This fic has had a jump-start all of a sudden! And first of all I need to give a huge THANKYOU and a big hug to Legolas for the plot-bunny (I wuv it!), and Gimli for beta-reading!! As a reward, here's a plug: go read Legolas and Gimli's stories. That's it. They're the funniest things I've read since the VSD's. Their name is Legolas and Gimli (no duh).

Disclaimer: Nothing is mine. Nothing will ever be mine. I have no money since I have no job and any money I do get is saving up for the HoME series (do you have any idea how EXPENSIVE that is!?)

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Chapter Three: Hospitals, Memory Tests and Irritating Doctor's

Éomer put the phone down and swore. He leant heavily on the counter, breathing fast and trying to stop his shoulders trembling. After a few moments, he managed to pull himself up to stand on his own two legs, and his brain finally forced a thought to the front of his mind, telling him to go and tell the rest of the band what had happened. Slowly, he began to walk, but his limbs didn't seem to be connected to is brain. He watched his feet as he moved. One appeared, and then disappeared, then the other one did the same... one, two, one, two... before he knew it, he was outside the band's suite. He watched his hand raise, curl into a fist and knock on the door with a sharp rap.

"Yeah?" Merry called from within. Éomer took one more deep breath before entering. The band were all sprawled across the room. Merry was lounging in a chair watching satellite TV and eating a bag of crisps, Legolas was busy fiddling with Gimli's guitar, trying to tune it, and Aragorn was dozing in the other chair, a baseball cap pulled low over his eyes. At Éomer's entry, they all glanced up. Their tour managers grim expression told more than any words.

"What's wrong?" Aragorn asked, sitting up and pulling off his cap.

"Where's Gimli?" Legolas leapt up, still holding the guitar, elven perceptiveness coming to life.

"And Pippin." Merry added, with a pointed look at Legolas.

Éomer sighed and pulled his hand through his hair, "They've been in a crash."

The room went unnaturally quiet. Éomer broke it, unable to bear the deafening silence. "They're at the hospital. I've gotta go pick them up."

"They're hurt!?" Merry exclaimed, standing and spilling his crisps all over the carpet.

"Pippin may be concussed, and has a broken arm but they're worried about Gimli..." the tour manager trailed off and glanced over their faces

"*What ABOUT Gimli!?*" Legolas almost yelled, frustration building up, "He'll be okay, won't he?"

Éomer was taken aback. Legolas never yelled, never lost his temper, and was always well-groomed, cool, calm and collected. He tried to calm the Elf desperately.

"I'm sure he'll be okay! He's a Dwarf after all: they can take hurt and stuff easier than other mortals-"

"WHAT'S WRONG WITH HIM!?"

"He passed out on the way to the hospital and he has a couple of broken ribs. He's not woken up yet."

"I'm coming with you." Legolas grabbed his jacket and pulled it on, the look of determination not totally masking his worry.

"And me!" Merry cried, "I want to see Pip!"

"I may as well come too then." Aragorn cut in, "I'm sure they'll be okay though."

~~~~~~~

"What happened?"

"You were in a crash, Mister Took."

"I was?"

"That's right. Now, if you'll please fix your eyes on my finger, and follow it please..." the doctor, a tall grey-haired man, held up a finger and moved it backwards and forwards in front of Pippin's eyes. The hobbit, feeling stupid, followed it with his gaze. "Thankyou. Now, can you please tell me your name, age and address?"

"Why?"

"I am testing for memory loss."

"Oh. Er.... Pippin Took, The Smials, South Farthing, The Shire. I'm... twenty-nine."

"Thankyou, Mister Took. Now, please try, dont worry if you can't, but can you please tell me what you last remember?"

"Er... I was... I was at dance group with the rest of the band, and I stayed behind with Gimli... we went out to the car and then..." Pippin struggled, then shook his head, "That's all I remember till I got out the car here." another pause, "Valar! Gimli! Where is he? Is he alright!?"

"Please calm yourself, Mister Took. The Dwarf is being cared for. He is unconscious for the moment but he is in no danger. Now, you must stay here and rest, you are concussed and that cast on your arm needs to set." With that, the man left. Pippin settled back against the pillow miserably. For a few moments he tried to remember what had happened. He could vaguely remember Gimli passing out in the car, and screaming at the Police-Wraith to stop, and that was as far as he got. After ten minutes he gave up and instead reverted to trying to figure out whether he'd insured his car.

~~~~~~~

Gimli soon became aware of an almost suffocating pain in his chest, and a pounding in his head that sounded very much like Merry's (very poor) taste in music being played at full blast early in the morning. It was these two things that alerted him to the fact that he was returning to reality. He groaned inwardly. He had decided that he liked unconsciousness, and would maybe buy a holiday home there.

Soon he decided that if he were being forced back here, he may as well try to figure out where he was: he could hear some muffled sounds of people bustling to and fro, as well as voices. It was his sharp sense of smell that determined for him where he was; it was the antiseptic, strangely metallic smell of a hospital.

'Great' he thought to himself, 'I'm in hospital. Pretty soon there will be tons of reporters swarming round asking what happened. Come to that.... what did happen?' The scratch, the blue car, the crash, Pippin....

At that, Gimli sat bolt upright, ignoring the sharp stabbing pain in his chest, and opened his eyes, ignoring also the bright light assaulting his worn out retina, "Mahal! Pippin!" Almost immediately a doctor was there, trying to get him to relax and lie down. However, he had not bargained for the fact that dwarves, whilst half the height of men, were at least three times as strong, and this one wasn't going down without a fight.

Finally the man gave up, and faced the Dwarf's glittering brown glare. "Where's Pippin?" the Dwarf demanded, "And what happened?"

The doctor sighed and pulled a hand over his eyes. He didn't need this. He was working twelve hour shifts but it seemed a hell of a lot longer, and the last thing he wanted was a stubborn Dwarf. He wasn't even that fond of dwarves. He decided the best thing to do was try to be calm and patient. "You were in a crash"

"I know that. Have they caught the maniac who came round that corner?"

"I'm afraid I am not able to give such information."

"Well give this information, Einstein: where's Pippin?" Gimli was usually very polite and well-spoken, and had once been hailed as having a 'silver tongue' but right now he was in pain, with an irritating doctor, he had no idea where his friend was or how he was and, to top it off, there were little flashing lights swirling round and clouding his vision. He was allowed to be a little cranky.

"He is well. He is concussed and a broken arm, but it is nothing serious. Is that enough?"

Even if it wasn't enough, Gimli suspected he wouldn't be able to stay awake long enough to hear any more. The world had suddenly decided that it would be fun to tip precariously sideways. "Yes..." Gimli managed to mutter before collapsing back onto the pillows.

~~~~~~~

Éomer, Aragorn and Legolas barged through the hospital doors, with Merry running behind them, grumbling about 'long-legged big folk and their complete disregard for those of challenged height'. The four came to a dead halt at the counter, where the receptionist gave them an annoyed look but put down her pen.

"May I help you, sir?" she asked in an icy voice.

"Our friends are here. They were in a crash..." Éomer told her desperately.

"I'm afraid you're going to have to be a litte more specific, sir. Plenty of people here have been in crashes."

"They're a hobbit and a dwarf. Pippin and Gimli? From the Fellowship?"

"Ah. Yes, I know, sir. Doctor Madril!" she called over to a tall grey- haired doctor, who hurried over, "This is Doctor Madril. He's treating your friends."

"How's Pippin!?" Merry exclaimed, elbowing forwards and glaring up at the man.

"The hobbit? He is well. A little concussed and with a broken arm but well nonetheless. You may see him if you wish."

"And Gimli?" Legolas asked, worry evident in his tone.

"Ah... he woke up a while ago, but passed out again after a few minutes of conversation. We will have to keep him in a while longer, just to check that there is no lasting damage. I will have to prevent you from seeing him tonight, unless he wakes again."

This man had obviously never been confronted with a very worried, very anxious Elven member of a band, whose best friend was hurt and unconscious under his care. Obviously he didn't enjoy being confronted with one. And didn't want to be confronted with one again.

"No." Legolas almost radiated coldness. Éomer put a hand on his shoulder, but the Elf shrugged it off angrily. "I'm going to see him *tonight* whether you like it or not."

"I-I-I'm afraid that is not possible. He is in a... a very bad way."

"I think," Legolas's voice, if it were possible, became even icier, "That I know what's best for my best friend. He will wake up when I see him, I promise you. And..." there was a pause, and a smile grew on the Elf's lips, "If he's unconscious, visiting him can hardly hurt now, can it?"

Doctor Madril gaped for a moment, floundering for an answer. Then he sighed. "Very well. I will show you to the Hobbit's room first."

They followed Doctor Madril along a maze of corridors, up stairs and past other rooms. Strange alien machines lined the corridors and beeped at them; nurses and doctors bustled past with clipboards, medicine bags and the like, people were being pushed around in wheelchairs, there were people on crutches lurtching through the hospital.... Merry wondered how in Middle- earth Doctor Madril was able to find his way.

Eventually, he came to a halt in front of a room and opened the door. "Here you are." he said, "Now don't make too much noise, and don't jolt him about, alright? The dwarf is two doors down to the left." then he walked off.

"Pippin!!" Merry bounded into the room and leapt onto Pippin's bed, strangling the other hobbit in a huge hug.

"Hello, Pip. How are ya?" Aragorn asked, with varying similar greetings from the others.

"I'm good, I think. My arm aches like Mordor though." The youngest band member pulled a face and laughed slightly. "I don't think Éowyn is gonna be all too pleased. Me and Gimli are terrible enough dancers as it is, without this!"

"Did they say when you were gonna be allowed back?" Éomer asked. He had visibly paled at the thought of what his sister was going to say when she heard.

"They said tomorrow, but no straining myself for a week. I can sing, but not dance or rehearse. I don't know what we're going to do about the tour now!"

"We'll have to put it on hold," said Aragorn, "Pippin will only be able to make it by a hair's breadth and there is no way on Middle-earth Gimli will manage."

Éomer rubbed his fashionably unshaven chin thoughtfully, his brow furrowed. "I have no idea what your managed is going to say." he eventually managed to mutter.

Aragorn grinned, "I had some news for Gandalf that he wasn't going to be too pleased about, but it can wait..."

"What news?" Legolas asked, suddenly curious.

"Erm... I'll tell you all some other time, okay?"

"Aragorn!" Merry wailed.

"Some other time." Aragorn told him severely.

"Oh, Aragooooorn-! Éomer, tell him!"

"No, Merry. Aragorn will tell us when he wants." Éomer informed the older hobbit, struggling with his own curiosity.

They remained in Pippin's room for a good half an hour, mostly discussing plans for the up-coming Tour, and possible reactions from Gandalf when he discovered that they would have to set the Tour back. It would be a miracle if he hadn't heard about the accident yet. After half an hour, Pippin yawned widly and announced that he was tired. They all left the room quietly, and the Hobbit was fast asleep before they'd all passed through the door.

~I thought I'd leave it there as I'm a lazy bugger so there we go. Aragorn's news will show up in a couple of chapters, maybe even next chapter. Please leave a review on your way out, and please do not pet the plot-bunnies. Thankyou! ~DtT