Here's my entry!
Betrayed
A Lord of the Ring's story by Deana Lisi
Disclaimer: I don't own Legolas, Aragorn, or any other LOTR character.
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 wet 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 had 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 innocent 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 soldier 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 his face, which looked paler than usual. "Legolas!" he exclaimed. "What is wrong?"
Legolas blinked and shook his head. "I do not know," he said. "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…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 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, holding onto his friend 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 slid an 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 crime?!" 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 the elf, seeing if there was a way to make him more comfortable. He tried to squeeze his hands under the elf's arms where they were wrapped around his stomach. "Let me remove your belt," he said.
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 his arms.
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.
The elf 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.
Legolas nodded.
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. It 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. "His skin is fevered. He 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.
********************
Word quickly spread about the Mirkwood Prince's condition, and the command went out that anyone who knew any information was to immediately report it to the King.
Meanwhile, Legolas remained unconscious.
Aragorn was urgently going through his books, searching for information on toxins that caused Legolas' symptoms. There was more than one, but there were other possible symptoms also that Legolas didn't have—yet. Or perhaps he did; for all Aragorn knew, there could be other things ailing the elf that he didn't know about thanks to Legolas' unconsciousness.
Faramir took it upon himself to head an investigation. He asked gardeners which toxic plants grew in Gondor, and he spoke to the kitchen staff. The cooks were bewildered, and gave Faramir a list of food that had been served at breakfast that morning and at dinner the night before.
Walking into Legolas' room, he found Aragorn sitting at the elf's bedside, wiping their friend's forehead and face. Books lay on the King's lap, the nightstand, and the bed, while discarded ones lay on the floor. "How is he?"
"Bad," Aragorn answered, anxiety lacing his voice. "His fever is high and his pulse is very weak. If only he would wake, so that I might learn if there are any new symptoms!"
Faramir sighed and handed him some parchment. "Here are lists of local poisonous plants, and all food that was served last night and this morning. The luncheon list is there also, though I know you said he could not have acquired the poison then."
Aragorn nodded. "His pain struck an hour after the mid-day meal. Ordinarily, that would sound as if he consumed it then, but only if the pain was in his stomach, here," he said, pointing to the appropriate place on the elf. "But Legolas said that the pain is down here." Aragorn pointed to beneath the elf's navel. "Which shows that most of the poison had digested and moved to his bowels. When I touched his abdomen, I felt some swelling within. If he'd consumed the poison at lunch, it would not have been digested at the time that he fell ill."
Faramir nodded, understanding. "He said that the pain is in his stomach also, though, when he showed us the location."
Aragorn nodded. "But he didn't tell us if there was a difference in intensity. It is possible that some of the poison had not yet left his stomach at the time."
Faramir nodded again, as Aragorn read the list of food.
"Eggs, ham, porridge, bread and honey, fruits, and cheeses. What did
I eat?" the King wondered aloud. "Eggs and ham with the honey'd bread."
"I had the same," said Faramir.
"What did Legolas eat," Aragorn said, thinking. "He had some apple slices with cheese. He did not eat much—why? Had he already eaten something else? Had he already been feeling ill?"
Faramir sighed, watching Legolas as the unconscious elf breathed softly.
Aragorn echoed it, but his was louder and almost shaky as he reached a hand to feel the elf's pulse. "We need to find out what is causing this—I do not know what damage is being wrought inside his body!" He again felt Legolas' abdomen, frowning.
Unexpectedly, Legolas' body spasmed at the touch, and he gave a cry of pain.
"Legolas!" Aragorn exclaimed, reaching over to put a hand on the side of his face. "Can you hear me, my friend?"
Legolas' eyes were closed tightly and his hands balled into fists. His breath came faster, turning into gasps.
"Please, Legolas, look at me!" Aragorn pleaded.
The elf tried to open his eyes, succeeding it getting them open halfway. He blinked a few times and Faramir handed the King the wet cloth, which Aragorn wiped along the elf's fevered face.
"What did you eat this morning?" he asked. "I saw what you had for breakfast. Did you eat anything else before that, or before lunch? Did you eat anything after dinner last night?"
Legolas blinked again, having a hard time following Aragorn's words. He tried to remember what he'd eaten and started to shake his head, but suddenly stopped.
"What, Legolas?" Aragorn asked.
The elf tried to talk, but his entire body was shaking from pain.
"Water," Aragorn said to Faramir, who grabbed the pitcher that sat on the nightstand and poured some into a cup, handing it to the King. Faramir lifted Legolas up and Aragorn held the cup to his lips.
Legolas drank some of it, but because his breathing was gaspy, he choked.
Aragorn pulled the cup away, frowning when the elf gave another pained cry after coughing. The motion had obviously hurt; Legolas place a hand on his abdomen and turned his head, scrunching his shoulders as if he wanted to curl up again, but he lacked the strength.
"Try to find out what he ate," Aragorn told Faramir, as he ran over to the table and mixed some more painkilling herbs.
Faramir obeyed, repeating the question to the elf.
Legolas nodded in answer.
"He did, Aragorn!" Faramir called.
Aragorn came back, holding a cup. They helped him drink it, and then assisted him in rolling over, where Legolas wrapped his arms around himself again.
"P…p…" Legolas said, in between gasps. "Pastry."
"Pastry?" Aragorn echoed. "Where did you get it?"
"Room," Legolas said.
"It was in your room?" Aragorn said, a chill going down his spine.
Legolas nodded, as sweat rolled down his face.
Faramir wiped the cloth over the elf's skin, before holding it against his forehead.
"T-thought…you…" said Legolas, stopping and licking his lips.
"You thought I had it brought to you?" Aragorn said.
The elf nodded, eyes still closed. "S-strawberry."
Legolas' favorite.
Aragorn sighed. "Faramir, go to his room and see if you can find anything left by the person who did this. If there is a plate, please bring it to me."
Faramir nodded and handed the cloth to the King before leaving.
Legolas suddenly groaned.
Aragorn rewet the cloth and held it to Legolas' forehead again. "Forgive me, my friend, I cannot give you anything stronger for the pain until I know what poison it is that you suffer from."
Legolas nodded, understanding.
"Are there any new symptoms?" Aragorn asked.
"Cold," Legolas whispered, eyes still closed.
Aragorn sighed. "That is likely caused by your fever. I cannot cover you, or it would raise your temperature." He paused, sadly watching his friend suffer. "Do you have any idea who would do this to you?"
Despite his pain, Legolas smiled slightly.
"Anyone
recent, here in Gondor," Aragorn said.
Legolas shook his head. His shivering increased and he gave a shaky sigh.
Standing, Aragorn crossed to the closet and took out a sheet, draping it over the elf out of compassion. Since it was thin, he doubted that it would cause an increase in his temperature. He would simply remove it when Legolas slept.
Legolas grabbed it with one hand and tucked it under his chin.
Aragorn sat beside him again, holding the cloth to Legolas' forehead with one hand and gently rubbing his back with the other, desperate to comfort his friend.
The herbs decreased Legolas' pain a little, and his breathing calmed slightly.
A minute later, the door opened silently as Faramir returned. In his hands was a small silver plate.
Aragorn took it and motioned for Faramir to take over his position, handing him the cloth. He took the plate over to the table and looked it over, smelling it to see if any trace of the poison remained. He smelled nothing though, and the plate wasn't dirty at all. "Legolas," he called, suddenly realizing something. "How many pastries were there?"
"One," the elf answered, his voice tight with pain.
Smart man, Aragorn thought.
Not risking leaving any behind. "How did it taste?" he asked, walking back to the bed. "Was there anything odd about it?"
Legolas shook his head.
"Did it taste exactly how the palace cooks usually make them?"
Legolas thought for a minute before shaking his head. "More strawberry," he said. He opened his eyes and smiled slightly. "Better."
Aragorn returned the smile. "I won't tell the cooks that you said that."
Legolas' smile widened, but was quickly replaced with a wince and he closed his eyes once more.
Aragorn went back to his books, looking now for a poison that was tasteless.
Not long after, Legolas lost consciousness again, perhaps giving it up willingly to escape the horrible pain.
"Are there any poisons that you think might be the one responsible?" Faramir asked.
"There are a few," Aragorn answered.
"Can you not give him the antidotes to each?" said the Steward. "Or will the herbs react with each other?"
Aragorn nodded. "Exactly. For instance, Purple Weed grows in the woods and has a deep purple pattern on its leaves—"
Faramir nodded. "I know the plant."
"It causes symptoms like Legolas'," Aragorn told him. "But the cure involves a certain flower that combined with a different poison could kill him."
Faramir sighed, shaking his head. "How will we ever learn which poison it was?"
Aragorn sighed, not answering. He put down a book and rubbed his face. "Could you go down to the kitchens to see if there are anymore of those pastries, and ask who made them?"
Faramir nodded and took the plate. "I will also see if this belongs to the palace."
Aragorn returned the nod, and Faramir left again. He reached to check his friend's pulse and found that it had slowed. A stab of fear shot through him. "Do not leave me, mellon-nin!" he whispered.
***************
Faramir entered the kitchens, to find four women bustling about.
"Oh!" said the one who'd given him the food-list earlier. "How is Prince Legolas?"
"Not good," Faramir told her. He noticed the panicked looks that each girl wore, and he stored it in his mind as information to tease the elf with if—
when—he recovered. "Are there anymore of your strawberry pastries?"
The head-cook blinked. "We haven't made any in the past week. We'd actually planned to make some today."
Faramir frowned.
"Someone left one in Legolas' room this morning," he said.
The girls all looked at each other, surprised.
"Is that how he got poisoned?" one of them asked.
"It seems that way," said Faramir. "But please, do not mention that to anyone, not even your families. We do not wish the person responsible to find out that we know this."
The girls nodded, and Faramir held out the plate. "Was this missing, by any chance?"
The head cook took it and walked to one of the cupboards. She opened it and counted the stack of identical plates. "Indeed it was," she said. "And so is another."
"There is
another missing?" Faramir asked.
The cook nodded and looked at the younger girls. "Did any of you damage one and dispose of it?"
They all shook their heads.
Faramir thought for a minute, before asking, "Was there anything to suggest that anyone had been in this kitchen overnight?"
The cooks all thought for a minute, before one of them said, "Yes! I found the jar of strawberry paste on the counter instead of the shelf."
Faramir's eyebrows shot up. "Do not use it, the poison might be in it."
The girl suddenly went pale, reaching out to grab the table. "I
ate it!"
"You what?!" cried the head cook, as the other girls gasped.
"When?" asked Faramir.
"T-this morning," the girl stuttered. "I was here at dawn. When I found it on the counter, I put some on bread and ate it before putting it where it belonged!"
Faramir was relieved. "Then you are likely fine. You ate it even earlier than Legolas did, and he fell ill hours ago. Do you feel well?"
The girl smiled slightly. "I did until a moment ago."
Faramir smiled back. "Please remember what I said; do not tell anyone what I have told you. If you discover anything more that can help us learn who has done this, please let me know immediately."
The women nodded, and Faramir left. As he walked down the hall, he thought about the still-missing plate.
Suppose this man was trying to poison two people, of which Legolas is only one. Who could be the other?With a gasp of shock, Faramir started running down the halls, making his way to a particular room. Reaching the door, he threw it open to find exactly what he feared—
—A plate containing a lone pastry sat on the nightstand of the King's chamber.
********************
TBC
(it won't all fit in this box, lol!
