Twenty-eight

Aragorn pronounced Lancaeriel would be fine with some rest and time. He was fairly certain she had a concussion. She had deep bruising on her lower back that would be sore for many days. Her nose might be broken, although with the swelling, it was hard to tell for sure. Thankfully, it was not displaced and should heal on its own, as would the cracked cheekbone.  Overall, for an elf, those injuries were not too worrisome.

Legolas on the other hand…

Aragorn turned to blood covered prince and asked him outright, "How bad?"

"Do you have needle and thread?" Legolas asked, unnecessarily. The elf knew Aragorn never travelled without such items. But he nodded, having ascertained Legolas was not quite as well as he made himself out to be.

"Always," he remarked.

Legolas nodded. "Good. You are going to need them. I have knife wounds in my shoulder and thigh. I am fairly certain my left ankle is swollen, for it feels stiff." He glanced down at himself. "And possibly a cracked rib or three, and various other less pressing wounds I cannot be bothered to name at present." His eyes slipped closed, a sign Aragorn did not like in either elf, but given Legolas's description of the ordeal both elves had suffered, it was not surprising. 

Gimli snorted. "That is all?"

"Aye," Legolas answered softly, drifting in a manner Aragorn and Gimli knew far too well. On a good day, the sea longing haunted their friend. And today was not a good day by any means, not judging by the amount of blood it appeared Legolas had lost.

"Let him rest, Gimli. The sleep will be good for him."

The dwarf nodded, then went to their packs, pulling out various items, including two blankets. Aragorn watched with amusement as one blanket was gently tucked around Lancaeriel, who slept peacefully amid the fallen leaves of the forest floor. The other Gimli wrapped around Legolas, once Aragorn had stripped the elf of his filthy clothes.

Aragorn wrinkled his nose. "For once, I am not the dirtiest one. Burn those!"

Gimli's brows rose. "And then what will the lad wear? Cannot have him parading through the wood naked, now can we?" He grinned maliciously and inclined his head at Lancaeriel. "Not with a woman with us!"

Aragorn snorted in amusement. Legolas, were he awake, would be mortified at the statement. "He can borrow my spare set until we reach the halls. He will have sufficient clothing there."

"Well, he certainly cannot borrow mine."

Aragorn smiled, but heard the tension in the dwarf's voice. Gimli was making an effort to sound normal, but falling short. "He will be fine, Gimli."

Gimli harrumphed, but did not argue.

—

Legolas roused as Aragorn tied off what he hoped was the last stitch. He had slept through most of Aragorn's ministrations, only flinching every so often from the poke of the sharp needle. He groaned, then frowned, realizing he sat naked with naught but a blanket about himself. "Where are my clothes?"

"Burned them," Gimli said cheerfully. At Legolas's glare, Gimli pointed to Aragorn. "He told me to do it!"

His glare turned on the man.

"There was no saving them, Legolas. Covered in blood and ripped to shreds."

Aragorn handed Legolas his spare set. Legolas wrinkled his nose but took them, sitting a moment and trying to figure out how to put them on without moving. He had no wish to move for at least a week!

"Need help?" Aragorn's request was genuine.

In truth, Legolas could use a hand, but he would never ask for it nor accept it. He shook his head, cast a glance at where Lancaeriel still slept, then somehow managed to dress beneath the blanket.

Gimli chuckled at him, but to the dwarf's credit, kept his comments to himself. Legolas was pulling on his last boot when he felt the eyes upon them. His head jerked up to the north, his eyes peering into the forest.

"What is it?" Gimli asked, moving closer, his fingers twitching towards an axe hanging from his belt.

"Moose," Legolas said, a slow smile spreading his lips.

"Moose?" Aragorn asked, frowning. "I have never seen a moose in these woods, though I heard they once had been plentiful."

Legolas just shook his head. His friends would not understand and he had no desire to enlighten them.

"Lancaeriel," Legolas called, then reached over to rouse her.

She winced and lifted fingers to touch her swollen face, but managed to scramble into a sitting position. "What is it?" she asked. "Is it time to leave?"

"Yes, and look who has come to take you!"

And with that, Legolas pointed, as two horses stepped cautiously into view. "Took you long enough, my friends," he told them. It was the horses he had sensed trailing them since shortly after the ordeal with the men had begun.

Lancaeriel gasped. "Naurun! Dinnif!" She struggled to get to her feet, but Aragorn held her back with a hand to her shoulder.

"Nay, lady. We shall fetch them. Save your strength for the ride."

Aragorn went for the two horses, speaking to them and urging them to come rest with Halruin, Moroch and Daehul.

"But—" Gimli frowned, looking from the horses then back to Legolas. "You said moose!"

Legolas smiled as Lancaeriel began to laugh. She, at least, understood the joke.

—    o —

Gimli hesitated before the carved wooden door of the bedchamber.

It had taken much less time to reach the Halls than it had taken he and Aragorn to find Legolas. The elf had set a direct course, and they had arrived about the same time the following day. Despite stopping to sleep a few hours the night before, all of them were exhausted. Gimli had managed to sleep a bit of the way on Moroch's back, a trick he had learned riding behind Legolas years ago. He was still tired, yet someone needed to look after the two elves. Having had the least amount of rest, Aragorn would be sound asleep for a good while yet.

At least if I have anything to say about it, Gimli thought.

The two elves had also found some respite while riding, but the horses' movements had jarred cracked ribs and painful wounds, making it difficult. Yet Legolas had insisted they press on to the Halls and there rest.

When they had arrived, the elf had found some fresh clothing for Lancaeriel to wear and with a little encouragement, the woman had slipped into Anoriel's bed and gone to sleep. She had looked like she needed it.

Gimli and Aragorn had seen Legolas to bed next, and then he and the King had discussed hunting later in the day to provide some meat for a meal. Then Aragorn had taken himself off to Thranduil's rooms, something Gimli found amusing, and Gimli had gone to check on the elves once last time before getting some rest himself.

Which was why he was here. He pushed open the door and peeked inside.

Lancaeriel slept with closed eyes, her mahogany hair spread over the pillow. Gimli stared at the sleeping woman for a few moments and decided that once the swelling had left her face, she would be quite pretty — though none would ever compare to the Lady Galadriel in his eyes.

Lancaeriel rested now in comfort and was on her way to recovery from her injuries. At least the physical ones.

Gimli gritted his teeth. No woman should have to endure the week she had just survived. And yet, he was also annoyed with the woman. From what he understood from Legolas's tale the day before, the woman's own foolishness had led her to the predicament, along with Legolas. Oh, Legolas had not said it in those terms outright, but Gimli could hear it between what the elf actually said.

He turned from the bed to look at Legolas, who was sprawled in a chair beside the bed,  his head propped up on his hand. The elf was asleep, eyes also closed, and Gimli shook his head in frustration.

Blasted elf! He should be in bed himself. The fool. Both of them!

He glared at Legolas's closed eyes a moment, then frowned. He was accustomed to seeing Legolas sleep with his eyes open in elven dreams. Aragorn had assured Gimli that Legolas was just exhausted from lack of sleep, food and blood loss. The wounds would heal with rest, yet, here the elf sprawled, out of his own bed and sitting here beside this woman.

What did that signify?

 
Gimli's frown deepened, remembering the deep wounds Aragorn had stitched closed. Legolas had been lucky. He wondered if the elf realized that.

It was hard to see Legolas in such a weakened state, though Gimli had felt relief at the elf's confession and heartfelt apology. Rare were the times they caused each other such grief.

And I will not let him cause me any more! Gimli determined.

Gimli walked over to his friend and laid a hand on the Legolas's uninjured shoulder, shaking him until the elf's eyelids fluttered and he groaned.

Legolas squinted up at Gimli with a look of disdain.

"What?"

"You need to be in your own bed, elf. I will sit with the lady…but you are going to bed, if I have to drag you there and tie you in it myself!"

The look of sleepy annoyance on the elf's face softened into an amused smile. "Ai, Gimli. I have missed you. How did I ever manage the long years of my life before we met, my friend?"

"I have no idea how you possibly survived without me," Gimli stated and pointed at the door.

Legolas raised his hands in a placating manner. "Alright! Alright, I will go to bed. In fact, I might not get up for a week!" The elf eased himself upright and limped towards the door.

"Might do you some good," Gimli grumbled under his breath, When Legolas stopped and cast a worried glance back at Lancaeriel, Gimli waved him on. "Go on, then! I shall watch over your… 'friend'." He wagged his eyebrows suggestively and chuckled to himself when Legolas groaned in exasperation, rolled his eyes and headed out the door.

Gimli watched his friend leave, then took the elf's seat beside Lancaeriel. He might tease the elf, for he knew Legolas resisted all attempts at matchmaking on his behalf, but deep down Gimli was concerned. Legolas's concern for this woman exceeded what one would expect from a short acquaintanceship, and Gimli wondered if perhaps he might just lose his friend to a female after all.

"Bah! Even Legolas is too sensible for that!" he grumbled.

Gimli settled himself into a comfortable position with a smile on his face. The elf might not be interested in marrying, but Gimli knew he would get great enjoyment out of tormenting the elf about it.

It was sometime later that Gimli was roused from sleep by a hand on his arm. He blinked the sleep from his eyes and found himself looking into amused blue-green eyes. "Ah, lass. Awake are you? Did you rest well?"

Lancaeriel nodded. "As well as a snoring dwarf will allow." She smiled as he spluttered in embarrassment. "It is all right, Lord Gimli. I am more stiff now than tired. I believe I would like to sit up for a time."

Gimli scrambled to his feet and moved to help her into a sitting position, fussing over pillows, fluffing them just so. She gave him a confused but thankful smile and settled back into them.

Gimli went back to his chair and sat. "Now, lass, you and I are going to have a little chat."

She blinked. "All right."

"I do not appreciate the foolishness of others putting my friends in danger. Why were you here in these woods alone?"

Lancaeriel paled, stiffened, then her cheeks turned pink. She dropped her eyes. "You do not need to lecture me on my stupidity," she told him. "Well do I know the danger I put myself and Lass— ah, Legolas into by refusing to leave. It grieves me terribly that he was harmed on my behalf. It was all my fault! I know this!"

Her words had built in intensity as she spoke, and Gimli heard in them a self loathing that he did not like.

"Well, that is enough of that, lass."

Her gaze snapped to his with a look of surprise.

"I do not know why you remained, although judging on your reaction it was for foolish and sentimental reasons that only an elf would understand. And while I am not pleased my friend was injured—"

"Lord Gimli," she interrupted, "you cannot know how much I regret what my actions have caused." She had dropped her eyes again.

"Yes, I hear that in your voice. But lass, I will not allow you to take the blame for the actions of others. What happened to you this past week was not your fault."

She gasped, then looked up at him in confusion. "What?"

"I was curious as to why you were here alone in the wood. Legolas never came right out and said why, and you do not need to tell me, for I am certain it is as I have already said, elvish sentimentality and foolishness such as what kept that fool friend of mine alone here in the wood after all had left him!" He sucked in a breath. "I just wanted to make certain you understood that such foolishness will not be tolerated in the future, but it would seem you have already come to this conclusion on your own?"

She nodded, still looking at him with bewilderment.

"But here is the thing, lassie; although your foolishness may have put you in a circumstance better avoided by using good sense, it does not make you responsible for the actions of those Men!"

She blinked.

He pointed a finger at her with each word he spoke for emphasis. "Not. Your. Fault."

"It is not?"

"No. Not what the Men did. Only that you acted in a silly manner and now you have learned from such and will not repeat it again. Yes?"

"Yes?" she repeated, looking thoroughly baffled.

"Good." And he let it go and changed the subject.

"Now, if you and I are to be friends, and we shall because I happen to like you," he smiled at her. "Then you shall call me Gimli and stop with this 'Lord'ing business. I am no lord of yours and Mahal help me if ever an elf pledges fealty to me!"

She stared at him a long moment with a look of utter disbelief, then her lips began to twitch and a small smile won against her fight to keep a straight face. "Very well, Gimli. I do believe I like you as well, though I had never heard dwarves were so long winded!"

"Ha!" Gimli laughed. "Then you know nothing of dwarves, lady!"

Lancaeriel frowned at him. "Why must I call you Gimli, but all three of you insist on calling me 'lady' when I am just a lowly Silvan elf?"

"Because it is enjoyable to watch your reaction when we use the title, lady." He grinned at her, and then they both laughed.

Thus was an ease settled between them that they were able to speak easily, although Gimli did most of the talking. He did not mind. He would learn more about her as she felt comfortable telling him, but for now, he told her about the Nine Walkers and the Quest of the Ring as well as the rocky start of his and Legolas's friendship. He spoke with great passion of his home in Aglarond and his beautiful caverns that had been honored by the visits of kings and nobles from all over Middle-earth. He even described the great gates to the city of Minas Tirith that the dwarves had built and which he himself had designed.

Finally, Gimli began to speak of Ithilien and the work Legolas had done there, repairing the land alongside the elves who had made it their home. Gimli found himself surprised at the emotion that welled up within him as he spoke of Legolas, and he cleared his throat.

That was when Lancaeriel pinned him with a sharp look that startled him.

"Then what is it that darkens the prince's eyes so? If he is so happy restoring the land, why the darkness in his gaze? I have seen him slip into a state where it is as if he is not there. I do not understand it, and he will not speak of it."

Gimli sighed and met her gaze evenly, his hand stroking his beard as he pondered how to answer. He understood her concern, but it was not his place to speak of the sea longing that plagued the elf. If Legolas wished her to know, he would tell her himself.

But Legolas was a prince among his people and prided himself on his strength and abilities. His vulnerability to the sea longing was a great blow to the elf's pride and though his friends thought no less of him for it — indeed those who knew of it admired his ability to resist it — Legolas felt lessened and was discomfited by it. And so he did not speak of it unless pressed.

"Your concern is well founded, lass," he told her, "but it is not my place to discuss that which—" Gimli paused, careful not to betray any confidences. "You should speak with the elf about it. He seems to be quite fond of you. Perhaps in time, he will speak of it, but if not? Let it be, lassie."

Lancaeriel searched his eyes for a minute before her own lowered in defeat. Gimli found himself wishing he felt free to tell her what it was that bothered their friend. She was easy to converse with and Gimli now understood Legolas's reaction to her. But it was not his place to speak of Legolas's inner battles.

The door to the bedroom was suddenly thrown open, and Aragorn stood there, agitated and breathing hard.

"What—"

"It is Legolas! He is thrashing in his sleep and crying out! I fear he is going to rip those wounds open again and I cannot rouse him! I have never seen him like this before, Gimli!"

Gimli cursed and jumped to his feet, running through the door and down the hall towards Legolas's chamber.

Of all the stupid things he had ever done! The elf was a severely weakened state and Gimli had just sent him off to bed…alone. The sea was not merciful when Legolas was completely well…but now?

Gimli cursed again.

"Gimli? What is it?" Aragorn asked on his heels.

"I have seen him like that before," Gimli called over his shoulder. "It is the sea. He cannot fight the sea alone! Not in his current state. It is drowning him."

Gimli abandoned his over the shoulder conversation when an anguished elven scream echoed thru the hall.

"Legolas!"

To Be Continued…

Author's Note: Only about four more chapters to go! I'd love to hear from my readers if you have the time to drop me a review. Thanks for enjoying the journey with me.