I do not own this. I still do not own this. I still own nothing. Am I supposed to have more than one space between sentences? I have a critic reading over my shoulder. I still don't own this. space. space. laugh laugh Do I own this yet? No? Oh, well. I guess you want to get to the story huh? Okay. Beware, long disclaimer long story. he he he! MornieGalad.

Chapter 11

What Friends are For

The Nimrodel. Once again Legolas heard its sweet song, felt its cool water on his feet, but when he opened his eyes, he saw only the sky. He felt cold and feverish all over. Elves don't get sick, he told himself. But his body screamed otherwise, convulsing, freezing, burning, bloody, and weak. The Nimrodel was stained with his blood and the pathetic thing was that he couldn't move. The water covered him and drowned him, but didn't quench his thirst. Then he heard a voice calling his name. Groaning from displeasure, he pretended to be asleep. No such luck, thought Legolas as Saruman's voice echoed like thunder in his head. Summoning all his strength, Legolas quickly reached for his bow, which wasn't there, but screamed as a bolt of lightning snagged his body.

"I can do worse than that, foolish Elf," Saruman laughed cruelly.

"So can I if you'd return my weapons," Legolas spat back, but it took so much effort, he felt he would faint. The fever must be getting to me, he thought.

"Rest," pleaded Saruman mockingly. "They may not get sick, but surely Elves need rest." He set a horrible mist outward which left Legolas coughing, half blind, and struggling even more than before for consciousness and breath. Through the dim light he saw two Uruks standing above him. He lashed out at them as best he could, kicking and ramming his body into them. One placed its hand on Legolas' forehead and the Elf couldn't break free. His breathing was laboured from exhaustion and he was defeated, but only for now.

Aragorn had been worried when Legolas had spoken to the air, but was now terribly concerned that the Elf had lashed out at them. Eomer removed his gloved hand from the Elf's forehead. Immediately Legolas started fighting again, but soon stopped. He could barely take a breath without coughing like the devil had come. Eomer, whose hands were still unbound, removed his tunic and placed it over the Elf's chest. Trying to warm him, he rubbed the cloth back and forth until Legolas' eyes opened. He realized his two companions looked quite disturbed.

"I'm all right," he whispered, restraining his coughs while he said it. He tried to sit, and almost succeeded, but was interrupted by another violent loss of breath as a cold, strong wind hit him. It was a few minutes, even with Eomer's massage, before he was able to breathe again. His blue eyes were full of pain and guilt when he spoke. "I'm sorry. I'm such a burden. You shouldn't have to . . ." He was interrupted again by his breath. "worry about me . . ."

"That's what friends are for, Legolas. Now rest," Eomer whispered, placing his hand on his friend's forehead, laying him gently down again.

"That's all I've done since we were captured," he objected.

"You're the one who's injured and needs rest. Besides, we're not really doing much else," Eomer replied. Legolas nodded and closed his eyes. He was asleep almost instantly. Though coughing fits frequently disturbed his breathing, they didn't wake him. Eomer shot Aragorn a worried look as he removed his gloves and placed them on Legolas' cold hands. He felt Legolas' forehead and sighed.

"I don't know how that warrior does it. He's a fighter," he whispered to himself as he held the Elf's hand.

"How is he?" asked Aragorn, dreading the answer.

"I could feel his fever through my glove," sighed Eomer. "He's dehydrated and, from what I can tell, fighting with . . . someone." Aragorn growled in frustration and Legolas shook violently. Eomer knew the Elf might not last much longer if he was kept in captivity. Then he had an idea. He crawled over to the party of Uruks and stood. Drawing his sword, he killed one of them and took its sword. Crawling back to the others, he picked up Legolas, who coughed in protest, and quickly cut the bonds on Aragorn's feet so he could run and his hands. Aragorn in turn cut Eomer's leg bonds and the two men rushed from the camp and used the fog to hide. Aragorn released Legolas from his bonds, hoping to revive his health.

"He needs water," Aragorn observed. Despite the confidence in his voice, he was wondering how ill Legolas really was. He knew that even a slight fever was serious for an Elf and Legolas was burning.

"Where am I?" came Legolas' strained voice.

"We've escaped, mellon nin. You can stand if you wish," Aragorn informed him, grateful to hear his friend speak. He reached for a leaf damp from the fog and pressed it to the Elf's forehead.

"Don't cry, Aragorn. I'll be okay."

"I wasn't crying," Aragorn said defensively.

"It's raining," Eomer discovered. Legolas smiled as the cool rain hit his feverish body. A few instants later, he was too cold to speak. He sighed from frustration, which brought on another coughing fit, which was painful because of the cold.

"Here, my friend, drink this." Eomer offered him a helmet full of rain water. Legolas barely heard him and couldn't make his voice say thank you, but Eomer saw the gratitude in his eyes. He took only a few sips before he lost his breath and started sputtering again.

"If it weren't raining, we could start a fire and burn these herbs to ease his breathing," Aragorn said. Eomer realized that would alert the enemy to their whereabouts and thought of an alternative. He crushed the herbs Aragorn handed him and mixed them with the water. Legolas tried to drink, but the fever was affecting his muscles. When he nearly dropped the helmet, Eomer held it to his friend's lips.

"I know you hate this," Eomer read Legolas' thoughts, "but there's no better way. I'm certain you prefer this to the Houses of Healing."

"Except being a burden to you," Legolas whispered.

"You are no burden, my friend," Aragorn said before Eomer could. He came to Legolas' side as the sky turned pitch black.

"I'll get our weapons from the Orcs," said Eomer. Legolas quickly rose to go with him, but got dizzy and staggered. The two men caught him.

"You can't go alone," he said stubbornly.

"What I can't do is leave you here alone. I'll be fine." Legolas nodded, knowing he was too weak to be of any use.

"Take your helmet," he whispered. Eomer did and vanished into the foggy darkness. "It's some treachery of Sauron's that sends this darkness," the Elf guessed. "Where will we go once Eomer returns and the Uruks move on?" It was painful to talk, but he had to concentrate on something or he would fall unconscious again.

"We shall have to decide," Aragorn said. "I would opt for Rohan, since it is close and, while not renowned for healing, could cure you."

"Aragorn. Nai nin gurth (may I die) before becoming a burden again," Legolas hissed fiercely. Even as he said so, the fever sent his body shaking. Resisting it caused a coughing fit more violent than any of its predecessors. During it, Aragorn fortunately attempted to see if the fever had abated. Just as his breath was about to return, he jolted away from Aragorn's grasp.

"I'll . . . be . . . okay . . . in . . . a mo- . . . ment," he insisted, but slipped into an almost unconscious state. Aragorn knew that with the combination of chills and fever that afflicted Legolas, he could easily go into shock and slip into a coma. He searched around for a certain plant known for its reviving powers. He forced the Elf's jaws open and placed some of the powder he created from the plant inside. The rest he placed on his friend's wounds, which were rapidly becoming infected. As soon as he placed the potion on his skin, Legolas jerked in pain, his eyes flashing open, and bolted straight up. He shot Aragorn a look of physical pain.

"I know why you did it, mellon nin, but did you forget that the nauril plant increases fever after a few minutes?" Legolas asked, almost amused, but not mockingly.

"I had to keep you conscious by any means necessary," Aragorn replied. Legolas nodded and sat again, his muscles already feeling warmer. In the dark, Legolas' body gave a faint glow so Aragorn could see him. The Elf's face looked as if a red fire light were blazing on it, but the Ranger knew this was one of the fever's effects. Moments later, he was so pale that it took a pained smile from his friend for Aragorn to be certain he was alive.

"Eomer isn't back yet," Aragorn said.

"Yes, he is," came a voice. While he normally would have heard the human before his intrusion, his senses were dimmed and the human had startled Legolas into what his body now seemed to specialize in, coughing and shaking. Eomer apologized and handed Legolas and Aragorn their weapons. They thanked him and small-talked while awaiting the sun's return.

"Boromir, what time is it?"

"How should I know, Pippin? Take your best guess."

"I'd say it was time for afternoon tea. Wouldn't you, Sam?"

"Aye," came the reply from between Boromir and Pippin. Boromir sighed to keep from laughing. His heart was too troubled to laugh. He had never planned on leading the Fellowship and, though in words he had not yet been assigned this task, it seemed the load would fall on him. In secret, he wished Aragorn had returned from the scouting mission, but was well aware that wishful thinking would not change what had happened.

"Boromir," Pippin's voice jerked him out of his thoughts, "how do you know the way in such darkness?"

"The same way you would find the Shire, little one: I know my home. Do you hear the trumpets? They are still some distance off; they come from Osgiliath. With luck we will reach there by nightfall."

"How will we know when that is?"

"It'll be darker than it is right now, Pip," Merry called from the last boat, which wasn't last any longer.

"Merry, you're going to shipwreck us!" Frodo called out in fright. Merry put a malicious look on his face, which was entirely useless in the dark, but he didn't care.

"Young Hobbit, I don't intend to take another swim!" Gimli grouched at Merry. Frodo sighed. That Dwarf was going to drive him insane if he continued in this grumpy manner. After this incident Merry's boat would officially ride between Frodo and Boromir's boats. There was conversation between only Pippin, Merry, and Sam, aside from frequent interruptions from Gimli, complaining that the enemy would surely hear their stupid useless chatter.

"I wish the sun would come out. This place is so dreary without light," Pippin complained.

"The sun won't show her face until we have reached Osgiliath," Boromir predicted. "This is the Enemy's shadow."

"How much further is it?" Merry asked, yawning.

"The current is with us," replied Boromir. "We are nearly there." Frodo nearly jumped from his boat at the good news, as did Sam.

"That's all the better, Mr. Boromir. The sooner we're out o' these boats, the better," Sam declared, shivering and pulling the cloak closer about him.

"Who goes there?" called a voice from the watchtower of Osgiliath.

"It is I, Boromir, son of Denethor," called the son of the Steward.

"Welcome home," came the voice of a man Frodo could not see, but toward which the boats were directed.

"Hello, little brother," Boromir greeted him as he brought his boat to shore. "Friends of Gondor are welcome here," he gestured to the rest of the Company, forgetting Faramir couldn't see him.

"They certainly are," replied the younger human. "But who are these strange folk who bear such darkness to our land?"

"This is Frodo, son of Drogo, Samwise Gamgee, Meriadoc Brandybuck, and Peregrin Took of the Shire, and Gimli, son of Gloin, of the Dwarves of Erebor," Boromir introduced the Company. "The darkness that greets us comes not from their lands, but from Mordor."

"Strange that no Elves or Wizards accompanied you, but only Shire folk." Frodo swallowed hard at this observation. He was afraid of too many people knowing of the Quest and he did not want the memory of Gandalf, Aragorn, or Legolas to resurface in his mind.

"We have not been without loss; just today we lost two of our folk. Now only the six of us remain." Boromir's tone had changed, and Frodo now heard the regret in his voice when he spoke of those who had fallen. At that moment, for once, Boromir and Frodo were alike in hoping Faramir would press no further questions. Faramir, hearing the reluctance to discuss the matter, followed their unspoken wish, guiding them through the darkness to a building. There they could eat and refresh themselves, much to the delight of the Hobbits, who went immediately to a table enlightened by the blaze of a fire. Gimli went to sleep and was soon snoring. Boromir and his brother reclined at a table a good distance from the Hobbits.

"So, little brother, how is Gondor faring in the insanity of the world?" asked Boromir, mustering a laugh, a feat he had scarcely achieved since the Council of Elrond.

"All the better now that you have returned. A few skirmishes have occurred here, but the city is almost as it was when you left for Rivendell."

"Well done, little brother," Boromir laughed. Suddenly lightning split the sky and brought to Boromir the memory of the song he had heard earlier that day. He closed his eyes and concentrated, trying to understand the words. Tears filled his eyes as the words of the Elves touched his heart.

"What is it?" asked Faramir, full of concern.

"Memories, nothing more," he replied. Faramir nodded. Some friends should not be spoken of as if hope had been lost.

Legolas felt as if he were on Caradhras again, submerged in a fiery snow. He couldn't breathe, couldn't see, and could barely feel anything save the chill and the fire. The fire within him was unquenchable, especially in his stomach. He may have cried out in pain, but the fire had taken his throat.

Eomer removed his drenched tunic from the Elf's body and placed it on his forehead. He was alarmed when he felt his skin burning as warm as flame. Aragorn came over and sighed. Legolas was sweating as if he were on fire, but had fallen asleep. Aragorn reached for the nauroth plant. Eomer recognized it.

"Wait! I have something in my pack that will arouse him. Most sickened beings react to it, but not severely. It will decrease his chance of going into shock, but we'll need something to smoke it with." For their luck, Aragorn had his pipe with him, so Eomer placed the wad in it, lit it, and returned it to Aragorn, who leaned close to Legolas. Within moments Legolas' eyes opened and he began coughing, sneezing, and shaking.

"How much more of that do you have?" he asked in a hoarse whisper.

"Hopefully enough to keep you conscious until we get to Rohan," replied Eomer. Legolas took the hint and managed to rise on his own. Aragorn held the pipe out to him, to which Legolas reacted with a great sneezing fit.

"Elves react worse than humans do," Eomer observed, "but at least he's awake." Legolas had no doubt he was reacting. He could feel his throat getting scratched and his head throbbing.

"Aragorn, please stop," he sneezed.

"You're likely to be more awake if you smoke it a bit," the Ranger teased. He tried to make light of torturing his friend, but got no pleasure from it.

"If you're conscious enough, distance yourself from the pipe," Eomer advised. Legolas did, but still felt miserable. He leaned heavily on Eomer, although he tried not to. The human heard the Elf taking raspy breaths, unusual for a race that breathed with silence and grace.

"Do you want some water?" he asked. Legolas nodded. Water should quench the fire. It did, to some extent, mostly soothing his throat. "We can follow the lightning to a cave nearby," Eomer told the others. "There we can await light."

"There's a dropoff a distance from here. With luck a cave of sorts will accompany it," Legolas observed, his voice still hoarse. His muscles were shaking with the effort it took to walk. Because of the darkness, neither man noticed. By the time they reached the dropoff, he was exhausted and felt faint. Reluctantly he walked toward Aragorn, who was still smoking the pipe. Immediately he jolted awake, but felt fog clouding his senses. He groaned as his stomach jolted. His muscles gave out and he fell, gasping for breath, into Eomer's arms.

"His reaction is getting worse," Aragorn said worriedly. Legolas wouldn't have objected if he could have caught his breath long enough to. He was just hoping the darkness was from blockage of the sun, and not some veil cast upon his eyes.

"Can you make it down the slope?" Eomer asked the Elf. Legolas nodded, wondering if he really had much of a choice. "I'll go first and help you down." Aragorn argued with Eomer for a while, but Legolas barely heard them. The fainting sensation hadn't abated long, but he was still short of breath from his last encounter with the pipe. He was convulsing terribly now and hoped unconsciousness would take him. As he was on the edge of sleep, a furious ranger returned with his pipe lit.

"Please, Aragorn, let me sleep," Legolas begged, dreading the reaction the pipe's smoke would bring.

"I can't do that, mellon nin," Aragorn grouchily replied. Legolas heard the anger in his friend's voice, but felt too sick to ask what was wrong. "Eomer's probably down by now. You should get over there. We'll feed you once we're down." Just the thought of food made the Elf's stomach ill. As he rose, the fit of dizziness he had expected hit him hard. He was prepared for that, but not the sudden cold he felt or the wind that blew the smoke right at him. He collapsed, sneezing terribly.