Just a Friend- Chapter 7
*Slowly creeps out of hiding* I hope this chapter makes you happy! Thank you for not killing me over the last chapter's cliffie.
Sorry this one is a bit shorter than usual- I had to end it there, or the next chapter would be really weird.
Disclaimer: see Chapter 1
Telan jerked awake. Still half asleep, he uncurled from his corner by the fire. There was a low muttering coming from nearby, and he tried to make sense of it.
He heard his mother's voice, soft and quiet. "How long?"
There was another voice. It was a man's, but not his father's, rougher and lower, older. "A day or so. I cannot be sure." The voice sounded rough and forced, like the man was holding something back.
His mother's voice as well. "And then what?"
The stranger's voice. "I will take him and head back to Minas Tirith." The stranger sighed deeply, and Telan could almost hear the weariness in it.
"You are welcome to stay for longer, Strider."
Telan opened his eyes. Strider! The elf! He jumped to his feet, suddenly scared by what he had heard.
Strider was kneeling by the side of the low bed where Las, the elf, lay. The elf was still now, his face pale. Alya was standing over Strider. Telan watched as Strider looked around at him, and was shocked to see how tired the man looked. His eyes were red, as if he had been rubbing them, or…
Telan's gaze fell on the elf. Las was pale, lying so very still. The cloth was not on his forehead any longer, and Telan gulped.
"Is he…Is Las…?" Somehow he could not bring himself to say the words.
Strider smiled, and in that moment Telan felt a huge relief sweep over him, and he sighed deeply. Strider's grin widened.
"The fever broke," he said. "He's going to be alright, thank the Valar." He grinned again and looked back at the still form of the elf, smoothing back a loose lock of hair from Las' forehead.
"What time is it?" asked Telan, stifling a yawn.
"Not yet dawn," replied Alya. "Las will be awake soon?"
Strider nodded. "Now I know the poison has left his body, it should be fairly quick. He may wake up sometime in the night. I have seen this poison before. As soon as he is strong enough, we will leave. My horse I left at the inn in town." Strider smiled. "I don't want to impose on you any longer than I have to."
Alya shook her head. "Nonsense," she said. "Would you like something to eat?"
Strider grinned. "I would love something," he said. "But only a little."
Telan sat down in a nearby chair. "Where will you go?"
"Back to Minas Tirith" said Strider. "It is where I live." He smiled slightly as he said it, and Telan could see him imagining the white city, towering over the Pelennor, the banners fluttering in the breeze that always seemed to be there. Of course, he had not been in the city for many years. He had no idea whether it still looked like that.
Telan's eyes fell on the sleeping elf. "And Las?"
"He lives in Ithilien," said Strider. "But he is often in the city with me."
"You must be really good friends," said Telan. Strider paused, and then nodded, glancing back at the elf lying still in the bed.
"We are," he murmured. "We have been through a lot together."
"Like what?"
"Telan!" scolded Alya, pressing a hunk of bread and cheese into Strider's hands. "You don't question guests like that."
"It's alright," said Strider quietly. "We have journeyed far with each other. We have fought together, we have nearly died together. Whenever we are together, we spend half our time rescuing each other from near death." He chuckled.
Telan frowned. "Are you a soldier?" He had never spoken to a real soldier before. His heart quickened slightly at the thought that Strider was a real soldier, sitting in their home. Of course, his Da had been a soldier as well, but somehow that didn't count. Telan wanted to hear glorious stories of wars and battles, and Henric wouldn't tell them, leaving Telan to try and make them up on his own. Somehow they never sounded good enough.
"Sort of," said Strider.
"Is Las?"
"Aye, I guess so," said Strider. "He has fought for hundreds of years under the boughs of Mirkwood." His eyes darkened slightly as he said that, and he seemed to grow more distant, lost in memories if dark forests and armies encroaching on homes, hacking down anyone in their path.
Telan's eyes grew wide. "Hundreds of years!" he exclaimed. "How old is he?"
Strider came back to the present and chuckled slightly, though it maybe sounded a little forced. "I don't know. He doesn't know himself, I don't think."
"He doesn't know?" asked Telan. "How can you not know your age? I know I am thirteen, and even Cat knows how old she is."
Strider shook his head. "It is different for elves," he said. "He tried to explain it once, the way time moves for them. It can move swiftly, for everything moves quickly by them, and they change little. Yet it is also slow, for they do not count the years that pass them by. Elves do not pay much attention to the passing of the years. To him it doesn't matter."
Telan realised his mouth was open, and shut it. Strider sighed. "He has lived for many years before me," he said softly. "And he will live many years after me." His voice was soft, almost sad, and for a moment he was lost in thought again.
A small voice piped up from the doorway of the other room. "Is Las alright?"
Telan turned to see Cat stumbling towards him, still rubbing the sleep from her eyes. He picked her up and balanced her on his hip. "He'll be alright, sis," he said softly. "Thanks to Strider, he'll be alright."
Strider smiled slightly. "It is thanks to you as well," he said. "For taking him in when you found him. And Henric, for not giving him up to those men."
Henric shook his head. "I wouldn't give a single morsel to men like those from the town. They are nasty pieces of work."
"Shouldn't something be done about them?" asked Strider softly.
"Aye, something should be done," said Alya, bending over the fire. "But what?"
"Surely the King could do something" said Strider. His face was drawn in a frown, but it was not as if he was angry. Telan realised with a frown of his own that Strider looked more worried than anything.
"He has more important things to think about," muttered Henric. "I saw the mess Gondor was left in after the War, and living in Minas Tirith you must know, Strider, how much there must be to do, even though it has been years."
Strider nodded. "I do," he said. "But is there no way for these men to be tried, or taken to Minas Tirith?"
"And who would do that?" asked Henric. "We are farmers. I have not wielded a sword for years. How could we take them?"
"The city could send soldiers," said Telan, sitting down by the table with Cat in his lap.
"Why would the King spare soldiers for that?" asked Henric bitterly. "Surely he has much more important things to deal with."
"Do you think so?" asked Strider quietly.
"Do not mistake me, I do not blame him," said Henric. "Things more important than one village on the outskirts of the realm must be dealt with. King Elessar has better things to worry about."
Strider nodded. "I suppose you make sense," he said. "But you do not feel resentment on the part of the King?"
Telan frowned. "He saved us all, didn't he? Why should we resent it?"
"You don't understand," said Henric. He turned to Strider. "Aye, I do, to tell the truth, but there is nothing I can do. We just have to live our lives as best as we can, and be thankful for what we have."
Strider smiled slightly. "I suppose so," he murmured. He turned back to the still form of Las, and filled an earthen cup with water. Carefully lifting the elf's head, he trickled the water into his mouth, emptying the cup.
Telan watched him, slightly in awe yet again. Strider was so gentle around the elf, so careful with him. Yet Telan had also seen, for a brief moment, the flash of anger in his eyes when fighting those men that had seemed so different from the man in front of him.
His gaze drifted to the weapons leant against the wall again, and he felt, not for the first time, the desire to hold a sword in his hands, to swing it and fight back with it. The desire hit him strongly, and he could almost feel himself reaching out for the mysterious sword leant against the wall, the one that he should not touch.
He wanted to learn to fight. He desperately wanted to, for how else could he defend his little sister, and his Ma and Da? He wanted to be a soldier, to fight in glorious battles and later hear the songs of them that the minstrels sing.
Of course, he was not an idiot. He knew you could die fighting in a battle, or get hurt. But at least, if that did happen, he would die doing something he wanted to do, something worthwhile.
He wanted to learn to fight. And Strider definitely knew how to fight.
Telan started to turn an idea over in his mind. It wasn't that it would need much work- all he wanted to do was to ask Strider to teach him to fight. It was just trying to ask at the right time, so that he had the best chance of Strider saying yes.
Again, sorry about the length. But next chapter will be up on Friday, and maybe we will finally see our favourite elf open his eyes! (And even then it is not the end...)
Thanks for reading. Reviews are very welcome!
