Even though I was fighting, I kept trying to keep a good eye on Gimli. He
was doing well. As he slew, he would laugh triumphantly and shout the
number to me. Usually I'd smile and maybe shout my number. But most of the
time I had my hands full.
Then, one time, I tried to stop to see Gimli. I could not. I began running around, trying to find him. I tripped over a body and turned to look at it.
It was Gimli.
My eyes widened and my heart began thudding. I grabbed him and hauled him away.
"Gimli!" I said once we were safely out of the way, shaking him. He was bloody by his mouth and was slashed in various places-mainly his face. He finally awoke. "I've got to get you help," I said, beginning to get up. Gimli grasped my arm.
"No, Legolas," he told me, and for the first time, his voice was soft but still hoarse. The dwarf's breathing was heavy. "It's over."
I shook my head. "No, no. You'll be all right. You aren't hurt badly." But looking closer I saw rips in his tough clothes, and through the chain mail and whatever other armor there were deep wounds, bleeding badly.
"I can't move," Gimli said.
"I'll carry you," I told him.
He gave a short guffaw sound. "No," he then said. "It's too late. It's over."
Warriors were dying all around us. But all that existed now was this. Me trying to save the stubborn Dwarf I had come to love as a friend. I felt tears coming. "No," I choked.
Gimli gripped my arm tighter. "Listen," he said with a bit of a growl. "You have to go on. You have to fight."
"I'll not leave you here. Gimli, you musn't die! I will not allow it!"
A voice rang in my head: Accept fate. How could I? My friend was slowly dying before me. How could I watch and not try to help him? Not try to save him?
His breathing was becoming heavier. I tried to move him, but once again he stopped me. "Don't you hear me?" he said. "There are others dying. Leave me. Go on and fight!" His voice dropped.
"I won't leave you," I said.
"Legolas," he said, his voice barely a whisper.
"Yes?"
He smiled and said, "Forty-two."
Then he was gone.
I shook him. "No, no, no," I said, tears coming and filling my eyes. "Gimli! GIMLI!" I slumped, put my head on his, and sobbed. Hot tears poured down my face. He couldn't be gone. Not Gimli. Not my friend. I couldn't accept it. I have seen the death of companions, and it has affected me deeply. But Gimli was probably the best friend I had ever had. My heart ached. It felt as if it had been slashed at with a knife and was now breaking apart.
But I looked up. And saw all those Uruk-hai. Killing. And one had just killed my best friend.
I unsheathed my sword. No bow and arrow this time. Anger mixed with my sadness, my anguish. It almost overcame it. My face contorted with anger, I charged forth and plunged my sword into an Uruk. It died and fell. Another rushed at me and it one slash, I beheaded it.
Then, turning, I saw one over Gimli's body. Whether it was groping at him or about to hack him, I do not know. But I charged and cut its arm off.
It snarled at me and with its other arm raised a cruel spear, which missed me, but then it pulled out a knife. It cut at me, slashing my arms and hands and face. It head butted me and I fell.
Then it picked up a sword and began mutilating Gimli's already dead body. I jumped to my feet and charged at it again. Its sword caught me in my side. Pain seared through me, but I finally beheaded the creature. Then I saw how mutilated Gimli's body was. My tears flowed anew.
Aragorn came up behind me. "Legolas, we're pulling back," he said. I remained unmoving. He came up to me, about to repeat himself. But he stopped.
"Gimli," he breathed.
"I tried to save him." I drew a shuddering breath. "He wouldn't let me."
Aragorn looked at me. He looked as if he was stung. "We must go. Pull back."
"The body," I protested.
"It would only slow us down," Aragorn said. "I'm sorry, Legolas. Leave him."
"They'll mutilate him!" I choked. Suddenly, Uruks charged at us. Aragorn yelled at me. I gave Gimli one last teary, blurry glance before running.
- - - - -
We won the battle of Helm's Deep. Afterwards, many felt joy, relief. I was not among them.
No one could find Gimli's body. Most bodies the Uruks had beaten so badly, even after their victim's death, that they were beyond recognition. I just knew Gimli was one of them.
Riding out and away from Helm's Deep, I remembered my dear friend's last words: "Forty-two." The number of Uruks he had killed. I had killed forty- one.
A soft wind blew. Tears were in my eyes and running down my face. I looked up towars the Sun and whispered, "You win, Gimli."
-End-
Then, one time, I tried to stop to see Gimli. I could not. I began running around, trying to find him. I tripped over a body and turned to look at it.
It was Gimli.
My eyes widened and my heart began thudding. I grabbed him and hauled him away.
"Gimli!" I said once we were safely out of the way, shaking him. He was bloody by his mouth and was slashed in various places-mainly his face. He finally awoke. "I've got to get you help," I said, beginning to get up. Gimli grasped my arm.
"No, Legolas," he told me, and for the first time, his voice was soft but still hoarse. The dwarf's breathing was heavy. "It's over."
I shook my head. "No, no. You'll be all right. You aren't hurt badly." But looking closer I saw rips in his tough clothes, and through the chain mail and whatever other armor there were deep wounds, bleeding badly.
"I can't move," Gimli said.
"I'll carry you," I told him.
He gave a short guffaw sound. "No," he then said. "It's too late. It's over."
Warriors were dying all around us. But all that existed now was this. Me trying to save the stubborn Dwarf I had come to love as a friend. I felt tears coming. "No," I choked.
Gimli gripped my arm tighter. "Listen," he said with a bit of a growl. "You have to go on. You have to fight."
"I'll not leave you here. Gimli, you musn't die! I will not allow it!"
A voice rang in my head: Accept fate. How could I? My friend was slowly dying before me. How could I watch and not try to help him? Not try to save him?
His breathing was becoming heavier. I tried to move him, but once again he stopped me. "Don't you hear me?" he said. "There are others dying. Leave me. Go on and fight!" His voice dropped.
"I won't leave you," I said.
"Legolas," he said, his voice barely a whisper.
"Yes?"
He smiled and said, "Forty-two."
Then he was gone.
I shook him. "No, no, no," I said, tears coming and filling my eyes. "Gimli! GIMLI!" I slumped, put my head on his, and sobbed. Hot tears poured down my face. He couldn't be gone. Not Gimli. Not my friend. I couldn't accept it. I have seen the death of companions, and it has affected me deeply. But Gimli was probably the best friend I had ever had. My heart ached. It felt as if it had been slashed at with a knife and was now breaking apart.
But I looked up. And saw all those Uruk-hai. Killing. And one had just killed my best friend.
I unsheathed my sword. No bow and arrow this time. Anger mixed with my sadness, my anguish. It almost overcame it. My face contorted with anger, I charged forth and plunged my sword into an Uruk. It died and fell. Another rushed at me and it one slash, I beheaded it.
Then, turning, I saw one over Gimli's body. Whether it was groping at him or about to hack him, I do not know. But I charged and cut its arm off.
It snarled at me and with its other arm raised a cruel spear, which missed me, but then it pulled out a knife. It cut at me, slashing my arms and hands and face. It head butted me and I fell.
Then it picked up a sword and began mutilating Gimli's already dead body. I jumped to my feet and charged at it again. Its sword caught me in my side. Pain seared through me, but I finally beheaded the creature. Then I saw how mutilated Gimli's body was. My tears flowed anew.
Aragorn came up behind me. "Legolas, we're pulling back," he said. I remained unmoving. He came up to me, about to repeat himself. But he stopped.
"Gimli," he breathed.
"I tried to save him." I drew a shuddering breath. "He wouldn't let me."
Aragorn looked at me. He looked as if he was stung. "We must go. Pull back."
"The body," I protested.
"It would only slow us down," Aragorn said. "I'm sorry, Legolas. Leave him."
"They'll mutilate him!" I choked. Suddenly, Uruks charged at us. Aragorn yelled at me. I gave Gimli one last teary, blurry glance before running.
- - - - -
We won the battle of Helm's Deep. Afterwards, many felt joy, relief. I was not among them.
No one could find Gimli's body. Most bodies the Uruks had beaten so badly, even after their victim's death, that they were beyond recognition. I just knew Gimli was one of them.
Riding out and away from Helm's Deep, I remembered my dear friend's last words: "Forty-two." The number of Uruks he had killed. I had killed forty- one.
A soft wind blew. Tears were in my eyes and running down my face. I looked up towars the Sun and whispered, "You win, Gimli."
-End-