Feud

Disclaimer, Thanks and everything see Part One.

Chapter 32: Gwaedh O Gwend Uireb [Bond of Eternal Friendship]
Part Two

The travelers soon had their charge stretched out on the bedding and tried to make him as quiescent as they could. Aragorn cautiously took the quiver off and set it aside, gently disentangling the arrows and plucking waybread crumbs from Legolas' hair. He adjusted the blanket to better cradle the archer's weary head.

Gandalf gathered up the heavy tresses and pulled them back to drape over the makeshift pillow rather than let Legolas lie upon his mane and feel too hot. This done, the wizard retrieved the small bowl of athelas water he had been using earlier and gently wiped down the wild elf's face and neck and cleansed away the bloody tracks upon his chest.

W he he was busy, Aragorn went back into his satchel and retrieved a small jar of ointment. This had a cool and pleasing aroma reminiscent of cucumbers and mint, and he gingerly smoothed a small amount over the unpleasant fingernail gouges. Beyond these minor treatments there was little more the two companions could accomplish, and so upon completing them both moved back to give their patient room to rest.

The Istar rebuilt the campfire, mindful of any leftover sap-filled boughs, and then took up his pipe and settled again beside Legolas.

Aragorn returned to the scene of the distressing ordeal and gathered up the arrowheads and scattered bolts from the ground, retrieving also a folded bit of parchment and two feathers. Once back in the camp, he sat beside the elf and took up the quiver, replaced the wild archer's belongings, and examined the strapping to learn whether he could repair the closures.

Legolas watched their activity through half-closed eyes, grateful to be put down again yet too fatigued to speak his thanks. Now that they had moved aside, he found his eyes trained towards the merrily dancing firelight and shut them tight. With effort he turned his head away and was relieved to find his vision directed toward the human, who sent Legolas a smile that he knew was supposed to be heartening, and so he tried to return it. He took a shaky breath and shifted, wincing against a small jab near his heart, and spoke. But the words were too soft for the mortal's hearing and Aragorn immediately set aside his work to come closer and bend down. Legolas determinedly repeated his question.

"How long?"

Aragorn sat back, for this query unsettled him, though of course he should have expected such. He looked away from the elf, his steady gaze focused inward as he tried to decide how to respond. The Man felt he could not lie to Legolas, knowing that would only jeopardize the elf's trust in him, as yet a tenuous construction. Still, he did not wish to give a prognosis devoid of hope; he could not himself bear to comprehend that this unusual immortal must perish.

"Honestly, I do not know," he finally answered. "I have never attended an elf suffering from this sort of malady. It is not certain you will die; for while such injuries to the spirit are difficult to repair, it is not impossible." He met Legolas' eyes with what he hoped was optimism and confidence in the archer's reserves of strength and fortitude, both of which would be needed if recovery would become more than a façade wrought of wizard's spells and healer's elixirs.

"Yes, it can go either way, Legolas," Gandalf joined in and reached out to pat the warrior's shoulder compassionately, letting his palm rest there. "You have lasted this long and you need only proper care and rest to rebound from this latest woe. Once back with Fearfaron, you will recover speedily, even as you did before!" his words resounded in what was surely that same compelling tone, the glory of the Ainur underscoring every syllable.

"I believe that also," said Aragorn and was surprised at the confident sound of his own voice.
Did he really think this; was healing possible or was he lying to himself now as well? He looked at Legolas again through his physician's perception and sat up straighter, puzzled, as he peered carefully at the resilient body recumbent on the bedroll pallet.

In the shadowed firelit camp a hazy light was visible coalescing around the site where the Maia's hand lay against the troubled Elda's skin, and seemed to suggest transference of fundamental energy was occurring from the Ainu to the elf. Aragorn looked up sharply into the wizard's eyes. This was unprecedented, as far as he knew. Gandalf, according to his own explanations to the Man, was breaking several restrictions of his order to assist Legolas in this manner.

Mithrandir met Aragorn's gaze defiantly, daring a challenge. He had come to a decision, and nothing would shake his confidence in its rightness. As he reasoned it, he had already interfered in Legolas' well being by sending him to Dol Guldur and by hiding information about Malthen. It was no more than just for the Istar to correct as much of the damage as possible, and what he was doing was little enough in any case. Gandalf did not know for certain if Legolas would be receptive to this source of renewal, or if the strength he wished to give the archer could really be incorporated into the immortal's soul.

All through the night the wizard kept contact with Legolas, a hand either upon his shoulder or softly caressing his forehead with the athelas soaked cloth. Mithrandir talked quietly to him, intermittently intoning the words of a blessing or a curing spell, imbuing the prayers wihe rhe revered authority of his kind. Thus the pain remained diminished but unconquered, and Aragorn did not have to repeat his treatment.

Mithrandir convinced the elf to drink water at regular intervals and then just at dawn coaxed him into swallowing a bite of lembas as well. Gradually the archer seemed to be acclimating to this more bearable level of discomfort and was regaining some small measure of his strength.

Aragorn was of two minds regarding this, for it was horrendous to even consider anyone having to make such an adaptation and yet this was precisely what was required of Legolas if they were to continue their journey. {And continue we must, for I have no doubt as to the reliability of the archer's warnings about Orc activity.} Perception among the Eldar was well documented, and that of Wood Elves was said to be doubly acute. Though the Central Mountains were yet several leagues away, he deemed it unwise to remain at their camp much past midday if they hoped to keep ahead of their enemies.

By midmorning the wild elf was sitting up cross-legged before the bonfire's remains. Though his head was bowed low Gandalf simply used this as means to feed more energy into Legolas' soul, massaging the back of the neck and across the shoulders vigorously as though to increase the circulation of this vital infusion throughout his being.

Pleased to see such improvement, Aragorn still feared that the recovery was progressing too slowly. At this rate it would be late in the afternoon before the three could mount the horses and move forward. He did not wish to use any further medicines if he did not need to, fearful of overdosing the slight and undernourished elf, but somehow needed to boost Legolas' responses. With sudden inspiration Aragorn turned to his pack and retrieved his small leather flask of Miruvor. This he opened and offered to Legolas, who looked at the Man with genuine regard before gratefully taking it.

"I thank you for your kindness and your aid, Aragorn," he said in the rasping remains of a voice the affliction's siege had spared for his use. "I am in your debt."

"As I said, I am trained in healing; no thanks are required nor anything owed!" the mortal waved away the archer's solicit non nonchalantly as though curing broken elves was a commonplace event. "But drink some of that, it is Miruvor and will do you good!" he said encouragingly and smiled as Legolas took an extremely small sip.

The elf's face reflected pleasant surprise at the taste of the cordial and he tipped a large mouthful down his throat before handing it back to the human. Almost instantly he felt warm and contented, filled with a peculiarly peaceful exuberance.

"I am certain my own part in your recovery is quite minor," Aragorn added as he returned the flask to his pack and glanced appraisingly at Gaf. f. He was definitely unprepared to meddle in the wizard's business, but was interested to know the Istar's motives with regard to the elf.

A contented murmur escaped Legolas' lips and he closed his eyes, leaning back into the wizard's touch. He sensed the flow of energy between them; it was almost like communion with Tawar, though not as overwhelming. Also, the current went only one way, through the Maia's hands into the archer's essence, whereas during his joining with the Great Wood his soul mingled with the forest's consciousness. This contact with Mithrandir was more like being replenished, he felt as a wilted plant might when absorbing nutrients and fluids during a gentle rainfall. Legolas was uncertain how such a gift could ever be returned, and vowed the Istar would have his eternalegiaegiance.

"That is a trait I value highly in you, Legolas," the wizard gently pulled the archer back into a tight hug, wrapping both arms around his chest and resting his bearded chin on the golden head. "You always seek to return more than you are given! I receive and accept your pledge gratefully!" Mithrandir released him and resumed the brisk massage. Legolas smiled back over his shoulder at him, not surprised in the least that his old friend understood his intentions.

Aragorn, however, was completely confused and stared from one to the other, waiting for an explanation, but neither of his companions appeared prepared to enlighten him.

"Now who is engaging in secretive communications!" he admonished, throwing a belligerent glance in the Istar's direction before moving to the pot boiling above the ruddy coals. He was preparing an herbal tea that should help with the strain riding was sure to place on the already weakened elf, and he poured this into an earthenware cup to cool.

"Peace, Aragorn; it is not so!" Legolas said and sat forward, instinctively reaching out to clasp the Man's arm. "You, also, have my eternal fealty! Regardless of your courteous dismissal I will not forget my debt to you!"

Aragorn was moved; he had done little to earn such gratitude and the wild elf's declaration was far too great a remittance for so small a service. "There is no debt, Legolas! A healer's gift is not a thing to be bartered. Yet a fool I would be to turn away from such an alliance; I gladly accept your oath also," Aragorn stated quietly and held the steaming mug out to his patient. "Let me live up to the title of healer and get your health stabilized before we break camp. Take all of this, it is a good brew for endurance."

"Aye, we need to move on from here," the archer agreed, taking the cup, and cautiously sniffed the steam wafting from it. "The Wraiths do not come as far north as the Central Mountains, but manage to make their orders known all the same. Their Orcs are ctincting us."

"Yes, the Nazgul. What exactly did you mean when you said they were forced to face you? I do not recall that as part of my design in sending you south," Mithrandir said. He was worried about reigniting the wild elf's woes but felt Legolas' knowledge of the evil phantoms was important information for them, and for all of Middle Earth for that matter.

Legolas smiled, sensing this concern, and reached back to squeeze the Istar's hand where neadneaded his shoulder. He needed no words to make the wizard understand his reassurance that the topic would not undo his recovery. As his health improved the link with Mithrandir evolved and the two could now understand their respective thoughts and feelings when these directly involved the other. Legolas found this a great comfort, for every inkling the Maia generated concerning him resonated with both protective inclinations and approving admiration. He began his discourse.

"There are three of them, as you know, but normally only two at a time ever venture out together. Singly, any one of them may go forth, but if paired it is always the same two, while the third remains within the fortress and directs the others' actions.

"They were systematically isolating me from the Realm, severing all means of retreat and so I made a sudden and bold move to flee. That enticed the third one to join his brothers, and that is the one I forced into combat!" The wild elf's demeanor reflected his pride in this accomplishment.

Legolas shifted away from the wizard so he could see them both without craning his neck back and forth and gazed upon his audience with glittering eyes, savoring the heralded roll of narrator in the telling of the tale. Needless to say, they listened in amazed silence as he recounted the details of the battle. He did not mention the presence of the Noldor, even as he had omitted them during the recount of the villagers' struggle for survival.

"Why, for all the wealth of Nargothrond, would you wish to make one of those demons draw sword against you? Are not the Orcs enough to contend with?" Aragorn exclaimed.

"Do you mean to say you can tell the loathsome things apart?" Gandalf asked in surprise.

"Of course I can distinguish between them! They were Men once, and still have very different personalities, enslaved though they.
.

"The Chief, fo I c I call him, is always rather haughtily amused by what I am up to, and very certain he will have me in his dungeons to make answer! He bears a deep hatred for elf-kind that surpasses even what I sense from Orcs. What promoted this sentiment remains hidden, and perhaps he no longer remembers himself. It does seem to frustrate him that his Orcs are so powerless to bring me down, and when he comes forth to join the chase he returns alone, for in his wrath he destroys all the monsters I leave alive.

"The Lesser Evils, as I refer to the remaining pair, behave as if they were indeed once brothers; they seem to know each other's tactics and tend to stand together in battle as though to shield one another. It is sad, for probably long practice ingrained this noble behavior, and so perhaps once they were not evil, merely foolish or desperate, or both together.

"And as to why; how else will I destroy them if I cannot lure them into combat?" Legolas completed his explanations.

"They cannot be destroyed!" from Aragorn.

"That is not what I intended for you to get involved in, Legolas!" from Gandalf.

Legolas frowned at them each in turn. "It is said they cannot be destroyed by the hands of Men. Elf-kind is another matter. Elves have slain all manner of evil the Dark One has conjured, even Balrogs; why should these pitiful shadow slaves be different? And what else would you have me do, Mithrandir? I think it best just to dispense with them rather than sneak around trying to understand their plots!"

The three were silent for a time as the archer's words were considered.

"There is logic in what you suggest," Aragorn answered, and silently marveled at hearing the dreaded Nazgul reduced to 'pitiful shadow slaves'. "I have heard this rumor also; but, does the description refer to 'man' as a race or to 'male' as a sex? If the latter, then you cannot succeed." He rose and carefully began extinguishing the remaining embers of the fire and collecting up the cooking gear. "But you have not drunk that tea, and I must insist. Let us have no more discussion until it is done, for we must ride hard all the remainder of Anor's hours if we wish to avoid a confrontation with the Orcs in those mountains ahead."

"We cannot escape that fight," Legolas replied seriously as he raised the cup and blew cautiously across the surface of the pale brown liquid within. "The path is designed to take us to them. We will have to kill them all," he added this so matter-of-factly that both his companions stopped what they were doing and stared first at him and then each other.

"That we surely cannot do!" Aragorn said in astonishment. "There are but three of us here, unless you can send for the King's patrols using that, that, whatever that thing is going on through the trees and you! Three cannot prevail against a troop of a hundred Orcs!"

"Even if this were possible, you are not in any condition for fighting just now!" the Maia added. "We must find a means to slip past them!"

Legolas sipped the tea and made a sour face as he calmly listened to their warnings. {They will be more trouble than help,} he considered, for they would be forced to fight on the ground, a serious disadvantage. It was obvious their experience with the demons consisted of occasional confrontations in the Mountain passes or small skirmishes close to the borders of Lorien, where they most likely had numbers on their side. Never had these travelers been hunted before. Legolas grimaced as he tried the potion again.

"Valar! This is vile stuff! Put some of the Miruvor in it, Aragorn, if you expect me to drink this Orc piss!" He held the mug out and the human accepted it wordlessly.

"And the three of us have not any choice in this matter. They are instructed to capture me, as I told you before, and many of these trees are helping them. That 'thing' you refer to, Aragorn, is my bond with Tawar. And that will be of little help henceforth, for Shadow has claimed great sections of the Greenwood here, and I fear even more betrayal as we get closer to the mountains. For that reason alone I would engage these hideous monsters and drive them out!"

Aragorn poured a small amount of the rejuvenating cordial into the tea and stirred in a bit of cinnamon as well before pressing the cup back into Legolas' hands.

"We are not in a position to make war on these beasts, Legolas! You will reclaim the trees, I am certain, but at a later time! Our objective must be to reach the King's stronghold without combat! You have already said you do not have enough arrows!" he chided gently and pointed to the doctored concoction. "Drink!"

"Aragorn is right; we must not get into a struggle against them, especially as they mean to take you alive!" Gandalf joined in. "There must be some way to avoid this unhealthy enchantment placed upon the elf path!"

Legolas obediently swallowed down the altered tea and wondered how much to explain about this situation to his comrades. The Istar and the Man seemed not to understand that he could readily escape this fight, using the upper reaches of the canopy where the roadway's meanderings from the real path could be noted and avoided. The travelers, however, were unable to use this method. The Shadow was manipulating them as bait, luring the Wood Elf to their side, knowing full well he would never abandon two allies against the Darkness to the clutches of the foul confederates of the Nazgul.

{Especially now,} he thought, {for I owe both of them too much to turn away. These two, at least, I will not allow my cursed doom to collect!}

The feral elf was happy to play the deadly game. It would be easy to draw away most of the troop; enough, he hoped, so that the human and the Istar would be able to hold their own. Once divided victory was only a matter of time and energy, for his determination far outmatched that of the cowardly Orcs. They would flee in terrified disarray as soon as his fury was unleashed in battle. Weakened or not, Legolas intended to both spare the lives of the travelers and destroy the Orcs, and on no condition would he turn from this confrontation.

"Mithrandir, the path is fully corrupted and even if we turn back we will find our way barred except in the direction of the approaching horde! We are the pursued, not the predators. Either we kill them all or end up in Dol Guldur. This I will not allow," he patiently explained as though his friends were very dense of skull and slight of intellect.

"If it comes to that, I will see us all dead rather than suffer such a fate."

Legolas tossed the empty cup back to Aragorn and granted each of his companions full exposure to the adamantine gleam in his elven eyes, overbrimming with the fierce resolve to carry out this vow.

Tbc