Chapter Ten-Cold and an Empty Bed
Estel woke late that night, disoriented and confused. Where was he? Who was the blond elf staring at the fire beside him. After much difficulty concentrating, he recalled that it was Legolas, the Elven prince he had met near the Shire. Gazing around him he was relieved to find his surroundings familiar, and he realized with an embarrassed kind of horror that once again, he was sick. Very sick, he gathered from the rattling in his chest. Memories came flooding back and he remembered the rain, and an urgent horse ride home.
He shivered involuntarily and realized with surprise that he was cold, despite the fact that he was covered with three heavy blankets and that a fire roared warmly from the hearth. His elven friends wouldn't expect him to feel cold. They wouldn't notice if the room was overheated or chilled, even.
Sitting up perhaps too quickly, he was forced to take several deep breathes before he was able to rise and go in search of another blanket, and perhaps something warm to drink as well. Shakily, the frustrated human made his way down the corridor, clinging to the railings when they were present. At last he located the ever familiar linen closet. Exhausted, he slid to the cold floor, vowing to get up in a few moments when his breath returned. Soon he was shivering into a restless sleep.
Legolas snapped out of an uncharacteristic daze to find the fire dying and the bed empty. Half panicked, he rushed off to wake Lord Elrond, who joined him worriedly in his search. "Where could he be?" Elrond murmured before turning on Legolas and questioning him sharply, "You heard nothing?"
Legolas shook his head woefully. A frightened Arwen heard their voices from her chamber and drew her robe around her while asking her father urgently, "What is the matter? Why are you wandering the corridors at this hour?"
The elf lord's shoulders slumped ever so slightly, "Estel is not in his bed. We don't know where he has gone."
Arwen gasped softly, "Oh no! We must find him. It's too chilly for him to be out of bed! I'll go get some blankets. He'll be cold when we find him. I do hope he hasn't gone out of doors-you know how he is about his horse." She stopped speaking when she realized she was rambling.
Elrond smiled tightly, "That is a good idea, though I suspect he will need more than blankets to warm him. He was so weak...I don't even see how he managed to get out of bed."
Arwen squeezed her father's arm, "He is strong. Even an elf would be too frail to rise from bed before fully recovering." Giving Legolas a look of reassurance as well, she practically ran down the corridor to retrieve the blankets.
Imagine her surprise when she opened the door to the linen closet to find Estel asleep on the floor. Kneeling down to check on him, she was startled by the contrast between his frozen fingertips and burning body. Rather clumsily, she jerked several neatly folded blankets from their place on the shelf. After trying fruitlessly to rouse or lift him, Arwen tucked the blankets around his shivering form and rushed off to find her father and Legolas.
It took her a moment to calm herself before she could speak clearly, "I found him father…in the linen closet…he's so cold…"
"Show me!" Elrond commanded, already dashing down the corridor in the direction his daughter had come. Legolas lingered only a little farther behind. He would never forgive himself if Aragorn died because of his failure to be alert.
Elrond carried the limp form of his son back to his room and laid him on the rug as close to the hearth as he dared. He was surprised when Estel opened his eyes and couldn't restrain himself from asking gently, "Estel, why were you out of bed?"
"Wanted blanket," A drowsy and almost childlike Estel replied, prompting the three other inhabitants of the room to shake their heads and cover smiles.
The elf lord's knees went weak with relief. For the first time since the ordeal began, he knew his son would be alright.