A Lord of the Rings story by Deana Lisi
Disclaimer: I don't own Legolas, Aragorn, or any other LOTR character.
Hey everyone! Here's chapter 1 of my much-awaited story, lol! Enjoy! ;)
A cry of pain suddenly filled the room, and Aragorn dropped the herbs that he was holding and rushed over to the bed.
Legolas was the unfortunate person who lay on it, curled into a ball, arms wrapped around his stomach. His eyes were squeezed shut and sweat dripped from his brow. His skin was very pale and his breath came in fast gasps.
Aragorn reached out to soothe his friend, using a wet cloth to wipe away the sweat, gently pushing damp hair from the elf's face.
Legolas showed no acknowledgement of his friend's presence, too locked-up in his current agony.
Aragorn quickly rushed back to the table of herbs, desperately sorting through them and mixing a few together. He put them in a pot of water and placed it over the fire, before rushing back to his friend and sitting on the bed, placing a calming hand on the Prince's chest while rubbing his back with the other. "Slow your breathing, Legolas," he said.
The elf was unable to comply. His body shook and tears threatened to fall from his eyes at the intense pain that gripped his midsection and abdomen. He could feel his friend's comforting hands and tried to open his eyes, but the action proved as impossible as slowing his frantic breathing.
Aragorn rushed back to the fire and took the pot, pouring the contents into a cup and adding more water to cool it. Taking it back to the bed, he sat beside his friend and tried to sit him up, but the elf wouldn't let himself be uncurled. "Legolas," he said, urgently. "You must drink this! Please, my friend…"
An elf unused to sickness, Legolas had never experienced such horrible stomach pain before, and was having a very hard time coping. It required every ounce of willpower that he owned to allow Aragorn to sit him up, and the instinct to curl up again was so great that even while sitting, he remained hunched over.
Aragorn slowly fed his friend the herb-laden tea, praying that it would ease the elf's pain and fight whatever toxin had invaded his body. He wanted so badly to give Legolas a sleeping herb, to spare him such pain, but he couldn't do that until he knew what it was that the elf had ingested…and how he'd ingested it.
The day had begun innocently enough; Legolas had come to Gondor from Ithilien a few days prior, to spend some time with his friend while Arwen was away visiting her brothers in Rivendell. The elf had helped the king go over some trade agreements and patrol reports. Everything was going very well in the human city—until now.
Aragorn began to notice something amiss with his friend as they walked through the gardens. Legolas was walking delicately, as if there was pain within his body. When he looked at his friend to ask what was wrong, he was shocked to see a sheen of sweat on the elf's face, which looked paler than usual. "Legolas!" he exclaimed. "What is wrong?"
Legolas blinked and shook his head. "I do not know," he said, sounding confused. "For some reason…I do not feel well."
A statement like that coming from Legolas, of all people, was extremely significant.
Aragorn grabbed his friend's arms and looked at him. "Have you some wound that I do not know about?"
"No," said the elf, shaking his head again. He gave a shaky sigh; his posture slumped as he wrapped an arm around his midsection. "Aragorn…" he said, his voice trembling slightly. "I…I need to sit down…"
If someone had told the King that Gondor was under attack, he would not have been more scared than he was right now. Elves do not get ill! he thought.
Wordlessly, he quickly pulled Legolas towards a nearby bench and sat him down, where the elf gave a soft groan and hunched over his stomach.
"What did you eat today?" Aragorn asked, sitting beside his friend and holding onto him tightly.
"Nothing that I…never ate…before," Legolas answered, his breath coming faster. He suddenly closed his eyes and hunched over further.
"Are you about to be ill?" Aragorn asked, nervously.
Legolas shook his head, eyes still closed. "No…it is not like that. It is simply…pain." He gasped, letting his head hang.
"Can you walk?" Aragorn asked, alarmed at how fast his friend was deteriorating.
To his shock, Legolas shook his head.
His heart hammering with fear, Aragorn quickly stood and slid one arm around Legolas' back and the other under the elf's knees, lifting him from the bench and hurrying back into the palace. He passed many guards on the way, alarming them all who thought that the Prince of Mirkwood had been attacked. Despite their questions, Aragorn didn't answer them as he ran to the palace's House of Healing.
When he burst into one of the rooms, the healers that were inside were quite startled by the situation and tried to help, but Aragorn ordered them all out, telling them not to disturb him unless he called for them. None of the human healers knew anything about elvish healing, and the last thing that Legolas needed was for them to get in Aragorn's way.
The human gently laid his friend on the bed and rushed for the herb supply, quickly finding the ones that he wanted and making his friend some healing tea. After getting Legolas to drink it, he laid the elf back down, where Legolas curled up on his side like a sad elfling.
Less than a minute later, the door suddenly opened as someone came into the room. Aragorn turned; ready to tell the person to leave, until he saw that it was Faramir.
"What has happened!" the Steward exclaimed, rushing towards the bed.
"We know not," said Aragorn, still rubbing Legolas' back as they awaited whatever effects the tea would have. "He appears to have been poisoned!"
Faramir's eyebrows rose with shock, as he walked forward and knelt beside the bed, trying to see the elf's face. He had become good friends with Legolas as they'd worked together to restore and populate Ithilien, and it hurt to see him suffering so. "Was it a deliberate attack?" he asked.
"I do not yet know," Aragorn said. "I need to consult my books before I can guess as to what substance has caused this."
Legolas suddenly gave a whimper, curling in on himself even more, if possible.
"Will you stay with him while I retrieve some books?" Aragorn asked.
"Of course," Faramir answered.
Aragorn lowered his face to his suffering friend's ear. "I will be gone for only a few minutes, my friend, Faramir will stay with you."
Legolas gave no reply, his only movement being the shaking of his thin body.
Aragorn stood and Faramir took his seat on the bed, laying his hands on the elf to let him know that he was there.
"If anything happens, call for me," Aragorn told him. "I'll just be down the hall."
Faramir nodded and the King left, his running footsteps echoing through the corridor.
"Legolas?" Faramir said, leaning down to see the elf's face. "Legolas? Can you speak?"
The elf said nothing, but he licked his lips as if he was trying.
At sight of the sweat rolling down the elf's pale face, Faramir grabbed a wet cloth that he saw on the nightstand and wiped it across Legolas' forehead and cheeks, pushing his golden hair off his shoulder so that it wouldn't stick to his skin. He ran his eyes over his friend, seeing if there was any way to make him more comfortable. "Let me remove your belt," he said, squeezing his hands under the elf's arms where they were wrapped around his stomach.
Legolas wouldn't loosen his hold, breathing heavily through his pain.
"Legolas," Faramir said, loudly. "Move your arms, I am trying to help you!"
The human's voice finally got through, and Legolas slowly unwrapped himself.
Faramir gently undid the elf's belt and laid it on the nightstand, before unclasping Legolas' tunic and pulling his arm out of the sleeve. "You need to lie flat for a minute," he said.
Legolas made no protest, so Faramir gently rolled him onto his back and pulled the tunic out from under him, pulling his other arm out of the sleeve and tossing the tunic to the end of the bed.
The strength seemed to have drained out of Legolas, who lay there motionless, still breathing heavily but a little more calmly, it seemed.
Faramir again wiped the elf's face, leaving the cloth on the Prince's heated forehead. He removed the elf's shoes and laid the tunic on a chair before going back to sit on the bed. To his surprise, he saw Legolas' eyes open, blinking dazedly.
"F-Faramir?" he whispered.
The human nodded; glad to see that his friend seemed to be doing better. "How did this happen to you?" he asked.
Legolas closed his eyes, a wince marring his fair features. Instead of speaking, he shook his head in answer.
Faramir placed a hand on the elf's arm, in comfort, as the sound of running footsteps met their ears.
The door opened and Aragorn burst through, his arms full of books. His eyebrows shot up at the sight of Legolas flat on his back rather than curled on his side, and he rushed to the bed, dropping a book along the way. "Is he unconscious?" he asked, fearfully.
The Steward shook his head. "I believe that his pain has lessened."
Aragorn smiled slightly at the news. "Legolas? Is that so, my friend?"
The elf half-opened his eyes. Pain could still be seen in them. "Aye," he whispered. "Some."
Aragorn patted his arm, so glad that the tea had helped. "I need to know exactly how you feel," he said. "So that I can learn exactly which toxin has done this. Show me exactly where the pain is."
Legolas, obviously weak, dragged his hands up and placed one below his ribcage and the other under his navel.
"This entire area?" Aragorn asked, laying his hands over his friend's.
Gently, Aragorn pressed on Legolas' stomach and abdomen. Unexpectedly—to Faramir, anyway—the elf's whole body jerked at the touch and he closed his eyes tightly with another gasp.
Aragorn removed his hands, giving his friend a sympathetic look. "Forgive me, Legolas."
Legolas gave no reply; eyes clenched tight, his breathing labored.
Aragorn gathered the books again and crossed to a table, laying them down and picking up a quill and a piece of parchment. He wrote down the location of his friend's pain, realizing that it showed that the toxin caused symptoms after digestion. That explained why there was no vomiting, and meant that the elf had likely eaten it at breakfast. "What are the other symptoms?"
"Sweating," Faramir answered for the elf. He'd retrieved a bowl of water and was gently wiping Legolas' face again. "He is fevered, and seems very weak." He patted the elf's arm, feeling the limb quivering under his hand. "He either shakes, or shivers; I am not sure which."
Aragorn wrote it all down, including the elf's extreme paleness. "Legolas?" he said.
He got no answer.
"Legolas?" said Faramir, nervously. He tapped the elf's cheek gently, but he didn't respond.
Aragorn rushed over from the table and Faramir stood from the bed, letting the King sit down and take the elf's arms. "Legolas?" he called again, checking his pulse.
The elf made no reply, consciousness having fled his pain-filled body.
Aragorn was alarmed at the weakness of the beat beneath his fingers, and he looked at Faramir, both humans sharing a frightened look.