Chapter 4
Disclaimer: Standard disclaimer applies – not mine, no money, just for fun.
Please Note - this story is AU!
Thanks to my beta Sarah who takes time from an unbelievably busy schedule to keep me on track. Thanks too to those who are reading and special thanks to those of you who let me know you are enjoying - you really know how to shore up my confidence and keep me going - thank you!!
Chapter 4
The Trees of Lórien
In the end, it wasn't Orcs or Wargs or even blood loss that brought Legolas down, but rather, something totally unexpected. Aragorn had deemed it safe to rest once evening had come and they had passed across the Nimrodel. Cold rations were passed around and Legolas sang to them of the Elven maiden who once lived beside the waters. His voice had been clear and fair, as always, if over soft. Gimli could not tell if the lack of volume spoke to the spell cast by the peaceful place where they rested, or whether it was because the Elf had no strength left with which to do otherwise. The Dwarf found himself caught up in the song despite his concerns. Until, that is, Legolas' voice faltered.
Gimli took to his feet at once. Legolas shot him a warning look while offering up some excuse about not remembering more of the verse. Gimli hesitated. Aragorn was looking at him curiously while the rest of the group waited patiently for Legolas to resume his story. Holding Gimli's eye, he did continue, his voice still soft but with a harder edge to it, "It is long and sad for it tells how sorrow came upon Lothlórien, Lórien of the Blossom, when the Dwarves awakened evil in the mountains,"(1) words which sounded quite plainly to be a rebuke against the Dwarves, at least to Gimli's ears.
He lost no time refuting the Elf's words, and sharply, at that. "But the Dwarves did not make the evil," he shot back. No sooner had the words left his mouth, than he began to wonder if this weren't another of Legolas' attempts to manipulate him, and Aragorn in his wake - he had responded just as he might have before the Elf's injury and their forced cooperation. If Aragorn's suspicions had been aroused, Gimli's typically harsh response would have done much to alleviate them.
Legolas' own response to Gimli's sharp words was not returned in kind. He replied, instead, that he had not said that the Dwarves made the evil, only that it had come, his voice sounding sad and Gimli would have said, apologetic, as well and Gimli took it as such, nodding his head slightly before once again taking his seat. The Elf continued on with his tale, in words rather than song, telling of the unknown fate of Nimrodel and Amroth and how it was told that their voices still carried in the wind when springtime came, Nimrodel's beside the falls that bear her name and Amroth's, up from the sea, to whence the Nimrodel flows. As Legolas went on to describe how Nimrodel and the Lórien Elves had once built their houses in the great trees of their forest, Gimli found himself commenting that it did not sound like a bad idea for these present times either, surprised that he had voiced such sentiment. He would sooner spend the night back in the mines of Moria, Balrog included, than in a tree.
He was even more surprised, or perhaps it would be better described as utterly dismayed, to hear Aragorn agree that it was indeed a good idea and with a sweep of his hand, the Ranger motioned them up and toward a deeper part of the wood. "We will rest here," he said, reaching a hand out to pat the roughened bark of a giant tree beside him. "These are the great Mallorn trees of Lórien and should offer solid shelter." It was all Gimli could do not to kick himself.
"I will see if there is a spot that a hobbit or dwarf might find comfortable," Legolas said, shooting Gimli a grin before springing into a tree even taller than the one Aragorn stood beneath. While balancing on a branch more than twice a man's height up, the Elf grabbed hold of another to swing himself even higher into the tree. He hung, suspended for a moment, his legs swinging gently, back and forth. Gimli held his breath. They had all watched the Elf perform this feat many times before when the distance between handholds was greater than his considerable reach; a single swing of his legs and then he would seem to fly through the air, grasping a branch without effort, at some point even higher up in whatever tree he was climbing at the time. This time, however, the Elf swayed back and forth, once, twice and then, one hand let loose. Gimli heard a loud gasp, realizing as he did that it was his own sudden and desperate intake of air. The others, so used to the Elf's amazing acrobatics, were not even watching.
"Legolas!" Gimli shouted as he rushed toward the base of the tree. He almost made it in time though the most he could have done would have been to serve as a hard pillow for the Elf's plummeting body, probably not much softer than the ground he landed upon instead. Gimli dropped and slid on his knees the last few feet to end almost precisely at the Elf's side. Aragorn had taken a moment to process what was happening but with his long legs and sharp reflexes was shortly on his knees too, beside the Elf.
"Legolas!" he shouted, an echo of Gimli's panicked voice. "Are you all right?" Of course he wasn't all right, Gimli thought. He couldn't be. But the Elf's eyes were open and blinking, so he at least wasn't dead. Yet.
"Fine. I am…uh…fine," Legolas stammered.
Fine? Gimli wanted to scream.
"What happened?" Aragorn demanded, his eyes roving the branches above them.
"I – nothing. I – slipped. Fell." The Ranger's eyes dropped swiftly back to the Elf's face and narrowed. At any other time Gimli would have laughed aloud at the look of utter disbelief on Aragorn's face.
"You what?"
Legolas' cheeks flushed, slightly, and he bit his lower lip. "I – slipped," he repeated, hesitantly, knowing, no doubt, how ridiculous he sounded. Gimli would have felt sorry for the proud Elf having to admit such a failure, if, that is, he weren't so angry with the infuriating creature. What business had he climbing a tree in his condition? He could have easily got himself killed!
"You slipped," Aragorn said, arching his brows, the doubt in his voice echoing the disbelief in his face. "Impossible."
Legolas' brow furrowed. "Yes, I know. Difficult to believe. But these trees…." He raised his eyes upwards and swept the branches above, desperately, as if searching for some inspiration, an answer that would wipe the doubt from Aragorn's face and end this discussion. All at once he brightened. "Yes, the trees…not something I'm used to. Quite different from Mirkwood trees." Pathetic, Gimli thought, not up to the Elf's usual standards, but then, he had more poison than blood left flowing in his veins by now and who knew what damage had just been done to his already addled brain by his fall.
Aragorn looked as if he would sooner believe that Sauron had given up his quest for the one ring than he would fall for the Elf's ridiculous story. "Hmm. Well. I'll look you over, make sure you are indeed fine and then we can decide if the idea of making our beds in trees that an Elf can fall out of is such a good one after all."
Legolas began to squirm. "No, really Aragorn," he protested, swatting at the Ranger's hands as they began to rove first down his arms and then his legs, searching for broken bones. "I am fine. I don't need you to…"
"Nonsense," Aragorn admonished, calmly, "You just fell twenty feet out of a tree. Of course I'm going to look you over." He deftly deflected the Elf's attempts to slow him, resorting at one point to capturing both slender wrists in his strong grip and pinning them to Legolas' chest, while continuing his careful examination with his free hand. His movements were smooth and practiced, as if he had played this game with the Elf before and Legolas, in his present state, hadn't a hope of winning. Once satisfied with his initial examination, the Ranger dropped Legolas' hands and began to tug at the top clasp of the archer's tunic. "Just let me get this open so I can better check your ribs and back." Legolas' eyes widened in panic and he reached for Gimli's shoulder, grasping it tightly, shooting him a look of desperation. It was then that Gimli realized that all of Legolas' squirming and swatting was because that was all he could do. He hadn't the strength to pull himself up to enable his escape from Aragorn's prying hands.
"No! Aragorn, I'm fine," Legolas squeaked. "Really, I am. Right, Gimli? Gimli!"
It was time now, for Gimli to act. He should stop Aragorn, side with the Elf, tell the Ranger that he had seen the Elf fall and it had not been twenty feet but more like ten. That the Elf had not landed hard. He should offer a hand and help him to sit, stand, flee! Legolas tugged hard on Gimli's shoulder. All Gimli had to do was to straighten up and it would probably give the Elf enough of a boost to pull him to a sitting position. If he would offer a hand to Legolas' elbow, he could probably even stand without garnering too much questioning from the Ranger who had just released the first clasp of the Elf's tunic and was moving on to the second. Gimli bit his bottom lip.
They were so close to Lórien! Only a few days away surely. Two days, maybe three. Just two more days and Legolas would have the help he needed and the Fellowship would remain intact. Two more days and Aragorn would have only this brief moment of concern for the Elf's well-being to cloud these days already filled with worry. He'd be angry, of course, and they would pay a price for that anger, surely, but the Ranger would have been saved the pain of fearing for his friend's life and saved the indecision of what to do about it.
Legolas' brow was furrowed in concentration, as if he were willing himself to rise. But his face was inordinately pale, his lips bloodless, the shine in his eyes appearing feverish to Gimli's now practiced eye, a sheen of perspiration on his upper lip and forehead. Elves don't perspire, Gimli told himself again; Aragorn had said so.
Two day…
Gimli heaved a sigh. Two days too many, he decided and without a word, he placed his hand over Legolas' where it rested on his shoulder – and – removed it, settling it gently to the Elf's side. "Do you need any help, Aragorn?" he asked, turning to look at the Ranger, ignoring the sight of Legolas' eyes flying open and his lips parting in a silent cry. He looked as if Gimli had slapped him squarely across the face.
"Yes, as a matter of fact," Aragorn said, cutting off anything Legolas might have attempted to say or do, at that point. "See if you can start from the bottom. These clasps are quite a challenge and we need to finish here and get the hobbits bedded down. We will need an early start in the morning. We are perhaps two days away, at my best guess."
Two days.
Legolas capitulated, his other hand dropping limply to his chest – what else could he do without Gimli to aid him? He stared straight up into the bough of the tree, ignoring Aragorn and Gimli as they worked the clasps of his tunic.
"You could help too, Legolas," Aragorn admonished. "You know better than anyone how to undo these." The Elf's cold eyes flicked to Aragorn's, briefly, before returning to stare up into the tree, his lips drawn into a firm pout. Aragorn rolled his eyes and returned to the task at hand. The last clasp undone, he opened the tunic. Legolas had managed to remove all signs of blood from the outside of his garment and Gimli had not even been able to discern the hole that the arrow had made when it went through the fabric into the Elf's side. But he had not taken time to perform the same feat on his undergarment; it was stiff with blood. Aragorn, of course, noticed the blood and that it was dried blood did not escape his keen observation either.
"Ai! What is this? Legolas, you are wounded!" he cried, even as he carefully rolled the undergarment up, exposing the soiled bandage that encircled the Elf's chest. "When did this happen and why did you not tell me?"
"You may ask Gimli your questions," the Elf answered, sullenly. Friends, Gimli huffed. Hah! Only so long as Gimli did as the Elf requested, it seemed, were they friends. If he didn't, he was thrown to the wolves.
"I'm asking you," Aragorn snapped with barely controlled fury. Gimli was reminded of his recent dressing down by the Ranger and smiled to himself, knowing that Legolas' turn might soon be coming. But then the wound was exposed fully and he heard Aragorn's sharp intake of breath. "No more games, Legolas. Tell me now, when did this happen and how?"
He probed the wound gently with his finger and it was Legolas' turn to gasp. "Ai! Aragorn! Cease!"
"Dear Valar, Legolas, there is still an arrow in there!"
"I know, believe me, I know," Legolas hissed in pain and gritted his teeth. "Moria. It happened in Moria."
"When?"
"The Bridge," Gimli answered, receiving a sharp look from Aragorn in reply.
"And just how long have you known about this?"
"He hasn't known for very long, Aragorn," Legolas defended. "And I forced him into keeping my secret. He really had no choice." Legolas shot Gimli a look of pure malice before continuing. "You know how easily Dwarves can be manipulated."
"What!" Gimli sputtered, rocking back on his haunches. "Why, you have some nerve Elf, after all I've done…"
"Not now Gimli," Aragorn interrupted. "Save it for when we have time and then I will expect an accounting from both of you."
"It is a simple wound, Aragorn," Legolas broke in, ignoring the narrowing of Gimli's eyes. "A bandage is all that is required. Some athelas perhaps? That should be quite sufficient to see me to Lórien…"
"Quiet, Elf," Aragorn snapped. "I don't want to hear another word from you, unless it is to answer my questions. You – are – in – deep – trouble, Legolas. Deep! Understood?" Legolas pursed his lips into a pout once more and settled his head to stare off into the tree. "I need light, Gimli," Aragorn commanded. "We will need a fire." Boromir and the hobbits had been watching quietly and staying out of the way until Aragorn spoke and then all dissolved into a flurry of motion.
"We'll gather some wood," Merry and Pippin offered in unison, dashing at once into the trees.
"Boromir, go with them, please," Aragorn directed. "They shouldn't wander around unprotected."
"Of course," the Man responded. "Will he be alright?" he asked, stopping mid pursuit to glance back at Legolas.
"If I can remove the arrow and he can rest," was Aragorn's terse reply. Boromir gave one last look at the Elf before following after the energized hobbits. Sam was already removing the pot from his pack and filling it with water.
Frodo knelt beside Gimli. "Is there anything I can do?" he asked.
"Yes, if you could get my pack for me," Aragorn requested. The hobbit was up and rushing to the packs at once.
"You have everyone worried," Aragorn muttered, under his breath. "I hope you are satisfied."
"Yes, of course," Legolas answered, crossly, not taking his eyes from the tree above, "and I would tell you just how satisfied I was to get shot with an arrow but I have been told to hold my tongue."
"You should have said something sooner, Legolas," Aragorn chastised, ignoring the archer's mood while he removed the soiled bandage from the Elf's chest. "Why didn't you?"
"I – had my reasons." Legolas flashed a look at Gimli before returning his gaze to the tree above. Aragorn did not miss the look, however, and turned questioning eyes on Gimli who chose to merely shrug. He was in deep trouble too, he knew.
Frodo returned with Aragorn's pack and the others with firewood. They began to work at once on a fire. Aragorn riffled through his pack and pulled out several packages of herbs and powders. That caught the Elf's attention and his gaze swivelled from the tree to the packets in Aragorn's hands, his eyes widening at the sight.
"No, Aragorn, you cannot drug me!" he pleaded. "I am fine. Do what you think you must but you need me conscious and able to move. We are so close to our destination. I can make it if you don't put me to sleep!" Gimli clamped his mouth shut on a warning to the Elf to recall the Ranger's command not to talk. But Aragorn's face had already softened and Gimli had a feeling that the Man understood exactly why Legolas had done what he had done.
"Legolas," Aragorn said, his voice suddenly gentle and soothing. "You can go no further and you know it. I have to remove this arrow. It is poisoned. The poison is not allowing your blood to clot and you have lost far too much already. Once I remove the arrow, you will need to stay put until the poison that remains has passed through your system so that your wound can heal. It won't be today or tomorrow. It might take a week considering what you have put your body through. You will stay here until you are healed and that is final."
"You will have to leave me then," Legolas said, flatly, as if he were the one making the decision. "Put me in one of these trees with some water and I will be fine. Orcs do not climb trees searching for Elves. You have no other choice, Aragorn."
Aragorn sighed heavily. "I haven't decided what I will do. Right now, I will see to your wound. That is what is most important."
"I will not take your medicines, Aragorn," Legolas declared, glaring at the Ranger, defiantly, shaking his head, even as it rested against the ground. "Not unless you promise not to drug me into a stupor as you seem to delight in doing."
"I promise I will not drug you into a stupor," the Ranger agreed as he crumbled some leaves in his hands and placed his open palms beneath the Elf's nose. "Breath deeply. These are for the pain."
Legolas turned his face away. "I do not need them. The pain is tolerable."
"Perhaps now," Aragorn countered, growing visibly frustrated. "But I will have to cut you open in order to remove the arrow. It is lodged behind your ribs. You are lucky that you haven't punctured a lung," he pointed out, testily. "You may not hurt now, but I can't risk you screaming our location out to every Orc within a hundred leagues of here when I cut into you."
"I will do no such…"
"Silence!" Aragorn interrupted. "You can make promises when you are the only one who will suffer if you break them, Legolas, but this quest has everything to do with someone else and you have a responsibility to think of that individual and not yourself. Do I make myself clear?"
Legolas blinked at the Ranger and a silent battle of wills ensued between them. But Aragorn's words rang true and after a moment, Legolas gave an almost imperceptible nod of his head. Aragorn shoved his hands beneath the Elf's nose again and this time, Legolas acquiesced, breathing in, deeply.
"Gimli?" Aragorn turned to face the dwarf. "Would you bring some water, please? These herbs tend to make one thirsty." Gimli rocked to his feet, but not before being on the receiving end of a surreptitious wink by the Ranger. Apparently, the man had something more in store for the Elf. Sure enough, when he returned with the water, Gimli noticed that the defiant glint that had been in Legolas' eye even as he had breathed in the herbs was gone, replaced with a glazed look. But the Elf was still conscious and Aragorn had, so far, kept his word. As Gimli removed the stopper from the water flask, he felt a pressure on his arm. Aragorn glanced to a small packet on the ground near Legolas' feet. With a quick check to make sure the Elf wasn't watching, Gimli grabbed it up. He opened it and poured the contents into the flask, replacing the stopper and gently shaking the contents together.
"Drink?" he asked, leaning over the Elf
"Yes, please," Legolas responded, groggily. Aragorn's arm wrapped behind his shoulders to help ease him up. "I am suddenly very thirsty. But conscious. Thank you Aragorn for not lying to me, for once in your life." Gimli raised the flask to the Elf's lips.
"Think nothing of it, Legolas. I am your friend," Aragorn answered, innocently. "You should learn to trust me." Gimli thought the Ranger might better have left well enough alone, for the Elf's brow arched and he paused, his mouth inches from the flask. But thirst won out over caution. With shaking hand, he took the water skin from Gimli, lifted it to his lips and began to drink. Even with his senses dulled by whatever Aragorn had him breathe earlier, the Elf was able to detect something strange about the water. He pulled away from the flask, understanding dawning suddenly in his face. Gimli was far faster than an injured and drugged Elf, however. He slipped one hand behind Legolas' head and with the other, crushed the flask to his lips, forcing the liquid into the Elf's mouth. Legolas gagged and sputtered but was forced to either swallow the liquid or drown and the Elf, for the most part, chose to swallow.
He was out cold before he had a chance to retract his praise for the Ranger's honesty.
(1)J.R.R. Tolkien, The Lord of the Rings, The Fellowship of the Ring.