A big Thank You to everyone who took the time to review so far… It makes me happy
to know how many people read and enjoy my writings :-)
ere drastic actions are going to be taken another update… so stay out of trees and
away from brick walls!
Thanks to Little My for beta reading!!!
So… on wit the story and let me know what you think…
___
A hand on his shoulder jerked Aragorn awake and he realized he had dozed off.
Looking up into the face of his wife, he could see a soft smile playing around her lips
but it was tinged with sadness. His eyes darted over to the bed as memory returned,
but there was no change in the still figure of Gimli.
'Elrohir was here while you slept,' Arwen spoke softly. 'I wonder when you would
have decided to tell me that one of our dearest friends is here?'
He gently grasped her hand in his ere he answered. 'I did not wish to worry you
overmuch. You still need your rest, and Eldarion is keeping you from it well enough.'
'It is weeks ago since I gave birth and I am well recovered.'
She could not help but smile at him, knowing well how deeply shaken he had been
when he had held his son in his arms for the first time. He had not been allowed to
stay with her through the birth, but from what Legolas had told her he had been
greatly distressed when he had heard her cries of pain. And even now, weeks later,
did he treat her like spun glass.
'What did Elrohir say?' Aragorn asked. He knew better than to start a discussion with
Arwen while his mind was still drowsy. It was hard enough to keep up with her when
he was wide-awake.
'Nothing you would not know already,' she sighed and the sadness was back in her
eyes. 'There is naught we can do but wait.' She hesitated for a moment ere she
voiced the question that had been burning on her mind, ever since she had come to
know that Gimli was here.
'Do you not think it would be wise to let Legolas know of Gimli's condition? I fear he
would be most enraged should things turn ill and he was not even informed.'
'I sent a messenger to Ithilien and knowing Legolas, he will be here ere tomorrow has
passed.'
Aragorn had turned his attention fully on Gimli with his last words, his fingers
touching his brow. The dwarf's face was ashen, but for the first time he showed some
kind of reaction as he moved his head the slightest bit to escape the cool fingers that
felt like ice against his burning skin.
'Gimli?'
A soft moan and another tiny movement of the dwarf's head was his only answer.
The old woman still seated next to the bed handed the cool cloth to Aragorn. Gently
calling out to his friend, the man placed it upon Gimli's brow. It evoked another moan,
and this time the evasive movement was stronger as the dwarf succeeded in
displacing the painfully cool object.
Aragorn tried to calm the increasingly agitated dwarf, noticing quickly that he tried to
squirm away from his touch. He withdrew his hand, calling Gimli's name.
No longer assaulted by the painful touch he became still again, at first showing no
reaction. Then, slowly his eyelids fluttered and obeying the insistent voice calling his
name over and over again, Gimli reluctantly opened his eyes.
There was no recognition in his glance, only confusion and the glaze of fever.
'Gimli?'
He blinked once more and moved again, causing a sharp wave of agony to flow
through his body. A pain-filled moan escaped him once more, and his eyes drifted
shut as he gave up his hold on consciousness.
Arwen quietly watched as hope turned to disappointment and worry upon her
husband's features. He removed the bandage from Gimli's arm, inspecting the wound
once more. She had seen Elrohir do exactly the same not long ago so she knew
what to except. The look of dismay on Aragorn's face only confirmed what she
already knew.
'It is not getting better,' he sighed. He could see the wound had been recently tended
to so he simply wrapped it again. 'His fever is even higher than before.'
He paused, looking down at his friend and in this moment, she knew exactly what he
was thinking and her hand came up to caress his cheek.
'We will wait and see,' she spoke, her voice reassuring him. There was still hope.
@@@
Hours had passed and things had only gotten worse. Arwen had returned to the
palace and Aragorn had stayed at his friend's side, watching for any change in his
condition. But Gimli's fever had climbed higher and higher, and he no longer
remained still. He fought anyone who would try to touch him, oblivious to where he
was and what was going on. Tending to him became a battle where the dwarf had to
be restrained to prevent him doing injury to himself or anyone else. Aragorn had
relieved the healers from their duty, taking over to care for his friend himself. The old
woman refused to leave, and her quiet help was greatly appreciated. She brought tea
and food not only for Aragorn but also the two guards that still stood watch over their
king.
Night fell and with it Aragorn's hopes started to fade. For hours Gimli had tossed and
turned on the bed, mumbling in his own tongue. Sometimes he would cry out and all
the man's tries to calm him seemed to have no effect at all.
Midnight passed and weariness settled over the king, a deep exhaustion born of lack
of sleep and hope. He was alone in the room now as the old woman had finally
retired. Almost with relief he heard the soft rustling of clothes, the only sound that
betrayed an elf's entering the room. Looking up, he gave a tired smile.
'You look terrible,' Elrohir commented. His eyes turned on the restless dwarf who
once more was tossing and moaning. 'He fares no better?'
'Nay,' Aragorn answered, his voice heavy with concern. He tried to calm the dwarf,
but once more he jerked away from any touch. Elrohir reached out, his long hand
coming to rest on the dwarf's chest. To Aragorn's deep surprise, Gimli did not fight
the elf's touch but turned his head towards him. For a moment his eyes fluttered
open.
'Legolas?'
His voice was a croaked whisper and his eyes closed again, the short flicker of
awareness gone immediately. Deep compassion shone in Elrohir's eyes as he looked
at the suddenly still form.
'His fever is too high. He cannot fight this much longer,' he spoke, his gaze turning to
Aragorn.
'I know.'
'Then you also know there is only one thing left to do to save him?'
Aragorn rose, the distress he felt clearly visible on his face.
'It is not an option I wish to turn to. Not as long as there is still hope.'
'If you wait too long, nothing will be able to save him anymore,' the elf warned. 'There
is still strength left in him but the longer the fever burns, the weaker he will grow.'
'I sent a messenger to Ithilien.'
'Arwen told me so. But Legolas' mere presence here will not cause a miracle to
happen.'
The man sighed, his heart heavy with the choice he knew he had to make.
'He is a dwarf, Elrohir. A warrior as much as a gifted craftsman. I know not if he
would wish to live if it means losing his arm.'
The elf did not respond to this, knowing it to be true. He settled down in the place the
old woman had held for so long, joining Aragorn in his silent watch.
@@@
Dawn had come a few hours ago, when a small whirlwind could be seen rushing
towards Minas Tirith. The guards at the gate watched with amazement as it
transformed into the form of a horse and rider, leaving a cloud of dust in their wake
as they came closer. As they made no signs of slowing their speed, weapons were
raised as their intent was not known.
Golden hair gleamed and one of the guards lowered his bow, crying out, 'This is
Legolas the elf. He is a friend.'
His words halted the arrow readied on his companion's bow ere it could be fired.
Without a word the rider passed them by, unaware or not caring of the danger he had
been in. He slowed his horse just enough so that it would not stumble, as they
rushed through the streets towards the palace.
Forcing his horse to an abrupt stop, Legolas dismounted in one graceful move. A
servant came to take the horse and ignoring the man's words of greeting, he asked
harshly, 'Gimli the dwarf is here?'
Ere he could answer a melodious voice called out. 'Well met, Legolas my friend. That
was an amazing show of riding skill.'
Turning around, he found no smile to greet Elladan.
The son of Elrond had been keeping watch, knowing Legolas would arrive soon and
he had made out the rider long before mortal eyes. The blond elf seemed calm and
composed, his tousled hair the only evidence of the haste he had made in coming
here. But his eyes showed the fear that had driven him.
'He has been brought to the House of Healing,' he answered Legolas' earlier
question, and had to make haste in following him when he turned and left without a
moments hesitation.
'Take good care of my horse, and water and feed him well,' Legolas called back to
the servant ere he disappeared from sight. Elladan caught up with him and walked at
his side.
'How does he fare?'
He wished he could say something to ease the deep fear he could feel in his friend,
but there was no way to soften the truth.
'Not good, I fear.'
With a grim nod, Legolas managed to speed up even more but spoke no further.
to know how many people read and enjoy my writings :-)
ere drastic actions are going to be taken another update… so stay out of trees and
away from brick walls!
Thanks to Little My for beta reading!!!
So… on wit the story and let me know what you think…
___
A hand on his shoulder jerked Aragorn awake and he realized he had dozed off.
Looking up into the face of his wife, he could see a soft smile playing around her lips
but it was tinged with sadness. His eyes darted over to the bed as memory returned,
but there was no change in the still figure of Gimli.
'Elrohir was here while you slept,' Arwen spoke softly. 'I wonder when you would
have decided to tell me that one of our dearest friends is here?'
He gently grasped her hand in his ere he answered. 'I did not wish to worry you
overmuch. You still need your rest, and Eldarion is keeping you from it well enough.'
'It is weeks ago since I gave birth and I am well recovered.'
She could not help but smile at him, knowing well how deeply shaken he had been
when he had held his son in his arms for the first time. He had not been allowed to
stay with her through the birth, but from what Legolas had told her he had been
greatly distressed when he had heard her cries of pain. And even now, weeks later,
did he treat her like spun glass.
'What did Elrohir say?' Aragorn asked. He knew better than to start a discussion with
Arwen while his mind was still drowsy. It was hard enough to keep up with her when
he was wide-awake.
'Nothing you would not know already,' she sighed and the sadness was back in her
eyes. 'There is naught we can do but wait.' She hesitated for a moment ere she
voiced the question that had been burning on her mind, ever since she had come to
know that Gimli was here.
'Do you not think it would be wise to let Legolas know of Gimli's condition? I fear he
would be most enraged should things turn ill and he was not even informed.'
'I sent a messenger to Ithilien and knowing Legolas, he will be here ere tomorrow has
passed.'
Aragorn had turned his attention fully on Gimli with his last words, his fingers
touching his brow. The dwarf's face was ashen, but for the first time he showed some
kind of reaction as he moved his head the slightest bit to escape the cool fingers that
felt like ice against his burning skin.
'Gimli?'
A soft moan and another tiny movement of the dwarf's head was his only answer.
The old woman still seated next to the bed handed the cool cloth to Aragorn. Gently
calling out to his friend, the man placed it upon Gimli's brow. It evoked another moan,
and this time the evasive movement was stronger as the dwarf succeeded in
displacing the painfully cool object.
Aragorn tried to calm the increasingly agitated dwarf, noticing quickly that he tried to
squirm away from his touch. He withdrew his hand, calling Gimli's name.
No longer assaulted by the painful touch he became still again, at first showing no
reaction. Then, slowly his eyelids fluttered and obeying the insistent voice calling his
name over and over again, Gimli reluctantly opened his eyes.
There was no recognition in his glance, only confusion and the glaze of fever.
'Gimli?'
He blinked once more and moved again, causing a sharp wave of agony to flow
through his body. A pain-filled moan escaped him once more, and his eyes drifted
shut as he gave up his hold on consciousness.
Arwen quietly watched as hope turned to disappointment and worry upon her
husband's features. He removed the bandage from Gimli's arm, inspecting the wound
once more. She had seen Elrohir do exactly the same not long ago so she knew
what to except. The look of dismay on Aragorn's face only confirmed what she
already knew.
'It is not getting better,' he sighed. He could see the wound had been recently tended
to so he simply wrapped it again. 'His fever is even higher than before.'
He paused, looking down at his friend and in this moment, she knew exactly what he
was thinking and her hand came up to caress his cheek.
'We will wait and see,' she spoke, her voice reassuring him. There was still hope.
@@@
Hours had passed and things had only gotten worse. Arwen had returned to the
palace and Aragorn had stayed at his friend's side, watching for any change in his
condition. But Gimli's fever had climbed higher and higher, and he no longer
remained still. He fought anyone who would try to touch him, oblivious to where he
was and what was going on. Tending to him became a battle where the dwarf had to
be restrained to prevent him doing injury to himself or anyone else. Aragorn had
relieved the healers from their duty, taking over to care for his friend himself. The old
woman refused to leave, and her quiet help was greatly appreciated. She brought tea
and food not only for Aragorn but also the two guards that still stood watch over their
king.
Night fell and with it Aragorn's hopes started to fade. For hours Gimli had tossed and
turned on the bed, mumbling in his own tongue. Sometimes he would cry out and all
the man's tries to calm him seemed to have no effect at all.
Midnight passed and weariness settled over the king, a deep exhaustion born of lack
of sleep and hope. He was alone in the room now as the old woman had finally
retired. Almost with relief he heard the soft rustling of clothes, the only sound that
betrayed an elf's entering the room. Looking up, he gave a tired smile.
'You look terrible,' Elrohir commented. His eyes turned on the restless dwarf who
once more was tossing and moaning. 'He fares no better?'
'Nay,' Aragorn answered, his voice heavy with concern. He tried to calm the dwarf,
but once more he jerked away from any touch. Elrohir reached out, his long hand
coming to rest on the dwarf's chest. To Aragorn's deep surprise, Gimli did not fight
the elf's touch but turned his head towards him. For a moment his eyes fluttered
open.
'Legolas?'
His voice was a croaked whisper and his eyes closed again, the short flicker of
awareness gone immediately. Deep compassion shone in Elrohir's eyes as he looked
at the suddenly still form.
'His fever is too high. He cannot fight this much longer,' he spoke, his gaze turning to
Aragorn.
'I know.'
'Then you also know there is only one thing left to do to save him?'
Aragorn rose, the distress he felt clearly visible on his face.
'It is not an option I wish to turn to. Not as long as there is still hope.'
'If you wait too long, nothing will be able to save him anymore,' the elf warned. 'There
is still strength left in him but the longer the fever burns, the weaker he will grow.'
'I sent a messenger to Ithilien.'
'Arwen told me so. But Legolas' mere presence here will not cause a miracle to
happen.'
The man sighed, his heart heavy with the choice he knew he had to make.
'He is a dwarf, Elrohir. A warrior as much as a gifted craftsman. I know not if he
would wish to live if it means losing his arm.'
The elf did not respond to this, knowing it to be true. He settled down in the place the
old woman had held for so long, joining Aragorn in his silent watch.
@@@
Dawn had come a few hours ago, when a small whirlwind could be seen rushing
towards Minas Tirith. The guards at the gate watched with amazement as it
transformed into the form of a horse and rider, leaving a cloud of dust in their wake
as they came closer. As they made no signs of slowing their speed, weapons were
raised as their intent was not known.
Golden hair gleamed and one of the guards lowered his bow, crying out, 'This is
Legolas the elf. He is a friend.'
His words halted the arrow readied on his companion's bow ere it could be fired.
Without a word the rider passed them by, unaware or not caring of the danger he had
been in. He slowed his horse just enough so that it would not stumble, as they
rushed through the streets towards the palace.
Forcing his horse to an abrupt stop, Legolas dismounted in one graceful move. A
servant came to take the horse and ignoring the man's words of greeting, he asked
harshly, 'Gimli the dwarf is here?'
Ere he could answer a melodious voice called out. 'Well met, Legolas my friend. That
was an amazing show of riding skill.'
Turning around, he found no smile to greet Elladan.
The son of Elrond had been keeping watch, knowing Legolas would arrive soon and
he had made out the rider long before mortal eyes. The blond elf seemed calm and
composed, his tousled hair the only evidence of the haste he had made in coming
here. But his eyes showed the fear that had driven him.
'He has been brought to the House of Healing,' he answered Legolas' earlier
question, and had to make haste in following him when he turned and left without a
moments hesitation.
'Take good care of my horse, and water and feed him well,' Legolas called back to
the servant ere he disappeared from sight. Elladan caught up with him and walked at
his side.
'How does he fare?'
He wished he could say something to ease the deep fear he could feel in his friend,
but there was no way to soften the truth.
'Not good, I fear.'
With a grim nod, Legolas managed to speed up even more but spoke no further.