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Unusual Friendship  by Nurayy

My special thank you goes to Ruiniel for beta-reading!


Imagine Legolas got injured in or after the battle of the Hornburg. I like canon, so I try to keep it as close to it as possible, just conceding myself some small modifications for releasing my imagination.


To Win a Friend

I watch him as he lies under the starlit sky. His eyes are lost in its infinity, detached from the stone of the Hornburgh as if in his mind he is flying between those glittering specks of light.

That is so much like him, strange as he always is...

He looks calm and peaceful, his body lithe and weightless even as he is lying on the stone. I ponder at how utterly misplaced he looks. Flying between the stars, that is where his slender, graceful form would naturally suit.

...My woodland sprite, how close I have come to lose him. My heart has almost shattered. Who had thought I would ever be shaken by the prospect of the death of an elf!

Suddenly he turns his golden head towards me. I register it somewhere at the edge of my awareness, as I stay immersed in my musings. And I nearly jostle as I hear the croaked question from his pale lips.

"You are still here..."

Even in this state, he manages to startle me.

It is a statement, not a question. But I feel a hint of surprise in his voice. A voice that has temporarily lost its music, by the strain of cries of pain.

I shudder. My insides cramp and churn. I do not want to remember.

"It is much like you to state the obvious," I reply grumpily. "And if you want to know the reason why; I am here for your security."

I struck him where I intended to; his irritating elven pride. I know, because he lifts a delicate eyebrow at my reply.

"My security? And whom do you want to protect me from?!" He mocks me, his voice slowly regaining its musicality and the sound of mirth.

"From your own flighty mischief, and anything that could cross this breezy mind of yours, where you could hurt yourself; like climbing this very wall to the top of the tower and make a balance performance on its highest point, to greet your glittering friends up there. I know very well the deeds you are capable of."

Somehow my tirade makes him smile.

But my look is one of concern. I've not yet recovered from the shock.

He knows. He senses my commotion. Because he takes my hand and places it right over his heart, holding it there under both of his own with firm reassurance. The steady beat I feel under my palm and the constant rhythm of his breathing comfort me more than any words. It confirms that he lives, and he is fine and will be as strong as ever. My elf...

He knows.

... I have learnt to love him with all his flighty, annoying habits, and with his joyful, cheering nature. I have learnt to respect – and even if I want not to admit it; admire! – the mighty warrior, steadfast companion and true friend he is.

I thought him undestroyable. Because he is an elf.

Now I know he is not. He is as vulnerable as any man or dwarf, if not more, because of his selfless dedication and love.

He has gone through all of this to save Aragorn, his brother by heart. He is the promised King, the hope of Middle-earth. Though I know with certainty that he would have done the same for me.

He still looks at the stars above, bathing in their light. He glows slightly as if his delicate, fair skin absorbs their shine.

I watch him, and my thoughts keep wandering. He looks pale and beautiful and incredibly young right now. I shiver as the recent memory pushes its way through to my mind once more.

I do not want to remember what the lad went through.

His blue eyes are strangely deep tonight. As if he allows me to see into his very soul. I shift uncomfortably. I fear what I will find if I dig too deep. Maybe I will see what I want to forget, maybe I see a vulnerability I refuse to accept.

Tenacious and irrepressible he was, graceful and lethal, and at times cheerful beyond measure.

I avert my eyes and look at the bandage wrapped around his chest. It is a slim white gauze, covering the stab wound. A narrow, but deep injury that almost touched his heart...and the poison...

...No! I have to look elsewhere. I do not want to remember!

But he is persistent in his gaze. He wants me to see! Stubborn as he is.

His eyes are pooling blue and they glitter in the starlight. Finally I sigh and I give up evading their insistence.

I'm touched by the trust he bestows unto me. I feel a sting in my eyes and I know they must be glittering as well.

He has scored the point! Challenging pointy-ear that he is!

And then he smiles at me. It is not the mischievous grin, nor the mirthful laughter I'm used to when he wins a challenge or throws a joke. It is a warm, genuine smile, and in his eyes, I see true friendship and open trust.

Who would ever have thought I would win an elf...

I cannot swallow around the sweet pain in my throat, that springs more tears into my eyes.

I think he notices because he releases my hand and asks me bluntly, "So when are we departing? There are orcs and Uruk-hai waiting for my bow out there, not to speak about this traitor of a Maia...!"

I cannot help but wonder at his elven strength and healing. I am so glad he is an elf. I would never have thought such reasoning to come from my own mind. But on this journey so much has changed.

And I groan my reply at least as bluntly, "Poison or not, do not think that I will allow you a vantage!"

I am somehow relieved that we are back to our usual behaviour.

I grumble something just for the sake of grumbling.

At that we both laugh. It is a merry laugh. The music is back to his voice.

I lie down beside him. He slides a strong, slender arm under my neck and pats my shoulder. I grumble again, just for the sake of grumbling. And he laughs again.

I love his laugh. It can be annoying at times, but now it is just splendid and heartwarming. – Of course, I shan't tell him...

We watch the stars together. They are marvelous.

He makes me do things I would never have done without him. Dwarfs do not do such things as contemplate the stars. But I do it because my friend is an elf. And I find joy in it. Though I would never admit, and so I grumble again, and he laughs.

I am so far that I will grumble just to make him laugh because his laughter is lighting up my heart.

My thoughts wander again between the stars.

He will soon be back to his usual strength. I recall the deadly warrior he is, the lethal sharpness of his agile, sleek body, and I am glad that he makes it so difficult for me to score him. – Though I would never openly admit.

I grumble again at my own thoughts, and again he laughs, my elf. He seems to enjoy my grumbling. Odd creature that he is.

I have won an elf, and he has won a dwarf.





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