A/N: Aragorn is giving me a bit of trouble in this chapter. I promise you, I'm not trying to make him look bad. It sorts itself out in the next chapter.
Chapter Eleven
When Malwyn returned from ordering the staff, she was accompanied by Offa.
"How are you feeling today?" the healer asked, crossing to the bed and looking intently into the elf's eyes. They were red and tired with weeping, and the ragged face was pale, the bruises livid against white flesh.
Legolas, sore, weary and emotionally exhausted, shook his head. "I've been better," he told Offa. The dark man looked closely at the wounds on his face, gently feeling along the jaw.
The healer grimaced as he felt the elf's chest, checked the splints on arm and leg. Legolas winced as Offa sat the elf up in the bed, removing the bandages from the re-opened wounds on his back.
"You must be still," Offa said, shaking his head and motioning for Malwyn to salve and bind the welts up again. "I don't want you out of this bed for a while yet." He turned to look at Malwyn. "Do you understand me?" She nodded, applying the soothing lotion to the elf's back.
"You needn't set Malwyn on me." Legolas retorted. "I'm capable of immobility on my own."
"Legolas, do you remember anything about last night?" the healer asked, ignoring the sarcasm.
"I had disturbing dreams, but nothing else." He looked to Eomer, who ran a hand through his hair. The man hated not knowing what was best to do, how much of the truth the elf could handle.
"I won't lie to you," Offa told Legolas, taking the decision away from Eomer. "You had a nightmare, your thrashing broke your splints and opened some of your wounds. It took all of us," he motioned to the others, "to calm you down. I want you to sleep so deeply at night that this doesn't happen again. I can give you something that will do that. But I would like your permission first."
Legolas stared at Eomer. "Did I do that?" he asked, motioning to the split lip.
"Yes, love, but I don't think you meant it." Eomer replied. "If you did, you're getting soft." The elf tried to chuckle but the pain in his chest stopped him.
"You've displaced the ribs, and I want you to be as still as you can for the next few days." Offa continued. "We can prop you up on the pillows during the day, but I really must insist on you taking the sleeping draught at night. We don't want another setback."
Legolas turned his head to look at Malwyn. She gave him a small smile and a nod. "It's for the best, my lad."
"You'll be here, 'Mer?" he asked, turning again to look at the man.
"All night." Eomer told him. "Hroth, too." The dog looked up from his spot by the fire on hearing his name. The big dog stood up, shook, padded over to the bed, and wedging himself in front of Eomer put his head on the blanket. Legolas scratched behind his ear, smiling.
"Alright. I don't like it, but if it's necessary, I'll do it. On the condition that I get coffee in the morning."
"You shouldn't really have hot things until that gash in your cheek heals up a bit more," Offa told him.
"One cup, Offa," Eomer said, looking at the healer. "It's his face, after all."
"Fine," Offa said, giving in, "but not piping hot. Put some milk in it and let it cool down a bit."
Legolas sighed, as much from the soothing of his back as the promise of coffee.
"Tired?" Eomer asked, watching the bruised face.
"Very," Legolas replied. "Can I have something for the pain now?" he asked Offa.
The pain medicine went down easily, now he'd their promise it wouldn't make him sleep all day. He settled against the soft pillows, ready to sleep if it came upon him, easier now that it was not forced on him.
Once Offa and Eomer had left, Malwyn settled into the chair beside the bed and pulled out her knitting. Legolas looked at it curiously.
"What are you making?" he asked.
"A sweater. Doesn't look much now, but it will, the blue was such a beautiful colour. The dyes came out so well this year."
"Do you have children?" he asked her, relaxing and feeling chatty.
"None of my body, many of my soul," she replied.
"That's a nice way to put it," he sighed. "What happens here, in Rohan, if 'Mer has no children?" he asked, bluntly, knowing the answer but wanting to hear it from someone besides Eomer.
"Eowyn does. Her little girl, and the next one due anytime now. They will continue the line of kings in Rohan. Nothing to fret yourself about, my lad. Eomer himself is Theoden's nephew, not son."
He sighed and sank back into the pillows, a worried look on his face.
"What is it, my lad? Pain getting bad? It may take the mix a little while to work."
"Nothing I can't take," he said, automatically, realizing it was the wrong answer. He changed the subject. "Malwyn, did he, did 'Mer, ever talk to you about, well, about what happened? With us?"
"Some," she said, guardedly.
"He's always so intense, I wanted to know him better. I watched him, you know, while we were in Gondor. He sat beside Eowyn, waiting, so bereft, and I just wanted him to smile, to see all that pain leave his eyes." She nodded, and he continued. "I wanted him to laugh, I loved the sound of it. He's such a good man. It hurt me to see him so diminished. And he's so good looking, so big, so capable..." he took a breath, "so different."
"I know, lad," she said, encouragingly.
"I looked for him when he wasn't near me. When we came back to Rohan, so Gimli could see the caves," his eyes clouded with sorrow, "I found myself seeking him out. I wanted to make him happy, but I also wanted him to think well of me. I didn't realize what I was doing until I was too deep into it. I had wanted to lift his sadness, not fall in love with him. And then..." he broke off, his eyes on her needles, following the rhythm, finding it hypnotic.
"You found out he was in love with you?" she asked. "Oldest story in the world."
"I was changed. But I wasn't. My father is king. I understand the responsibilities. There is no time for travel, no time to go away. He has to stay where he is. It felt like a cage. And then I was the one causing the pain in his eyes. He wanted me to stay, and I couldn't. How could I be Consort and leave for a year or two at a time? He blamed Gimli, but it was me. Eowyn understood the truth. I guess I'm wondering if she's still angry with me."
Eomer raced down the steps of Meduseld, the shadows long in the setting sun. The ever present wind whipped the cloak around his shoulders and tangled his hair as he reached the riders at the foot.
"Aragorn," he cried, as the man dismounted. "He lives!" The former ranger caught the king up in his arms, giving him an enthusiastic hug, then turned to help the second rider from the horse. A woman, her hood pulled up over her head.
"Eowyn?" he asked, even as he realized that she was too tall to be his sister. Eowyn, for all her years on horseback, could never have dismounted with such an unearthly grace.
"Forgive me, Arwen! I did not expect this!" he exclaimed, once again overwhelmed by her beauty as she pushed the dark hood back from her face.
Arwen looked at him, worry in her brilliant blue eyes, a sad smile on her lips. "Eowyn could not come, she is too near her time. But I hope I am an acceptable substitute?" she asked, as grooms led the tired horses to the stable.
He bowed low and took her hands, kissing the soft leather of her gloves. "He will be overjoyed to see you." He offered her his arm, escorting her up the steps.
Eomer spoke quickly as they walked, outlining all he knew, Gimli's death, Legolas' memory loss, the elf's injuries, the mention of an Ent.
Aragorn stopped for a moment, absorbing the news. "I'd hoped you were wrong about Gimli," he said softly. "He was a cherished friend." Tears welled in the King's blue eyes. Arwen bowed her head for a moment, her hand over her heart, then reached out to touch Aragorn's arm. He held her hand for a moment, then wiped his eyes. They continued up to the Hall.
"What are you doing in Fangorn?" Aragorn asked, his eyes hardening. "Has anything else been discovered?"
"Not yet," Eomer told him, "The war band is still searching for the rest of Gimli, and trying to find the Ents. It's a big forest, Aragorn, but I'm hoping for more news any time now."
"I can't believe Treebeard would allow something like this in his wood." Arwen said, sadly.
"He may have no choice," Eomer replied, guiding them into the Hall. "We are beginning to think that something or someone else is now in charge in Fangorn."
They stopped only long enough to remove their cloaks, taking a small glass of wine, and washing the dust of the roads from their faces. Eomer led them to the King's Chamber, where they heard the soft murmur of voices through the door.
Eomer opened it, ushering in the King and Queen of Gondor. Aragorn entered first, followed closely by his wife.
"Legolas! Aragorn is here," Eomer called gently as the pale figure on the bed turned to the door. "And Arwen has come."
The elf unconsciously strained to pull himself up a bit more, Malwyn unobtrusively piling more pillows behind him. She stepped back to the hearth, allowing for more room around the bed. Catching Eomer's eye, she nodded and took the tray back out the door with her.
"Legolas!" Aragorn cried, sitting beside him on the bed. "They told me you were dying!" He reached out to grip the elf gently by the shoulder. The elf reached out to return the gesture, wincing as it pulled at his ribs. "I'm glad to see they were wrong."
"He's a terrible visitor," Arwen muttered to Eomer as she passed him, moving to the other side of the bed. She stopped, when she passed the bed curtains and saw the ruin of the elf lying there under the dark patterned quilts. Her pale face went ashen, her wide eyes even wider. Legolas turned toward her and she saw the harm done to the ear, the discolouration of his face against the white of the pillows. Letting out a low cry, she sprang to him and threw her arms around him, sobbing.
"Arwen, Arwen, don't" Legolas told her, wrapping his good arm around her, trying to pat her back with the splinted one. He whispered to her in Sindarin, reassuringly. She cried harder, whispering back.
"Arwen, he's not dead! Why are you grieving for him?" Aragorn asked, puzzled by what he caught of the whispered words. She lifted her head from Legolas' chest and stared at him with eyes of blue ice. Eomer took Aragorn by the arm, leading him to the fire.
"Let's give them a moment. It's an elf thing, I think." He poured a cup of wine and passed it to Aragorn. The king sipped at it, trying to ignore the commotion behind him.
"My friend, I share your sorrow," Arwen sobbed into Legolas' chest, her Sindarin very quiet. He rubbed her shoulder with his good hand. "We loved him, too. But I am grateful you were spared." Her eyes looked up at his face, looking at him with fear. "To lose both of you..."
He wiped her tears, still murmuring soft words in Sindarin. She sniffed, reached in her sleeve for her kerchief.
"Mir needs me," he whispered, giving the diminutive it's proper Sindarin pronunciation with her.
She looked at him with a question in her eyes. "Mir?" she whispered.
He gave her a conspiratorial wink, ludicrous with the darkness around his eye. "I flatten it a bit, so everyone but him thinks it's the last half of his name. My secrets are safe with you, though." Arwen nodded. Mir, a treasure, a precious thing. How like Legolas, she thought.
She wiped her face, pulled back from his embrace, began to rearrange the covers. He allowed her fuss, knowing she was devastated. But her instinctive reaction had made him feel better than Aragorn's forced cheerfulness, somehow.
Eomer and Aragorn returned to the bedside. Aragorn re-took his seat on one side, Arwen on the other, holding Legolas' hand. Eomer leaned against the post at the foot of the bed, arms crossed, pushing the curtains out of the way.
"You look better than I expected." Aragorn said, as if Arwen's weeping hadn't interrupted him.
"Apparently I've improved." Legolas told him. "Gimli is gone, Aragorn. I can't remember what happened, but I know he's gone." The profound sadness deepened in his face. The King of Gondor closed his eyes, and bowed his head, placing a hand on his heart. Arwen did the same, whispering words in Sindarin. Aragorn had tears in his eyes when he opened them.
"He was the best dwarf I ever knew," Aragorn said. Legolas nodded. "He will be sorely missed. Eowyn will be devastated."
"She's not the only one," Arwen said softly. "How is it with you?" she asked Legolas.
"I miss my friend. I shall always miss my friend. My world is darker without him." He looked up at Eomer. "But I am still here. I am not alone." He slipped back into the cadence of Sindarin, making his words sound formal to Eomer. It was how the elf had spoken when he'd first met him. He smiled down at him.
"Never alone," Aragorn smiled at him. "You are, of course, most welcome in Gondor. You could stay at the House of Healing..."
"No!" The outcry came from the man and elf at the same time. Aragorn looked from one to the other, puzzled.
Legolas was the first to speak. "I thank you for you offer, and I know the reputation of your healers. But I have the utmost confidence in Offa, and will recover here in the Mark." He looked at Eomer. "I am comfortable here."
"As you wish, of course," Aragorn said, "I only meant that Eomer would be freed from caring for you and able to find what is loose in Fangorn." Panic filled the blue eyes of the elf.
"I shall stay here, until Legolas feels easy." Eomer said calmly, as Arwen stroked the elf's arm soothingly. "I have men patrolling even now."
"Patrols?" Aragorn said, "I thought..."
"Legolas," Arwen interrupted, disturbed by the horror in the back of his eyes, "You look so tired. Would you like to rest now?"
"Yes," Eomer said, "that might be best. You have been up all day, and it's been a long one." He turned to the table, selecting the right bottle and mixing up the elf's sleeping draught.
"I'll sing for you," Arwen said, lovingly. "I'm sure Aragorn and Eomer have much to discuss."
Legolas looked at Eomer, took the cup he offered and drank it down. "You'll be back?" he asked, handing back the cup with trembling fingers.
"Of course," Eomer said, lightly touching the elf's cheek. "I'll send Malwyn to sit with you and Arwen, in case there's anything you need."
As Arwen began her song, Legolas closed his eyes. Hroth settled beside the bed, sighing. Eomer led the King of Gondor into his study.
"Fine!" Aragorn snapped, after Eomer sent the boy for Malwyn. "I understand that we don't discuss this in front of him. What is it that you're not telling me?"