Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Lcat: I'm glad you are enjoying the story! And I do plan on leaving her there, though it will not be the last time the fellowship will see her before the end of the war…
Giluim: Thank you! There is going to be romance in the story though the couple may or may not be who everyone except it to be… As for your other question… you will find out in this chapter.
Feanen: Thanks!
Note
Anything written *within these marks* is being spoken in Elvish.
And now I will be quiet and let you read. Enjoy!
-Lady Healer.
Chapter 13: Strengthening of Bonds.
It was a calm night in Lorien, when the noble of Gondor sat against a tree, his hands resting on his knees. Leaning his head back, Boromir closed his eyes and let his thoughts wonder.
It had been a week since the Fellowship had arrived in Lothlorien. A mere week since they lost their wizard companion and found another fatally wounded. The grief still tugged at his heart. He had not known the wizard very well, but he had made a deep impression on him. And even more on his brother… Faramir would miss the few discussions he had with Gandalf. And Lillian…
Opening his eyes, Boromir looked towards the sky as his thoughts continued. Their female companion had shown little improvement throughout the last week. The healers, though, now believed that she would live, as Lillian had passed through the worst. And that was good news… Boromir was quite sure what another death would do to the rest of the Fellowship. It would tear at them, little by little until another piece of their resolve was gone. Yet, everyone who chose to be on this quest had known that, though they might not have realized it before.
But, Boromir knew the words he had uttered to Frodo earlier were true. Gandalf's death was not in vain. Nor would he want them to carry the weight of the dead. Here, in this elvish city, they had been given time given time to say their goodbyes to him. And now there were other matters to attend to.
No one in the Fellowship knew where they were going to set out for when they continue their journey from Lothlorien, nor had they spoken of it. There was a silent agreement between the members to rest and regain their strength. And part of it, Boromir believed, was because of Lillian. The little ones especially were worried about her…
"Take some rest. These borders are well-protected," a voice said behind him. Boromir didn't bother to look, he knew who had spoken.
"I will find no rest here." The noble of Gondor had slept little in the week he had been in Lothlorien. But it was not the death of Gandalf that had caused this restlessness inside of him. Death was nothing new to Boromir; nor was it the injured Lillian. He was concerned for her, but there was no point in wasting energy agonizing over something that was out of his hands. No, since he entered this city, and met the Lady of the light, his mind and heart had been more troubled than before…
For a moment, the noble of Gondor debated with himself before he finally confided, "I heard her voice inside my head." Boromir paused as the ranger took a seat next to him. "She spoke of my father and the fall of Gondor. She said to me, 'Even now there is hope left.' But I cannot see it. It is long since we had any hope."
Aragorn studied the noble beside him. He was suffering; it was clear on his face. His love for his people and kingdom was strong and knowing that both were in danger, pained him. The silence stretched between them for several moments until it was once again broken by Boromir.
"My father is a noble man, but his rule is falling… and our…" Briefly the noble paused, collecting his thoughts. "And our people lose faith. He looks to me to make things right, and I would do it." And he had tried, many times. Both he and his brother had tried to restore Gondor, but his father did not see it. "I would see the glory of Gondor restored." His father never gave Faramir the chance he deserved. His brother had great strength, some of which he himself lacked, but their father would never see it that way.
Yes, some land was lost in the battles that Faramir fought, but his younger brother had chosen to keep the people alive rather then claim empty land. Was that not more important? Land could be taken back. Boromir had proven that enough times, but lives could not be restored. Could his father not see that? That Faramir had taken the wisest path? Looking up to the sky, the noble of Gondor questioned the ranger beside him.
"Have you ever seen it, Aragorn? The White Tower of Ecthetion; Glimmering like a spike of pearl and silver." And for a moment lost in his memories Boromir felt like he was in his lands after a long journey, his brother waiting for him at the gate… "Its banners caught high in the morning breeze." The noble smiled lightly at the fond memory. "Have you ever been called home… by the clear ringing of silver trumpets?"
"I have seen the White City…" Aragon replied slowly, "long ago."
Briefly Boromir looked at the ranger, curiously. When had this man been to Gondor, close enough to see the White City? Shaking his head, the noble smiled. "One day, our paths will lead us there. And the tower guard shall take up the call, 'The lords of Gondor have returned.'" Silence followed his statement as they both reflected on this thought. During his travels with the ranger, Boromir had seen many things. The silent man beside him did have a leadership quality in him. But was it enough to rule a kingdom? Boromir didn't think so… Aragorn had only taken on command of the Fellowship for little over a week. In such a time it was not enough to judge one person.
Boromir, however, did see strength in the man. But at the same time he saw a fear that lay within him… During the quest, Aragorn had become a comrade and a friendship was beginning to form, despite their disagreements. This man could aid Gondor, Boromir was sure of that.
But was he worthy of being its king? The answer still eluded him.
For several moments the two sat there in comfortable silence, each pondering their own thoughts, until the noble of Gondor asked a question. "Are the little ones still with Lillian?" During their travels, Boromir had noticed that the hobbits had taken to her like a brother to a younger sister.
"Frodo and Sam are. Merry and Pippin went to get some food," answered Aragon. Again silence passed between the two for a moment before the ranger continued, "The healers believe that she will awaken within a week or two, if her healing continues at a steady pace."
"That is good." Boromir paused a moment before he questioned, "Have the halflings been getting their own rest? I know that the grief of Gandalf and their worry for Lillian has been making them restless."
For a moment, the ranger stayed silent, collecting his thoughts before answering, "They have. Both Legolas and I have been making sure of it."
And once more silence fell between
the two humans as they watched the sky above; nether broke it again that night.
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Legolas narrowed his eyes as he stared at the target ahead of him, and slowly he drew back the bowstring and released the arrow, watching it fly through the air and land in the center of the target.
Drawing another arrow, the elf let his thoughts wonder. It had been a week and a half since they entered Lorien and yet it seemed longer to him. The Fellowship had agreed to rest for however long the lady and lord allowed, and it was good for all of them. They were still tired after traveling and weary from the death of Gandalf.
Despite all his years of life, Legolas had very few dealings with death. He had seen it before among mortals, yes, but rarely; very few mortals ever came to Mirkwood. His people didn't trust strangers with a good reason why.
But Gandalf was not human, nor dwarf, or even a hobbit. He was a Maiar, an immortal servant to the powers above. And though there were times when they would lose an elf in a battle, never had it been so close to his heart. Gandalf had been a close friend and his presence was sorely missed. Again, Legolas release an arrow and it split the pervious arrow in half as he felt his thoughts shift to another matter of concern.
Lillian, their female companion. Twice in Moria she was wounded, and both times the members of the Fellowship failed to prevent it. Everyone in the company knew that she could not fight well, especially when she was already injured. Yet, for that brief moment during battle, they had forgotten her… And the elf could still remember her scream when the orc's sword had sliced through her flesh.
Even now it chilled his soul. It had drawn his attention and he had shot his loaded arrow into the orc before it could kill her. But the damage had already been done. The wound was severe and Lillian had been fading fast. Legolas was just glad that the wound had not been poisonous or she would not have made the journey to Lorien. As it was, she laid lifelessly in the house of healing. The physicians said that her health improved by the day, and Legolas believed them. But even with the knowledge that she would live; it did not erase his guilt.
No one could control how a battle occurred; the elf understood and accepted that. But the experienced members had taken it upon themselves to watch for the others, and they even watched out for one another. Though they all knew one day it would come to a point where they could not aid the other in time, did not make the pain any less.
As Legolas was about to reach for another arrow from his quiver, a different arrow came from his right, hitting the target and splitting his own. Looking to the side, the prince of Mirkwood spotted the captain of the Marchwardens make his way towards him, bow in hand.
"*Are you not supposed to be on patrol, *" Legolas asked quietly.
"*I leave late tonight, *" Haldir replied as he studied the prince before him. He was still struggling with the death of Gandalf, he could easily tell. He had seen this lost look on his own mother's face when news came that his father had died in the war against Sauron. He himself had felt it each day as he watched his mother fade until she had passed from this world. It was a pain that always stayed with you, though it did lessen in time. As long you let go and allowed yourself to heal. But the Silvan had not done that, he still held on.
For several moments the two stood in silence, each lost in thought before Haldir simply stated, "*You need to let it go. *"
Closing his eyes, Legolas replied. "*I not sure if I can. *" Slowly the sound of a sword leaving it's sheathe registered in his mind, and the prince of Mirkwood opened his eyes to glance at the elf beside him, raising one eyebrow in question.
"*Draw your daggers, *" was Haldir's calm response. Pausing for only a moment, Legolas followed the older elf's instructions and set his bow down to draw his blades. And quickly he brought them to block the strike that the Marchwarden sent at him.
Pushing past his confusion, Legolas returned the blows with his own, his body swiftly falling into a battle stance from years of practice. As Haldir retreated backwards allowing his opponent to miss, he questioned him. "*Was there anything you could have done to prevent Gandalf's death or your companion's injury? *"
Pursing his lips together briefly, Legolas replied as he blocked a strike towards his head. "*No.*"
"*Then let the guilt go, *" Haldir countered as he swung at the other's torso.
Blocking the blow, the elven prince said, pain seeping into his voice, "*I can't.*"
Pressing the offense with a couple more strokes with his blade, the elder answered coldly. "*Then there was something you could have done. *"
Legolas barred attack after attack. "*No, there wasn't… But I should have…*"
"*Should have what? *" Haldir interrupted sharply. "*Have seen it coming? Prevented it? They are just weak excuses to escape what you are feeling now. *"
Anger began to course in Legolas body as he glared at the other elf. Striking out towards his opponent with his daggers he began to switch to the offensive as he muttered through clenched teeth. "*I am not running from my feelings, captain. I know the guilt I feel is useless for there was nothing in the battle that I could have changed without foreknowledge of how the battle would occur. *"
"*Yet you are too weak to let it go, *" Haldir said simply as he blocked the prince's attacks.
For the next several minutes the two dueled and during that fight Legolas felt his emotions being pulled and stretched by the other elf. Anger followed grief and then frustration followed by sadness in an endless cycle as he struck at Haldir only to return to defense when the other elf sent an attack of his own.
And then with a twist of his wrist, Haldir used his sword to send one of the daggers flying from the Silvan's hands and after a few moments the second blade followed. Quickly, the Marchwarden kicked the legs of his unarmed opponent from underneath him, sending him to the ground. Placing one foot on his chest, Haldir rested his blade against Legolas's neck and spoke coldly. "Anger and grief clouds the mind, youngling." And the captain of the Marchwardens ignored the angry glare that the prince sent him and continued. "*You are on a dangerous quest and if you do not learn how to handle the death of friends or strangers then you will be the cause of not only your own death but others as well. *" Slowly the fire in Legolas's eyes died as Haldir's words sank in.
Glaring coldly into the other's eyes Haldir stated, "*You are no longer under the safety of your father, prince, it time to grow up. Others in this world have lost more than a companion. If you cannot let go of your pain for yourself then let it go for the sake of your Fellowship. *" Standing up, Haldir returned his sword to his sheathe and with one last glance left the training area, letting the other elf ponder his words.
And there, Legolas lay. Time had no meaning as he pondered Haldir's words. He was right. Though the pain of loss was terrible, he had to let it go. Once he thought he had days ago, but the confrontation with Haldir proved him wrong. And so, the elven prince stayed there, letting his weapons lay were they had fallen as he shifted through his emotions.
"Elves. They don't even know how to put their own weapons away," a gruff voice said many moments later. And the voice brought a slight smile to his face, despite himself. "How can elves be great warriors if they don't take care of their weapons?" The voice continued as he heard the dwarf walking around, stopping twice briefly before he walked towards him.
Looking up, the elven prince saw Gimli standing before him; lying in his offered hand were his twin daggers. And Legolas realized what the true offer was. An act of friendship. In Moria they had begun a truce and now there was a chance to take the relationship one more step.
With a small smile gracing his lips, Legolas rose to his feet and accepted back his weapons, sealing the bond between them. There had not been a friendship between dwarves and elves for many years, but the times were changing. Legolas wasn't sure what would occur in this alliance, but when he had accepted it he felt a sense of peace settling in him. Sheathing his blades, the elf remarked. "Speak for yourself, my friend, for I do believe that I see rust on your axes."
"Rust?!" Gimli exclaimed, a different light appearing in his eyes, "There is no rust on my axes, elf!"
The next several hours the two spent together, talking and throwing back and forth teasing remarks. And during that time their bond of friendship strengthened and the grief each had been feeling lessened. The camaraderie between them was still new and weak but with each passing day it grew.
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Night was falling in the city of Galadhrim when Legolas entered the house of healing and approached the sleeping figure on the bed. From the corner of his eye, he could see Sam, asleep in the chair. A smile crossed the elf's face at the sight. Since the healers had told the Fellowship that it was possible Lillian could awaken at any moment the hobbits had been taking turns sitting at her bedside, determined that she would see a familiar face when she awoke. And many times, Aragorn and he had joined the little ritual in order to get the hobbits to rest themselves, in someplace other than a chair.
Gentle shaking the hobbit awake, Legolas whispered, "Go to bed, Sam."
Through sleepy eyes, Sam looked up at the elf. "You will stay with her?"
"I will," the prince assured.
"'Cause she will be frightened if she doesn't recognize anyone," the hobbit continued still sitting in his chair. Gentle pulling Sam from the chair, the elf guided him towards the exit.
"Worry not, my friend, she will not awaken without someone near by. I shall stay with her through the night." And with a pat on his shoulder, Legolas continued, "Now go to bed, young one."
Sam pursed his lips together in thought before he nodded and started to go back to the Fellowship's pavilion. Quietly, Legolas shut the door and made his way to the window by Lillian's bed. The few times he had stayed at her side, he had spent sitting in the window, looking to the sky above while singing many different songs. And in all likelihood, this night would pass the same.
And so, as he sat down on the window seat he looked to the sky thinking of what to recite this evening. Several moments later he decided and began to softly sing.
"An elven-maid there was of old,
A shining star by day;
Her mantle white was hemmed with gold,
Her shoes of silver-grey.
A star was bound upon her brows;
A light was on her hair
As sun upon the golden boughs
In Lorien the fair.
Her hair was long, her limbs were white,
And fair she was and free;
And in the wind she went as light
As leaf of linden-tree.
Beside the falls of Nimrodel,
By water clear and cool,
Her voice as falling silver fell
Into the shining pool.
Where now she wanders none can tell,
In sunlight or in shade;
For lost of yore was Nimrodel
And in the mountains strayed.
The elven-ship in haven grey
Beneath the mountain-lee
Awaited her for many…."
Legolas paused as his ears picked up some small sounds. Turning his head away from the sky he looked to the bed, to see Lillian's sleeping form shift, and the grimace that appeared on her face. Silently he watched her, as her eyes fluttered and many moments later they opened, before closing again.
For a moment, the elf thought she had retreated back to sleep, when a soft, rasping voice said, "Don't…stop…please." He crossed the room and picked up a glass of water, and he sat on the edge of the table. Gently, he helped her take small sips from the cup, before he sat it on the side table. Briefly he saw her blue grey eyes open once more before they closed again. But from the rhythm of her breathing, Legolas knew that she was not asleep and slowly he began singing again.
"Awaited her for many a day
Beside the roaring sea.
A wind by night in Northern lands
Arose, and loud it cried,
And drove the ship from elven-strands
Across the streaming tide.
When dawn came dim the land was lost,
The mountains sinking grey
Beyond the heaving waves that tossed
Their plumes of blinding spray.
Amroth beheld the fading shore
Now low beyond the swell,
And cursed the faithless ship that bore
Him far from Nimrodel.
Of old he was an elven-king,
A lord of tree and glen,
When golden were the boughs in spring
In fair Lothlorien
From helm to sea they saw him leap,
As arrow from the string,
And dive into the water deep,
As new upon the wing.
The wind was in his flowing hair,
The foam about him shone;
Afar they saw him strong and fair
Go riding like a swan.
But from the West has come no word,
And on the Hither Shore
No tidings elven-folk have heard
Of Amroth evermore."
And as the last word faded from his lips, the elven prince opened his eyes and looked towards figure in the bed. A slight smile graced his lips as he noted the tear streaks that ran down her checks from her closed eyes.
Silently, Legolas sat down beside her on the bed and rubbed the moisture away. As he did so he realized that her breathing had evened out, she was a sleep once more. But this time, her heavy sleep did not worry him, for the elf knew that she would wake again, and that was a joyful thought.
Though she had many wounds to heal from, she was no longer at death's door and that alone would put his, and the rest of the Fellowship's, worries to rest. The shadow that had hung over them had lessened.
Lillian would most likely have many visitors in the morning when she awoke again… And the four hobbits would probably be the first. The thought brought a chuckle from him as he returned to the window and leaned his head against the frame. Several moments passed before Legolas began to sing again till the morning light, feeling content.
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Well, that was chapter 13. I hope everyone enjoyed it!
The next chapter will be out as soon as I can done writing it… though I not quite sure when that will be. I have several ideas for the next upcoming chapters.
Like? Hate? Please, let me know!