Where did he start?
The question burned in Elessar’s brain as he sat next to the bed on which his brother now lay.
So completely covered with the slashes, cuts, and scorings left by the Haradrim was Legolas that the King did not know where to begin. The thought of merely washing Legolas’s broken body worried Elessar . The last thing he needed was for the Elf Prince to wake and find his friend and brother hurting him, for that was what would be the outcome of his even touching Legolas at this moment.
His brother had not stirred once, since Eomer had carried him into the room reserved for him in the Citadel of Minis Tirith. At times Elessar wondered if the Prince was still even with him. More than once his frantic left hand had reached out and laid over the Elf’s breast, each time it had been removed once the King had reassured himself that the life giving muscle still beat, no matter how faintly or how slowly, within Legolas’s chest.
The race back to the Gondorian city had been a frantic, dangerous and nerve wracking one.
As he had promised to Legolas as he helped the Prince from his cell, Brego and Arod had not been far away. One whistle had been enough for the two stallions to come galloping towards them.
The Corsairs had removed their saddles but thankfully had left their bridles and reins in place. Getting onto Brego’s broad strong back one-armed had been an interesting experience.
Stubborn and proud as ever , Legolas had refused to ride double with him on Brego, and had managed to mount himself on Arod’s back. This was not time for graceful riding. The pirates and the Haradrim had not yet missed them, but that state of affairs would not last for long and both of them knew it.
Their one chance was to get away, quickly and, put as much distance as possible between them and their captors. Neither knew just what kind of transport their current enemy had and neither wanted to hang about and find out.
He had vainly hoped that Mumakils would not be involved, but with the Haradrim involved it seemed inevitable.
With one eye on the pathway ahead of them and his other on Arod and Legolas , he had kneed Brego into action, hoping that his stallion would pick up on the urgency of the situation and set a fair pace for Arod to follow.
The adrenaline that had aided him back in the cave to free Legolas again came into play as he ignored the pain of his injures and kept his eyes on the dangers ahead of them and on Legolas.
Each tree they brushed against, each log or fallen bush they had to jump across had him glancing sideways, making sure that his brother was still conscious and still clinging like grim death to Arod’s back.
The injured elf had nearly fallen after one particularly long jump and its accompanying hard landing. Urging Brego on, he had barely managed to draw level with the grey stallion in time to catch Legolas and push him back upright, there by stopping his brother from being trampled on by his own, excited, slightly panicked horse.
The sound of trumpeting from behind them and the feeling of the ground shaking beneath them told him that his worst fears were being realized. The Haradrim had indeed brought their huge, impressive war mounts with them.
A nod from Legolas told him that his brother too had heard and felt the danger, and knew what it meant. The pace had to picked up, no matter how stressful and painful it was on their already aching bodies.
Pain was a much better option then being trapped in a wooded environment, with tree crushing, ground moving mammoths chasing you. Those giants could rip through a stand of oaks as easily as he or Legolas could crash through hedging, turning sticks, twigs and branches into deadly, flying projectiles.
They had to reach the safety of the flat, open ground of Pelennor and quickly. There they would be safe, relatively.
A blue coloured cloth fluttered in front of his eyes. One of Gimli’s markers. They were back on the designated path.
Hope sprang up in his chest. The line of the tress thinned suddenly, and flat open grass lands appeared before his eyes, they were almost out, just the Togarth to cross.
Beside him Arod’s head bobbed in time with Brego’s, there would be no losing the grey stallion this time. And for that he was glad. Arod’s heart was as big as Brego's.
Swinging left ,the spire of Minas Tirith came into view, and before it getting ever closer and closer were a troupe of riders with Eomer and Faramir at their head.
They were safe.
But the cost had been terribly high.
A gentle hand rested on his uninjured shoulder.
“Come away, Estel,” the Queen of Gondor urged him quietly but firmly. “You are tired, let the healers see to Legolas. You need to have them to see to you also.”
“No!” Elessar refused bluntly, his eyes flashing with anger at his Queen’s suggestion. “He needs me to be here. My injuries are minor in comparison to his, the pain I am feeling is miniscule compared to what Legolas will feel when he awakes. And I will not allow him to wake into that kind of pain alone.” His voice then dropped to a mere whisper. “If he wakes.”
With her pleas being ignored, and deep in her own pain, Arwen slipped quietly out of the room.
In the corridor outside, Eomer and Gimli rose from the chairs they had been waiting in and moved toward her.
Both were deeply concerned for their friends and had hoped that Arwen might have been able to persuade the King to seek rest and treatment for his own injuries.
“He will not leave Legolas,” Arwen announced sadly. “The bond they both share runs far too deeply to allow Estel to leave.”
She looked from the King of the Mark to the Lord of the Glittering Caves and saw confusion in both sets of eyes.
“Legolas is dying, and with him a large part of Estel.” she sighed. “If our Prince does take that final step, Estel’s hope and maybe his very life will go with him.”
When the questioning stares of the Eomer and Gimli did not fade she continued.
“Both knew from the start that their bond would be broken by death, Estel’s death, both accepted that from the moment their friendship began .Now the reverse is happening and Estel is lost.”
“Is there nothing that we can do” Gimli asked “Is there no cure , something that maybe your father told you that could help him?”
“No, Gimli,” the Queen smiled sadly “the only cure is a miracle, the miracle that Legolas will wake up..”
In the bedchamber, Elessar’s back slumped in defeat, his head coming to rest in the palm of his good left hand.
He had physically done all he could for his brother, Legolas’s wounds were now clean and wrapped. And yet the Prince had still not stirred, still had not given one little hint that he has chosen to remain here in Middle Earth with his friends and loved ones rather than give in to the inviting call of death.
“If you chose to give in to death’s call my brother.” he whispered, “know this, I will chose to go as those who we so recently met. I will seek to go to the Paths of the Dead, to hunt down those who dared do this to you, and once my avowed task is complete I will follow you to the houses of the honoured dead.”
Totally defeated and with the last of his adrenaline wearing off, Elessar collapsed onto the soft bed in a world of pain.
His abused muscles, bones, and sinews screamed at him for relief and his aching heart thumped loudly in his chest. His last appeal had had no effect .Legolas had not stirred. He was out of options, there was nothing else to do but wait and watch as his chosen brother slowly died in front of him.
Or was there?
One last idea came to him.
One last thing he could try, and maybe, just maybe, it would work.
With his left hand clutching the stone pendant Legolas had tossed to him during their interrupted race, he bent forward and whispered
“Gwador, catch.”
When after several minutes nothing happened, Elessar once again lowered his tired head onto the soft edge of the bed.
The life was almost shocked out of him when he felt a hand gently touch his own.
Hazy pain filled blue eyes looked up into his.
“Rest…look… yourself.” The three words came out slowly and painfully and then Legolas was asleep again, but that mattered not, what did matter was that his brother had made his choice. He had chosen to remain with them.
Out on the Pelennor fields a Corsair and Harad Shaman both looked towards the candle lit White City.
For them the fight was not yet over.
The End.