleeing him. It took all the control I could muster to not take more than his consciousness. For the present such would have to suffice. Trusting the warriors around me to restrain the apparent assassin, I moved to Forven. Blood stained the forest leaves a deep brown, colored by a turbid flow of scarlet.
I did not dare breathe, and I was sure I would be unable to, even should I try .
Forven was on his back, but his face was ashen. Sinking to my knees, I reached an uncertain hand forward and grasped his shoulder. "Gwador?" I waited, jaw clenched as my eyes gouged where the blood flow stemmed from. Cloth was torn on his right sleeve, the rip then shifting shifting to his side. There was blood--so much red and crimson and--
A long moment passed but my words gained a response. Forven groaned, shifting before wincing at the movement. "Leg'las?" he mumbled, eyes squinting despite the lack of light.
"I am here," I said, gripping his shoulder tighter and looking up. "Caneir, you'd best come look." I gestured for the warrior to come near. Although Caneir was not nearly so capable as a healer of the stronghold would be, his mother had taught him more than the typical warrior knew of battlefield healing. His skill had saved many a life in the past--I prayed he could do so now.
In an instant, Caneir was beside me. His movements were fluid as he worked. "Help me sit him up." His voice left no room for me to argue, even should I want to. He would be a good captain one day.
I complied, grimacing in sympathy with Forven's hiss of pain. "Sidh, you're alright, mellon-nin. We're in the forest and you were attacked."
Forven attempted a nod, gaining reasssurance at the reminder, but his head only lolled to the side. "'s good... I should've 'eard 'im coming..." A hoarseness rasped in his voice.
I shook my head, putting a hand to his brow and checking his head for injury. "You did fine, Forven. You're alive and that's all that matters." So much more mattered. This was my enemy--not his. If I had paid more attention, been with him... "Arthion, however, will not be pleased."
Forven attempted to mumble an answer--something about Arthion never being pleased--but his words were dampened by the harsh panting of his breath. A steady strem of nonsensical words slipped from my mouth in an attempt to pacify my lieutenant. Pausing for a brief moment, I looked to Caneir.
Caneir's brow furrowed as he spoke. "The blade seems to have glanced off his arm before biting down his side. I don't believe there is any serious damage or danger aside from blood loss." He forced a tight smile and looked at Forven. "You'll live, but it will hurt." As he spoke, he wadded an offered blanket, pressing it the wound and turning his attention back to me. "We're close enough to the stronghold that he should be fine until we arrive. Infection will be less of a threat if we clean and close the wound there."
I nodded. "Hannon-le, mellon. Le nesta-mae."
"I have done little, hir-nin. Much healing is still to be had." Caneir gestured for me to hold the pressure on Forven's wound, as he took to tying a cloth around the injured arm in an attempt to slow the bleeding. Once all was as prepared as it could be, Caneir assisted me in pulling Forven to his feet, my lieutenant only just conscious. His chin tilted down to his chest, and it seemed his legs refused to hold any weight. As his hair slipped over his shoulder, I caught sight of an array of rapidly forming bruises,all scattered along his neck. I could only guess what battle had ensued in the moments before I had heard Forven's voice.
Whistling for my horse, I glanced toward the assassin. His hands had been tied behind him, oblivion keeping its hold on him. Anger broiled in my heart, but I pushed it down. Forven needed to get to the stronghold. "I trust you will be able to hold him on the journey back?"
A chorus of affirmation greeted me and I murmured my thanks. Shifting Forven's weight to Caneir, I mounted my horse and then reached down for the nearly senseless ellon. Once he was slouched before me, I made sure to keep pressure upon the wound on his side. Forven murmured a word or two concerning being capable of riding alone, but I hardly honored his statements with an answer. "Just stay awake, gwador." It would be a miracle if he could, but I could hope.
Two other mounted warriors came beside me, and in a rush we were away. The ride of returnback seemed strangely longer than I felt it should be. Stray branches whipped against my face more abrasively than the wind. I ducked my head down, not only avoiding the sting of the branches, but finding reassurance in the sound of Forven's quick breath--however eratic it may be.
Time passed, one heart stopping pound after the next, but finally the stronghold came into sight and I raced through the gates even as they still opened. Once I had entered, the guards stepped from their posts, taking Forven from my arms. While questions were cast towards me, I jumped to the cobbled ground. A whirlwind stirred then, and in a quick succession of events, we were stumbling into the palace halls, our path set toward the halls of healing.
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Hours passed, slow and grueling.
Forven had been taken to the healers, and now rested in a healing sleep. I had stayed while they stitched the wounds, only thinking of leaving once the healers had forced a drugged tea upon him. While I wished to remain by my friend's side, I had a duty to my home to fulfill.
The intruder we had found had been taken to the dungeons, and so I made my way there. The halls were emptier than I was accustomed to, an eerie feel floating through the vacancy. My movements were wary as I descended into the dungeon's depths. I had hardly taken a step past the stairs before I felt a familiar presence beside me. "Elros," I said, turning slightly.
"Legolas," the keeper of the keys answered. "I would assume you are here to see the intruder?" Elros did not wait for my reply before motioning to the left. "He is this way. He awoke around an hour ago, but refuses to speak."
I followed, apprehension growing with each step forward. My adar's dungeons were a twisted maze of stairs and halls, the ornate patterns carved into the bars building its magnificence. My whole life I had found the dungeons to be too beautiful for its purpose, but I knew where its true punishment rested. From inside the cell, an elf could not see the stars, and that itself was worth a millenium of punishment.
Elros stopped walking just outside a cell in the far reaches of the dungeons. His face was grim as he faced the prisoner. Mirroring his action, I did not open my mouth, waiting, the seconds passing in silence. Finally, I gave voice to the stillness. "What's your name?" I said, seeing if the ellon would be willing to give any information, be it a truth or falsehood.
The dungeons were again captivated by silence, as the prisoner did not so much as lift his head. I sighed and stepped away, moving out of earshot of the cell. "Has he said anything?"
Elros shook his head, bright eyes swirling with agitation. "He's naught but breathed, almost as if he is a shadow of an elf."
"I fear that may be all he is. His feä does not shine and his hröa seems empty of feeling... of anything really." I paused, running a hand roughly through my hair. "Do the armorers have the weapons found on him?"
"Aye," Elros said. "They sent Earandur to retrieve them an hour ago."
Nodding, I almost brushed by his comment before I paused. "Earandur?" I had not seen the elf in question since the attack at the armory days before. Most often, we would have some sort of contact, as I would with most warriors but especially with Earandur. And at the armory... he had missed the captive armorers completely at the time. While coincidence was always possible--
"Aye," Elros said. "Is that a problem?"
"No--no. I just... Will you send someone to notify me if the assassin talks?"
"Of course." A hardness set in Elros's eyes. "And he will talk, Legolas. Do not doubt it."
I clasped Elros's hand, patting his back before turning back to ascend the stairs. Entering the still bare halls, I walked quickly away from the dungeons, dreading what I may discover in the armory. Tension was thick. The few elves I crossed bore hardly concealed worry on their faces. I knew they did not blame me, but still, I was nearly relieved when I came to the armory.
The head armorers were surprised to see me, quickly saying that they had yet to discover anything significant concerning the acquired weapons. I quickly dismissed their worry, and continued to the back room, where I was sure Earandur would be.
My supposition was proved correct when I found the ellon sharpening a blade. He was hunched on a stool, whetstone in hand. I knocked on the door lightly, being sure he knew of my presence. Earandur jumped at the sound, his whetstone falling to the ground as his grip slipped. "Legolas! I mean, ah, um, caun-nin, er... Yes. Mae govannen, hir-nin."
Almost instantly, my fear was displaced but I quickly grasped it again. Anything could be a charade, no matter how believable. "Mae govannen, Earandur," I said calmly, taking a seat on a spare bench. "Would you mind if I asked you a few questions?" With Earandur, if he was in fact as innocent as he appeared, I knew a blunt approach would be most effective.
"Um, of course, sir..." Earandur's face rapidly paled and I breathed deeply, hating what suspicion the shadows could create.
"What do you know of the assassins?" I would never doubt a warrior of Eryn Galen. I only had to distinguish whose heart truly was of the forest.
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To be continued...
Feä : spirit
Hröa : body
Le nesta-mae : you heal well (rough translation, sorry)
Good? Bad? Terrible? Please let me know!
P.S. Elros is not mine; he is the keeper of the keys in DoS, I just changed his character slightly.