Disclaimer: Standard disclaimer applies – not mine, no money, just for fun. First LOTR fic and I'm far from an expert on the subject matter so please be kind.

As always, thanks to Sarah, my wonderful beta and wonderful friend! I can hear you laughing now at the title to this chapter - you know better than anyone that I never have a few words to say about anything!

And thanks so much too to those of you who are reading and special thanks to those who keep me going with their generous support and reviews. You are the greatest!

CHAPTER 36

A Few Words

By rights he should be dead, Aragorn thought, as he gazed around the room at his beaten and bruised comrades. By rights they should probably all be dead. Instead, they rested, scattered about the room; most asleep or unconscious, a few alert and on guard. Faramir sat flat on the floor against the far wall, his wife's head resting on his lap. He gently stroked her hair as she slept a deep, drugged sleep, his eyes leaving her face only to glance occasionally to Linea who lay stretched out on the bed, also fast asleep.

Arwen and Éomer had taken seats nearby on the floor, as well. Arwen slept too but not as soundly as Éowyn and occasionally an eye opened and she gave an exasperated sigh as she checked on Aragorn where he stood watch in the centre of the room. He knew that she would detect the uncharacteristic slouch that relieved the weight from his aching leg and would also surmise, he was certain, just how exhausted he truly was. But thankfully, she left him alone, no doubt sensing too that he was in no mood to rest. Éomer beside her, sat up, straight and alert, his legs drawn up against his chest. Fully aware of Aragorn's careful observation, a smile broke across his face erasing the lines of fatigue that had been evident moments before. They had reason to smile for the first time in a long time.

Aragorn looked next to Gimli, seated beside the bed on a chair, his head resting against the wall, eyes closed. One would think he slept. But the other body on the bed stirred slightly and Gimli was at once on his feet. Legolas had awoken at last. The Elf immediately began to push himself up with his elbows, while Gimli just as quickly began to force him back down. Aragorn hurried to the rescue.

"Wait, Gimli. Let us see how he fares, my friend."

"He's sick and injured, that's how fares," Gimli muttered, but released his hold slightly.

"No, – I –," Legolas said, still struggling to rise. "– where is Linea?"

Aragorn smiled, motioning with his head to the other side of the bed. Legolas turned and the tension seemed to lift from his body when he saw the little girl curled up in a ball at his side, her golden hair surrounding her head like a halo, her thumb thrust solidly in her tiny, bow-shaped, mouth.

"She is fine, considering. Exhausted, as I think everyone is. And you?"

Legolas paused, as if to take stock, before answering, "I think I'm fine too," he answered, sounding surprised, but then countered, grinning, "Considering."

"You look fine indeed for someone who has been poisoned by a snake, pierced with an arrow, stabbed and struck in the head. Not bad at all, I must say." Legolas began again to try to push himself up and Aragorn moved swiftly to help, thus thwarting any attempt by Gimli to interfere. If Legolas felt like sitting up, then sit up he would, for it told Aragorn that the Elf was alive if not well as yet, but certainly improving.

Only a few short hours before, however, that had not been the case. Aragorn would have sworn that his friend was far from alive and, in fact, he would have said for certain that Legolas was dead. There had been no pulse in his neck, no breath on his lips, no glow to his skin or light to his eyes. He had left them. Aragorn had sat back on his heels, beside his friend's still body and had lowered his head in defeat. "He is gone," he had said, and then began to whisper a lament in Sindarin, a song for the loss of his dearest friend.

Linea had begun to howl again, this time not a sound of terror or pain or distress, but more like the keening heard for weeks after the battles at Helm's Deep and on the fields of Pelennor - mothers crying for sons, wives for husbands, men for their lost friends, their own lost souls. Sounds heard at burial after burial that went on late into the night and into many nights to follow. She had fought Faramir as he tried to hold her to him and when he reluctantly placed her on the ground, she had toddled ungracefully to her adar's side where she had collapsed, throwing her arms around his neck, sobbing uncontrollably.

And then Legolas had shuddered. His eyes had blinked, once, twice and then opened. And he had lifted a shaking hand to smooth the tears from his daughter's eyes. He was dead and now he was alive and the only reason Aragorn could point to was right now curled up on the bed beside his friend, a thumb stuck between her teeth and a soft snore issuing rhythmically from her precious lips.

"Ingold?" Legolas asked as Aragorn settled him against the pillows.

"He is imprisoned."

"And the others?"

"Faramir has discovered a way to identify those who are against us. We have spent the last few hours rounding up as many of them as we could find and placing them in jail with their leader. We will have to see what to do with them after I've had some time to think on it."

"It was Éomer who figured it out," Faramir amended. All eyes turned to the young king resting comfortably on the floor.

"How?" Legolas queried. "How were you able to tell them apart?"

"Braids. They wear their hair in braids. Like Elves." Éomer answered. "Once we marked the ones in the garden that we knew were traitors, it became obvious what the connection was between them."

"Obvious to the sharp-eyed one in the group," Gimli corrected.

"Elves?" Legolas asked, still confused.

"Yes," Gimli chuckled. "Seems a mite ironic, now, doesn't it? Here these men hate Elves yet they chose Elven warrior braids to identify themselves to each other."

Aragorn sat on the edge of the bed. "Alas, it isn't something that I would choose to use as proof against those we have identified; it would hardly qualify as evidence. Hopefully, they will begin to turn against each other. And their leader. We are planting stories among them that he is the one who turned them in."

"Like Faramir did with the Orcs and Southrons," Legolas noted.

At the mention of his name Faramir tore his gaze from his wife. "What?" he asked.

"I overheard some of the men talking and they were describing how you used to pit the Southrons against the Orcs by making each think the other had betrayed them," Legolas explained.

"Yes, there wasn't much trust between any of them and it was never a difficult thing to do."

Gimli had taken his overruling on the advisability of Legolas' being allowed up, in stride and had settled back on the chair beside the bed. "So," he said, "if you're feeling so good, perhaps you might answer me a few questions."

"But of course, Gimli. For you, anything," Legolas replied in a tone that Aragorn would have described as surprisingly normal.

"Hmph," Gimli snorted. "So tell me then, how did Lady Éowyn end up asleep and you awake? That was certainly not Ingold's plan."

"I think that the Lady was somehow convinced to drink that potion I made," Aragorn posed." Is that not true Legolas?"

The Elf smiled sheepishly. "Well, yes, though begged might be more the word than convinced. She performed a feat that I would not have wished upon anyone, least of all her." Aragorn cocked his head, wondering what, exactly, that might mean but Gimli had already moved on.

"What in Arda made you so certain that you would be better equipped to fight Ingold than Éowyn? You know she is quite capable with a sword. And you were hardly in the best of shape."

"True. It wasn't a great plan, I must admit. But I hadn't the luxury of time in devising it, and, do not forget my friend that I am an Elf."

Gimli snorted again. "Which means that you are a pompous creature who thinks he is better than anyone else, eh?"

"Only a dwarf would question the truth of that statement," Legolas responded. "But no, that is not why I made my decision. There were two reasons. I knew that Ingold wanted to spirit both Éowyn and Linea away – to hold them captive and use them against Faramir. If Éowyn were unconscious, it would be a difficult thing for him to accomplish."

Gimli shook his head slowly and pursed his lips. "That seems a reasonable enough idea." The dwarf straightened up slightly, tossing his head back so that he was looking down his nose at Legolas before saying, "I would have blamed that blow to your head for your sudden ability to be reasonable, Elf, but I was told it came after, so I will tote it up to the hours and days you have spent around me. Continue. You said two reasons?"

Legolas rolled his eyes before looking down his own patrician nose and stated, "I am an Elf, my friend, which means among other wonderful things –" Gimli snorted, again, loudly this time. Legolas pointedly ignored him. "– that I have excellent hearing. I could hear Faramir coming down the hall; could tell who it was by his step. I hoped for a distraction that would give one of us the chance to wrest Linea from Ingold's grasp. For me to lose consciousness would hardly serve as a diversion when that was exactly what Ingold expected me to do. But for Éowyn to faint dead away might possibly provide just what we needed. It was unfortunate that Ingold was already quite suspicious of us; and when Éowyn passed out, he knew exactly what I had in mind to do."

"It was a good plan," Faramir stated. "If only I had caught on more quickly I might have aided you. As it was, all I could do was stand and watch. I had an idea, myself. I had thought to try and convince him that I did not care for Linea and that his plan would be in vain. But I have never been good at pretending. It used to drive Boromir to distraction when we were trying to get out of some scrape he'd gotten us both into and I could not lie at all successfully to our father."

"You are an honest man," Legolas said, all at once serious. "It took me awhile to accept what I should have known to be true from the beginning."

A smile stole across Faramir's face and he opened his mouth to respond, only to be interrupted by Gimli. "Yes, well, that is all well and good but you still placed yourselves in great peril. All of you. What would your plan have been if Linea had not helped you out as she did, Master Elf, and given you a chance to retrieve her?"

"Again Gimli. I am an Elf. I had no doubt that she would."

"How could you be so confident, so sure, and with your daughter's life hanging in the balance, that she would perform such a crazy, unexpected, act as to hit that beast in the face with the back of her head?"

"Because I told her to, Gimli, in Sindarin, so Ingold would not understand what I said."

"Impossible!" Gimli blustered. "Legolas, she is but a year old. I find it difficult to believe that she understood what you told her to do, in a language that she has been listening to intermittently for only a handful of weeks, let alone that she actually did as you asked."

"What can I say Gimli," Legolas answered, hands in the air. "Not only am I a pompous Elf, but so is Linea."

Gimli sighed heavily. "Aye laddie, you just might have something there." The little girl, sleeping at Legolas' side chose that moment to remove her thumb from her mouth, roll to her back and belch, loudly. She made tiny kissing motions with her lips and in an instant, she was asleep again, her soft snores noticeable in the quiet of the room. Gimli chuckled and someone else, for a change, snorted. "Elf, indeed," he agreed.

&&&

Faramir stood at the end of Legolas' bed, considering the possibility that rather than taking the time to search for Aragorn, he might take it upon himself to help the Elf to the seat that had been arranged for him out on the balcony. Ever since Legolas had been deemed healthy enough to be moved back to his rooms at the King's House, he had spent a few short hours each day, drinking in the sun and slowly, but surely, improving. It was shortly after that event that his father had taken his leave, vowing to return in a month's time with one of Legolas' brothers. No mention had been made of armies or contingents and an uneasy peace now ruled Gondor.

But Faramir stood motionless, not wanting to be the one to inflict that indignity, for that was what it would be in Legolas' eyes, he felt sure. The Elf suffered Aragorn or Gimli to help him but it was obvious that it pained him for others to have to do such things. Faramir rather doubted that his help would be accepted or appreciated. "I will see if I can find the King," he said.

"No, wait; if you would please," Legolas entreated, drawing himself up on his pillows. Even that small movement caused his breath to come in short gasps but he managed to keep his stomach in place – no small feat – and marshalled his breathing. Faramir remained at the foot of the bed, knowing that shame would accompany his witness to the Elf's weakness. But Legolas seemed focused elsewhere and soon beckoned him forward with a wave of his hand.

"Would you mind, sitting," he said with forced calm; his face taut with strain. "I would like to talk with you, if you could spare a moment of your time."

"Of course," Faramir replied as he took the chair drawn up beside the bed, "I am at your service for as many moments of my time as you would like." But once he had taken his seat, the Elf turned away. The lines on his brow and around his eyes intensified and he unconsciously chewed his lower lip. Whatever he intended to say was bothering him greatly. At last, he shifted slightly on the bed and faced Faramir once more, his eyes burning.

"We have spoken before of my – my failure to act with anything remotely resembling honour where Éowyn is concerned. I have given you my deepest apologies –"

"Yes, you have given them countless times," Faramir broke in, not liking the direction this conversation was heading, dismayed to hear once again these words. Each of the many times Legolas had expressed his regret and asked forgiveness, Faramir had felt a crushing sorrow emanating from the Elf. He was at a loss to know how to ease that suffering, but knew that somehow he had to, or Legolas might never heal and, of equal importance, Faramir thought, they might never be at ease in each other's presence. He needed them to be at ease together, for this constant undercurrent of remorse and regret would hardly be conducive to raising a child. "And each time I have accepted your apology," he stated firmly, "and do not ask for anything more from you."

"I do not think it to be enough," Legolas responded, his eyes drifting away again. "I could never apologize enough," His voice dropped and Faramir found himself leaning forward on his seat to catch the soft words that followed. "I don't see how…how you could ever feel that I have, either. This is not good for Linea. Not good for you or for Éowyn. You must make a life together. You have to make a home for my - for your daughter."

Now Faramir was truly uneasy.

"Legolas, there is nothing between us that cannot be overcome," he insisted. "I harbour no resentment of you. I cannot say that I do not fault you for what you did, but neither do I hold it against you. I have accepted it, because of my love for Linea, because I love my wife and will do what is necessary to build a future with both of them in it. But beyond even this, I hold you in the highest regard and would not want this to come between us." Faramir chanced a touch to the Elf's arm and at last Legolas turned to face him once more. Faramir shuddered inwardly at the pain reflected so vividly in the Elf's dark eyes. "I can forgive," he said, squeezing the arm gently before drawing his hand away, "but can you?"

Legolas sighed deeply. "I do not know," he said, quietly. "I have done nothing but ask myself that question since I have been well enough to think about something other than being ill. I fear that I cannot." His hands clutched at the blanket that still covered him, fingers twisting in the fabric. "And I fear greatly that my presence anywhere near any of you will cause you grief. You may forgive, Faramir, but what of your countrymen? What of your people? And there is also Linea to think of. If I am here, she will constantly be forced to face the talk, the gossip. She will have to try to understand what – what we are. That cannot be good for her!"

Faramir settled back against the chair. This at least was something they could discuss, and strategize about rather than digging at raw, ragged wounds that needed to be allowed to heal. This was a problem that merely required a solution. "I have thought of these things myself," he said, feeling the tension he hadn't realized had been building, easing from his stiffened shoulders. "Éowyn and I have both talked at great length on these issues and - "

"Good," Legolas broke in. "Then you will understand what I am about to say. I cannot leave now, obviously; I can scarcely walk. But when my father returns, I hope to be in a condition that I will be able to go with him. And with him I will stay. He will at long last have his wish – his wandering son will return home. It – it is the best solution to this problem, I think – "

"No!" Faramir snapped, sitting up once again, rod straight, in his chair. Legolas fell back against the pillows, startled. Faramir pressed forward, his face hovering above the Elf's, unable to hide his anger. "I have not known you for long Legolas, but I have certainly known of you and cowardice is not a word I would ever have thought to associate with you. For you to go would be easy only for you. I do not think that you are the sort that would think only of yourself!" Legolas flinched.

"I think only of Linea," he protested. "And of you and Éowyn when I say this. You will be able to attempt to return to some semblance of your old life if I leave. I do not consider that to be cowardice. I do not think that it will be easy for me, I hardly think that to be the case, for – for – Linea – I would not want to leave…" Legolas' eyes dropped to his hands, still twisting in the cover and he began to blink rapidly, as he fought for control.

Faramir schooled his expression and took a deep calming breath, trying to master the anger that had driven his response, recognizing that fear had been the reason behind it. If Legolas were to leave, it would be nothing short of a disaster, all around. "I hear and understand what you are saying," he said, carefully. "But to leave is not the answer. Your constant presence here will be difficult for all of us, I agree, for it would be foolish not to recognize that fact. But again I say, what is between us is not insurmountable.

"I certainly care not for the whisperings of gossips and neither does Éowyn , you can be certain of that. And it is not as if the gossip will cease once you are gone – everyone will certainly know that I am not Linea's real father and will likely surmise who her real father is. That is not a reason for you to go. And your daughter would be more affected by your absence than by the problems your presence creates. She loves you and needs you." He paused to read the other's mood. Legolas had paled visibly as Faramir spoke but was listening intently, as well. "You have an obligation to her that you cannot walk out on," Faramir continued. "She is your flesh and blood, your responsibility. It is no longer a question of wants or desires. It is simply a matter of duty." The Elf would understand duty, surely. That would be one thing he would understand, given his upbringing. And though he might chafe against his father's attempts to bind him to it, he would be willingly bound to the restraints placed upon him by his own fatherhood. Surely, he must!

"Stay, Legolas. Please. I want you to stay."

The room filled with silence. Legolas pulled away from the window to gaze unerringly at Faramir. His eyes were still dark, and pain yet skitted around the edges, but there was a calmness there that hadn't been before, or ever, that Faramir could remember. "Yes," Legolas breathed. "Yes. I will stay."

Faramir breathed too, a heavy sigh of relief. "Good," he said, repressing the sudden desire to shout the word. But there was yet one more thing he required from Legolas before he considered this matter closed. And he was certain of a way to get it, even if it caused the Elf before him a measure of pain. "I want a promise from you," he said, keeping his face blank. "And I know how good you are at keeping your promises."

It was cruel but effective. The Elf flinched, but then bowed his head. "I will promise whatever you ask. I owe you that, at the very least."

"No more apologies, Legolas. If you feel sorrow or regret for what has happened, go at once, find your daughter and pick her up. Hold her close to you. There is your sorrow and regret, my friend." Surprise mingled with shock darted across Legolas' fair face. The Elf's lips parted slightly and a breath of air issued from them in quiet exclamation.

Faramir once more fell back against the chair. He allowed a slight smile to tug at his lips and was pleased to see something similar on the Elf's face. "You know," he said suddenly, a thought coming to him, seemingly from nowhere, but so timely as to give him pause, "Alia said something to me when she was trying to make me hate and fear Aragorn that actually makes good sense. She said that Aragorn had decided to bring Elves to Ithilien to try and bring it back to its former beauty. I look around here at what you have done to the grounds of the Citadel in such a short time and I say to you, it is amazing and wonderful. And so I ask you, what if you were to come to Ithilien and do the same thing there, once you are back on your feet again? You could be close to your daughter, then, and you would be performing an invaluable service. I cannot think of a more perfect solution to all of our wants and needs."

Legolas' eyes flicked away. He was silent for a long time but it wasn't an uncomfortable silence. The Elf would have to say yes, Faramir thought. It was indeed a perfect solution.

At last he turned back and smiled, almost shyly. "I would be most honoured and pleased to do as you request", the Elf answered, his eyes shining. "I - I may need help however. It could be a very long time before I am myself." His eyes slipped away once more and the smile faded from his lips. "I'm not sure if I will ever be that again…"

Faramir leaned forward and squeezed Legolas' shoulder. "Then bring some of your countrymen, if they will come; Elves who want something different in their lives but are not ready to leave Middle Earth. Elves who want to make a difference. You can be in charge of the planning and let them perform the work to your exacting standards."

Legolas' face brightened again and he nodded. "Yes, I could do that," he said softly. He smiled slightly, as if recalling a pleasant memory. "Do you know, there was a time, not long ago, when I wished to do just that?"

"To do what?"

"To bring my countrymen to Ithilien. At the field of Cormallen I said this very thing. But I never acted upon my idea, choosing instead to journey with Gimli and see the sights of Middle Earth. To forget…"

Faramir smiled too and squeezed the slender shoulder, yet again. "Remember once more, my friend, for your days of journeying are in your past and future. Your present will be needed to make plans for yourself and your kin to join us in Ithilien. We will begin planning now, knowing that you will be well enough soon enough and then everything will be in place for when we are ready."

"I will talk with my father on his return," Legolas said. "It would not be wise to make such an offer to his people without his approval. I can imagine what fireworks that would cause! But I think that he will give it, if only to make his poor, ill, son, happy."

Faramir feigned shock. "You would take advantage of your father's worry?"

"Oh yes, absolutely," Legolas answered, grinning. "For I have paid dearly the price that worry has wrought, for centuries now. It is only fitting that it work, for once, to my advantage. Wouldn't you agree?"

Faramir laughed. "As a father's son, I can certainly empathize."

They sat in companionable silence, for awhile, until Legolas asked, suddenly and surprisingly, "Would you mind helping me outside? I think I'm ready for some fresh air but I do not think I could get there on my own."

Faramir tried to keep the shock from his face – not only was Legolas willing to admit to weakness but he was also willing to ask for help. Much had changed in the course of this one, not so simple, conversation; and it gave Faramir great hope for the future. For their future. "Of course." He stood at once and carefully helped Legolas up. Holding tightly to the Elf's waist, he manoeuvred Legolas to the balcony and eased him onto the chaise that had been situated with blankets and pillows for this now daily routine.

Once placed, Legolas again motioned Faramir into a chair. "Please, if you have the time, would you tell me something of Ithilien?"

"Time? My time is yours. And I can think of no better way to spend it than telling you about Ithilien. It was once a beautiful place so I've heard tell and I can see the potential." They chatted for hours, long past when Legolas should have been resting. But the prince seemed to have found new strength and with it, Faramir found hope for them all.

&&&

Gimli watched Faramir and Legolas in conversation, the two fair heads bowed together, their hair reflecting like burnished gold in the sunlight. They shared so much, those two, he thought watching silently from the shadows of the bedchamber, beyond a similarity in hair colour. They shared a love for planting and growing things, Faramir with a bent to the scientific, Legolas with more of an eye for the art than the science. They shared the friendship of Aragorn and Arwen and the love of Éowyn. He was not much of a judge when it came to feelings, but Gimli felt almost certain that Éowyn cared for the Elf, whether or not she ever admitted it to anyone. Not the love she felt for her husband, not that at all, but certainly something deeper than friendship. And most importantly, they shared Linea; there was nothing more important now to Legolas than his daughter.

He listened as the two talked of Legolas going to Ithilien. Not immediately, of course, for Legolas was still very sick; but eventually he would join his daughter and would spend his days planting green things and raising his child until such time as he would decide to sail away. There seemed to Gimli few places where he would serve a purpose in Legolas' future. His usefulness had passed and Legolas no longer required the services of a stubborn, mildly amusing, stump-legged companion.

"There now, who is being childish?" he chided himself. But he could not shake this feeling as he watched the two friends talking, laughing, planning a future together.

"Gimli? Is that you?" He heard Legolas' voice from the balcony. "Why are you hiding in there? Come and join us!" Gimli started guiltily; blast the Elf's sensitive ears! He had indeed been hiding - hiding and eavesdropping. He covered his discomfort by stomping loudly through the doors onto the veranda, putting his hands on his hips and pinning Faramir with the most disapproving look he could muster.

"You should have had him back to bed an hour ago, Master Steward," he scolded. "He needs his rest."

Faramir's face paled at the harsh rebuke, while Legolas merely raised one quizzical eyebrow. "Of course, you are right, Gimli," Faramir answered, hurriedly. "Legolas, please, let me help you back to your bed."

"Do not worry," Legolas rushed to assure him, shooting Gimli a puzzled look. "I am well. I am only just now tiring and in fact have had one of the best afternoons I can remember having in a very long time. I thank you for your company." Faramir eased Legolas up from the chair and helped him back to his bed. Gimli again felt a strange feeling in the pit of his stomach as he watched the man help his friend in a way that he would never be able to, not with such ease and comfort that is. Jealousy, that's what this feeling is, he realized. The very thing that he had accused Legolas of feeling for this very same man – had accused and made fun of, in fact.

"Is there anything I can get for you," Faramir was asking.

"I'll take it from here," Gimli blustered as he headed into the room and made straight for the door, opening it with one hand while waving Fararmir through it with the other. He caught the bemused smile on Legolas' face from the corner of his eye as he closed the door firmly behind the man. He felt his cheeks grow hot with embarrassment. Legolas knew exactly what he was feeling and would no doubt lord it over him that he was jealous – would no doubt remind him of his rebuke of the Elf for feeling just this way not so long ago.

He returned slowly, thoughtfully, to the bedside giving his cheeks a chance to cool, dragging his heels. If he truly was no longer needed here, he thought, perhaps it was time for him to go. It had been many months since he had seen his own family and friends. Maybe it was time for them to part ways. Good friends they were, but they were not family, not like Legolas' father and brothers or Linea or even Aragorn for that matter, afterall, he had known the Elf far longer than Gimli had and Arwen was an Elf, kinfolk. Gimli was just a dwarf, something an Elf might show interest in for a while out of curiosity but not for long, surely, once the novelty had passed… His attention was at last drawn to the figure stretched out on the bed. The bemused smile that had graced Legolas' face moments before was now replaced with a grimace.

"I do believe you are right, Gimli," the Elf gasped clutching wads of covers at each side of him, tightly, with both hands. "I think I've managed to overdo, just a little." All thoughts of jealousy and his own unimportance fled as Gimli hurried to the side of the bed and leaned over.

"Are you going to be ill?" Legolas closed his eyes, tightly, and shook his head.

"No, I don't think so. I am just tired. Perhaps you could fetch me a drink of water?" Gimli poured a glass from the pitcher beside the bed and held it up to Legolas' lips using his free hand to guide the Elf's head to the glass. Legolas did not even open his eyes while he drank, sinking at once into the pillows when he had finished. Gimli placed the glass back on the table. Legolas' cool fingers grasped him about the wrist.

"Thank you," he said. When Gimli raised his head from that slim hand, he found Legolas' clear eyes gazing at him fondly. "You have been stuck being my nursemaid for far too long, my friend. I will eventually be up and about again; and then we can go traipsing around once more. But until that time, perhaps you would like to go home; see your family?"

Gimli felt his heart drop into his stomach. It was as if the Elf had been reading his thoughts. And Legolas was attempting to make it easy on him, to ease him off without having to ask him explicitly, to go.

"Well, yes, I'm sure there are others that wonder where I've been off to..." he stammered dropping his eyes to stare at the tops of his boots.

"But only for awhile, Gimli, until I'm better?" Gimli blinked but dare not look up, not yet trusting that he would face his friend with clear eyes. "There is still much to see in this world and I would not wish to see it without you. Gimli?" Legolas' voice sounded timid, doubtful and at last Gimli was compelled to raise his eyes and face his friend.

"Do you mean that?" he asked frankly.

"Mean what? That I would want you to go with me? Of course. Where I go, you go. If you would still want to go, that is. Would you?"

"Well – of course. You are difficult company most of the time, fussy and capricious and unfathomable. But I've gotten sort of used to you." A smile broke across Legolas' face, like sun breaking through clouds on a rainy day, banishing his doubtful expression. Gimli could not help but to return that smile, even though he still held doubts of his own. He knew the truth. He had overheard Legolas' conversation with Faramir.

"But you are going to Ithilien with Faramir, Éowyn and Linea. You are a father now Legolas. You don't have time to be wandering about with me."

"True. I am. But perhaps I'm not a very good one, Gimli. Perhaps there is a reason why Linea has two fathers. One that will be there for her always; steadfast, teaching her how to apply herself and be dedicated. And another who will teach her the beauty of wanderlust and adventuring. That, I fear, is what I will be able to teach her best. And we will need to take her to Mirkwood eventually, you and I. You will at last have a chance to see it properly."

"Oh, you mean I did not see it properly the last time we were there? I was sure I had…" The dwarf chuckled and was pleased to see that Legolas joined him with a soft laugh of his own. He drew himself up, squaring his shoulders. He knew well that Legolas had understood his reaction to Faramir a moment ago. Perhaps all of this talk was his way of making Gimli feel better and had nothing to do with a desire on his part to travel or continue to partake of his company.

"I don't know – I will think about it," he said, forcing himself to meet the Elf's eye. "I will still make a trip home and then, we will see." Legolas nodded his head but almost at once looked away to gaze out of the door to the veranda.

An awkward moment passed in silence followed by another. Gimli felt he should leave, let Legolas rest, but he could not. To go would be to seal the words he had just spoken and the next word he would say would be, farewell. He would happily take back what he had said, to tell the Elf that he had no real desire to go. It meant that he would have to admit to this pointy-eared creature that did not relish the passage of time without him. How humbling to make such an admission! It was bad enough that Legolas knew he was jealous; how painful he could make it if he knew the depth and breadth of the dwarf's caring.

"I do not want to pressure you," Legolas said, startling Gimli from his musings. "But…I do not know what I would do without you." Gimli could only stare at his friend, dumbfounded. Such an admission of need from an Elf – from this Elf – was so unusual as to be impossible to believe. Legolas must be trying to make me feel better about leaving, he thought again.

"You have plenty of friends, Legolas. You hardly need me anymore I would think. In fact –"

"Nay, Gimli," the Elf said firmly, forcing his eyes to meet Gimli's gaze once more. "There is no one whose company I enjoy more. No one that makes me think about things in a different way, challenges me to be something more than I am." Legolas bit his lip nervously and let his gaze slip away. His cheeks reddened in a way that Gimli had seen on only a very few occasions.

"And I need you," he continued, his voice dropping. "You understand where they do not, cannot. I can hide what I feel from them, but not from you, you won't allow it. You will tell me when I am being spoiled or selfish without hesitation. You will not allow me to give in to this sickness, not even for a moment. I trust you Gimli as I trust no other to guard my thoughts, to keep me from despair.

"There is nothing I can do to repay you for this, I regret. Nothing I have that you might want. I do not deserve to ask this of you but I fear I must ask, beg even Gimli. For without your help, I cannot stay..." He closed his eyes tightly and dropped his head back against the pillows. "…and I so want to stay," he whispered.

Gimli stood beside the bed in silence; shocked silence. He opened his mouth to speak, closed it again and swallowed hard. All at once he understood what had taken him the better part of three years to understand. The crazy Elf actually liked him, cared for him, needed him just as much as he needed the crazy Elf and was every bit as loathe to admit it as he was; culture and history still dictated their actions even as far as they had come, flying in the face of both. He placed his hand on Legolas' shoulder and squeezed lightly. "Nothing you have that I might want, eh Elf?" he said, a warm smile playing on his lips. He stepped back and settled himself on the chair pulled up beside the bed. It was amazing how a few words could change the day. "Yes, I could keep your company for a bit longer I think…if that would be your wish too."

Legolas managed to open his eyes, just barely and whispered, "That would be my wish too, Gimli. For as long as you can stand me."

"That would be a long time indeed," Gimli answered, as he gave a contented grunt, settled himself more deeply in the chair and promptly nodded off, a great smile spread across his face like a streak of sunlight across a crimson sky.