A scream ripped through the air as Arwen curled in on herself as if having been struck by something and in real physical pain. Gandalf, having camped himself in the next room, heard her easily, along with the rest of the castle, and rushed in the offer comfort and discover the source of her pain.
"My child, what is wrong? What ails you so?" She did not respond to his questioning, only moaning in pain and sweating with fever.
They were the symptoms of the illness they were fighting against in the first place. By now Gondor had quarantined the sick into a section of town isolated and downwind. Supplies were kept there for them, and a few did recover, but a great many did perish their bodies being burned quickly after death's grip took them. Luckily, the isolation was successful in keeping the disease from spreading further and Rohan also had great luck and was now practically free from it altogether. However, those that remained ill in Gondor lingered with the affliction for a great while, having to endure constant ups and downs. Few actually did fully recover.
'So odd,' Gandalf thought to himself, 'she was overcoming this affliction with such promise.' He watched her, placing a wet towel on her forehead. What could cause such a sudden and violent relapse?
Moving more quickly than one would think an old man such as he appeared possible, he crossed the elegant bedroom in search of the parchment containing the spell. It spoke of when it would be needed, how to cast it, its affects to both parties and on and on.
Always so long winded were Elrond's books, the wise Elf had a problem getting to the point sometimes.
Suddenly, one paragraph leaped out at him. Gandalf's eyes widened as the riddle's answer was revealed from a cloak of mystery.
Aragorn sat up quickly in bed, images of a terrible dream so fresh in his mind that he knew he would not longer sleep this night. He swore a scream broke his sleep, but now there was silence echoing in the night.
Rising, he made his way towards his grand bookshelf to read some of the tales held within. As the reading candle grew shorter, the light of the rising sun grew brighter.
There was a quiet knock on the door.
"Sire, are you awake? Riders have arrived and are asking to speak with you."
Groaning that his morning peace was broken, the King prepared to make himself presentable to these newcomers. "I shall be down shortly." Sighed the Dúnadan.
The marble hallways of the palace of Gondor seemed even longer and colder this morning. A misty dew clung to the land yet to be burned away by the unforgiving sun.
When he entered the Main Hall, the suns light did not seem unforgiving any longer, but brought with it a new day filled with promise.
"Elrohir! Elladan!" His foster twins smiled back to their brother, happy to see him after a long absence even for their race.
Walking forward, Elladan broke the questioning silence, "We heard the news of this illness and have come to lend our aid. I'm sure father, even from Valinor could deal us punishment if we didn't offer you our help."
Relief washed over Estel, the name this pair would normally call him. Perhaps there might be a way to find help for Legolas. For the dream he had experienced told him of great evils befalling his friend in his moment of weakness.
"Your help is most needed, for in helping your sister the new King of Mirkwood has placed himself in grave danger. The three of us together can bring him protection that only a single being never could."
Aragorn laid out the entire tale. The illness, Mithrandir's plan, the spell, Legolas, the death of Thranduil and of Legolas' departure.
"What an evil tale you weave, Estel." Elrohir commented with his brother nodding in confirmation. "What would you have us do?"
Before Aragorn could respond, Gandalf gave the answer. "You three must travel to Erin Lasgalen immediately. I feel something terrible has happened for Arwen is relapsing and quickly."
The King's heart fell onto the floor, he had at least been able to breathe a moment of relief from the fact that his beloved wife was improving, but this news brought back the despair.
Elladan also looked gravely concerned, "What could have caused her to succumb back into illness?"
"I am unsure, my old friend, but I can only place the connection to Legolas. Mirkwood could be facing a more serious threat than we could know." Turning to Aragorn, he stressed his words as clearly as possible, "You must make haste and meet with Legolas. With all possible speed, Aragorn, for if you fail we could lose them both."
At that moment, it did not matter that all they were sending was one human and two elves into the unknown of a land constantly plagued by darkness. All that mattered was his loved ones, not his own life, not even his counsel which would, no doubt, never approve of such an action.
They would bring back their friend, save him and the Queen of Gondor.
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