Add Story to Favourites Never Again by Nieriel Raina
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grey havens

Chapter Ten: A Plea for the Quiet and Still

Another week passed.

Every day, for hours on end, Gimli could be found sitting next to Legolas. Often, he sat there holding the elf’s hand, just watching his friend quietly. More often, he could be found talking to the elf, sometimes quite animatedly. Twice, when Gimli was talking, he thought he saw a flicker of movement out of the corner of his eye, but quickly focusing upon the elf, there was nothing. Legolas was just as still as he had been since that fateful day when the ceiling had collapsed on top of them. The dwarf reckoned he so wanted to see Legolas move that he had begun seeing things.

So it was, for all the time Gimli spent with Legolas, sitting and talking to him, the dwarf saw no sign of his friend waking. And the days crawled onward.

ooo

 

Several days later, Aragorn greeted Faramir warmly in the great hall, and the Steward expressed his apologies for not arriving sooner. As fate would have it, Elboron, their eldest, had come down with the same illness from which his sister had only just recovered. Thus their journey had been delayed for many days. Once Aragorn had updated them on Legolas' condition, Eowyn quickly excused herself and headed for the Steward's rooms to refresh herself from the ride. She left the men standing in the hall discussing the details of all that had happened.

“I sent a missive off to Thranduil to inform him of his son’s condition at the same time I sent the message to you. I expect we will see a member of his family showing up before long. I only hope Legolas has awakened by then.” Aragorn’s voice trailed off. It was filled with concern and there was a trace of doubt on the man’s face.

Faramir could hear the unspoken fears in the king’s voice, and the Steward was concerned. The King was under enough stress under these circumstances without adding the arrival of a royal entourage from Eryn Lasgalen. Faramir knew of Aragorn’s dislike of Legolas’ family and from what he had heard, that dislike was well founded and reciprocated by the elven King and his children, with the exception of Legolas.

Both men stood quietly, deep in thought for a few minutes. Faramir could see that having one of his closest friends in a near death accident was taking its toll on the King. Legolas had lingered in a coma now for twenty days.

“How is Gimli handling this, Aragorn? Is he well? You mentioned in your letter that he had been injured, but you did not say how badly.” Faramir began to probe for more information.

“He is holding up well. Gimli’s only serious injury was a broken leg, but he has been up and about on crutches for over a week now.” Aragorn smiled slightly. “The dwarf moved into Legolas’ room as soon as he was patched up. Almost drove the healing staff crazy! Once I let him up on crutches, he stopped harassing everyone. He spends a lot of his time with Legolas, though he does get out and move around the garden or goes to check up on his pony.” The King paused and looked at his friend. “Come, let us go and see them. I will tell you all on the way.”

Faramir nodded and they headed out of the hall. The Steward was worried about his King; there were dark circles under the man’s eyes and he looked strained. As they walked towards the houses of healing, Faramir hoped they would soon have a reason to rejoice. Maybe soon all would be well again, maybe soon his King would once again look like himself.

ooo

 

Ten days.

Ten days had passed since he had started talking to his friend. Fears had been shared, but the worry remained. The longer the elf remained unconscious, the more Gimli worried. Aragorn had told him there was a chance their friend might never wake up. Gimli frowned.

He was sitting next to Legolas quietly, lost in his thoughts. When Aragorn had come to eat with him around midday, Gimli had noticed he was not looking his best. The man had not been sleeping well, so worried was he, and if Aragorn was worried, there was good reason. Legolas needed to show some sign of awakening soon, or hope would start to wane.

It was now drawing on evening, and Gimli had not left the elf’s side since the midday meal. His leg was on the mend, he could feel it. The pain had ceased and Aragorn had mentioned that he would need to start putting weight on it, while still using the crutches for support. Gimli knew that soon he would not need the crutches at all. He would be able to ride Moroch again. He would physically be able to return to Aglarond...not that he would.

Gimli had sent word to his kin with the King’s missive to Eomer. The dwarves of the Glittering Caves would be fine without him. Often had he taken extended leaves to visit Legolas and travel with the elf, and he was confident of Din's handling of matters in his absence. His concern was not for his home or returning there.

“Come now, lad. Just a sign that you are still here. That’s all I ask.” Gimli pleaded with his friend. “You can sleep all you want, just give me a sign that you can hear me.”

The dwarf sighed heavily. He did not really expect anything. The elf had sustained serious injuries, and even if the head injury had not been so severe, Legolas would have needed to be in a healing sleep for a few days.

But not twenty days!

All bruising had completely faded from the elf’s body. The wound in his leg had healed to a barely noticeable scar and the swollen hip had returned to normal. Aragorn had removed the bandages from Legolas’ arm and from around the cracked ribs yesterday. The bones were now healed sufficiently; the bandages were no longer necessary. Even the bandages on Legolas’ head had been removed to check the injuries underneath, but Aragorn had replaced them to be safe. The gash on the elf’s head had healed, but there was a chance the bones in his skull had not knit themselves together completely yet. The King was taking no chances.

Gimli squeezed the long fingers he was holding. Again he wished for a sign, just a small reassurance that all would be well, a reason to hold on to hope as he held the elf’s hand.

Voices drifted in from the open doorway, and the dwarf looked up as the King and Steward of Gondor walked into the room. Gimli took note that both wore frowns. Faramir especially looked shocked at the sight of the very still, very pale elf lying quietly on the bed.

The dwarf understood completely. Never before had they seen Legolas look like this. The Lord of Ithilien was always full of life; strong and graceful, he sported a smile for his friends and an intense elven glare for those who dared oppose him. He was known to sing softly as he went about whatever he was doing; he greeted life joyously. Legolas always seemed the epitome of life.

Now he looked almost dead. Gimli wondered how the steward would have handled seeing him twenty days ago.

“He looks terrible! I never thought an elf could look like...” Faramir could not bring himself to say it, so Gimli did.

“Like death.” The dwarf had accepted this and had moved past it. The elf was not dead, therefore it did not matter what he looked like.

“Actually, he looks much better than he did, Faramir. When we first found him, I feared he was dead. The improvement is encouraging. Most of his injuries have healed. It is only the head injury that concerns me now. It is not a very common thing for an elf to remain unconscious for this length of time.” Aragorn’s healer side jumped into the conversation.

Gimli’s heart constricted at this news, and he frowned. Yes, the elf was healing. But he was not waking. As Aragorn had said, an elf should have wakened long ago.

“Perhaps, he shall wake soon then, now that his injuries have healed.” Faramir sounded hopeful.

“Perhaps,” came the King’s reply.

“And what of you, Gimli? It is good to see you again! Aragorn said you walk on crutches as well as you do without them.” The Steward switched to a lighter tone, hoping to lift the spirits in the room. It worked, and the dwarf gave him a small smile.

“Aye, the leg is healing fine…soon be off those sticks. I’ve been grateful for them, but one tires of them after a time.” The dwarf was truly thankful he had not been confined to bed for the duration of his healing. He looked down at the quiet elf lying before him. Legolas would have teased him mercilessly about the crutches. Ai! How he missed his friend!

“Come Gimli, perhaps you will join us for dinner in the dining room tonight? It will soon be time.” Aragorn spoke, and Faramir nodded encouragingly.

“Yes, come Gimli. There is much I would like to discuss with you.” Faramir added.

The dwarf agreed. “I’ll catch up to you. I want to stay a few more minutes.” Understanding, the men left the room quietly.

“Well, elf, it seems I am required elsewhere for a time. I will return after dinner. Perhaps then, you’ll cease your stubbornness and prove to me the strength of the elves.” He smiled and added, “A curse on elves and their stiff necks!”

He almost fell out of his chair when Legolas smiled ever so faintly. And whooped when he noticed the slight pressure applied to his fingers as well.

ooo

 

Aragorn and Faramir had not gone far when a loud shout came from the room behind them. Rushing back, they found Gimli holding the elf’s hand tightly, tears in his eyes.

“He smiled! He smiled and squeezed my hand!” The dwarf told them exuberantly.

Dinner was held in the elf’s room that night.

TBC

A/N – It is approximately 600 miles from Gondor to the King’s halls. Wow! Not a quick trip, I have to laugh at those who let is take only a few days! A man riding 30 miles a day would take 20 days to cross that distance. Then the elves have to travel back as well. Perhaps they can ride 45 miles or more per day as their horses are hardier and they require less rest. That is still a 13-14 day trip. So we’re looking at a minimum of let’s say 30 days travel time for a response from Eryn Lasgalen. That is hoping there are no heavy rains, accidents, etc.

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