Ch.6 Breathe

A/N Welcome back to another round of elf torment.  Does it say something about me that this is what I do for fun?  Maybe it just says something about how painfully dull biology class is, that I have time to write these chapters during the lecture.

Thanks to all the reviewers who let me feel appreciated.

*******      

          'He had nightmares again,' Gimli thought, watching his friend from the corner of his eye.  Legolas' eyes were dull, his movements lacking his usual grace.  Certainly he had reason for ill dreams.  Elves heal quickly, he knew, but the damage from the night before was still painfully obvious.  Legolas could not speak above a whisper without excruciating pain, courtesy of the severe bruising around his neck.  He seemed to find it easier not to speak at all, and communicated through gestures or mouthing his words.

          A soft whistle broke into the dwarf's thoughts, and he turned to the elf.  Legolas indicated a berry plant they were passing, suggesting silently that they grab some fruit for a meal on the run.  Gimli nodded, and the two altered their stride to allow themselves access to the most berries in the least amount of time.  He noticed that Aragorn had a slight scowl on his face at the minute delay, but the Man grabbed a handful of the sweet fruit anyway.

          Both hands full and pockets bulging, the trio resumed their speedy course.  They ate as they ran, frugally to prevent severe reactions from their bodies to too much fruit.  The tangy juice was quite refreshing, keeping their energy up through the long day.

          They stopped again at dusk, unwilling to lose more time but knowing they could not accurately track in the dark.  Gimli, with his dwarvish stamina, was less tired than the Man or the still injured elf.  He offered to stand watch.  Legolas tried to protest, but Gimli pointed out that he would find it difficult to call an alarm should the situation arise.  The elf conceded the point and sat, reclining against a nearby tree.  Very nearby, Gimli noticed absently, and very far from Aragorn.  He snarled silently in the direction of the sleeping Man.  Legolas might not confirm it, but he had suspicions of what was happening, and he had full intents of keeping the two separated.

          The night wore on.  He relaxed only slightly, listening carefully to the quiet night creatures.  A sudden change in the sounds made him tense, eyes darting about to find the cause.  His glance fell on Legolas, and his heart tripped.

          The elf was shaking, hands clawing at his chest and throat as glazed eyes rolled back.  He was choking.

          "Aragorn!" Gimli hissed as he rushed to the elf's side.  He grabbed Legolas' hands, pulling them from his throat to allow the Ranger access.  The elf's eyes were terror filled as he met Gimli's.  The dwarf held his hands reassuringly (he hoped) while the almost forgotten Ranger made a swift examination.  Gimli looked up as Aragorn cursed.

          "His throat is closing, I need to gather some herbs.  Keep him as calm as you can," he ordered before disappearing into the woods.

          Gimli could see the panic rising in the gasping elf and reacted.  He slipped behind the elf and drew him upright against his chest.  The dwarf lay warm palms against the elf's spasming chest, hoping to give some comfort.  It seemed to help.  Legolas was still gasping for air desperately, but the tension in his body lessened.  The archer tried to calm himself, taking comfort in the sturdy support behind him.  A small corner of his mind wondered at his acceptance of this being holding him down, but realized that he had full trust in the dwarf; Aragorn, likely any Man, in this position would have terrified him.

          The Ranger's sudden return startled him, and he jumped instinctively, fighting down the urge to flee as the dwarf cradled him closer.  He leaned his head back against Gimli's shoulder, dizzy from lack of oxygen.  The elf could spare no attention for the Man's proximity, needing to focus on forcing air through his constricting throat.  He barely noticed the small fire Aragorn started, nor the fragrant herbs that he crushed into the boiling water.  He did notice absently that the steam made his breathing easier.

          A firm hand on his chin slammed him aware, and he thrashed against his captor.  Gimli's swift assurances held him in place, but his heart race and his muscles tensed, ready to fight if necessary.  He allowed the dwarf to hold him down as Aragorn held a cup to his lips and tipped a small amount of the herbal drink into his mouth.  Legolas gagged as the liquid hit the obstruction in his throat, glad there was not much liquid to choke on, then felt the blockage open slightly.  He gulped in a larger breath of air, then allowed more liquid to enter his mouth.

          They repeated the process until the cup was empty and Legolas was breathing nearly normally.  The elf's eyes were half-lidded in pain and exhaustion as he took slow, deep breaths, coughing occasionally as his lungs readapted.  Almost without thinking, he leaned back into the dwarf's embrace and fell asleep.

          Gimli hid a relieved smile behind his beard.  His friend would be okay.  Seeing the elf gasping for air had frightened him.  As if Legolas had not suffered enough recently, his injuries were now coming back to haunt him in new ways.  Gimli sighed as the elf burrowed closer.  He realized that he had been more than afraid during those long minutes, he'd been angry.  Here was a threat to his friend's life, and there was nothing he could do about it.  An axe is little use against internal injuries.

          Aragorn stood across the clearing, one hand on his sword hilt.  He knew that luck or fate had placed those herbs close enough for him to save Legolas.  Now he thought back to the elf's injury and reaction.  'We have not seen battle for several days, yet those bruises are fresh.'  He glanced at the sleeping elf, frowning as he thought.  'The bruising matches someone trying to throttle him.' A flash of memory struck: the back of a blonde head filled his vision; his muscles tightened in response to some movement.  'There are only three of us' pushing the elf to the earth, looking down in anger at the glowing figure 'Gimli is nowhere near tall enough to have-' a rough hand connecting with the elf's frightened face 'Dear gods, what have I done?'