Leonalta (Radiant Shadow)

Part Three: Leönalta
Elladan and Elrohir picked their way through the wasted cliffs against which the fortress of Carn Dûm abutted, leading their horses cautiously over the narrow broken track winding through the defile, a troop of Rangers fanned out beside them on either side of the buttressed towers. The grim, grey parapets were blackened with soot and smoke billowed from windows and arrow loops while a foul reek of burning flesh arose from the bailey behind the curtain walls.

On the south eastern side of the outer retainer, the boundary had completely collapsed due to diligent sapping, for the elves were stronger and faster than their foes had reckoned and needed no rest as yet. They had successfully undermined the foundation in one night's work, bringing down a turret protecting the postern. In vengeful triumph they had mounted an escalade through the break and taken all the southern walk walks.

Celonlir's archers held this crumbled battlement and effectively targeted every opening, vault, and moving figure within their range. Each arrow was set aflame before being released and many of the enemy's soldiers had perished by burning, fearing to venture into the open to be cut down. The hostile squatters had ceded the outer defences and were trapped within the keep. Lacking trebuchets, springalds, ballistas, or other engines of war designed for breaching the sturdy walls of massive stone, the Wood Elves had none the less not been idle during their wait for reinforcements. Greenwood's warriors had been unable to advance, however, and by the time Aragorn returned the silvan soldiers were convinced they would all die in the vile place.

It became plain that they had suffered greatly though there had been no more casualties. At first, they had been able to hear Legolas' screams as he was tortured somewhere in the dungeons. At sunrise on the second day of the siege, the Chief of the murderous Black Riders had dragged him to the uppermost crenulation on the flat roof of the donjon and mocked the elves, promising to free the prisoner if they paid a ransom in gold and jewels. Unable to stand after a long night of horrendous torment, forced onto his knees before the hideous war lord, Legolas had managed to call out to Celonlir, demanding of his brother an honourable death.

His heart bursting in pride and breaking in sorrow, Celonlir had obeyed and loosed an arrow that surely would have freed Legolas' spirit, but the evil Chief realised the plot and shoved the prisoner aside at once. He would not have his hostage taken from him, for he could see the elves meant to destroy them to the last man and orc. The bolt had penetrated Legolas' shoulder and he had been carried off again before Celonlir could do more than kill three of the surrounding guards. Thereafter, every day at dawn, the orcs would taunt the Wood Elves from the safety of the stronghold's impenetrable keep, tossing out something that belonged to Legolas: his bow one day, his quiver the next, boots, knives, and finally his clothing, rent to shreds and stained with his blood. His cries had not been heard for two days by that time.

Into this scene of escalating despair Aragorn rode with his Rangers and two elven warriors of such renown that just to see them heartened the woodland folk and gave them hope of taking Carn Dûm. Elladan and Elrohir had been at the North Downs and returned with the silvan warriors and a fair number of Rangers and men from the surrounding villages. Introductions were rushed over as strategy was of greater importance than genteel courtesies and during the discussion it became evident that all of the woodland folk considered Legolas lost. When Celonlir told of the attempt at bartering, the twins shared a look of cold horror, for the Sindarin prince seemed not to understand that such a transaction might actually have purchased the younger prince's release before now.

"You have had little dealings with the sort of criminal holed up there in yon castle," Elladan could not stop his tongue.

"This is so yet we will defeat them. I will not leave Legolas in their possession. We were but awaiting reinforcements to attack the keep. Together we can destroy them utterly so that at least I can inform our Adar that they paid ten-fold for the immortal life of his youngest child." Celonlir was so consumed with rage and grief that it seemed unlikely he would live much past performing this filial duty.

"Legolas may be alive still," the elder son of Elrond persisted. "An assault of the sort you suggest will insure his execution. He was taken to vouchsafe their retreat and even now his life is all that stands between these fiends and death. They will not have killed him yet; call for a truce and bargain with the master of this fortress."

Silence followed this statement as Celonlir processed the Noldorin Lord's meaning. An expression of such stricken anguish passed through his eyes that it was painful to behold; it was as if his soul had turned to dust and smothered the fire of his wrath, leaving the slow-burning consumption of bitter remorse. "Is this possible?" he demanded in a voice so hoarse and raw that his countrymen winced. The prince turned to Aragorn for confirmation.

"Nothing is certain in such a dire situation," the Ranger said in cautious compassion. "These are not the Wraiths of Dol Guldur, however, and the goal of these murderous rogues was undoubtedly gold rather than vengeance or spiteful hatred. For this purpose was your caravan attacked; such assaults are common in the north country and many merchants refuse to venture here for fear of being killed for their money and goods. This lot will try to salvage their hides by any means. It would be an effective tactic, enabling our forces to position themselves for a surprise attack while the bargaining takes place."

"Elladan and I will work our way behind the castle along the ridge, for from those heights we should be able to target them easily as they come forth," Elrohir added, for he knew his brother's mind and the plan therein. "Keep the main force of your archers here where the Chief can see them. He will not suspect that two of the First-born are about to burst in through the back door."

And thus it was decided.

Elladan and Elrohir had an advantage the current residents of Carn Dûm could not imagine. They had learned of the fortress firsthand, for they had fought with Glorfindel against the Witch King of Angmar in the Battle of Fornost. Like many strongholds, the Wraith's castle had a secret escape. The twins hoped to use the concealed exit to gain the interior while the Rangers attacked from the outside. With the combined distraction of the elves on their south flank and the assault at their backs, it was hoped the cowardly foes would surrender. At the very least, the ploy should grant enough confusion to permit locating Legolas, alive or dead, and bringing him out.

It was with great relief that Elrohir spied the hidden outlet and determined it was both still intact and had been forgotten by the inhabitants. The small excavated portal led into the ridge and was unguarded. It descended steeply but the passage was tall enough for a man to pass through unstooped and the twins prepared to infiltrate the castle. Their memory supplied the layout of the interior at the tunnel's other end and they knew this was in the pantry of the stronghold. They took with them water and medical supplies in a pack, torches, swords, and two Rangers to protect their retreat once they had recovered the captive elf.

"Watch for our signal," Elladan warned the remaining troops behind the castle. "We will fire an arrow from the window in the north west corner, there," he pointed to an open square near the base of the tall severe keep in the centre of the bailey. "It will bear a ribbon tail of blue."

"As soon as you see it, mount the assault but keep the orcs away from this exit. We should not be long," concluded Elrohir.

Into the tomb-like burrow they paced and once beyond the reach of sunlight lit the torches. Nothing barred their path and they thanked the Powers no cave-ins had occurred and no part of the passage was collapsed. They burst through the trap door in the kitchen floor, swords drawn and ready for resistance, but only the terrified cook and a scullery maid witnessed their arrival. These were plainly slaves for they showed ample signs of starvation and abuse; their amazement to behold elves in their dingy, dismal world was surpassed only by the light of hope that flared brightly in their haggard faces.

"Go; there are soldiers at the other end who will aid you to freedom," promised Elrohir before chasing after Elladan's fast retreating form. The Rangers hurried after and one fired off the signal through the designated window.

A muffled cry of surprise and pain alerted Elrohir that his brother had located the gaol and killed the guard blocking the way. When he reached the cooling body, the barrier was thrown open and he could see Elladan running down the steps, the light of the torch casting a dancing cloak of golden light all around him. The younger twin instructed the Rangers to stand watch at the door and followed.

It was not hard to find him, there were only four cells and Legolas was in the first. Elladan was already within but on the threshold Elrohir hesitated for the space of two heart beats. The scene was too familiar. His senses were assaulted with the recollection of his mother's captivity and her condition when at last they had rescued her. The smell of damp stone slickened with immortal blood, the chill stench of dank stale air, tainted with the acrid odours of waste and urine, the unbearable silence that bespoke either death or its near approach, all these were well know in a way they should never be.

Elrohir shook himself in concert with the cold shiver that ran up his spine. That was not his mother in there, bound to a beam supporting the roof. Elladan was already kneeling next to the pale, motionless elf and Elrohir stepped inside, bringing the light of his torch to assist his brother, for Elladan had cast his down. The illumination revealed a body beaten and broken.

Legolas had been stripped and tied facing the rough column while standing but his strength to do so must have given out long ago. He was suspended in a most unpleasant position, hands far above his head taking nearly all of his weight, legs splayed out awkwardly while his knees did not quite touch the ground. He must have struggled and thrashed against his bonds for one shoulder was dislocated and the surrounding tissue swollen and bruised.

His head drooped against his strained arms and what could be seen of it was discoloured with dried blood and dark contusions. Legolas had been bludgeoned brutally and his entire body was covered in welts, lashes, and open wounds. One leg still had the black shafts of arrows protruding and in his shoulder a third had been broken off. None of the injuries had been tended and indeed it appeared the brutes had used the arrow wounds in their tortures, for they were jagged and gaping as if the missiles had been yanked out and then thrust back in multiple times. There was no sign that the elf was still breathing.

Elladan's fingers were pressed against the captive's neck, seeking a pulse and he visibly relaxed when he found it. "Alive!" he called over his shoulder in triumph. "He must be very strong for they have not been gentle. Legolas? Can you hear me?" He drew his dagger to cut the ropes and hesitated. There was no place on Legolas' body where he could take hold and give support that would not also cause him extreme pain. At the same time, he could not simply allow him to drop to the filthy floor.

"Aye, he would be strong growing up in Mirkwood. Just cut him lose and let us be gone from this place, muindor. Do not wake him; the move will be too jarring and painful," Elrohir admonished too late for a low cry from the battered elf interrupted him.

The wounded warrior stirred, feebly trying to bring his legs under him and relieve the agony in his arms and shoulders. Instantly someone wrapped an arm about his back and lifted him. He gasped and groaned a long low lament, for it was horrible and wonderful all at the same time. He tilted his head back to see who was supplying this aid and his feverish mind reeled. "Leönalta?" he whispered, gazing with amazed gratitude into the compassionate grey eyes of the luminescent being holding him up, dagger poised and ready. "I am glad; I feared to die alone." He tipped his head further and exposed his throat to make the task easier for his saviour.

"Nay!" Elladan was shocked. "I am not here to give you death but to carry you away from it!" He wasted no time and severed the ropes. Legolas slumped into his arms while the bloodless limbs flopped uselessly to either side, their burden finally over. One sharp cry was all the captive could manage as consciousness fled. Elladan gathered the limp body up and rose, meeting Elrohir's eyes in fiery wrath. There was no point trying to treat such injuries in the cell or force the elf to take water when he barely breathed. No words were needed and the two left the vile place quickly.

The Rangers cast grim and less than optimistic looks upon the huddled body borne in Elladan's embrace but said nothing, for they were familiar enough with the twins to know that it was better not to impede their plans or challenge their decisions. The men also knew from Aragorn the history of their mother's departure, and thus if Elladan was compelled to try and salvage this dying wreck of a warrior then it could be understood if not condoned. In the clearer light of the open kitchen, Legolas' condition was even worse to behold and both men thought it more cruel than kind for the woodland prince to linger in suffering before finding the peace of death. It was not the kind of end a warrior would wish.

By now the attack was at its peak in full blown savagery and blood letting gore, for the Wood Elves were unrelenting and would avenge their prince's torment. Through the frenzy of battle madness rushed Elladan and Elrohir and their guards, dodging fighting combatants locked in death's graceless dance, back into the passage and down the long stone corridor to the relative calm of the craggy ridge. They barrelled out of the doorway at a run, calling for their horses and mounting up as quickly as possible while hurting the victim the least they could.

"Take word to Celonlir his brother lives," Elrohir called to one of the Rangers. "We are for Rivendell!" and they sped away from the carnage and the destruction.

They did not stop until the need of the horses forced a halt. Elrohir found a sheltered spot amid a small stand of alders and there helped his brother assess the severity of Legolas' wounds. They laid him down upon Elladan's cloak and used the water to bathe away the grime and filth ground into the lashes and cuts. The arrows were removed and it was then they discovered the left leg was badly broken, a jagged fragment of bloody bone protruding through the archer's calf. They could not leave it thus.

"I will do it; you keep him still," Elrohir decided, seeing that Elladan was already stricken by the Wood Elf's plight.

Elladan nodded and took hold of Legolas' shoulders to keep him from inadvertently interfering with Elrohir's treatment. No sooner had the younger brother begun than the forest warrior awoke in screaming terror, struggling to get free of Elladan's grip. "Be still! We do not mean to hurt you; we do what we must to aid you," he assured, hoping the delirious elf could understand him.

Legolas fell to helpless trembling, one hand fisted in the elder twins garments and hair, the other clutching the cape beneath him, staring wild eyed into those comforting steely orbs. "Leönalta, it is not time?" he rasped out.

"Nay, you are not going to die, Legolas," Elladan stated firmly. "We will take you to Imladris; you will be healed there."

"Stay with me?" the warrior pleaded. "Until my final breath? Please, I fear to die alone."

"You will not die!" Elladan insisted and shook the rigid, weary body just a bit.

"Stay," the whispered plea repeated. "Promise me." The suffering soul stared through the archer's glittering blue eyes and encountered the glorious resilience in Elladan's feä, its ethereal signature passed through Melian, its unfathomable mystery donated through Tuor's edain blood, its indomitable wisdom the legacy of Idril and all the First Born of her lineage. So different in composition was Elladan's soul from any ordinary edhel's spirit, Legolas could not but be drawn to such a combination of strength, beauty, and power.

Elladan was caught. He believed he knew exactly what Melian must have felt the moment her eyes had joined with Thingol's. He could feel Legolas' soul, faint and fragile, buffeting against his heart like a moth against a window pane, seeking a means to reach the light just there inside. He knew at once that he could utterly possess this wild, untamed warrior's spirit and the lure of that was incredibly tempting. It did not take him long to make up his mind, which was a source of internal amusement and surprise, for Elladan had a reputation for lengthy consideration before any serious decision.

What was there to weigh against it? Here was a promise of total commitment offered with nothing more desired in return than an equal covenant to remain steadfast. Legolas would never leave his side save by dire necessity. Legolas could see his soul and loved it already, regardless the name he chose to assign to Elladan. Legolas needed him for surely there was not light enough left in his own soul to restore him fully. Without relatives or loved ones, the Wood Elf reached out to Elladan and to refuse meant nothing less than damning him to a slow, torturous demise of wasting agony.

"Fear no more," Elladan answered, his hand releasing the Wood Elf's shoulder to gently touch the blackened cheek and caress the blood and sweat soaked crown of hair. "My promise is given. We shall not be parted until you breathe your last. I will stay."

Elrohir stopped what he was doing and gazed in wonder at the scene unfolding, overwhelmed in both joy and stunned disbelief to witness this event. In claiming Legolas, Elladan had claimed the immortal heritage of the First Born.

His brother had joined him at last.


Continued