Bitter Dregs by Aiwen

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Care for a Coffee?

Disclaimer: I am not JRR Tolkien, and do not own Middle-earth. I am merely playing in this world for your and my enjoyment. No money is involved.

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Elrond's nose twitched at the smell of coffee as he followed the Arnorian ambassador, Arluin, into Gil-galad's withdrawing room. "Ah! I see trade with the south has resumed already," said Arluin

"It has indeed," replied the Gondorian ambassador, Borontir, smiling. "Imported via Umbar. If they are going to insist they are an independent trading port, we might as well trade. I brought some with me from Gondor. You must have some."

"That would be excellent," said Arluin. "I really have missed coffee. It is too cold for it to grow here. I've not had it since…" his face fell.

"By all means," said Borontir, gesturing at the tiny cups laid out on the tray in front of them.

Gil-galad thanked him politely and also accepted a cup, as did Elrond. If only coffee tasted as good as it smelled... Elrond inhaled deeply, the smell bringing back memories.

They talked of an assortment of things for the next while, getting an idea of what they could expect from Gondor's ambassador. "Don't you like the coffee?" Arluin asked Elrond.

"I love the smell, but I've never been too keen on the taste," admitted Elrond.

"Odd, for the brother of Numenor's first king to distain one of its better known delicacies," said Borontir. A muscle jumped in the man's cheek.

"I fear coffee is somewhat of an acquired taste," said Gil-galad. "I quite like it."

"Now the trade routes to the south are opening up, there should be more opportunity for acquiring it," said Arluin. "Along with many other things." He turned to Borontir. "I don't trust those Umbarians, though. The place is full of the King's Men. I am sure they will spy on us for the Nazgul."

"You are right that Sauron's fall doesn't mean that his kingdom has fallen apart. It does not even mean that we can be certain he won't turn up again himself," said Gil-galad with a frown.

"Sire, what do you mean, you aren't sure he's permanently gone?" yelped Arluin, dropping his cup to the saucer with a clatter. "He's dead, dead as the Isle of the Star!"

"Maiar are terribly hard to kill, and he's escaped the justice of the Valar twice, as well as escaping the combined armies of both our peoples once." Gil-galad pointed out.

"He has to be dead, sire!" insisted Arluin. "Otherwise Numenor died for nothing!"

"I certainly hope he is permanently dead, but we have to be prepared for any eventuality." said Gil-galad.

"Eru can't be so unjust as to destroy a nation full of women and children and leave the monster who misled them alive. He just can't!" cried Arluin, clutching the arms of the chair.

Gil-galad raised an eyebrow. "Sauron survived the Valar's destruction of Beleriand. This isn't a fairy tale, and you don't do your people any favors by being naïve."

Elrond frowned, leaning forward slightly. It wasn't like Arluin to get so worked up, and Gil-galad would normally not provoke an allied ambassador - or imply that Eru didn't care about justice!

"Naïve! You sit there and call me naïve, you vain, proud immortal. I know you distain us, and you haven't the faintest idea of what we went through and what it cost us. You've never been ruled by Sauron and a mad usurper who was out to SACRIFICE YOU TO MORGOTH!" He stood up, his chair crashing over backwards, a grimace on his face and tears glittering in his eyes.

The door opened, Ornendil, one of Gil-galad's guards, peering in.

"Could everybody please calm down?" said Elrond. "This isn't doing anyone any good."

"Calm down," Borontir sneered at Elrond, before crossing his arms and glaring at Gil-galad. "What will you do if Arluin doesn't, arrest us both?"

"No! I don't have to listen to this," cried Arluin, turning on his heel and striding towards the door. He stumbled over nothing and crashed on the floor, his legs oddly straight. Elrond and Gil-galad exchanged confused looks. Then Arluin relaxed, physically at least. "He tripped me!" cried Arluin, turning on Elrond.

"I haven't touched you," said Elrond.

"I'm not arresting anybody," said Gil-galad, rubbing his jaw and scowling. "I just want to make sure we're ready when the need arises. There's no need for… this." He gestured irritably at Arluin, and rubbed his jaw again, wincing.

Elrond looked from Arluin, who had disentangled his legs and was now sitting on the floor massaging his ankle, to Gil-galad, and then to Borontir, whose face bore a most peculiar-looking grin. What was going on? But he didn't feel anything wrong… "Are you ill?" The coffee – they'd all drunk it and he hadn't!

"Ornendil, go to the infirmary at once and get the poisoning bag," Elrond told the guard, who paled. "Inform Arothir, and send for Master Moriel at the Houses of Healing. We'll need help moving them to the infirmary, too. Arluin should not try to walk there unaided."

"Who will guard them if I'm not here? I don't want the King left unguarded while he's ill with an assassin on the loose."

"Poison? How? Why?" demanded Borontir.

"Hand me a weapon and I will," said Elrond. "I did not drink the coffee. I am fine."

"Here, take mine," said Gil-galad. "If I'm likely to become," he paused and yawned painfully, "irrational, I shouldn't have one on me." He handed Elrond his sword, then a small dagger from inside one sleeve.

"Stay here," Ornendil said, glaring at them, before taking off at a run for the infirmary.

Those remaining stared at each other. "Do you really think we've been poisoned?" asked Arluin.

"Arluin, what is wrong with your legs, King Gil-galad's jaw, and Borontir's face, plus the behavior of all of you?" asked Elrond.

"They were really stiff," said Arluin. "And both you and Borontir were rude," he added to Gil-galad.

Gil-galad winced. "Can we chalk that conversation up to poisoning and pretend it didn't happen?"

"Arluin, you were flying off the handle at minor provocation, while Gil-galad is obsessing about Sauron to the point of alienating our allies and questioning Eru's judgement. That's not like either of you." said Elrond. "I don't know you well enough to know your usual behavior, Borontir, but you weren't exactly a paragon of diplomacy. Do any you have any other symptoms I should know about?" asked Elrond.

Two "no"s and one shaken head.

"Well, let me know if you do," said Elrond. "For now, we wait." Elrond stood up and looked into the coffee cups. His own was full, Gil-galad's was empty save for the dregs, Borontir's was half-full, and Arluin's had been emptied completely.

Gil-galad got up and started pacing.

Arluin twitched violently as his arms and legs spasmed, falling sideways. Elrond knelt down on the floor beside him. He didn't recognize the symptoms of whatever this was: the spasms and tight jaw seemed almost like lockjaw symptoms, which made no sense at all.

"Damn, that hurt!" complained Arluin, struggling to sit up, and panting a little.

Elrond looked up at his King. "I think you should sit down, Aranya," said Elrond. "I don't want you falling."

Gil-galad sat down in a chair, but twitched repeatedly as if he couldn't keep still. "I hate poison," he said.

"Don't we all?" said Arluin. Heads nodded all round.

Hurried footsteps announced Ornendil's return: "I've got the medical bag here," he said.

"Good," said Elrond, grabbing it and rummaging through it until he found the activated charcoal. Without knowing what they were dealing with, the best thing to do would be to bind the chemical so that no more of it could be absorbed by their system. Hopefully Moriel would recognize the symptoms.

Gil-galad grimaced as he saw the bag.

"Tough," said Elrond.

"I'm not arguing," said Gil-galad.

The charcoal powder was duly mixed with water, and Elrond made certain all three drank their share, disgusted faces notwithstanding. To be fair, it truly was vile stuff.

After that, the next thing to do was to get them to the infirmary on the first floor. Borontir and Gil-galad insisted on walking, while they put Arluin on a stretcher. Of course this attracted gawkers, who immediately wanted to know what was happening. Arothir barked at them to either help or get out of the way, which they did.

There were a couple of stops due to Arluin going into fits. They really did look like lockjaw, but that wasn't a drinkable poison. This had to be something foreign. They were in the hall outside the infirmary when Gil-galad's spine arched violently and he went completely rigid. Ornendil and Elrond caught him before he could fall, Ornendil cursing as they struggled not to drop their monarch instead of lowering him. Once he was on the ground, Elrond motioned to Golasgil to place the stretcher next to Gil-galad so they could get him onto it. Meanwhile, the peculiar fit passed, leaving Gil-galad adruptly limp and blinking as they moved him onto the stretcher.

"We're nearly there, Gil-galad," said Elrond.

Gil-galad nodded shakily. Elrond had been hoping his king might have escaped the worst of it, but it appeared they weren't so lucky.

Then they were at the infirmary, with both Moriel and Taurwen, thank the Valar. Moriel knew more about poisons than anyone Elrond had ever met. Surely she'd recognize this.

The next few minutes were spent explaining symptoms and case history. Moriel examined the three as they were placed on beds, and their outer clothing removed. She looked grim.

"You have seen something like this before?" Elrond asked in a low voice.

"Only a couple of cases, and neither was an elf. It is something out of the south. The Black Numenoreans sometimes use it."

"What is the antidote?"

"There isn't one, as far as I know. We're going to have to just treat the symptoms."

"Muscle relaxants," said Taurwen.

"We'll need anticonvulsants and painkillers too," added Moriel. "And for some strange reason, light, noise and touch tend to set off the seizures and spasms, so we're going to have to be careful how much we handle them once they start getting worse."

Taurwen glanced around the infirmary with a dissatisfied air. "I wish we had separate rooms here, but I don't want to move them again, and still less do I want to be out of reach when one of them has an episode."

Elrond followed Moriel into the next room, where she was getting medications ready. "Just how serious is this?" he asked quietly.

"Assuming it is this poison, very." She turned to look Elrond in the eye. "Elrond, we may lose all of them. I want you to stay with the King, and keep him quiet. He knows you well, and if his mind starts wandering he's more likely to listen to you than to either of us. You can restart his breathing and give strength if needed. Taurwen and I can deal with the ambassadors."

Elrond nodded, not wanting to think about what she implied. Gil-galad was not going to die if he had anything to say about it. Elrond went back into the main room and sat down on a chair next to Gil-galad.

Gil-galad looked at him. "How bad is it?" he asked, raising himself on one elbow.

"I'm to keep you quiet, and keep an eye on you," said Elrond.

"That bad, then?" said Gil-galad.

Elrond winced. Gil-galad always had been perceptive enough that trying to hide things from him was a lost cause. "We don't know as much about it as we like, but there are things we can and will do that will help. You're in for a pretty vile time, though."

"Just do your best with what you have," said Gil-galad. "I trust you." He lay down, and suddenly smirked. "I also trust your strong desire not to be High King."

Elrond glared at him, but Gil-galad had closed his eyes, a smile lingering around his mouth. Elrond rolled his eyes, and sighed noisily.

Then Gil-galad's muscles spasmed, his head snapping backwards as a sinister mockery of a grin spread across his face. Elrond watched, softly singing a spell to ease pain but feeling utterly helpless. The sooner Moriel got back here with those muscle relaxants the better. The fit passed, leaving Gil-galad limp and breathing heavily.

Moriel bustled in, and medications were administered. The three beds were each curtained off from each other to cut down on noise and light, as well as to give a little privacy. Everything settled down into a waiting game.

Sitting beside Gil-galad, who was now trying to sleep in-between short but nasty fits, Elrond could hear that things were not going nearly so well with Arluin.

Quiet curses from the doctors, and the sounds of thrashing, labored breathing and pained weeping made him want to go and help, but he reminded himself that Taurwen and Moriel were quite as capable of dealing with the ambassadors as he was, probably more so in Moriel's case. Elrond's specialties were infectious diseases and mind healing, while poisonings and aftereffects of enemy captivity were Moriel's. Not that there was an enormous amount any of them could do.

Ever so slowly, the minutes ticked by. Moriel stuck her head back through the curtain. "How is he?" she whispered.

"Resting mostly, fits every 10 minutes or so, less bad than the one just before you entered. I think the medications are helping."

"Good," she rubbed one hand across her brow, mashing a couple of curls aside that had escaped her braids.

"How are the others?" asked Elrond.

"Borontir sleeps, with occasional fits that are a bit less intense than Gil-galad sounds. Arluin is much worse."

"Anything I can do?"

She shook her head.

Gil-galad shifted restlessly on the bed and opened his eyes, "I don't look forward to explaining this mess to Elendil." he said. "The assassin was probably after me."

"Don't worry about that now," said Elrond.

"I'd better get back," Moriel said, ducking back out through the curtain.

"I hate being helpless," complained Gil-galad. "Why poison, of all the assassination methods out there?"

"Probably because they know you're better than they are with weapons, Gil," said Elrond. "Try and rest."

Gil-galad sighed, but closed his eyes.