Ch. 28
"Legolas? Melethnin?"
A small, disbelieving voice rang out from across the room, those two words a chorus of angels to Pippin's ears.
"Tarien?" Legolas asked. His eyes pooled with tears. Apparently, he'd not known that his beloved would be here. Gimli rolled his eyes at the expression on his friend's face.
"Here we go." A murmur of exasperation escaped the dwarf.
Legolas made a movement suggesting he would have run from under Aragorn's arm into the arms of his wife, but a noise of dissent from Gimli brought him crashing back.
Arwen turned. "Elessar!" She ran to her husband's side. "Legolas, mani marte?"
"Orcs. Gandalf, he was cut by one of their blades. I fear there was poison upon it. If he doesn't receive help quickly he will not live."
Arwen stood, unable to move. Her eyes moved to the slice through Aragorn's tunic. Instinctively, it seemed, she grabbed at her stomach. Perhaps she was ill at the thought of life without the man she forsaked her immortal life for. If he were to die, she would likely follow very quickly.
Legolas had set Aragorn upon a bed and rushed into his wife's embrace. He had his hands wound in her hair and was taking in her sweet scent. After a moment, he lifted her damp face to his, and their tears mingled as they shared in a deep kiss, a kiss of true love. Pippin looked away, not just so that they may have privacy, but because he was jealous. He feared he may never find someone with which to share that special kind of contact.
Arwen was now on her knees by Aragorn's side. She kissed his brow, and a single tear dripped into his now open eye. He was awake, but very weak. He lifted his hand to touch her face, and she grabbed his hand. "No," she whispered. "Keep up your strength."
"Arwen. . ." he sputtered. A cough escaped his dry throat.
"Lay still," she pleaded.
Galadriel had been watching from her position on the ground next to Sam. She walked over to her granddaughter. "He will be fine, child. He can be healed easily." She whipped her glorious head around, towards Rosie who had an incoherent Elanor in her lap.
Rosie looked sharply up as if someone had called her name, but the room as silent, save for Elanor's sobbing. The child had no idea that her father had been established as alive.
Rosie nodded and stood up, resting Elanor on the floor. Pippin guessed that Galadriel was speaking to her mind.
She stood next to Aragorn, examining the wound. Galadriel stood and backed away. "Yes," murmured Rosie. "This I can do." After a wistful glance at Sam, she rolled up her sleeve and called over her shoulder. "Pippin! I'll need two bowls of water, one cold, one hot. Merry, a towel, from beneath the cabinet."
Merry and Pippin left the room together, and, as they exited the hall, it dawned upon Pippin that the number of beds within the Hobbit-hole had diminished. "Merry? Where have they all gone?"
"Who?" asked Merry, puzzled.
"All the people in the beds."
"They left. They got better and they left."
"Didn't more come? Or are the Uruks more determined to kill now, rather than injure?"
"No, they're leaving."
"What? Leaving?"
"Didn't you hear Gimli? He was telling Gandalf of a mass retreat. Or maybe. an advance."
"What? No, I was too busy concentrating on Aragorn and Sam."
"And Tarien." A mischievous grin spread over the elder hobbit's face.
"What?" Pippin was suddenly very defensive. He knew what Merry spoke of, but could not let on that he.
"I saw you staring. Honestly I can see why. She's beautiful." Merry said this with the same emotion that Pippin felt: longing. Longing for that special someone was something that few hobbits over their age managed to come upon.
Merry changed the subject. "Anyway, Aragorn may not be the only man to join us."
Pippin and Merry fell quiet. Pippin poured two bowls of water. Setting one down, he made his way to the hearth with the other. He poured it into the pot that hung in the place. Using a candle that rested over the hole in the wall, he lit the fire.
The water sat still for several moments, only the surface rippling ever so gently, as all water does. A bubble rose o the surface, followed by another and another. The rippling surface began to make enormous waves, bubbles rising twenty, thirty, forty, fifty at a time. He took the water off of the flame and poured it back into the bowl, where it was stagnant once more.
Pippin gasped. Too simple, too simple.he thought. .Or is it?
"Merry." he whispered. His friend whipped around.
"Something wrong, Pip?"
"I've got it."
"Legolas? Melethnin?"
A small, disbelieving voice rang out from across the room, those two words a chorus of angels to Pippin's ears.
"Tarien?" Legolas asked. His eyes pooled with tears. Apparently, he'd not known that his beloved would be here. Gimli rolled his eyes at the expression on his friend's face.
"Here we go." A murmur of exasperation escaped the dwarf.
Legolas made a movement suggesting he would have run from under Aragorn's arm into the arms of his wife, but a noise of dissent from Gimli brought him crashing back.
Arwen turned. "Elessar!" She ran to her husband's side. "Legolas, mani marte?"
"Orcs. Gandalf, he was cut by one of their blades. I fear there was poison upon it. If he doesn't receive help quickly he will not live."
Arwen stood, unable to move. Her eyes moved to the slice through Aragorn's tunic. Instinctively, it seemed, she grabbed at her stomach. Perhaps she was ill at the thought of life without the man she forsaked her immortal life for. If he were to die, she would likely follow very quickly.
Legolas had set Aragorn upon a bed and rushed into his wife's embrace. He had his hands wound in her hair and was taking in her sweet scent. After a moment, he lifted her damp face to his, and their tears mingled as they shared in a deep kiss, a kiss of true love. Pippin looked away, not just so that they may have privacy, but because he was jealous. He feared he may never find someone with which to share that special kind of contact.
Arwen was now on her knees by Aragorn's side. She kissed his brow, and a single tear dripped into his now open eye. He was awake, but very weak. He lifted his hand to touch her face, and she grabbed his hand. "No," she whispered. "Keep up your strength."
"Arwen. . ." he sputtered. A cough escaped his dry throat.
"Lay still," she pleaded.
Galadriel had been watching from her position on the ground next to Sam. She walked over to her granddaughter. "He will be fine, child. He can be healed easily." She whipped her glorious head around, towards Rosie who had an incoherent Elanor in her lap.
Rosie looked sharply up as if someone had called her name, but the room as silent, save for Elanor's sobbing. The child had no idea that her father had been established as alive.
Rosie nodded and stood up, resting Elanor on the floor. Pippin guessed that Galadriel was speaking to her mind.
She stood next to Aragorn, examining the wound. Galadriel stood and backed away. "Yes," murmured Rosie. "This I can do." After a wistful glance at Sam, she rolled up her sleeve and called over her shoulder. "Pippin! I'll need two bowls of water, one cold, one hot. Merry, a towel, from beneath the cabinet."
Merry and Pippin left the room together, and, as they exited the hall, it dawned upon Pippin that the number of beds within the Hobbit-hole had diminished. "Merry? Where have they all gone?"
"Who?" asked Merry, puzzled.
"All the people in the beds."
"They left. They got better and they left."
"Didn't more come? Or are the Uruks more determined to kill now, rather than injure?"
"No, they're leaving."
"What? Leaving?"
"Didn't you hear Gimli? He was telling Gandalf of a mass retreat. Or maybe. an advance."
"What? No, I was too busy concentrating on Aragorn and Sam."
"And Tarien." A mischievous grin spread over the elder hobbit's face.
"What?" Pippin was suddenly very defensive. He knew what Merry spoke of, but could not let on that he.
"I saw you staring. Honestly I can see why. She's beautiful." Merry said this with the same emotion that Pippin felt: longing. Longing for that special someone was something that few hobbits over their age managed to come upon.
Merry changed the subject. "Anyway, Aragorn may not be the only man to join us."
Pippin and Merry fell quiet. Pippin poured two bowls of water. Setting one down, he made his way to the hearth with the other. He poured it into the pot that hung in the place. Using a candle that rested over the hole in the wall, he lit the fire.
The water sat still for several moments, only the surface rippling ever so gently, as all water does. A bubble rose o the surface, followed by another and another. The rippling surface began to make enormous waves, bubbles rising twenty, thirty, forty, fifty at a time. He took the water off of the flame and poured it back into the bowl, where it was stagnant once more.
Pippin gasped. Too simple, too simple.he thought. .Or is it?
"Merry." he whispered. His friend whipped around.
"Something wrong, Pip?"
"I've got it."
