“Adar – Gimli! He’s coming to!”

Thranduil lifted his head from his hands and looked over to the low bedstead. Fingalas, who had not left his brotherÂ’s side since Lord Elrond had admitted them to the little chamber, met his fatherÂ’s gaze with a glad smile, and then nudged the gnarled figure in the chair beside the bed to wake from napping. The Elven king left his seat by the window, walked over to the bed where Legolas was stirring, and sat down, placing a slender hand on his sonÂ’s forehead. It was cool, much different from the savage heat that had kept Thranduil awake with anxiety for too long now.

Legolas opened his eyes. It seemed difficult for him to focus at first, but then his gaze steadied and came to rest on his father. The look of confusion on his face gradually gave way to realization of where he was, and he relaxed visibly. Thranduil allowed himself a sigh of relief.

“Praised be the Valar, your eyes are clear again,” he said with barely suppressed emotion. “How do you feel?”

Legolas pushed himself up on his left elbow, a move he regretted instantly, for it sent his head reeling. “Thirsty,” he said hoarsely, as Fingalas helped him into a sitting position. Then his eyes met those of the worried dwarf at Thranduil’s side, and a faint smile played around his parched lips. “And hungry.”

“Well, here’s something I never expected to hear from this Elf! I thought you lived on air and songs alone.” Gimli’s gruff tone could not conceal his relief. “But I shouldn’t be surprised, really, considering you have not eaten for three days.”

Legolas looked puzzled. “Three days?”

Thranduil had filled a cup with water from a jug on the bedside table and now held it out to his son. “Yes. For three nights and three days, you fought the fever Gorothmog’s claw gave you.”

The rays of the late afternoon sun that stole through the leafy walls created a dim, silver-green glow inside the little bower, but the diffused light could not hide the shock of recollection mirrored in LegolasÂ’s face. His eyes widened, and he made an involuntary gesture to ward off some unseen evil.

“Merilinwen – how is she?” he asked, haltingly, as if afraid to hear the answer.

Thranduil, who was still holding out the cup with water, now gently pushed it into Legolas’s left hand. “She is alive, and will be well again. Drink now, you need it.” He waited until his son had drained the cup, and then refilled it before continuing. “Merilinwen told us what happened, or as much as she was able to; and although I would have called it foolish at the time for you to put so much strain on your injured arm and not wait for help, you may have saved not only her from being crippled, but also your own life. You lost a lot of blood, but when that happened, most of the spider’s poison was cleansed from your veins.”

Legolas stared down at the empty cup in his left hand, and then at the bandage that covered most of his right arm, as if he hadnÂ’t noticed it before. He turned over his arm and flexed his long fingers; they were stiff, but they obeyed.

“And Gorothmog?” His voice darkened with the memory of malevolence the name evoked.

Thranduil shook his head in reply as he got up and walked over to the window, staring into the distance. “She has not been seen or heard of again. Elladan and Elrohir have just returned from Ardíndrean with a search party. They found Linhir’s corpse and buried it; then they followed Gorothmog’s trail north for a while, but the creature is cunning. She has woven a web of darkness that hides her traces, even from the keen eyes of the twins. We have sent word to Alqualondë, and Lord Olwë has promised to send help.” Thranduil turned back to Legolas with one of the rare smiles that likened his stern face so much to the gentler features of his two sons. “His messenger seems unwilling to return to Alqualondë until he has seen you well again, even though he is clearly out of his element so far from the sea.”

As if to confirm these words, there was a sound of flapping wings outside, and the next instant, a huge seagull alighted on the windowsill. It tilted its head and looked at Legolas for a moment; then it opened its beak and produced the strange laughing sound that had puzzled Gimli before. Legolas smiled.

“I thank you, my friend. Go, and take my regards to Master Turlond.”

The big bird replied with another laugh, spread its huge wings again and took off. Legolas pushed back the soft quilt on his bedstead and swung his legs over the side. Gimli protested loudly.

“Where do you think you’re going? You should not be getting up yet!”

Legolas reached for the clean jerkin that hung over the armrest of Gimli’s chair and gingerly slipped his right arm into the sleeve. “I have had enough rest,” he replied, pulling the rest of the garment around his shoulders and fumbling to fasten the clasps. “I want to see Merilinwen, and speak with Elladan and Elrohir.” He made to get up but found that his legs would not quite support him. Quickly, Fingalas reached out to steady his brother, and then pulled him to his feet. Gimli pushed his old frame up from his chair and turned to Thranduil.

“My lord, won’t you tell your obstinate son to get back into bed?” the dwarf grumbled, flustered. “He is not well enough to be up and about.” Thranduil had crossed the room as if to block Legolas’s way, but he did not say anything. He placed his hands on his son’s shoulders and searched his face for a long moment, scrutinizing. Finally he nodded. “I shall come with you.”

Gimli was about to voice more protest, but Legolas turned to him and smiled. “Peace, my old friend. I am well. I think you need rest more than I do.”

It was true. The long hours of waiting at his friendÂ’s bedside had taken a toll on GimliÂ’s old body, for he had hardly slept during the last three days. Fingalas lightly touched his arm.

“Come, Master Gimli. Let us go and bring Frodo the good news. By now, you should know my brother’s stiff neck better than to try and hold him back.” His eyes glinted with mischief, but they sobered quickly when he saw the concern in Legolas’s face. “Go, brother. I trust you will find Merilinwen as well as can be hoped. Lord Elrond himself has seen to it that she receives the best of care.”

Legolas nodded his acknowledgement and turned to go. Thranduil, Fingalas and a grumbling dwarf followed him from the chamber. While Fingalas and Gimli set off to see Frodo, Thranduil pointed to the adjacent bower, and Legolas was about to lift the leafy green curtain when somebody called his name.

“Legolas!”

Thranduil and Legolas turned as one to see Thendir, who had just appeared at the top of the stairway to the talan and now hastened his steps to cross the platform. A moment later he had reached them and grabbed LegolasÂ’s hands, his eyes shining.

“By Elbereth, it is good to see you up again, Legolas!” Thendir’s handsome face showed immense relief. “We were so worried about you. I blame myself for not having seen how badly you were. I was only concerned about Merilinwen, when I should have – “

Legolas raised a hand to stop his friend. “No, Thendir. There is no blame. It was bad luck, and slow parrying on my part.”

“You risked your life to save what is dearest to my heart.” Thendir’s deep voice carried great emotion as he looked at Legolas. “I am forever in your debt for saving my sister’s life.”

There was a long moment of silence between the two friends. Then Legolas inclined his head in a gracious gesture. “How is she?”

A cloud passed over Thendir’s brow. “Lord Elrond says she was lucky in that her back was not broken, and the paralysis was only passing. She will soon be able to walk again. But there is a shadow on her spirit, and a terror in her soul.” His dark eyes held an almost desperate plea. “Legolas, what in the Valar’s name was that creature you encountered? She wakes up with a scream that dies in her throat, and will not find rest again for hours, and I know not how to help her.”

Legolas shook his head. “It was blackness and fear, Thendir. Do not ask me to describe it.” The memory of another shadow crept into Legolas’s soul, a demon underneath the mountain, the one moment in his long life when his courage had utterly failed him. With a shudder, he turned from this dark memory and silently gestured towards the entrance to the bower. Thendir nodded and went ahead, holding aside the vine curtain for Legolas and Thranduil to enter. Then he followed them inside and moved to kindle the two torches mounted against the green wall, since it had become quite dark by now.

The torches cast a flickering light across the small room and the low bed in its middle. Propped up against a pile of soft cushions, asleep, was Merilinwen. Her dark hair framed a face that was too pale and drawn, and even in her sleep she did not seem to find peace, for her breathing was uneven, and her fingers kept twisting the quilt that covered her.

Thendir knelt down beside the bed and took one of the nervous hands between his. His voice reached out to his sister in a tender call. “Merilinwen. Echuio, muinthel neth.” (1)

Merilinwen stirred, mumbling. Then, suddenly and with startling vehemence, she flung her arms over her face, and a shuddering sob from deep down inside her escaped her throat. Thendir took hold of her wrists and gently forced them down again. “Shhh, sister. It is only a dream. Wake, you have a guest.”

Upon hearing her brotherÂ’s voice, Merilinwen calmed down a little. Her anxious breathing gradually slowed, and she turned her head towards the visitors. When she saw Legolas leaning on the back of the chair next to her bed, her eyes lit up. Her smile, though blended with pain, expressed genuine joy.

“So you are well,” she whispered. “I am so glad.”

Legolas pulled the chair closer and sat down. “Yes, I am well.” He cast a quick glance at Thendir, who was still holding his sister’s hands, gently massaging her cold fingers. “And Thendir tells me you will soon be well again, too.“

There was an awkward silence, as if neither of them knew what to say. At last, Merilinwen forced another smile. “I can feel my legs again, Legolas, even if they won’t carry me to the door yet, else I would have been the first to visit, not you.” The tears shimmering behind her attempted cheer betrayed her true feelings, and she turned her head away, biting her lip. When she finally looked at Legolas again, her eyes were full of remembered horror.

“I see those dead eyes, Legolas. I see the malice, and the thirst for blood, and the claws that killed Linhir. I see them every time I close my eyes, they’re here, they are reaching for me…” Her voice died away, but the mute terror in her face spoke eloquently. Legolas simply looked at her for a long moment, not moving, sharing with her again all that had happened in the forest of Ardíndrean, and gradually, his silent communication seemed to reach something deep within her.

“I promise you that you will never again have to fear that monster. We will find it, and destroy it.”

Still Legolas had not moved, had kept his distance. Yet the force of his pledge, spoken so quietly but with deadly assurance, was like a healerÂ’s touch for MerilinwenÂ’s troubled mind. Slowly, trust and confidence replaced the fear in her eyes.

“I thank you,” she said softly. “I thank you for everything you have done for me. Your promise will help me turn the nightmares away.”

Thendir cast a grateful glance at Legolas and was about to say something, when there was a rustling noise at the bowerÂ’s entrance. An Elf appeared and bowed respectfully to Thranduil before addressing him.

“Forgive me, my lord Thranduil. Lord Elrond has sent me to seek you out. Mithrandir has arrived from Alqualondë, and they ask whether you will come to their meeting with Lord Celeborn and the Lady Galadriel.”

Thranduil, who had remained standing beside the door, nodded curtly. “Tell them I shall be there forthwith.” The messenger bowed once more and disappeared again. Legolas had pushed back his chair and got to his feet. Now he looked across at his father, and then down at Thendir and Merilinwen.

“Try to forget the evil, Merilinwen. Let your spirit rest.“ With these words, he turned to follow his father from the chamber, but Thranduil stopped him with a gesture of his hand.

“Are you sure you are up to this?” he asked. Legolas nodded. Thranduil hesitated for a moment before he acquiesced. “Very well. But afterwards, you, too, will rest again.”

They left Merilinwen and Thendir and made their way from the talan up another stairway, walking slowly; for despite his display of confidence, Legolas felt drained and weak. On the next higher level, a thick branch arched like a bridge across to a talan on the neighbouring mallorn, an enormous tree. Thinner boughs reached out from both trees, intertwining into an organic railing. Thranduil and Legolas crossed this bridge and headed for yet another stairway at the far end of the talan; but after a few paces, Legolas stopped and reached for his fatherÂ’s arm.

“I fear I still have to take it a little more slowly,” he said with a rueful smile. Thranduil led him to a cluster of branches at the side that were moulded in the shape of wide seats. Grateful for the respite, Legolas sat down, resting his elbows on his knees, hands dangling, head bowed. His father remained standing, silently, giving him the time he needed without reprimand. Both were completely motionless, and seemed to melt into the shadows of the mallorn.

It was thus that the two Elves who crossed the talan at the other end did not become aware of them, for otherwise they would certainly have taken more care to keep their voices low. As it was, their words carried across perfectly clearly.

“I agree, Haldor. I find it very odd that the appearance of this evil comes so shortly after the nogoth(2) has made his abode here in Aman.” The other Elf nodded. “Indeed, Argalad. It seems that one warped creature attracts another.”

Legolas raised his head, and his furious glare bode ill for the two passers-by. In an instant, he was on his feet, but his father was even quicker to hold him back.

“Argalad. Haldor.”

The king’s voice was icy. The two Elves spun round, dismay on their faces as they realized that their conversation had been overheard. Argalad, the one who had spoken first, quickly bowed his head. “My…my lord… I did not see you…”

“That was obvious.” Although Thranduil spoke very calmly, his words conveyed an unmistakeable threat. “In future, you will show more respect towards Lord Gimli.” His blue eyes were poniards, blazing with an authority that made Argalad and Haldor cower. After a long, heavy moment Thranduil released them from his stare with a disdainful flick of his hand. “Go, and think about how you will prove a change of heart, if that is not asking too much of your shallow little minds.”

Glad to be dismissed without any immediate consequence, the two Elves hurried away. Thranduil turned to Legolas to see barely controlled anger seething underneath his sonÂ’s calm exterior, but judged it best not to pursue the matter now.

“Come, Legolas. The other lords are waiting.”

(1) Echuio, muinthel neth = Awake, little sister.
(2) nogoth = dwarf