An sense of foreboding hung heavily on the air of the houses of healing. The healers could take it no longer; this situation had to change. It had been going on for a little over a week and it was disrupting the houses of healing. They petitioned their king to rectify the situation, for surely it had been long enough.

Aragorn sighed. He would prefer to keep the dwarf bedridden for a little longer, but no one could take any more. There were not many things more irritating than a bored dwarf confined in a bed, especially since that bed was right next to the one in which Legolas lay unconscious. Gimli had taken to questioning everything anyone did concerning the elf. ‘They were not gentle enough. They did not feed him enough. The sheets were not straight enough.’ It went on and on. The dwarf had appointed himself as Legolas' guardian, and he was making everyone crazy. The healers were right. It was time to get him up and on his feet.

Aragorn had been shocked to find Gimli’s leg was not crushed, but only broken, both bones in the lower leg. The rocks under that boulder had saved the dwarf the possibility of losing a limb. It had not been difficult to set the bones, and the gash from the rock had been easily stitched. The dwarf was on the mend.

Providing Gimli with a set of crutches made specifically for a dwarf and his shorter stature, the king gave strict instructions that he was only to move around for a short time in the houses of healing or the garden behind it. Seeing the relief in the faces of the healers as the dwarf thumped down the hall, Aragorn made his way back towards the Citadel. He knew his friend would be fine, for he was confident Gimli would not leave Legolas' side for any length of time.

He was mistaken.

ooo

Where was he?

The elf never left him alone this long. Something had happened, he could tell.

Celedae stomped a hoof and swished his magnificent, silver tail. He was not happy.

Daily, someone came to bring him food and water, clean his stall and groom him, but the elf did not come. The horse did not trust these strangers who never spoke to him, but he tolerated them. Somehow he knew this is what his master would have him do. Celedae missed his elf friend and the steady stream of words that accompanied him. The silence was upsetting for the gray stallion and he was fearful for his master.

A strange sound caught the horse’s attention and his delicate ears pricked forward towards the door of the stall and the aisle beyond it.

Thump thud...Thump thud...Thump thud... Was one of the other horses lame? It would have to be severely lame to limp like that. No…wait, not enough feet…what was that?

Thump thud...Thump thud...Thump thud... Celedae could take it no longer, so he reached his head over the stall door and looked down the aisle. Stunned by what he saw, the horse stood frozen in place, watching the strange, yet somewhat familiar thing come closer.

ooo

Thump hop...thump hop...thump hop... Gimli maneuvered carefully on the crutches Aragorn had ordered made for him, slowly making his way down the corridor, a frown creasing his heavy brow. Navigating the houses of healing or the wide, smooth garden paths was one thing, a stable aisle with buckets, straw from bedding, hay and other debris was another thing entirely. It did not help that the dwarf was weighed down with worry. It had been ten days since that cavern had fallen on them… Ten days of pain… Ten days of boredom… Ten days of uncertainty… Ten days of silence...

Legolas was still unconscious.

As he thumped and hopped and thudded down the stable aisle, Gimli pondered the elf’s condition. There had been no change... None. Aragorn came to see Legolas twice a day to check on the elf’s condition, and sometimes Arwen would come sit and talk to Gimli and sometimes even to Legolas as she held his hand. She said it would be good for Legolas to hear familiar voices. But Gimli could not bring himself to speak to his friend yet.

The prince’s basic needs were being attended by the staff of the houses of healing. All were thankful when Legolas proved to swallow reflexively, a trait in elves not shared by humans or dwarves. Being able swallow water and broth even in his unconscious state insured Legolas would not waste away quickly. The healers also made sure the elf was bathed and the sheets were changed daily, being very careful of the many injuries that were slowly healing.

Slowly because there were so many of them, and the head injury was so serious. At least, that was what Arwen had tried to assure him. In the past when Legolas had sustained an injury, which was not a frequent occurrence, the dwarf was always surprised at how quickly the elf healed. He found it took himself more than twice as long to heal the same type of injury that Legolas sustained, and dwarves healed faster than humans.

Thump hop...thump hop...thump hop...Neigh…

Gimli looked up into the eyes of Celedae. The beautiful silver stallion looked down on him in surprise and Gimli could almost see the horse reasoning why he had come. 'Of course,' he told himself, as he had told his friend many times, 'that is crazy. Horses do reason like people do.'

Then why was he here? The question paused the dwarf momentarily, but he quickly had his answer.

For Legolas. He was here for the elf. Legolas would never abandon his friends, be they dwarf, human, hobbit or horse. If Legolas was awake, he would ask someone to check on Celedae and to reassure the horse. Utter foolishness, Gimli knew, yet here he was, and deep down the dwarf knew he was about to make a fool of himself.

It was not that he disliked horses. Gimli had not been around them much before the War, they were just so high off the ground. Dwarves preferred to travel on the their own feet, but Legolas had changed that for Gimli. He could now ride a pony of his own and frequently did so, a fact that amused many dwarves, though more were beginning to see the sense of it. When traveling with his friend, however, the dwarf still rode behind the elf.

Moroch was the small, dark-brown horse gifted to Gimli by Eomer King and Legolas was surprised when Gimli gave him an elvish name, simple though it was. Moroch was in one of the first stalls in the stable and the dwarf had stopped to visit him briefly on his way inside. Now, he was paying a call on Celedae, for it was the right thing to do.

Balancing carefully, the dwarf reached a hand up to the horse and rubbed his nose. The stallion was eyeing him curiously and Gimli figured the horse was wondering why he had come... Blast it all! He was doing it again!

Finding it difficult and tiring to continue balancing on one leg, Gimli saw a chair across the aisle and being ever the resourceful dwarf, he hooked it with a crutch and pulled it to the front of the stall. Now he could stay awhile. When he sat down, instantly there was a head in his lap and Gimli grinned. With the low doorway, the stallion could reach over quite easily. The dwarf rubbed the horse’s head and sighed. He was rewarded by the horse dropping his head lower so Gimli’s fingers could scratch behind his ears.

Gimli had not spoken of his fears for Legolas to anyone, not even Aragorn. He had harassed those caring for Legolas and put up a good show of being in good spirits, but concerning the fears deep inside, he had remained silent. Every day the elf remained unconscious, the fears grew stronger, building in his heart, causing it to ache. The silence was torture.

He looked at the gray head he was rubbing. Even if the beast did not understand a single word, he could still listen. The dwarf could speak of his fears without having to worry about anyone saying anything in return. Making sure no one was around before he began to articulate, Gimli hesitantly began to talk to the horse about the events of the past ten days. He grew more confident as he spoke and shared his fears, A long time passed as the dwarf continued to murmur softly to the horse, his hand stroking the horse the whole time.

As the gruff voice droned on, Celedae sighed. Finally, the silence had been broken.

TBC

FOOTNOTES:

Moroch (More' ock) - means 'dark horse'. Gimli’s dark brown Rohirric pony, a gift from Eomer.