Legolas’s conscious mind may have been rendered confused and hazy by the toxins in his body, but his inner mind was clear. It had heard and correctly processed everything that had been said to and about him.
It was this concise, unfettered inner mind that had been so exasperated when the elf had thoroughly mangled the story he had tried so hard to tell Aragorn, Elladan and Elrohir. It had become as frustrated as Legolas’s conscious mind had been, more so actually, since it knew the exact way the story should be told.
Legolas’s subconscious heard quite clearly the meaning behind his friends’ words. They were sure the elf was dying. That shouldn’t have come as any great surprise to him, considering the condition he was in, yet somehow it had. However, by the time he understood what it was his friends were saying, the part of his mind that was directing his conscious thoughts and actions had decided to go to sleep. So here he was, knowing he was about to journey to the Halls of Mandos, and he was as helpless as anyone to do anything about it. More frustration.
Legolas knew he should probably rest up for whatever ordeal lay ahead of him by finding the path of dreams and setting his mind upon it, but he was unable to do so. How could someone, who was about to die, just forget that and...dream, as if it was just an ordinary night?
Legolas thought back over the years of his life, picking out the events that were most meaningful to him. There had been so many good times, so many cherished moments spent with family and friends. They filtered through his mind in a cascade of happy memories. Each one was savored, and then it faded to be replaced by another. No time was wasted remembering the bad times.
As for death itself, he had faced it many times as a warrior, been wounded many times, almost died many times. And in each near-death experience he had had, the one thing that most often happened was that he had been unable to tell his family goodbye, because most of those times had found him far from his father’s palace in northern Mirkwood.
And here he was, not only dying again, but as usual, he was far from home. Was there a chance for him now? Would he survive this time, as he had all those other times before? Probably not. This time was different. There was nothing and no one that could help him now. He was much too far from outside aid. Even the athelas that Estel was using on his bite wound was not working.
His friends had mentioned finding a howler to get its blood, but the elf didn’t think that was a very viable solution. They had discussed the fact that there was no way to make any kind of antidote. So that left him in death’s grip just as surely as if he were totally alone.
The archer’s mind then focused on Estel. Legolas knew the man would be forever blaming himself for the elf’s death. No matter that his brothers would tell him over and over that Legolas never did anything he didn’t want to do. ‘Well, almost never,’ he thought wryly, remembering times his father had assigned him to do something he didn‘t really want to do. But Estel had talked him into coming here, and now he would hold himself responsible for his friend’s death.
‘Why did I not tell Estel that I was intrigued by his story of investigating Orod Moru? Why did I not tell him that I mainly argued with him to watch him wiggle and squirm in an effort to convince me, when I was close to making up my mind to come here almost as soon as he had started his story?’
Legolas, who tried never to feel guilty about the decisions he made in his life, now heaped no small measure of guilt upon himself for his deception. ‘I will apologize, when I awaken,’ the elf vowed to himself firmly, though he felt that it would do no good.
Then there was the idea that Estel would feel guilty about being a healer unable to heal his best friend. The elf had seen that kind of guilt in the man more than once. He himself had tried to convince his friend that he had done all he could to save whoever it had been that died despite his care at the time.
Elladan and Elrohir would tell their brother that he had done his best. Legolas knew that Estel would not listen. His guilt would eat at him, in this case, possibly for the rest of his mortal life. It pained Legolas to think of anyone suffering on his account, especially someone who did not deserve that kind of suffering.
Suddenly a sound worked its way into his mind. It was indistinct at first and then began to resonate through his subconscious. All at once he knew what it was. Howlers! His inner ability to keep track of time told him that it was almost dawn. The howlers, who appeared to be primarily day hunters, would be searching for them. He had become one of their casualties, but he was not willing to let his friends become their latest victims.
With an effort borne of desperation, the elf forced himself awake.
*~*~*~*
The howls that erupted and seemed to wrap their haunting tones around the little group in their rocky shelter, jerked Aragorn awake. He would have straightened up had he not been holding Legolas back against him.
When the man looked out toward the eastern expanse in front of him, he saw that dawn was beginning to break. It took a moment for him to realize that the clouds with their heavy burden of snow had moved off, leaving behind a clear and brightening sky.
Elladan trained his keen hearing up above them to where the howlers were located. "They will be coming for us," he said grimly.
"We cannot stay here," the ranger said.
"What about us capturing a howler?" Elrohir asked. "Did you not say that that was Legolas’s best chance to survive?"
Elladan looked at the man. "Have you changed your mind about trying to capture a howler?"
"No. I still believe it must be done, but I have thought this over. We must move Legolas down to the valley. One of us will have to stay with him while the other two come back up here to catch a howler." He looked down at the blond elf. "We have little chance to succeed up here, if we have to take care of him while fighting to get our hands on one of those creatures."
Elladan and Elrohir looked at each other, It didn’t take them long to realize that Aragorn was right. Even though they hated the idea of leaving and then coming back again, they understood the need for it. They wouldn’t be able to turn their full attention on any howler they came upon, if they had to keep part of their attention on keeping Legolas safe. They finally nodded in agreement, but before either could offer a comment, Legolas stirred.
A small involuntary moan escaped, when the elf shifted and pressed his shoulder against the ranger. The jolt of pain that resulted snapped his eyes open. Having already identified the sound in his inner mind, the prince whispered, "Howlers."
"Legolas." Aragorn looked down at the elf, and ignoring the comment. asked, "How do you feel this morning?"
Fearing there was no time for the usual pleasantries, Legolas answered, "I can walk. We have must leave this place." The apologies Legolas had intended on making to Estel would have to wait.
The ranger looked at both of his brothers. They each nodded. Elrohir said nothing, but Elladan voiced his agreement. "Legolas is right. We must go now. By the time we are ready to leave, we will have enough light to navigate the trail safely."
A single howl, much nearer to them than the first ones were, spurred the companions into motion.
Elladan and Elrohir gathered the packs, shouldered them along with their own and moved out from the shelter. One looked up toward the summit of the mountain, and the other looked down toward where they intended to go.
Elladan looked back at Aragorn. "I see no howlers above us." he informed the man, "though I believe they are near."
Elrohir expressed the assessment of his own observation, "I do not see anything, but I, too, feel they are moving closer to us."
Fairly sure that they were safe for the moment, at least, Elrohir leaned into the shelter. He gripped Legolas’s right arm in both of his hands and began to pull him up onto his feet, as gently as he could. He steadied the swaying young elf until he found his balance.
Once Legolas was standing upright, Aragorn also rose and moved up beside him, once again putting the elf’s arm around his shoulders and then gripping him around the waist. The ranger was dismayed to note that more of the elf’s weight was leaning against him than had been the case the day before. He knew Legolas would not make it all the way down the mountain on his own feet. ‘So I will carry him,’ the man said determinedly, ‘no matter his objections’, which he was sure would be forthcoming.
Just as the little group turned toward the lower section of the trail, the sun peeped up over the rim of the eastern horizon. Slowly rising, it began to spread its brilliant light across the face of Black Mountain. It was too early yet for warmth to reach the four, but the sight of the golden rays lifted all of their hearts and gave them hope.
They moved down the trail at a pace that Legolas could manage. As long as the trail was clear of any sizable rocks, they were able to move steadily. The difficult part came when the trail was blocked by the boulders that had fallen over during the intense quaking the day before, as well as those that had fallen in centuries past.
Getting Legolas over those huge rocks was an ordeal that caused the elf much pain and in turn, caused his friends pain on his behalf. There was just no way they could help him maneuver without jostling his shoulder and taxing his strength.
The elven prince tried his best to keep from showing how much pain he was in. The last thing he wanted was to cause his friends any more stress than they already felt. However, will power alone was not enough, and there were several times he couldn’t hide a hiss or gasp in reaction to having to move over the top of particularly large boulders.
Legolas was not actually able to climb over the large rocks. With the help of his friends, he sat up on the cold, snow-covered stones, scooted back over their surface, then turned around and slid down the other side into Aragorn‘s arms. The twins then joined the other two, and they all proceeded until the next fallen boulder was encountered.
Elrohir quickly moved ahead and jumped lightly onto the top of one of the flat boulders next to the trail and looked down toward the valley. He saw the edge of the snowline spread out across the slopes before him.
The younger twin couldn’t have explained why, but he had the strong feeling that the howlers would not go beyond the edge of the snow. Perhaps that was the limit Morgoth had set for the creatures, so they would be forever confined there. This idea seemed logical, since it snowed on the higher elevations all year around.
Elrohir wasn’t sure enough of his idea to be willing to let his guard down, once they reached the naked granite, but like seeing the sun, he was feeling happier at the prospect of leaving the snow behind them. It certainly was a lot better than his earlier fears that they might not be able to get away from the howlers. It had been unsettling for the Rivendell elf that he had been forced even to entertain such a thought.
His scrutiny of the trail completed, Elrohir jumped down and turned to his brothers and his friend. "The snowline is just a few yards down the trail." A grin spread across his face. Maybe they would make it off this accursed mountain after all.
Working their way around one more boulder that was leaning precariously over the trail, the four companions made their way out on to a relatively flat area. They all stopped and stared in horror.
Spread out in front of them on the trail, and on the rocks, were a dozen howlers.
It was the first time that Aragorn, Elladan and Elrohir had seen the creatures in the clear light of day. They were not prepared for what stood in front of them. So shocked were they at the vision that the fact their path to freedom was currently being blocked hadn’t yet registered.
Legolas frowned. His keen eyes had sought out and found the leader of the group. Their eyes met, and the howler grinned. If ever a grin could be considered evil, this one certainly qualified.
The creature was not in the center, as might be expected of a leader. Instead, it stood to the side of the trail on top of a low rock. Its eyes never left the face of its golden-haired prize, and there was a look of avarice on its face. "I thought you were lost to us," it said. "I am glad I was wrong."
All three of the Rivendell brothers were also staring. Their mouths had dropped open in total stunned silence. Hearing perfect Westron coming out of this hideously ugly creature was almost too absurd to be real. Despite the fact Legolas had already told them about these creatures, actually seeing them and hearing the one speak was a shock.
Legolas continued to look into the howler leader’s yellow eyes and suddenly remembered what it was these creatures had planned to do to him. "We must get away," he urged, barely above a whisper. "They want to eat us."
Aragorn tore his eyes away from the howlers and stared at his friend. "You can’t mean..." He was finding it hard to wrap his mind around the idea enough to fully express himself.
"It is true, Estel. I could not remember before." Legolas looked almost sheepish at the thought that he had been so fuzzy-minded he couldn’t remember such a horrid prospect. "I recall it now quite clearly."
"The bones, Estel." Elladan reminded his youngest brother. "Remember the bones we saw."
Aragorn groaned and shook his head. He didn’t think he would ever forget the grisly scene in the cavern. Would he, his brothers and his friend be added to the pile, as he had earlier believed Legolas had been? A cold shiver went through him.
Legolas looked at each of his friends with a puzzled expression on his face. "What bones?"
The man didn’t think now was the time to go into detail about the dreadful remains of countless beings in the cavern. He merely shook his head again.
When the leader jumped down from the rock it was on and advanced a few feet toward the four companions, Aragorn let go of Legolas’s hand on his shoulder and pulled his sword. "We will not return to that horrible cave."
The man noted out of the corner of his eye that the twins had drawn their bows and each had an arrow pointed at the leader’s heart, or at least the place where a heart should be. It occurred to the ranger that these creatures might not even have one.
"Have you told them about us?" it asked the youngest elf, feeling certain it knew the answer.
"Yes," Legolas replied. "I told them all that you told me."
"I can see in your eyes that you are very ill." The howler laughed dismissively. "It does not matter. Your illness will not affect us." The meaning behind those words was obvious.
Anger began to replace the fear that had grown in Aragorn, since he first saw the howlers. His tone was bitterly accusing, when he said, "it’s your blood that made him sick."
The howler laughed again. "The foolish elf should not have bitten me."
As the leader took a step toward Legolas, it saw both Elladan and Elrohir pull back just the slightest bit more on their bowstrings. It glared at them. "You may kill me, but you will never leave this mountain alive. My death will not cause chaos in our ranks, as I am sure you are hoping."
Those words were brave but not necessarily true. The creature actually had no idea whether its death would render disorder or would merely lead to the ascension of another leader. No one else had ever held that position.
The lie came from the fact its death would matter - to the creature itself. It didn’t want to die, even though it had told Legolas that immortality was a curse. A cruel grin crossed its face again, mainly to hide any hint of deception, especially from the keen-eyed twins, who posed the greatest threat. The golden-haired one was too ill to be much of a menace. Neither, it believed, was the human.
Legolas was trying to stand steady in fhe face of these creatures. He did not want them to see him collapse right in front of them. However, his body had other ideas. He had gotten some sleep the night before, but maneuvering the trail had taken most of the strength he had gained. He was plainly exhausted and burning with fever.
Legolas’s vision clouded, as he began to sink to his knees, forcing Aragorn to drop his sword in order to keep his hold on the elf and keep him from falling on his face.
Noting the lost sword, Legolas said, "I am sorry, Estel. My strength has betrayed me. I cannot..."
"Shh," Aragorn interrupted the elven prince. He held his friend firmly. "You are not at fault." He glared at the leader, his expression of hatred and blame clearly aimed at the creature. The fault belonged squarely with it.
There was the tiniest flash of fear in the howler leader’s eyes, when the elf went down. The twins, who had not taken their eyes off of the creature, both saw the look but didn’t understand the reason behind it. They, of course, knew nothing about the howlers’ need to consume only live prey.
TBC