Chapter 25 - Worth Living?
That night, spent waiting and keeping vigil, had been the longest of Angrod’s life. Considering that he had been on this earth for just more than two thousand years, that was saying something. The dark elf had been in battles, sat through boring lessons as an elfling and been dragged into many of Legolas’ adventures, but the night that he had just spent watching over his fading friend seemed the length of his entire existence.
He hadn’t left his Prince’s side the entire time and barely dared to take his eyes off of him for fear that Legolas would be taken from him if he didn’t keep a constant guard. Many times he found his hands straying to Legolas almost as if checking he was real. Although he barely looked himself, the Prince was there, right in front of him, and would never leave his sight again if he had anything to say about it.
Legolas had barely moved throughout the entire night spent beneath the cooling canvas of a beige tent. Occasionally a coughing fit would rattle his form causing the four friends to scramble about hoping to ease the Prince’s discomfort. As well, Legolas continued to tremble, even in his unconscious state. Other than the involuntary actions, he moved not at all.
Angrod was joined in his watch by a very fidgety dwarf. He had a silent admiration for Gimli and his devotion to Legolas. He was, almost always, the first to move as soon as he deemed Legolas in need of aid, which was quite often. If Gimli saw, what he interpreted, an increase in trembling, he was shouting for Aragorn and speaking softly to Legolas to calm him.
Aragorn was also a constant companion. Except, as King and leader of this expedition, he had other duties to take care of around the camp. Angrod tried comforting the man when he had lost his composure and fell sobbing over their damaged friend. After a time, Aragorn had risen, wiped his eyes, and went to tend to the other injuries and check on the well-being of his men. He had returned frequently even if just to stop briefly and check on Legolas, tears always threatening to spill over.
As well, Eomer was never far away. He had followed Aragorn’s request to sit with Alcandir and tend to the bounty hunter’s injuries, but had made sure that he was placed close to Legolas so he could watch over the both of them. Alcandir had woken up several times throughout the night and each time Eomer would question him regarding the happenings of his journey. The story was vague and confusing, but that was to expected coming from the injured man.
The news that the other missing elves were dead had hit Angrod like a stone wall. Admittedly, he had not thought much about them, his focus on the friend right before him. But when Alcandir had told the rescuers of the elves fate, Angrod’s heart felt as though it had stopped. He didn’t know how they had died, but he was sure, judging by the condition that Legolas was in, their experience had been a nightmare, and their death’s brutal. He mourned for them and prayed that their souls had made a quick, safe journey to the Halls of Waiting.
On multiple occasions a soldier or two would stick their head inside the tent and look compassionately over the elf prince, searching for news. Angrod would smile reassuringly at them then turn his attention back to the Prince.
He wanted Legolas to wake, he wanted to hear his voice and know that he was going to be well, but he knew that it was probably better for him to sleep through this time. He wasn’t surprised at his tightly closed eyes and prayed that he would be able to see the shining blue orbs hidden beneath, and soon.
Angrod had found it to be a constant battle keeping firm control over his own emotions. It was difficult to see his best friend and liege in such a delicate state. Guilt and self disappointment overpowered his psyche and it was difficult to force his thoughts to other things. He constantly scolded himself for leaving Legolas to travel alone and had outwardly apologized to all who would listen.
The setting sun had found the dark elf washing and brushing the Princes disheveled hair. As he gently twisted the, now clean, silk like strands into a long braid, the silence was broken by a deep, gruff voice. "Legolas would appreciate that, the blasted elf was probably more concerned about his appearance than his health."
Angrod smiled at the comment, he doubted it to be accurate but knew that Gimli’s comment was his way of thanking the dark elf for his actions and voicing his concern. "I doubt it was his number one concern, but I would not be surprised to learn that he fretted over it on occasion."
"Having his hair clean and orderly almost improves his grave appearance. He looks not quite so ill."
"Aye, he is probably aware of his returning fairness and had decided not to give up his fight after all." Angrod tried to joke but the statement caused no mirth for either of them.
"Do you believe that he has given up the desire to live?" Eomer’s voice interjected from the other side of the tent, concern evident in his tone.
"Nay, I do not believe that Legolas would ever lose his want to live." Angrod swallowed hard, not wanting to believe what he was about to say. "I fear, however, that he may have felt his body giving in to the damage done and thought the battle futile."
"Then we must convince him otherwise." Gimli firmly stated, his voice turning angry and determined . "He may think the battle lost, but I am not prepared for him to leave."
There was no argument to this statement, the other two silently agreed with the dwarf and would take up the task of convincing Legolas that his time in Middle Earth was not yet done.
Eomer slowly rose from his spot next to the resting Alcandir and slipped quietly out of the tent. Angrod heard him leave but didn’t follow the Rohirrim King’s departure, his eyes continually glued to his friend. The tent fell quiet with the exception of the deep, shuttering breathing of Legolas as Angrod and Gimli both fell into quiet meditation.
They remained like this for several minutes before the peace was unexpectedly broken by the soft, baritone humming of Angrod’s vigilant companion. The dark elf remained quiet, listening to the tune that melodically filled the small, temporary structure. It took a few moments, the song usually being sung in a higher pitched, flowing manner, but Angrod finally recognized the song.
Angrod listened and watched as the dwarf crooned, his mind seemingly in a far off place. He allowed Gimli to pause before speaking, hesitant to interrupt the deeply, moving scene.
"Legolas taught you this song?" He asked in a whispered voice.
Gimli jumped subtly at the elf’s words, testament to his distracted state of mind. "Aye, he did. During our years of travel together after the great war."
Angrod nodded his head, a vision of the odd pairing traveling through thick woods and dark caverns learning from each other, flitting through his mind. "Do you know the meaning of the song you hummed?"
The dwarf furrowed his eyebrows in contemplation and tilted his head as he pondered the Angrod’s question. "Nay. I do not recall Legolas explaining the meaning to me. Is it something sacred?"
A smile appeared on the fair face of the dark elf and a small laugh escaped him. Gimli and Legolas had such a unique relationship that Gimli believed that Legolas would have taught him one of the more sacred, elven songs. Yet, the more Angrod thought on this, the more he realized that the possibility was there, so close were the two.
Lost in his musings, Angrod didn’t notice that Gimli watched him, waiting for an answer to his question. Not until the soft clearing of the dwarves throat did he finally answer. "Nay, friend Gimli, it is not one of the sacred songs. Although perhaps Legolas would have considered it more sacred than those of the Eldar days. It is a song of Greenwood and being called home by the song of the trees."
Gimli didn’t respond to this new information and Angrod watched him closely as he mentally digested what he was told. His eyes then slowly fell to his injured friend as Gimli resumed the song from where he had stopped moments earlier. Angrod listened briefly then, as if out of habit, joined in with the dwarf. Gimli didn’t miss a beat as the tenor joined in, the mix of the two voices soothing and comforting to those in the camp that could hear the melancholic melody.
A rustling outside the tent forced the duo to cease their singing and a dark headed, young soldier appeared in the opening, a look of regret on his face. "We are ready to take this tent down and move North. We have prepared a transport device for the Prince which can be strapped between two horses so that he may be carried comfortably. I can show you how it works when you are ready."
"We are ready now, show us this contraption." Responded the dark elf as he rose from Legolas’ side.
The soldier motioned to someone outside the tent and two more soldiers followed the first into the tent. They carried a portion of a tent which had been cut the length of the golden elf and attached on two ends to thick tent poles. Each pole had a long strip of thick leather on each end. The soldiers explained how the device would work, while spreading the makeshift stretcher out on the tent floor.
Angrod and Eomer then gently lifted the trembling body and placed him squarely onto the canvas. They were joined by two of the soldiers and each took one end of a pole and lifted Legolas from the ground. The prince now lay on his back, suspended between the four. They carried him out of the tent and the camp quieted as they passed.
Two horses, Aragorn’s and Angrod’s, stood just outside the tent and they lay the stretcher between the two large animals. Angrod stepped forward to his own horse and, looking into the equine’s large dark eyes, spoke quietly telling him of the task they had asked of him. His horse tossed its head back in acceptance. He then stepped to Aragorn’s horse and the scene was repeated.
The original four lifted the stretcher back into the air while four other soldiers went about fastening the large, thick straps around the horses. Legolas was now cradled between the two large horses, completely unaware of the unusual position he was in.
Angrod then helped Gimli tuck blankets over and around the golden elf to ease any chill and jostling that might occur during the journey they were about to take.
The last tent was quickly taken down and Alcandir was settled on Eomer’s horse in front of the blonde King. Gimli joined Angrod atop his noble stallion and they quietly waited for Aragorn to call the order to move out. Several other soldiers bore wounded in front of them and packs were loaded to the now riderless horses.
Aragorn stepped between two of the escorts now surrounding Legolas’ transport. He walked first past Eomer and placed a gentle hand on his leg then stopped to check over Alcandir who was now sleeping due to a drought that Aragorn had administered. He was healing well and there was no sign of infection, a few weeks and the bounty hunter would be back to his usual, annoying self.
Aragorn then stepped over to the dark elf and dwarf. He placed his good hand on each of their legs, first Gimli’s then Angrod’s, and smiled. No words were exchanged, a quiet reassurance passed between the three and each was comforted by the exchange. The king then stepped to the head of the injured Prince, he placed his hand on the Legolas’ face, the other still bound tightly to his side, and bent down low. Angrod did not try to hear the words that were said. He knew it was a private moment and the scene was touching.
The King then mounted his steed, rubbed his hand over the animal’s neck, turned and nodded to Angrod, and the somber party moved out. The group was led by two soldiers, who had survived the battle unscathed, followed by the three horses baring the injured pair that had been recovered the night before. The rest of the army followed shortly behind.
Angrod was amazed at the smooth ride afforded to the injured elf. The two horses moved as one and seemed to miss any bumps or dips that appeared in their path. The journey passed slowly and the dark-haired elf let out a sigh of relief when he saw trees looming on the horizon. Aragorn heard the sigh and looked to Angrod for assurance.
A sad smile spread over both of their faces. They would reach their destination within the hour and the next time Legolas opened his eyes he would be greeted by the beauty of green leaves and singing trees. Tears threatened to roll down Angrod’s cheeks as this thought crossed his mind. Please wake soon My Prince, the trees are as eager to greet you as you are they.