Disclaimer: See the Author's Notes! This is an AU! A/L shounen ai! Takes place right after the last chapter! Focuses primarily on Legolas.

Reasons To Fight, Reasons To Wed

Part 13. To Trust

The leader of the Dwarves glowered at the limp Elf on the ground. How had this Elf managed to get himself this far into Moria when the guards were supposed to be watching for this sort of thing?

It wasn't that Gimli, leader of the Dwarves in the Mines of Moria, hated Elves; he was just wary of their usual arrogance and thieving ways. Much treasure had been stolen from Moria by Elves, though the Dwarf had no way of knowing if this particular Elf was a thief.

He looked sick, even to Gimli's untrained eyes. The Dwarf leader sighed and tried to think of what to do. He couldn't just let the Elf die, yet he could also not let the Elf go. At least, not until he found out how the Elf had gotten in here, and if any more of them were around.

The Elf cried out softly in his unconsciousness, a soft, pleading sound, which tore at Gimli's heart, taking the Dwarf by surprise.

One of the younger, brasher Dwarves brought his axe over the Elf and lowered it to strike, when it was suddenly blocked by Gimli's axe. He glared at the younger Dwarf.

"I gave no orders for him to be killed," Gimli said, anger in his voice.

The younger Dwarf made a face. "It's only an Elf. What does it matter?"

"I am in charge here," Gimli warned. "Besides, the Elf is ill; killing a defenseless opponent would be cowardly. And he may have friends around here that are just waiting to attack. An Elf is rarely alone, after all."

Legolas' eyelashes flickered, as he slowly opened his eyes, feeling hot and cold at the same time. The sound of the two axes clanging had been loud enough to rouse him from his drugged blackout. He could barely hear or see; let alone move. His vision swirled around him, in a blur of colors, while sweat ran down his face. He was glad that he knew Western, as he listened to the argument above him, for he understood what they were saying.

The other Dwarf scowled but turned away finally.

Gimli looked down at the Elf and saw weary, fatigued azure eyes blearily looking around, though he did not move. The leader of the Dwarves noted the flush on the pale cheeks; how the Elf trembled, as though he were freezing; and the beads of sweat on his brow. The Dwarf knelt on the ground and reached towards the Elf's face.

Legolas was terrified the instant that he realized a Dwarf was next to him, for he had been told horrible things about Dwarves by his father his entire life. But the Elven Prince refused to show his fear, even though he felt so tired… So tired that he needed to sleep again… and he was so hot, as if he were burning up from the inside. Legolas gasped, and the sound echoed in the cavern, when a small, grubby hand touched his face, testing how warm he felt.

The hand was surprisingly gentle as it felt his forehead, along with his cheeks. Legolas wished that Aragorn was here with him, as he weakly gazed at the figure who was next to him. The Elf just prayed that Aragorn was all right, that the ones who had attacked him had not attacked his husband. And he also hoped that Mithrandir was all right.

Gimli was concerned, in spite of his mistrust of Elves, when he felt the burning heat of the fever. That explained why the Elf was not moving; he was too ill and weak. He sighed and looked over at those he led. "Three of you go back to the others and tell them to rouse the Healer and prepare a bed long enough for the Elf. The rest of you, help me get him there." He did not bother saying which three, knowing that his orders would be carried out.

Three of the Dwarves ran ahead, to relay Gimli's orders.

Legolas was losing his grip on consciousness again, violent shivers running through him. He struggled to remain focused, when several of the Dwarves worked together to lift him, though he was so light that Gimli himself could have lifted him.

"A-Aragorn," Legolas whispered in Western, before reverting to Elvish. 'Aragorn…'

Gimli wondered what or who an 'Aragorn' was. He didn't understand the Elvish word that had been spoken, however. The Elf weighed less than the Dwarf leader had thought, for he was seemingly weightless.

It took less time than Gimli would have thought, as they reached the main group of Dwarves. There were not very many in Moria right now, for there had been several capturings and killings by the Ringwraiths, Orcs, Goblins, and Uruk-Hai as of late. Most Dwarves had fled before the foul creatures, in terror and fright.

It was very lucky for Legolas that the Dwarves were still there, for they had been packing up the last of their treasures, planning to relocate to the new mine. The minions of Sauron and Saruman were determined to take Moria, and since the number of Dwarves defending the Mines was dwindling to below twenty, to stay much longer would be suicidal.

Legolas moaned faintly, as he was laid on the bed. The Elf's eyes darted around nervously, watching as many Dwarves as he could, before the Dwarf Healer approached him.

Gimli told the other Dwarves to continue what they were doing; bringing up the last bits of treasure from the depths of Moria. They did so, leaving the main room empty, save for Legolas, Gimli, and the other Dwarf. The Dwarf leader sauntered over to his chair and sat, trying not to be caught watching the Healer tending to the Elf.

"What ails you, Elf?" he questioned, a hint of gentleness in his voice.

Legolas murmured, "Some…some kind of drug…used to knock me out…" He didn't mention the fact that he was pregnant in his feverish state.

The Dwarf rummaged through a bag and pulled out a few herbs for a fever. "Better remove your shirt and tunic, at least for now, Elf. It might cool you down a bit."

"All…all right," came the soft reply, as Legolas began struggling to remove them. The Healer wound up removing it for him, before covering the Elf with a thin blanket. The herbs were given to Legolas, who carefully looked at them, before eating. His eyes were closing against his will, though he fought hard.

When the Elf had finally drifted back into sleep, the Dwarf Healer pulled the blanket back up and gently inspected him again, suspicions in his eyes, before he replaced the blanket around the shivering Elf. More blankets were put on Legolas, who did not move or speak.

The Healer then went over to where Gimli sat. "I believe he will live, though he needs to stay in bed for at least five days, to make certain and bring that fever down. He will, no doubt, be hungry when he awakens. Better not give him ale to drink; it's too strong. Water or some kind of fruit juice would be best."

"I'm not running an inn," Gimli grumbled in protest. He'd done the decent thing and brought the Elf here, after all. What more could be expected of him?

"Did you not notice how dim his light is?" the other Dwarf questioned.

Gimli shrugged. "I saw it. That's why I had him brought here."

The Healer shook his head. "The Elf is going to have a child," he said firmly. "I know the signs; the dim light is one of them, fatigue is another. I did come across a pregnant Elf once and tended to her wounds, and she had the same dim light. Though I have rarely heard of a male Elf having a child."

"Huh?" Gimli said, stuck on the fact that a male Elf was pregnant. "What?"

"Well, it happened before I came here. I was-"

"No, no, no! About the Elf… he is going to what?" The Dwarf leader was in shock, for this was not something he was accustomed to dealing with. He'd thought his Healer would just give the Elf some herbs, let him rest for two or three days, and then get some answers out of him. Gimli's attention was drawn back over to the feverish Elf, as the same word was moaned again: "Aragorn…"

The Healer repeated, "He is going to have a child."

Gimli nodded slowly, uttering silent curses. Troublesome Elves, he thought. Honor dictated that Gimli could not just let the Elf leave, if he was truly alone. A lone, pregnant Elf was an easy target, especially after being this sick. The Dwarf leader stalked over to where the Elf lay, and was surprised to hear a faint whimper come from the Elf's lips. Gimli peered down at the sleeping figure, who stirred slightly.

Where do you come from, Elf? And how do I get you back there so I can return to my duties, Gimli grumbled, watching the admittedly pretty Elf sleep. Though concern shone in the Dwarf's eyes when that strange word was repeated again, as the Elf stirred slightly, crying out softly again, until a small hand touched his.

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The Shire, hours later

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Glorfindel and Mithrandir had galloped as fast as they could for the Shire, hoping to reach it as quickly as possible. They had taken several shortcuts that they would not have normally, if this had not been so desperate a reason.

The Hobbits were in the middle of plowing their fields, as the two figures rode by. Most stopped and stared at the golden-haired Elf, who looked straight ahead calmly, seeking out a few certain Hobbits that he could count on to spread the word to all the Hobbits.

Frodo Baggins, along with Merry Brandybuck, Samwise Gamgee, and Peregrin Took, ran up to the two figures on horseback, for they knew them well. Mithrandir was a trusted friend, and could be counted on for help for any kind of problems. Glorfindel was a messenger from Rivendell, who kept them in touch with outside world, along with Mithrandir.

The Hobbits' cheerful smiles of greeting faded when they saw the solemn looks on their taller friends' faces.

"What's wrong?" Frodo questioned. "Bilbo went out for a while; to visit some of his friends, if you're looking for him."

Sam, Pippin, and Merry all had looks of concern on their faces, making them appear much younger than they actually were.

Glorfindel shook his head, golden strands of his hair whipping onto his face at the motion. "We have troubling news, Pippin, Sam, Frodo, and Merry." Even his voice was grave, telling the little ones that the news they brought was indeed bad.

"An Elven Prince is missing," Mithrandir informed them, glancing at Glorfindel, before he looked at the Hobbits.

Sam asked, "How? Why?"

Glorfindel answered quietly, "An Elven teleportation spell…gone wrong."

Four figures gasped at that, turning pale. The Hobbits knew that teleportation could be dangerous, as Mithrandir had told them stories about it, to keep them from trying to use Elven magic when they were younger.

Mithrandir flinched, for he had been the one who had told Legolas to teleport in the first place.

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Rivendell

***********

Elladan and Elrohir kept a vigil over Aragorn, as their youngest brother slept fitfully, trying to wake up. The spell was too powerful to be broken so soon, however, so he remained asleep.

'Poor Aragorn,' Elladan murmured, as he gazed down at him.

Elrohir shook his head. 'All he wants is to be with Legolas.'

'I know,' Elladan replied. 'And Legolas wants the same.'

Both sighed at the same time.

'We'll just have to make certain that they do get back together,' Elrohir said firmly.

Elladan nodded. 'And then everything will be right again… Won't it?' The question went unanswered, as the two watched Aragorn moan Legolas' name feverishly.

To be continued