Hîr o Meril Thaifn [Lord of Rose Pillars]

Hîr o Meril Thaifn [The Lord of Rose Pillars]
or
Istui Mornedhil Faradrim [Learned Dark-elven Hunters]
by erobey, unbeta'd
Disclaimer: Tolkien's, not mine!


Part Three: Canned Ringë [Cold Lake]

Tall and imposing he was and unlike any of the other Maiar Erestor had seen before. The Noldo was familiar with the earth bound elementals attached to Aulë, Oromë and Yavanna while the minions of Manwë, Varda, Irmo, and Ulmo were seldom glimpsed by the First-born, unless perhaps among the Vanyar were they known. The noble advisor was well acquainted with Olórin (Quenya name for Mithrandir) and Aewendil, of course, but had seen Ossë but once or twice and always from afar, submerged within the ocean or riding upon the waves breaking far from the shores at Alqualondë.

For it was not of necessity that the Istari took physical form and most remained in the state of unrendered essence. What colour is the wind? Who can say what shape belongs to water when it assumes the likeness of whatever vessel or channel in which it resides? Thus, the commanding presence that emerged from the pool drew upon him a film of liquid like a skin of shimmering scales and though this manifestation was patterned after the manner of the elven race, yet the being was so alien a thing that he seemed not to belong upon the land at all.

The hue of his body was pale blueish green and lacked the warmth of flesh and blood, although as seconds passed and the transformation progressed his physique became more substantial. His build was broad and presented the impression of battle hardened muscles that bespoke strength and agility, formidable antiquity, and boundless stamina. Hands and feet were subtly webbed and carried long sharp black nails at the pinnacle of each digit. This creature evoked the impression of a relentless and ferocious predator. He was naked and both beautiful and terrible to behold.

He had no hair and his head, while gracefully formed and handsome in arrangement of its features, was frighteningly devoid of expression. What passed for eyes were deep green ovals lacking irises, carried in them the foment of a squall or the ferocity of a typhoon, and the pupils were inverted, white like the foaming surf instead of black. He had a refined aquiline nose that, having no need of air to breathe, was deficient of open nostrils. The ears were smaller than any adult elf's Erestor had ever seen but leaf-shaped as expected. His lips were not red or pink, for this being had no blood to lend the apparition such a shade, and instead were just a slightly darker tone than the rest of his invented exterior. Upon seeing the Noldo, he curled them up in a smile that revealed a neat row of small pointed pearl coloured teeth.

Erestor was taken aback. He rose to greet the Maia and bowed low, hoping he had adequately masked his reaction. Never before in Aman had he experienced such an overpowering and instantaneous feeling of aversion toward one of its inhabitants. He did not know which was more disconcerting: the blue skin, onyx claws, or ivory teeth.

"My Lord Ossë! I am honoured to make your acquaintance," he spoke respectfully as he righted himself, for this was one among the Blessed after all. "I am Erestor, kinsman to Eärendil and Elrond Peredhel."

"Mae Govannen, as you would say, Lord Erestor." The Istar's voice was as fluid as rain and restless like the susurration of the rising and falling tides. He gave a little knowing chuckle that sounded like a shallow stream tripping over stones. "I have heard of you and would not have expected to find you here, although perhaps it makes better sense this way. It must have been you that sent the signal, for Legolas never would. He has kept this hideaway well concealed from everyone's attention for a very long time. Except Yavanna, of course, who must have been aware but will always favour the Wood Elves with her protection."

"Protection? Why would the silvans need a safeguard here in the Blessed Realm? My Lord, I did send the signal, as you call it, yet I am ignorant of what has transpired. Do you know what happened to this elf?"

"Ah, I see! You are not involved with the youngest son of Thranduil?"

"What do you mean 'involved'? Certainly not!" Erestor sputtered as his face grew warm and pink while his black eyes crackled with ire.

"You disapprove of the lifestyle this one leads? That does seem more in concert with what I comprehend about your character, which admittedly is not much. But if you are not one of the traitor's accomplices then how did you come to be here?"

"Traitor's accomplice! Of what do you speak? Thranduilion is rather a scoundrel with non-existent morals but his loyalty to his people is beyond question." Erestor did not believe these words had fallen from the benthic Istar's aquamarine lips. "There must be some mistake."

"Sadly, no. I regret to be the one to inform you, but it will soon become part of the gossip mongers' daily fare anyway. Yon elven prince has grown bored with life here in Aman, it would seem, and thus has taken to adventuring among the Realms of Men beyond the barrier. He and his cohorts ended up getting captured during their latest escapade and only Legolas escaped. He fled and left four comrades behind. They were executed just hours ago."

"What? Nay! I cannot believe this!" Erestor's attention flew to the disabled elf on the bed in shock.

"I was loath to do so myself, but I have had the tale from one of his deserted fellows. A deathbed testament, Lord Erestor, cannot be ignored."

"Ai Elbereth!" The Noldo shook his head in sorrow as he gazed upon Legolas. The silvan's strange remarks made perfect sense now. "What will be done? Must he face Manwë?"

"I would think so. I came to collect him and make certain he does not manage to sneak away once more. He is very good at disappearing when he so wishes."

"Oh, aye, he is a Wood Elf. How are you going to get him out of here? I do not think he is fit to swim out through the pool. It is something I have been pondering over myself, actually, for his injuries are serious. I was just about to leave and go for aid when you arrived."

"That is still an excellent plan. Go and fetch a small boat that can be paddled up to the cave's entrance. I will watch over Legolas during your absence," suggested the Maia. He approached the bed and gave a cursory inspection of the accused's status, frowning slightly at the indications of fever. "Have you determined whether or not he was poisoned?"

"Nay but it seems likely; many hours have gone by and yet the puncture wound does not close. He is growing weaker, as you see"

"And has he remained unconscious all the time you have been with him?"

"For the most part. He managed to get up once but that only exacerbated his condition and he collapsed just minutes ago."

"Was he able to speak at all? Did he tell you anything?"

"Nay, just a bit of incoherent ranting over his clothes being a mess," Erestor said, omitting the entire conversation regarding the plot to disable the Maia and escape. The charges Legolas faced were serious enough and the Noldo saw no need to add to them. Besides, there was something in the tone of these questions that had all the advisor's nerves on edge.

"That is unfortunate; I had hoped he might have explained some of this disaster. If he succumbs to the toxin, we shall never know what motivated this egregious offence," intoned Ossë. He gave another of those coldly predatorial smiles. "It cannot be helped, I suppose. Go with all haste, Lord Erestor, and perhaps your worthy kinsman can effect a cure."

Erestor bowed again and turned, striding to the lapping water and re-entering the underground lake in order to swim to the small, round portal. This was not too great a distance and he reached it easily, pulling himself up onto the lip of the opening to peer outside. The falls obscured his vision of the opposite shore where his clothing, pack and canvas lay and damped his hearing effectively. The Noldo realised at once that it would be quite difficult to get Legolas into a boat from this vantage, for the water level was not only several metres below the doorway but also churning and foaming from the torrent pouring down from the cliffs. There was a very narrow ledge of sorts an arm's length down, however, and to this he cautiously lowered himself on the chance that some other option might be discovered.

The stones were slick with the spray of the cataract and twice the advisor nearly toppled in. He passed beyond the curtain of streaming liquid to find an early morning sky still sprinkled with stars above a paling welkin. Arien and her brilliant light would soon crest the horizon somewhere beyond the heights at his back and turn the scene once more into a picturesque example of tranquillity and peace. He could fully appreciate why Legolas had chosen this location for his hidden sanctuary, for not only was it serene and restful but also virtually unreachable except via the underground channel. Abruptly Erestor halted, not only because the protruding stone had diminished until it was no longer navigable but because he had just realised several important facts.

Even if the Noldo brought a boat to the less turbulent part of the pool, Legolas would never be able to make it along this thread of rock to reach it. He had been unable to walk unaided across a flat, dry floor. Neither could Erestor and Ossë carry the Wood Elf without loosing their footing, causing all three to plummet into the churning whirlpool. That would not bring any harm to the Maia or himself, but Legolas was unlikely to fare well in such an event. It was highly improbable that Legolas could have manoeuvred along the slippery, minuscule ledge to the inner chamber in his present condition. The wounds were severe and it had evidently taken all the silvan's resources to make it to the cave at all. And this being the case, there was only one conclusion that made any sense.

Indeed, it is more than improbable. Legolas did not come through the hole behind the falls nor the underground channel, for his garments were completely dry, except for his own blood. There has to be another exit, disguised by the magical walls he has constructed.

Erestor edged back the way he had come, forced to creep backwards for there was insufficient space to keep his feet on the rock and turn around, until he was once more under the rim of the opening. The leap to reach the gap and heave himself into it was a delicate, powerful move requiring grace, balance, and strength. More than ever he was convinced Legolas could not have used the same method. Without a splash he dropped into the water and was almost at once wringing out his hair on the sandy beach. As he cleared the water logged tresses from his face, intent upon informing the Maia of his summation, the Noldo gasped in dismay.

Ossë had the cold, scaly fingers of one hand tightly wrapped around Legolas' throat, restricting his airway. He had stripped his captive down, and what his other hand was doing was so obscene that the advisor witnessing his teasing manipulation nearly vomited. The Maia had the Wood Elf's rigid cock in a secure hold and was vigorously pumping and massaging the organ. As he performed this unspeakable act of violation, he taunted the silvan cruelly.

"Foolish elf! Did you really think you could manage to evade me? Now we shall bring our little activity to its conclusion. Your last experience before joining your friends will be a supremely gratifying one. This is how you like it. Does this not please you? Is your body afire with need? Are you ready to come yet? Soon, lovely one, soon! Imagine how it will be for your father when he finds you dead, covered in semen with your stiff prick still begging to be stroked!"

Legolas was flailing desperately, trying to kick against the powerful being and beating feebly against the hand squeezing his oesophagus, bulging eyes wild in terror and fury. His face was a ghastly red and his mouth writhed in futile attempts to draw breath.

Erestor understood at once. This was not Ossë at all but the brother Legolas had mentioned, the one whom had injured him. The Noldo silently cursed his stupidity and just as soundlessly raced to the false wall, praying to Elbereth that he could reach it in time. He darted behind the clever illusion and disturbed the air in his passing so that when he emerged with the canister the Istar had released his victim and was just straightening up. Without hesitation and not bothering to speak a single syllable, Erestor uncapped the tube and flung its contents upon the vile creature.

The canister hissed when he opened it and a small puff of white vapour billowed out. Then a gush of liquid poured forth and struck the Maia in the face, chest, and arms.

The watery demon gave a horrific shriek of agony and tried to fend off the assault by raising his hands in front of his face, a look equal parts dread and vengeful hatred contorting his unnatural features. And then he just became completely still as if frozen in time, eyes staring, lips twisted in an ugly snarl.

Erestor spared a second to gaze in wonder at this unexpected turn of events, for while he had not had any notion of what the contents of the canister might be he had rather thought the liquid was a sleeping agent, given the Wood Elf's description of its effects. He chanced to poke the tip of his finger against the blue shimmer of one of the Istar's arms and inhaled in surprise. The Maia truly was frozen, his temperature colder than that of glacial ice.

Movement on the bed alerted him to Legolas' dire circumstances and he stepped around to the opposite side to determine the poor elf's status. The wounded silvan was struggling to cover himself even as he gasped and coughed trying to fill his lungs. The advisor at once grabbed up a blanket and draped it over the naked, trembling, aroused elf.

"Breathe, Legolas, just breathe!" Erestor exhorted, not sure what the proper treatment was for near strangulation. "By Eru, I am so sorry!"

Legolas could do nothing else but struggle for air for the next several minutes, his respiration harsh and wheezing, punctuated by fits of gagging and convulsive dry heaves. His eyes roved the perimeter of the room and lited on his tormentor; he tried to lunge forward as a scowl that promised destruction transformed his fair face. He did not have the strength, however, and curled up on himself with a windy moan in response to the sudden exertion, for his side was bleeding anew. He lay still a few more moments and gingerly pressed shaking fingers against the purple bruises rapidly rising on his abused throat.

"Be calm and rest," encouraged Erestor. "He cannot harm you now." He hastened to retrieve the medical supplies and fresh water and carefully turned Legolas over to help him drink, reorganising the pillows and propping him up once more. He smiled awkwardly and was grateful to find his patient's eyes closed rather than glaring in accusing remonstrance. Erestor was quite distraught with embarrassment and guilt over the predicament, for had he given credence to Legolas' counsel the silvan would not have suffered this additional torture.

Legolas would not meet the Noldo's eyes at first and the flush upon his cheeks was as much from shame as from the lack of oxygen. He felt foul and indecent, something the high-born Noldo would scorn and disdain to touch, yet to this very elf he owed his life. Not until the disturbing fullness left his groin could he make himself stop shaking and begin to realise the success of his plan, although the quarry snared was not the prey he had expected. He opened his eyes and trained them on the inert statue of living water poised upon the limestone floor.

"Ringë! [Cold Lake]" he hissed in a whisper filled with abhorrence and loathing and the desire to kill. With effort he sat up, shoving aside Erestor's restraining hands, and reached for another of the strange black items from the shelves to his left. This one was an oval metal tube with a handle attached at right angles and the Wood Elf pointed it at the Maia, his finger pressed against a tiny lever set within the object's grip.

"Get back," he commanded in a croaking, raspy voice and sent his saviour a brief flicker of a glance filled with fierce determination.

Erestor knew it was a weapon the instant he saw it in the silvan's grasp and immediately heeded this warning, putting a metre between himself and the bed. As he watched, Legolas sighted down the length of the tube and with minute pressure from his index finger pulled the lever back. A deafening explosion concussed the air and echoed from the cave's walls, reverberating in seemingly endless waves of jolting sonic energy that set the Noldo's head ringing in misery. In nearly the same instant, the petrified figure of the evil Istar burst apart with shocking violence, shattering like glass into a million shards that flew outward in all directions at once. The bizarre sound of the various pieces colliding with the stone floor was the most macabre noise Erestor had ever heard. The silence that followed was eerily mundane, the flowing flood of the falls cascading into the water beyond the cave lending the scene a sort of surreal, mesmerising monotony.

Again it was Legolas who broke the quiet, crying out in disgusted rage as he struggled to brush away the fragments of the felled Istar from the bed and blankets. His chest was heaving as he set the weapon aside on the shelf once more and collapsed back onto the pillows.

"I thank you, Lord Erestor; I owe you my life. Consider me in your debt," he said with effort and again graced the advisor with those deeply aggrieved lapis eyes for a nanosecond's worth of time before sealing them shut anew.

"Nay, it is not so; I do not count this a debt but rather must beg your forgiveness. I did not believe you; your symptoms suggested a poisoned mind and your words and actions implied a loss of reason. I fear I was all too willing to entrust you to this diabolical Nereus."

"Na sen thenid, genediad dartha [Be this true, the debt remains]," Legolas shook his head and firmly announced, filling Erestor's vision with the brilliant intensity of his implacable will.

"Just like Oropher." The Noldo huffed out an exasperated little grunt and declined to debate with the intractable silvan further, but took note that his remark pleased Legolas, for a bright gleam overcame the morose defeat that had suffused the debased elf's eyes.

"I must ask for your help again, mellonen [my friend], for I find my strength waning. The jar and the wax, now shall they be put to use."

"Of course, tell me what to do and I shall carry it out. Yet truly, that injury must be properly tended before we commence and on this I insist."

"Nay, it does not bleed so much now and we cannot afford another second's passage. Please, heed my words lest we be forced to contend with that twisted Istar yet again. For one, I have no wish for another round of combat, nor would you fare much better though your health is robust and your might legendary."

For a long moment their sight meshed and Erestor actually shuddered to see the depths of revulsion, pain and sheer terror revealed in his new friend's exposed, harrowed soul. Without a word he retreated behind the barrier and returned with the huge jug, setting it down carefully next to the bed. As he turned for the final trip to gather the molten paraffin, the mirage dissolved even as he passed through it and he could not stifle a small exclamation of surprise. Bowl in hand, he resumed his place at the bedside, raised brows and furrowed forehead expressing his desire for further instructions.

"All of the pieces must go into the container, no matter how small. Use the whisk broom and the towel; collect every molecule of water," Legolas stopped as a paroxysm of coughing racked his body and he clutched at his chest, straining for breath between the spasms. Both he and Erestor paled to observe the fine crimson spray that dusted the covers as the fit subsided. He tried to speak but could not force out enough air to give the thoughts sound.

"Nay, be still!" warned Erestor, hastening to the bedside where he dropped to his knees and pressed his ear against the silvan's chest. He did not need to keep it there long. "Ai! This is becoming worse by the second! Legolas, you are bleeding into your right lung, that is why the visible flow has lessened. Breathe slowly and deeply; you are not getting enough air." He gripped Legolas shoulders firmly and raised him more upright, hoping to ease the elf's respiration. The silvan flinched and writhed under his hands.

"Hurts!" he gasped out and his head dropped back against the cushions at the nape of his neck.

"Aye, it must do so, yet stay awake! Tell me how to get you out of this place, for I have no skill in such cases. Quickly, where is the exit concealed?"

"The pantry," Legolas panted out. He lifted round eyes fraught with apprehension and struggled to get up again. "The jar! Seal the lid, burn the broom and the towel. The axe!" Another round of asthmatic hacking seized him and he drew his knees up in agony as fiery pain shot through his side.

Erestor pulled Legolas' body forward, one arm wrapped around his chest while the other lightly rubbed the battered back. He had thought to thump his patient soundly and encourage the expulsion of the accumulating fluid from his lungs, but the sight and feel of the layered gashes and bruises under his palm gentled his touch. The force of the coughing and the angle of repose were sufficient, however, and several gruesome, dark clots soon dotted the down quilt.

The fit subsided and he resettled Legolas upon the pillows, carefully wiping away the tinge of red from his lips and chin. He noted a dusty mug at the back of one of the shelves, black, like everything else here and filled it with water so that Legolas could rinse the acrid taste of his own blood from his mouth. After that he made the silvan take a few sips of clean water and returned the trembling elf's ghost of a smile with a kindly one.

"All right, that sounds better now. Just be silent for I understand; be calm," Erestor assured and waited until Legolas relaxed and his breathing eased into more regular inhalations. The archer's eyelids drooped and the Noldo lightly jostled him, fearful for him to lose consciousness again. "Nay, stay alert, Thranduilion! We are not out of this yet."

"Do not call me that."

The words were not even audible to the Noldo's perception but the frown that accompanied the working lips and the severe expression in the once more opened eyes reassured Erestor that his intent had been realised. He rose from the bed and began the distasteful task of collecting up the exploded bits of the Maia. The larger chunks made disturbingly loud, acrimonious tones as they connected with the glass walls of the jar. Erestor glanced up to make certain Legolas' attention remained upon his actions, only to find the azure orbs half-covered once more.

"Look sharp, archer! What are you doing, sleeping on duty? Lord Thranduil will be shamed to learn of it!" This remonstrance produced too great a response and Erestor immediately wished he had not been quite so blunt in his choice of expressions, for Legolas' vision cleared at once to reveal a deeply anguished countenance overprinted with disoriented confusion.

"Hiren Adar? [My Lord Father] He is here?" Futile reorganisation of his limbs indicated Legolas wished to rise from the bed and once more Erestor had to restrain him.

"Hush, he is not here Legolas. I only wished to keep you awake for I fear if you are submerged in oblivion again I may never rouse you. Can you stay cognisant? I know you are weary but I need the reassurance of your eyes upon me in order to complete this vile duty with which you have charged me."

"Talk to me then."

"Aye, very well." Erestor smiled and used a clean corner of the blanket to wipe away the film of perspiration on the silvan's brow. "How did you learn this magic?" He resumed the chore, utilising the butler's broom to sweep up the tiny fragments remaining, dumping these into the debris at the bottom of the vessel.

"Not magic," Legolas' abbreviated reply rasped out.

"No? Then what manner of substance was that? It certainly has all the properties of a wizard's potion. Is that why you used to hang about with Olórin so much, to learn his secret arts?"

"Nay! It is liquid nitrogen," Legolas' answer contained a soft chuckle.

This pleased Erestor as he went about his work, though the name of the material in the canister made absolutely no sense to him. At last all the slivers of frozen Maia were in the container. He noticed that some of the smaller bits were beginning to thaw and looked to the floor, realising a scattering of liquid drops glimmered blue under the growing light of dawn's approach. Lifting his eyes to Legolas, he received confirmation that this was an ominous discovery, and speedily grabbed up the tea towel and set to swabbing the stone.

"In the jar." Legolas spoke, pointing at the damp cloth in the Noldo's hands.

"Yes, I understand. And the wax is to seal the lid closed, water tight?" Erestor noted the brief nod of affirmation and completed the job. "Now what?"

"Burn it."

Erestor knew he was not talking about the glass jug and thus carried the broom and its metal pan to the centre of the cave. Intending to set the bound rushes aflame, he realised he had left his flint in his pack on the opposite side of the falls.

"Nestegi. [Fuck] Where is your flint, Legolas?" he approached to find the Wood Elf smiling, despite his ill condition, in what could only be defined as gleeful anticipation. Erestor raised his brows in inquiry.

Legolas shifted awkwardly until he could once more rummage around amid the contents of the cluttered shelves and then sat back with yet another tiny, flattened black oblong box in his hand. He pushed a sequence of keys with his thumb and held it up, making certain Erestor was rapt in attention. Then he motioned with his hand for the advisor to stand back, waited until he did, and pressed on the device again.

A soft whining hum issued from the object as a warm red gleam appeared, just a minute pinpoint of vermilion light, and then a burst of energy like a spark shot forth from the origin of the colourful glow. This trailed a straight filament of illumination behind it and connected with the whiskbroom, all quicker than Erestor could consider the events, and it was as if a rigid strand, a single vibrant web, joined the humming thing in Legolas' hand to the broom on the floor. A small flame erupted in the upper fringe of the brush's fibres and soon the humble implement was ablaze. The red string of light disappeared and Legolas smiled broadly upon hearing the Noldo's gasp. He held out the peculiar object.

"Are you enjoying showing off your unique toys? How did you make it ignite?" A rather smug snicker met these questions as the Noldo took the black thing and examined it carefully, convinced this, too, was a weapon.

"Difficult to explain," mumbled Legolas with a sly shrug, still grinning.

The noble advisor displayed a matching smile and shook his head in bemused appreciation, turning the device every which way as he inspected it. It was so very small, only the size of a small stone. He noted there were just four buttons on this box but did not feel it would be wise to test his skill in duplicating the archer's code. The casing was still warm from the heat of the beam as he held it out but Legolas refused to take it, mutely shaking his head and lifting his hand to push it back toward Erestor.

"Thank you, Thranduilion. A fascinating memento." His tone implied he was not exactly thrilled and he fiddled with the device, uncertain where to put it or whether it was even safe to carry around. In the end he set it back on the shelf.

"I will show you how to operate it." Eager expectation of generating a more satisfactorily pleased response clothed this offer. "It is very useful, works no matter the weather or…"

"I am sure it is so, and I am grateful, truly, but this is not the time or place. Now we must ready you to leave here, for I fear your health suffers with every passing moment. Let me change the bandage and we will be on our way."

TBC