Twenty-nine

Legolas was lost.

Anguish filled him…surged within him like the waves of the sea. He cried out and tried to twist away from the agonizing waters that dragged him downwards.

And all the while, the sweet music surrounded him, caressed him, lured him —  first gentle and compelling, then booming loud, strong and insistent. Part of him longed to give into that call, even while a deeper part of him resisted. He fought to get his feet on the sands beneath him, but the waves knocked him down and the more he struggled, the stronger and more wild the song became, filling him and drowning him in its insistence he heed it.

That was when he knew he was going to lose the battle. He was too tired, too weak, too lost to combat it — not alone, without help.

He wanted to give in to it, needed to let it have him, and yet something would not let him sink into the harmony of the water's song. He was anchored to this shore, even while he was being swept into the song and dreams of the Sea. He could not see what it was that held him, but he knew deep down that it was important and he must not let that tie be severed. He must not let the song lure him into giving up his hold on Ennor. Not yet.

He cried out, reaching for that anchor, but it was too far away, and he could not quite grasp the strength he needed, the something that would make his resistance easier. What was it? He could not remember, and that caused him to panic.

He could not forget! That one truth he held to with everything he had. He knew he could not forget what held him, succored him against the lure of the music. He struggled to bring it to his mind, for it was what held him here, kept him against the call that summoned.

He reached for the rope tying him to the anchor in his soul, and upon touching it, grasped it with all he had.

Estel. Gimli.

He remembered them, and knew he could never forget them again. He had sworn, and to that oath he would hold until he had nothing left to give.

Regrettably, he realized that he neared that point. His strength was failing him. His grip on the rope weakening. It was as if nothing pulled back…

There.

A faint sound hummed behind the music of the waves. A familiar voice? But it was so soft he could not be certain. He thought he heard it again, a thrum of frantic concern.

He fought to pull himself back to a place of safety from the ebb and flow of the waves. He could push back the tide if he only fought hard enough, if he could find solid footing on which to stand.

But beneath him there was only the water's song, and he was sinking into it, unable to reach for help.

The soft thrum disappeared from the chords of the song, and he found himself with to support himself, no force to push the song back.

He had failed.

His face was wet with salt water, and his body hurt from the pounding of the surf. It was sucking him under, pulling him away, tugging at the memories that held him and threatening to sink him into the unrecoverable depths.

His grip slipped on the rope of memory, and Legolas cried out, using the last of his strength to find something, anything to cling to—but found nothing. There was no one there!

Tortured beyond any fit he had ever endured before, he screamed in panic.

He was sinking, the music swirling round him as the waves crashed over him again and again. He was lost… alone… terrified! This dream was his worst nightmare and never before had it affected him so cruelly.  It swelled to a crescendo, but even as it built into another wave, promising peace, he knew it lied in part. He would be missing something important if he heeded that call.

"Do not give in!"

Legolas heard that deep bass override the sweet trilling of the sea's call, and he turned towards the familiar sound, trying to see thru the endless saltwater the source of that voice.

His hand was seized in a vise-like grip, reinforcing his hold, and he felt himself being pulled from the sea's grasp.

The sea fought back, fighting for him as if he belonged to it, but then that voice echoed over the waters again, lending its strength to the hand holding tightly to Legolas's own. He trusted that voice. He knew it well, and he responded to that call.

With his last vestige of strength, he held tight to that reassuring grip and felt himself pulled up from the drowning waves and the swirling music to find himself standing on solid ground once more.

The sea roared, but retreated.

Gasping for air and covered in sweat, Legolas awakened. Blinking the salty water, which seemed suspiciously like tears, from his eyes, he found worried brown eyes peering at him from underneath bushy brows.

"Legolas?"

Legolas blinked at the dwarf. 

"Are you alright, lad?"

Legolas still felt somewhat adrift and confused. He took a deep breath and tried to clear his thoughts. He breathed in deeply of the cool cavern air and focused his eyes.

"Gimli?"

Relief poured over Legolas like a cascade of fresh water, and he locked his gaze with the eyes of his friend, allowing the dwarf's presence to anchor him.

Neither spoke a word until Legolas had managed to catch his breath. "Thank you, my friend," Legolas finally breathed in a hoarse voice.

Gimli nodded, not taking his eyes from Legolas's face or releasing his grasp.

Legolas fought for control of the tears that still slid down his cheeks. He did not like his friend seeing him in such a state, but could only be grateful that Gimli had come to his aid. It had been a long time since he had endured such a fit, and this was the worst he had ever endured. He doubted anyone but Gimli could have brought him back.

A slight frown marked the space between his eyes as Legolas remembered the other voice that had called to him. He turned towards the door to find Aragorn standing there with an anxious expression. He smiled.

— o —

Aragorn stood in the doorway and watched as Gimli rushed towards Legolas. But before Gimli made it to Legolas's side, the elf went completely still. Aragorn stiffened, a cold shudder running down his spine, and he found himself unable to move. He watched as Gimli sat on the bed and grasped Legolas's hand.

"Do not give in!" Legolas did not respond and Gimli tried again. "Legolas! Do not give in! Come back to us!"

The dwarf's rough voice caught, and Aragorn wondered if Gimli had ever seen Legolas this affected by the sea longing.

"Come on back now," Gimli repeated. "I have you."

Then the elf opened his eyes, and Aragorn felt himself able to breathe again. His own eyes slipped shut in relief. Legolas had frightened him with this fit, and a sharp ache remained in his chest, even now, though Gimli had roused him.

Aragorn had not been able to reach him, despite their long friendship. He did not like that.

Opening his eyes, Aragorn realized he had missed something. He watched as Legolas caught his breath and seemed to be trying to compose himself. Legolas would not like being found in such a state, even by his friends.

Aragorn shook his head at the prideful creature and stepped towards his friend, remembering days long past when it had been he who had sat next to the bed, watching anxiously for signs his friend would be well. A distressing thought stopped his feet. It seemed it was no longer his place to be the one sitting at the elf's side, and the anguish such a thought brought was overpowering.

Then Legolas turned his head and smiled at him. and Aragorn knew their friendship could never be replaced. Life had changed them. His responsibilities as king, husband and father kept him from travelling with Legolas as Gimli did, but their years of friendship would not so easily be forgotten.

Aragorn walked to the bed and smiled back at his friend. Legolas held out a hand, and Aragorn clasped it. No words were needed.

Gimli grunted and looked with annoyance at the elf. "Well, it seems you two have managed to turn me into a sentimental fool! I hope you are happy."

Aragorn and Legolas laughed at that comment, and they sat there sharing a quiet moment between friends. Then Gimli retrieved his hand and moved to the chair set next to the bed. Aragorn also rose to fetch his healing kit. He would need to make certain Legolas had not torn any stitches in that fit of thrashing.

"What is happening?"

The feminine voice stopped him in his tracks and he sensed Legolas and Gimli stiffen.

Aragorn glanced up to see Lancaeriel standing unsteadily in the doorway. She had wrapped a blanket about the nightshift she wore, but leaned against the doorframe, her weakness still apparent. Her determination was admirable.

Aragorn walked to her side. "You should sit," he told her, then helped her towards the chair Gimli vacated for her.

"Thank you, King Elessar."

Aragorn frowned at her. "Please, outside of the Council chamber of Minas Tirith, I would rather you call me Aragorn. Or even Strider or Estel would do."

Lancaeriel glanced up at him in bemusement. "How many names do you have?"

"You really do not want to know the answer to that, my lady," Legolas told her.

Gimli snorted and Aragorn chuckled.

To Be Continued…

Author's note: The next chapter is almost completed and I will be posting again very soon. Thank you to those still reading! I appreciate the comments! They make my day.