Thanx again to all my reviewers! Here's the third and almost-final chapter. Wow, that went fast!
katiestar- so happy you like it! Kisses for posting two reviews!
OK, since I kept you waiting all night (Oh, how horrid of me!), here's the next chapter
Mirkwood's Lost Prince
Chapter 3
"How do you feel?" Asked Gimli, re-entering the tent with a bowl of warm water and a cloth. Legolas was surprised at how caring the Dwarf could be when needs required it. He smiled weakly at his long-time friend.
"About as good as one in my condition can feel." He said with a breathless laugh. Gimli harumphed and came to sit on the small cot the Elf lay on.
"Crazy Elf." The insult had long ago become a joke between the two companions, often starting one of their rounds of friendly banter. Many were confused by the odd pair, for they often argued. But, as Aragorn had once told a confused Thranduil, "They may seem odd, but closer friends I have never seen. Beware though, for although they bicker, should you make enemies with one, you would find yourself fighting two."
Gimli wet the cloth, wringing out the excess water before dabbing it against the Elf's forehead. Legolas closed his eyes and sighed in content.
"Thank you, my friend." He whispered. Gimli nodded stockily, continuing his gentle minstrations. After a few minutes, he placed the cloth and bowl on the table nearby. Gimli looked back at the Elf laying on the cot. Legolas lay, eyes still closed, with one hand across his stomach, the other resting at his side. He was pale- paler than an Elf should be. His breathing was shallow, and a flicker of pain crossed his fair features with every inhalation. It broke Gimli's heart to see his friend like this. Legolas had always been independent; an etheral being who posessed skill in battle beyond any the Dwarf had seen. He had always been strong, and to see him injured like this- not even able to stand up- was unbearable. A few tears crept their way onto Gimli's hard, weather beaten face. He turned away and wiped his eyes with the back of his hand, only to turn around and see Legolas' cerulean eyes fixed on him. The blue orbs were half-lidded with weariness, something Elves rightfully never experienced. The blonde prince opened his mouth to say something, but was cut off as a wave of hot pain washed over him like fire. He clutched his middle, his whole body tense as flashes of light danced before his eyes. Everything seemed to spin out of control as the pain became almost unbearable. Iron bands seemed to wrap around him, making breathing almost impossible, contracting his chest until he almost screamed in pain. Legolas clenched his teeth as unconsciousness threatened to over come him. He bit his lip, but a small whimper managed to slip through. Then he could feel the cool cloth at his forehead once more, dabbing his face and neck, slowing the waves of pain to a lesser intensity, until the prince was able to breath a little easier, and the pain contracting his middle subsided. He could feel Gimli at his side, hear his words of reassurance as the room came back into focus. He gently shook his head from side to side, trying to clear the last shreds of dizziness that clung to him. He slowly opened his eyes to see Gimli kneeling by his side, clutching his hand. The Dwarf's eyes flooded with relief when Legolas escaped, once again, the consuming pain that had been threatening to take him since he was wounded. The Elf now lay, his long golden hair spread across the pillow and some strands clinging to the sides of his neck and face with cold sweat. His breathing was laboured, and he swallowed against the lump that had formed in his throat. Gimli still looked concerned, so Legolas managed a weak smile. The Dwarf was not convinced.
"Legolas, you-"
"I'll be fine," the Elf insisted. Gimli still looked skeptical, so Legolas changed the topic completely.
"What was your count?" Gimli looked completely dumbfounded for a second, regarding his companion as though the prince had lost his mind. Then realization dawned on him, and he laughed.
"My count? I thought nought of it. Well let's see, there was" He mumbled incoherantly for a minute, trying to recall how many orcs he had killed.
"And are we including the men?" Legolas nodded. "Then my count is fivety-six!" He said proudly. Legolas closed his eyes and smiled gently, his laugh nothing more than a light sigh.
"Fivety-six" he repeated. "Then I have beaten you, for my count was fivety-nine." Gimli laughed heartily, glad that his companion could keep light spirits even as he lay on the brink of death. Legolas' voice took on a serious tone when he next spoke.
"But alas, it seems that in the end, you will be the one who outnumbers my count, for you will have the chance to go back into battle. I fear I will not live to see the sun rise, let alone leave this tent." He sounded sad, but his voice held no request for pity. And Gimli knew he wanted none. When he met Gimli's eyes, Legolas looked distant and thoughtful. Death was something an immortal was unfamilier with. It was not that they had never witnessed it, for Elves were great warriors, and Legolas had killed many foes, and had watched many of his companions die. Living for centuries, an Elf had to watch the mortals around them fall, watch the world change, while they stayed ageless. This was why Elves loved to sing and laugh, loved to spend time in nature, for trees would live longer than any mortal friend. Gimli sighed. Elves truly were mysterious beings.
"I have had many mortal friends, and I have watched them all perish. Whether it be in battle or of old age or sickness, one by one they all passed. I feared it would be so with you too. That you would grow old and die, and I would be forced to live on. I never imagined that you would be the one to watch me pass." Legolas looked up at nothing when he said this, although Gimli knew the comment was directed to him. He stared at Legolas for a moment, before he could bear it no longer. With a sob he turned his face away, small tears falling from the corners of his eyes. Legolas seemed to snap back to reality, turned his head abruptly when he heard Gimli's sob. Reaching out a hand, he placed it over Gimli's. His own ageless, long fingered hand looked like silk in comparison to Gimli's small, stout fingered, rough hand, tanned by the sun and hardened by the rock. He clasped Gimli's hand in response to the Dwarf's sadness.
"Shhh, it will be alright." He assured him. When Gimli stopped crying, he turned back to Legolas, who smiled warmly. Gimli smiled back, although it was not more than an up-turned corner of his mouth. Then he sighed.
"This isn't right. You're the one who's supossed to live forever. I shouldn't be here, sitting with you on your deathbed! How am I supossed to go anywhere without you? I'll be shot down as soon as I enter Elf territory! But besides that, how shall I live once I loose my greatest friend?" Gimli declared.
"Stubborn Dwarf." Legolas chided lightly. Then he had an idea.
"Gimli, pass me my quiver." With a raised eyebrow, Gimli obeyed. Legolas carefully pushed himself into a half-sitting position, leaning against the cabinet at the head of the cot. Pulling a small dagger from its hidden spot on the back of his quiver, he carefully cut off the small leather circle on the side. He withdrew a single arrow, returned the dagger to its resting spot and handed the quiver back to Gimli, who placed it back on the table with Legolas' daggers. Legolas held out his hand, and in it was the arrow and the leather circle, which, at closer glance, looked to be a crest of sorts.
"I want you to take these."
"What are they?" Gimli asked.
"This is one of my arrows," Legolas said plainly, as though explaining it to a small child. Gimli's brow furrowed in frustration as he took the arrow from Legolas' palm. He held it up, inspecting it as he replied,
"Of course it is, crazy Elf. I meant, why are you giving it to me." Legolas smiled again.
"It is a gift. Rarely does an archer give their an arrow, lest it be a token of appreciation and friendship. Or if it is being shot into a foe." He added matter-of-factly.
"And this" Legolas held out the crest, "Is the royal crest of Mirkwood. It will grant you safe passage through any Elf land, for you have been nothing but a loyal companion to me, and I trust you mean no more harm to my people." Gimli regarded him with something that resembled awe. But the expression changed to doubt as he asked,
"But what if they think I killed you and stole it from you, or some nasty thing like that." Legolas' smile widened.
"Ah, that is the beauty of it. The only way to remove the royal crest from my quiver, once it is attached, is with the dagger I used. It is made of a special Elven metal, and the blades containing it are only given to holders of the crest. Should it be removed with a blade of any other type, it would simply crumble into nothing. The dagger is hidden on my quiver. I doubt that even though you saw me take it out, you could find it again, so well placed is it. Not even another Elf could spot it, unless they knew where it was kept. Only I know where my dagger is kept, so the only others who could remove it are others with the same blade. And why would any other member of the royal family want my crest? So you see, my friend, it would be quite impossible." Gimli shook his head in amazement before meeting Legolas' eyes.
"Thank you, my friend. It is a gift I will cherish." Legolas nodded.
"There is one final thing-" Legolas paused, too exhausted to sit up anymore. Once he had settled himself back into the cot, he continued,
"In hopes it will help bring peace between our races, and because I will hold you in my heart even unto the Undying Lands, I name you Elf-Friend, and as Prince of Mirkwood, the title will be honoured in all the lands of my people." He paused, looking to the doorway, where a figure had been standing silently for a few minutes. Legolas looked as though he had known the person was there the entire time- which he did.
"And if he does not protest, Aragorn shall serve as witness."
Yes, the random timelines all come together now! It all starts to make sense In the next chapter Legolas- oops. Won't let anything slip. You'll just have to review. Yes, I am a review crazy writer who craves feedback. So amuse me.