Chapter 24 - If Wishes Were Horses
Eyelids gently fluttered open to reveal a familiar, although, rather blurred face looking down at him. With what little energy he possessed, Legolas reached a trembling hand up and placed it lightly on the face of the man staring down at him, a sad smile on the others face. "You?" His dry, voice cracked.
Aragorn’s smile fell from his face and he nodded broadly so that the elf could see the movement.
Legolas could feel the pressure building up in his lungs and he dropped his hand to his chest in preparation. He shut his eyes tightly against the pain that the coughing caused, but could feel Aragorn place his hand atop his still trembling one upon his chest. Fluid rose up and filled his mouth, then spilled down his cheek and chin. Legolas opened his eyes again as the coughing subsided.
He watched tiredly as Aragorn wiped the blood from his mouth. He listened to the dull humming of someone speaking but could still not hear clearly over the pulsing that echoed through his head.
"So...tired...Estel."
Legolas’ eyelids began to feel heavy and drooped against his will. He wanted to stay awake. Legolas needed to tell Aragorn to take him home. He needed to hear the trees one more time. He needed to feel the coolness of the shade they supplied and the comforting shelter they provided. He needed to be home.
"Please...home." The words didn’t come out clearly but Legolas didn’t know that. He had made his request. He could rest now. He closed his eyes and slept, knowing that Estel would do as he wished.
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Aragorn had flown past the injured horse in his hunt for his lost friend, spooking the already frightened animal even more. The desert was made up of tiny hills built from sand and as the King crested the hill where the horse stood he was greeted with the most beautifully, frightening sight he had ever seen.
Some yards away lay the body of a very familiar bounty hunter. Aragorn’s eyes were glued to the man, taking in all that he saw. Alcandir lay motionless, a red stain growing on his side. He was lying in a peculiar fashion, his legs twisted beneath him, hunched over as though protecting something, even in his unconscious state.
The King stepped forward slightly for a better look, unsure of why his feet wouldn’t carry him closer. The presence of Gimli, Angrod and Eomer was lost on him as he studied the display before him. Tracing his vision over the fallen man once more his eyes fell on that thing which he had been searching for. The one he had prayed to find. That he had wished, like a child, on many stars for.
There, stretched out between the bounty hunter’s arm and torso, was a slender, pale arm.
Moving forward again, the King caught full sight of the lost elf. His stomach flipped when he saw Legolas. He had been so focused on finding his friend that he barely spared a thought as to what state the elf would be once they were reunited. In all his years, Aragorn had never seen skin so white. The paleness was accentuated by the dark circles beneath the eyes and redness surrounding the wounds.
Aragorn had nearly tripped over his own feet in his hurry to reach Legolas and Alcandir when he finally regained control of his senses. He could hear the others right on his heels and knew that if he stopped he would be run down by a stout dwarf and panicky dark elf.
Stopping momentarily to ensure that his eyes were not deceiving him, he quickly set about ordering the care of the fallen pair. He reached into his pack and pulled out a small jar containing a thick, smelly balm and a roll of bandages and handed it to Eomer.
"Quickly, pack some of this into Alcandir’s arrow wound and bind it tightly with the bandages then stay with him until he wakes."
Eomer took the items without arguing and gently pulled the bounty hunter away from Legolas.
Aragorn was at Legolas’ side before he even finished the order and began taking stock of the elves injuries. He was gladdened by the sight of open eyes greeting him and fought to hold back the tears that threatened to spill. He tried talking to his friend, but Legolas didn’t seem to understand, and he was having difficulty speaking as well.
Aragorn pressed his hand to Legolas’ chest where the elf’s cold, soft hand lay trembling. The solid presence he felt there made his heart ache and he willed the elf to stay awake. The king couldn’t bear the idea of not seeing those eyes again. No matter how pained they looked right now, it was better than never looking into them again.
The battle was for naught though and once Legolas had made his request he had lost consciousness. Aragorn gave up his struggle with his emotions and dropped his chin to his chest, tears dripping down onto the filthy elf. "I am sorry my friend. I came as quickly as I could."
"Aragorn?" Gimli’s gruff, shaking voice broke the silence. "Does he live?"
The areas immediately encircling Legolas’ injuries had been cleaned several times, but the rest of his body was so covered in dirt and old blood that one would have thought the being Aragorn worked over was one of the Wild Men as opposed to an elf. Adding the appearance of the matted, blood-caked hair did nothing to quash that illusion.
Aragorn looked over his shoulder at Gimli standing side by side with Angrod, both looking desperate and frightened. "Yes, he lives, but I know not for how long. What casualties have we?"
Angrod’s soft voice answered Aragorn’s inquiry with near cold precision. "Two dead. Five injured. None serious." The elf paused for a moment assessing his friend and the damage done then continued with a tight voice. "The enemy is completely vanquished."
"Thank you. Please set up camp, we will stay here for the night then move tomorrow to that crop of trees we passed a league back." Aragorn ordered as he worked diligently on Legolas’ wounds. "Also, please put some water on to heat."
Gimli and Angrod didn’t move immediately. They stood and stared at their friend, unable to tear their eyes away for fear he would vanish if they lost sight of him again. Angrod then turned slowly, followed shortly by Gimli. They delegated tasks to those men who were hale and returned quickly to Legolas’ side.
Sweat slid down Aragorn’s face and neck as he cleaned, medicated and patched the various wounds, leaving the blackened knife wound on his back for last. He slid his tunic over his head and folded it lengthwise, he then wrapped the thick piece tightly around Legolas’ swollen knee and secured it with a long strip of bandage wrapped multiple times around the damaged joint.
Ever so gently, he rolled the Prince over onto his stomach, turning his head to the side and placing a soft cloth underneath for comfort. He heard a wispy gasp come from Angrod at the site of the abhorrent wound.
"What has happened there?" Whispered the dark elf.
"I think it is poisoned, but I know not by what." Aragorn answered without looking up. "I will need your assistance, both of you. Gimli, will you please fetch some hot water?"
Gimli dashed away while Angrod moved slowly in and awaited instruction from the King, apprehension written clearly on his face. Wide-open eyes and a mouth pressed into a thin line.
Gimli moved quicker than expected for a dwarf. He pulled the heated water from the fire and dashed back, not spilling so much as a drop, so resolved was he in his task. When he returned to Aragorn’s side, the King handed him a cup with herbs resting on the bottom. Gimli didn’t have to ask, he knew what Aragorn intended and poured the water over the herbs, filling the cup almost to the rim.
"I must cut around this wound and allow it to bleed freely for a moment. I will then need to clean it with the herbal mixture you just prepared Gimli." Aragorn sounded confident in his ministrations and his tone comforted the others.
He then took a sharp, gently curved knife from his pack and pressed it into the open sore of the wound and began to cut outward and then in a slow circle around the initial opening. Legolas only flinched slightly at the new cuts, no sound did he make. Thick, black, smelly fluid oozed from the gap and Angrod wiped it away with a soft cloth.
Aragorn finished cutting and then applied gentle pressure around the new, larger hole. He hoped this would work. He didn’t know what type of poison was introduced to Legolas’ system and could only think to cut out the damaged skin and try to force the toxin out. He was trying to remain calm, or at least sound calm, so that his friends would not lose confidence in him and do anything rash.
The King continued to press until the fluid had lightened to a dark red then poured the warm, medicinal water over the repulsive wound. Legolas jerked and pulled away and Gimli placed a restraining hand on his other shoulder. Luckily the elf was weakened, otherwise it would have taken three men to hold him down.
The wound now purged and cleaned, Aragorn wrapped the shoulder snugly in another clean bandage then sat back on his haunches, drinking in the presence of his friend. A spastic sigh shook his body and he wrapped his right arm tightly around his chest.
"Aragorn, we need to see to your shoulder now." Angrod had moved over to the King and placed a gentle hand on the damaged shoulder. "I am going to ease it back into position and it will hurt. Are you prepared?"
Aragorn nodded and Angrod, with one hand placed firmly on the injured shoulder, used his other hand to raise the Kings left arm up. Wrapping his right arm around Aragorn’s outstretched arm and placing his left hand behind the shoulder Angrod twisted quickly. A loud pop, and a muffled grunt indicated that the shoulder was now in place and Angrod slowly lowered Aragorn’s arm to his side. Taking some left over bandage from Legolas’ side, the dark elf set about binding the King’s arm firmly to his body to prevent motion causing further damage.
His own injuries tended to, Aragorn focused back on Legolas. His body began shaking once again as sobs broke out. All of the emotion that had been stored up since Legolas vanished burst forth. He leaned forward again and rested his head on the elf’s back.
He sat there for the longest time. Listening to the strained breathing of his friend. He felt a light hand come to rest on his own head and knew that Gimli and Angrod still sat with the two. They would be there all night.
As the sun began to paint the sky orange, the soldiers of Gondor went about setting up camp. They erected a tent over the vigil that took place in the middle of the desert. The site would have been unusual to most, but the soldiers knew what had transpired to bring this group together.
The vision of a filthy blonde haired elf, lying on his stomach with a King, dwarf and dark elf pressed against him and over him, another King sitting near by, his eyes glued to the blonde beings face, was enough to bring silent tears in these strong soldier’s eyes. None tried to hide their emotions, it was a happy, frightening, somber site that tugged at the heart. No one said anything as peace and prayers reigned over the desert that day.