Something Evil This Way Comes

Disclaimer/Author's Notes: I own nothing but the Original Characters and their adventures. Everything else belongs to JRR Tolkien, the Tolkien Estate, New Line Cinema/Peter Jackson, et. al. This was done purely for entertainment and as an exercise in creativity.

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Saelbeth left to find materials to build the litter and gathered some of the other Elves to help in the effort. Alex, who’d had fresh water brought to Rumil earlier so he could bathe Charika’s wounds, went back to the upstairs chambers to find some clothes for her friend to wear. Unlike Legolas, who could tolerate the cold with minimal cover, Charika, like Alex, would freeze in the elements.

Haldir, Orophin and the Elves who accompanied them, returned later in the evening and dumped the body they recovered unceremoniously at Rumil’s feet in the main hall of the prison.

“A vampire?” Glorfindel said. “Lastharos is a vampire?”

“Is that what those things are?” Legolas asked. “No, he is a man. He looks like he may have Elvish blood in his ancestry, but he is definitely mortal. These … things were what he had as bodyguards.”

Both Orophin and Rumil knew what they had seen. The rider had not looked like this creature.

“Vampires are shape-shifters,” Saelbeth said. “They appear as Men or Elves, and only their wings belie their nature. They can remove them, though, like a cloak, and they are often mistaken for such.”

“This form,” Glorfindel added, nodding at the dark grey body on the floor, “is the one they usually take when doing battle, or in their own realm of shadow.”

Legolas and Rumil both turned away in disgust.

“Then he escaped,” Legolas said bitterly. Rumil simply shook his head.

“I know what I saw. There was no one else anywhere near this place.” Orophin voiced his agreement,

“Then he is still here,” Haldir said logically.

“He is not in the building or we would have found him by now,” Fereveldir, who had been going through the prison searching for stray night creatures, said with conviction.

“It does not matter,” Rumil said in a low voice. The others looked at him. “He is out of our reach right now. We should go home and tend to our wounded.” He nodded in Alexandra’s direction. “The lady will likely be ill soon from the elements and her unexpected swim in the river.” Legolas glanced at her sharply; she had said nothing about being in a river.

“And Charika needs to leave this place and go back to Ithilien where healers, with the proper medicines, can care for her.” Rumil looked at Legolas. “There will be time for vengeance. The Eldar have nothing, if not time.”

The prince nodded. “You speak the truth, my friend.” To the other Elves, he said, “We will depart as soon as the litter is completed. Alexandra, a word with you, my love?” His smile was loving, but his tone was firm.

She glanced at Orophin and Haldir, the former giving her a sympathetic look, the latter a ‘told-you-so’ smirk. She surreptitiously flipped her middle finger at the Marchwarden, knowing her husband had explained the meaning of the gesture to his friends and was rewarded by an even more sarcastic smile.

Legolas took her hand and led her up the stairs to an empty room and closed the door. Turning to his wife he gave her a stern look.

“What is this about swimming? In this weather? You are not an Elf, as much as you have adapted to life among us. You can still become ill. What happened?” The pain and anxiety of the last few days were wearing the young prince down and his tone was harsher than he had planned. Alex stared at him.

“I … I’m sorry, Legolas. I didn’t think it was important. I was knocked into a river by one of those werewolf things, and had to be fished out. It’s nothing important, really.”

“Not important? Alex, I felt you dying.” His words caught her by surprise. She knew she had been hypothermic, but did not know she had come that close to actually dying.

“Legolas … I’m sorry. What do you want me to say? It’s not like I did it on purpose.”

Her husband closed his eyes and pulled her into his arms. “You do not know what it felt like, my love. I was alone, in pain, in the dark; and all I had was your love and our bond. Then, that comfort began to fade. I could feel you slipping into shadow and I knew you were on your way to the Halls of Waiting. You do not know---.”

“Yes, I do,” she said, cutting him off, standing back so she could look him in the eye. “You forget, my darling husband, when you were injured in Rhun and you had already heard Mandos’ call and started across the sea. I was with you, every moment. I could feel you fading, getting further and further away from me. You were going home; I was being abandoned here in a world that, as much as I have come to love it, is not my own, with a people who are also, not my own and will eventually leave here, too. Do not tell me I don’t know what it’s like to feel the love of my life slipping away from this life.” She did not let the tears that were stinging her eyes to fall, but Legolas saw them.

He was chagrined at her words. “Forgive me, my love.” He pulled her back into his embrace and held her close. “I had forgotten. It is only that I cannot bear the thought of losing you.”

“Nor I, you,” she answered. “Really, Legolas, I’m fine. It’s Charika and you that I’m worried about. I think there are a few of the warriors who are also injured, and they need to get back to healers as well. I’m not injured. I might get a cold or something, but I’m really alright. Please, don’t make a fuss over me. It’s embarrassing with so many others in worse condition than I am.”

“I understand,” her husband sighed. Then, cupping her chin, he brought his lips to hers. Her mouth opened to his and his tongue slipped inside, lightly teasing hers. Sweet Luthien, but she tasted good! He felt his craving for his wife becoming insistent and reluctantly broke their kiss. There was no time for that now. She let out a disappointed sigh, but her gaze was understanding.

“When we get home?” she suggested with another deep kiss.

“Most certainly,” he replied, before opening the door and returning to their friends.


The group retraced its path from the mountain prison in Mordor, back to Ithilien. The weather gradually became less treacherous, though now, instead of ice, they had to deal with mud. Still, it was not as cold as it had been. Rumil insisted on always being one of Charika’s litter-bearers, and the others were concerned that he would exhaust himself. Still, no one denied him his right to help carry his lady home. Legolas, despite his own injuries, also insisted on sharing the duties and Alex bit back any argument she might have with his actions. Her husband felt weighted down by guilt over what had happened to Charika.

As the Lord of the Elves of Ithilien, he felt personally responsible for those under his care, mortal or Firstborn. The fact that the woman had been taken from his realm was bad enough. That he had been with her and helpless to prevent her abuse and injury made it even worse.

Alex did not know how to help him resolve his feelings. She understood them completely, and would have felt the same way, had she been in his position, though she knew Legolas did all he could for her friend against unfair odds. There were no easy answers.

On a positive note, Charika regained some consciousness on the trip home. She managed to drink some water and even choke down a bite of Lembas. Her eyes were still quite swollen, but were gradually going down. Rumil remained by her side and spoke soothingly to her during her brief periods of awareness. Alex, as her friend and a mortal, also stayed with the woman during her episodes of lucidity. She and the others felt it would be less traumatic for Charika if she were not overwhelmed by Elves; she was anxious enough. Legolas occasionally spoke to her and she seemed to get reassurance from him as well, probably because he had been her only comfort during her trial.

Their arrival back in Ithilien was greeting with much relief by the Elves of the colony and the troop who had gone after Legolas and Charika. Alex insisted the woman be taken to her and Legolas’ home so they could care for her. The place was large enough for Charika to have her own room and for Rumil to stay with her. Glorfindel was also a guest there, with his own chamber reserved for him at all times.

As they gathered downstairs in Legolas and Alexandra’s home, she became aware of body aches and other symptoms of fever. Her chest felt somewhat tight and she knew the consequences of her escapade in the river had caught up with her. She asked Balglin to send for one of the healers for Charika and hoped she would not need their service as well. Haldir heard her request and suggested Meriel be summoned. She was a She-Elf of Lorien, a skilled healer as well as a skilled and strong warrior. She was also well-known to Haldir and his brothers, so he knew he could trust her with the sensitive issue of Charika’s particular injuries.

“She should also take a look at you, Legolas,” Alex said before the she-Elf arrived. “I would rest easier knowing your wounds had healed.”

“It is not necessary, my wife,” he said with a smile. “You know the Firstborn heal much quicker than Men.”

“Nonetheless, the lady has a point,” Glorfindel said as Saelbeth and the others also voiced their agreement. “The bite of one of the creatures of shadow can lead to a poisoning of the soul, something even the Eldar may suffer. Would you not rather know that there is nothing to worry about, as well as set your beloved wife’s mind at ease? She has been frantic with anxiety for your safety.”

Legolas sighed in resignation. He might as well submit to the examination. He would get no rest until he did.

Meriel arrived shortly and examined Charika with Alex in attendance. The woman had never met the She-Elf before, to the best of her knowledge, and found her rather intimidating, as she did most of the females of her husband’s people. She was tall and graceful, with long, light brown hair that fell in soft curls from a simple braid that kept it back from her face. She wore a rather plain gown, for an elleth, and was, of course, stunningly beautiful. She had a businesslike air and her tone was one which expected obedience. Alex fought back her own natural inclination to be the Alpha bitch, and did as she was told.

“You’re from Lothlorien, aren’t you?” she asked the elleth as they gently lifted Charika’s legs so Meriel could check the extent of the damage done by Lastharos’ abuse.

“Yes, my lady,” the She-Elf answered. “How could you tell?”

“Your voice,” Alex answered. “You remind me of Haldir when you speak. All of the Lorien Elves have that same … tone.”

Meriel glanced at Legolas’ wife and raised a sardonic brow. “You mean, we all sound quite insufferably arrogant.” It was not a question.

Alex lowered her head to hide her embarrassment. “Well, actually, yes.”

“Do not be concerned that you have offended me, my lady. It is a carefully cultivated manner among the Galadhrim, and it is difficult to let go after so many seasons.”

She straightened and they pulled the covers over Charika’s sleeping form. Stepping outside, they spoke with Rumil. Legolas and the others moved a discrete distance away and consciously made the effort not to overhear Meriel’s words. If Rumil chose to share the information, he would do so.

“She has been used quite cruelly. There is bruising at the entrance to her womb. I could feel nothing wrong inside, but these injuries can sometimes be hidden. As for the injuries to her rear opening, there is some tearing, but it should heal on its own. She has broken ribs---they will just heal on their own; and her eyes do not look permanent damaged. Once she is able to coherently converse, we will know if her vision is affected.” She reached out and touched the Lorien Warden on the arm in a gesture Alex found surprisingly tender coming from one so innately haughty.

“I will do all I can to ease her suffering, my friend. Do not let your heart be troubled. She will recover.”

Rumil nodded and leaned over, kissing the healer gently. Alex turned away; there was something both innocent and intimate in the way his lips lingered on hers, and the woman felt she should not be a witness to it.

She walked down the hall to where her husband and their friends stood, studiously ignoring the scene in the hall. She felt really tired and her chest was growing tighter. She cursed the werewolf that had pushed her into the river; the elements that had made the weather so bloody cold; the bloody Khandun who had precipitated the whole thing.

“She should heal,” was all Alex would say. She, too, felt any details should come from Rumil. Shaking her head, she added, “I would kill that man right now if I could. Damn him to hell for eternity!”

“If that is the same as the Void, then I share your sentiments,” said Haldir. He could not bear to see his brother in so much pain. Both of his brothers, he reminded himself, although Orophin’s was of his own making.

“I suppose it’s similar,” she mused. “Actually, the old stories say it’s a lake of fire and brimstone where the souls of the damned are cast and they are tormented by flames which burn them, but never consume them, for all of eternity, with no relief of their torture.” She smiled at the looks of horror on the faces of her friends. “Then, others believe it is simply a place, like the void, where the damned are forever separated from the presence of God---Eru, I suppose it would be, here.”

“Which do you belive?” asked Saelbeth, curiously.

“Well, I hope it’s the latter, in case I wind up there. But for Lastharos, I hope it’s the former.”