Sorry this chapter is a bit shorter than I had been making them! The next one should be back to the usual length.
There will likely be about 25 chapters for this story, give or take a few.
Thank you to closetnightmares and Verity Grahams for their amazing beta skills :D
Enjoy! :)
Legolas POV
Everyone was happy to see that Harry was awake, although he was still injured, that didn't take away from the fact that Harry was alive. I held back from the group, the smile on my face never faltering as I watched him. Harry, while still a little out of it, was more relaxed now. He stayed with the Hobbits, and it was a joy to see him laughing at their antics, particularly something Merry said.
"I need to dress his wound, Pippin would you get something to dry him off with for me, please?"
Aragorn stood up after ruffling Harry's wet hair to the males annoyance. Pippin nodded before returning with a piece of cloth to use. It was actually a piece of torn shirt, it had been getting more and more ragged as the journey went on, each time an injury occurred, the shirt was torn apart some more. I enter the small group, gently tugging the ruined shirt off Harry's torso -this too is likely to become part of our healing kit - frequently apologizing as Harry winces far too often, it seems impossible to tend to him without causing him more pain.
"I was worried, you know. I'm glad you're back with us." I grin at him, wanting to hug Harry but refraining.
The last thing I want is to cause him more pain. I settle for giving his hand a gentle squeeze which Harry returned weakly. I dried him off as best as I could with the dry cloth, then let Aragorn take over. He steeped the wound in a kind of weed called Athelas. The sweet fragrance fills the camp, and I watch intently as Harry's face relaxes under the influence of the healing weed. Aragorn expertly crafted a bandage from their tattered clothing, the Athelas embedded inside and wrapped up Harry's chest. The others reluctantly left after a few more moments, intent on setting up camp and getting food ready to eat.
"I thought you were going to die; I thought you had died. That, along with Gandalf falling - I'm glad you're going to be okay." Aragorn's words were quiet.
The words were only meant for Harry and me to hear, but they were full of relief, though sorrow was hidden in the stern way in which he spoke them. He spent a few more moments finishing the bandage, making sure it was secure, before standing to go help the Hobbits with gathering wood.
I stayed with Harry, happily chatting with him, unable to leave his side. I will never leave his side so long as I can help it. I barely noticed as the sun went down and we ate, Harry occasionally resting beside me as it became harder to keep his eyes open. I made sure the others didn't disturb him, knowing he needed it, but distantly worried he wouldn't wake back up - it's irrational I know - Death said he cannot die. I feel sure he can suffer though. The others were mostly silent, the weight of the past twenty-four hours weighing heavily on our minds. There were occasional tears from the Hobbits interrupting long stretches of quiet.
"Death says hello," I whisper when Harry wakes later that day.
Everyone else had fallen asleep, their eyes puffy from both shed and unshed tears. Harry looked up at me, startled and confused.
"Death isn't real," he attempted to say, the words coming out in a slight stutter.
I raised an eyebrow at him. "He explained a few things with me while you were... unconscious," I replied.
A lump formed in my throat just thinking of him dying in my arms - even if it was only temporary. Harry flinched slightly, frowning as he tried to shift to a different position, trying to face me. Harry's bandages were lightly dotted with blood, something that was limiting his movement.
"The river, it was supposed to help heal you, but it only seemed to slow the process." I nodded towards the scar on his chest, the wizard followed my gaze.
"Uhm, I assume it interfered with whatever magic comes with being the Master of Death, maybe? I don't know. What did you mean by 'he explained a few things'?" he asked. His gaze rose to meet my own, and I settled down beside him. "I didn't think he would-" he paused, looking away.
I gently took his chin between my fingers, encouraging him to face me again. "Harry, I know. It's okay." I say gently, my voice barely above a whisper.
Harry's green eyes meet mine, and they are full of uncertainty. As I smile at him his expression changes, it fills with determination. Determination for what, I'm not entirely sure.
"No, it's not. It's not okay. I lost everyone, and now I can't die - I'll never see my friends again. I'll be alone forever."
My chest twisted at the words, I had not expected this. Though maybe in a way, I did.
"You're not alone anymore, you will have the Elves. Y-you've got me - forever. Elves are immortal too. You're important to me, and I won't let you force yourself into isolation, not after you practically died in my arms. I was devastated. I'm afraid of losing - I only just found you. When Death spoke to me and told me that you're immortal too, that you are The Master of Death, I was elated."
I took a deep breath, Harry's eyes widen in shock. He looks so unsure and seems unable to respond. I smile gently, my fingers still holding his chin gently.
"That's… unexpected," Harry began. "I am alone, though, regardless. My people are gone, they aren't here, and they never will be. The Istari aren't the same - Gandalf was…" Harry trailed off, his eyes staring blankly into the distance.
"Harry, whatever you're thinking, it wasn't your fault. Don't ever think otherwise."
"Right," he replied caustically. "Anyway, Death? I didn't think he would show up, let alone to someone other than myself," Harry shrugged.
I released his chin, and I'm happy that he doesn't turn away.
"He actually asked me to say hello for him. I imagine he'll say it himself at some point," I explained. I watch as Harry hides a yawn, smiling as his nose crinkles slightly in the process. "Go back to sleep, I'll watch over you."
Harry studies me, we make eye contact, and he slowly nods in agreement. He lays down, making sure to stay close to me. As promised, I watch over him for the rest of the night. Occasionally he stirs in his sleep - a nightmare, and I grip his hand hoping to give him some comfort.
"We should leave tomorrow at daybreak, we need to let Harry rest a little longer," Aragorn suggested the next morning.
Everyone agrees it's obvious that they don't want to put any strain on Harry. I was about to agree myself, but I pause when a sudden wind rushes through the camp which carries the whispers of Elves nearby.
"Wait. I think we should leave midday today," I say as I hear the Elvish words on the wind, beckoning us to meet them tomorrow before sundown.
"Why?" Boromir questioned, a frown marring his face.
"There are Elves nearby, they wish to take us to Lothlorien. It is a great nation of Elves. It's about two days travel from here." I turn my attention to the group, Boromir is still frowning.
I had noticed earlier that he showed a lack of care or even sympathy for Harry's injury, though he mourned Gandalf with the rest of us. This made little sense to me; Harry has done nothing to warrant such scorn from anyone. I was glad when everyone showed Harry how much they actually care for him. I knew Harry had thought otherwise. I had no idea why Boromir remained so suspicious. The Hobbits remained unnaturally silent, huddled together.
"But -" Boromir protested,
"Very well, help Gimli, and I clean up, Boromir." Aragorn interrupted him, standing up.
I'm surprised when he didn't try to refuse, knowing that Harry is in no shape to be moved. Aragorn, like myself, knows it's far wiser to move on and seek the Elves of Lorien, the Galadhrim. They are wise people, and maybe they would allow us safe passage, and rest. I cannot help but recall that they are not trusting people, and those unknown to them - particularly Dwarves - are not likely to have a royal welcome. I stand, moving to wake Harry from his light slumber, despite his need of rest. Gently I touch his shoulder, and Harry's eyes blink open and meet mine.
"Sorry, I wish I could have let you sleep a little longer, but we are leaving the camp to meet with some of my kin. Let me help you stand."
I hold my hands out, carefully taking hold of Harry to help him up. I wince at the pained sound he makes at the smallest movement. I quickly wrap my arms around his shoulders, giving him extra support. Harry relaxes against my side, sighing slightly, and I cannot deny that it feels good.
"Thanks. I don't think I will be able to walk on my own yet though, unfortunately."
Though he spoke softly, I noticed the words were more precise than they had been previously. Stronger, even. 'This is a good sign. Maybe he's healing properly now? I can't help but feel terrible for slowing down the process. Him leaning against me is… nice. I could spend the whole day with him in my arms.'
I feel the blush creep up my neck and face almost immediately, and I clear my throat awkwardly, "Aragorn should carry you again, then, it will not be a problem."
Harry blinks at me, confused and maybe slightly disappointed, but nods. I slowly help him across the camp to where everyone is gathered, letting Aragorn help him walk, arm wrapped around the wizards back. I turn, leading the group towards the spot my kin will be waiting for us.
It takes four hours to reach the clearing, no one speaks as everyone is still worn down with sorrow and exhaustion. I tried as best as I could to check on Harry for the third time, but I needn't as he'd fallen asleep two hours ago. It was challenging to smother any hint of jealousy as I watched them together, even as I knew about Lady Arwen. We stop when we reach the clearing, and we are quickly surrounded by a group of Elves clad in grey.
"Follow us. The Lady Galadriel has requested an audience and is willing to offer you rest and safe passage," said a stocky blonde Elf. He gestured for us to follow, and he eyed Harry with a hidden concern.
It took two long nights of marching to reach Lothlorien, only stopping to rest for short periods. During that time, Harry woke every few hours and each time I made sure he ate and drank as much as I could force him, then I replaced his bandages for fresh ones. Aragorn replaced the Athelas in the evenings. Each time I tended his wound and my hands came into contact with his skin; I was as gentle as possible. Harry was in enough pain, without my carelessness causing more.
Harry was grateful, I could tell from his gentle smiles and soft words. Every night I made sure to stick close to him, doing what I could to keep his nightmares at bay. More and more I noticed him leaning into my touch, the smile on my face was hard to suppress. I remember wanting him to open up to someone, maybe even myself, and now I find myself glad that he chose to open up to me even if only a little bit.
The Elves lead us through to the city of Caras Galadhon. Harry, who is finally awake, looks up in awe at the tree-top homes of the Elves. Eventually, we are brought to large stairs which wind up the trees into the dizzying heights of the tree-tops. We walk up the long set of stairs until we reach a large open telain - a platform in the crown of a great Mallorn Tree. The Hobbits, who had been talking amongst themselves, immediately fell silent in her presence, momentarily forgetting the sorrow that clings to their weary hearts. They admired the enormous trees that make up the city, houses built far above our heads, resting amongst the branches. The stairs are long and beautifully crafted; once we reach the upper area it is dark but lit up with bright blue lights, which illuminated everything it touched, even for me, it is breathtaking. We come to a stop in front of the beautiful elf-maiden, her bright golden hair incredibly long, like golden waves cascading down. Her blue eyes hold compassion and a thousand years of wisdom. There is a thin crown of silver resting on her head which tells me that this could only be The Lady Galadriel.
"Nine weary travellers of the Fellowship, I welcome you to Lorien. But where is Gandalf? For I much desire to speak with him," Lady Galadriel asks, her voice soft and musical.
With that single question, the weight of the truth lands again on our delicate hearts, and silence falls upon us like a curse. No one speaks, to talk about what had happened, the fear that by speaking it would make it all too real. It is Aragorn who finally speaks.
"He fell, into the abyss with both shadow and flame. It was a Balrog of Morgoth," he said. "For we went needlessly into the net of Moria."
"Needless were none of the deeds of Gandalf, we do not yet know his full purpose," Lady Galadriel spoke, and though her voice was filled with sadness, it still lifted our heavy hearts a little.
"Yes, such a harsh thing to happen. You may stay as long as you wish, to mourn and to rest," It was Lord Celeborn who spoke, the husband of Galadriel, and wisest amongst elves.
"Thank you," I speak softly, bowing my head in acceptance of their offer, glad to have somewhere safe for Harry to stay. "If I may be so bold, could someone take a look at Harry, is there anything you can do for him?" I asked looking in her eyes and seeing hope. I pray that they can reverse the effect of the river, and let him heal more naturally.
"Of course. I will send for my personal healer to come to see him as soon as may be."
Ten minutes later we are settled in, brought to a comfortable area amongst the massive roots of a tree, watching a healer look over Harry as he tends to the angry red wound.
"He will have to rest for a few more days before he can start walking around on his own again, but he will otherwise be just fine." The Elf says, before he bows and leaves without letting us say anything.
I gaze at the sleeping wizard, frowning when he doesn't begin to heal any faster.
'Does the water still affect him even after so many days have passed? I hope it wears off soon, I don't like seeing him like this.'
The mood around us remains a solemn one, as the sun goes down once again and darkness is upon us. In the distance there are the beginnings of a song; a lament to Gandalf, just hearing it breaks my heart just a little more. One by one the others fall into a restless sleep, and Harry does not wake up again. I am about to fall asleep, listening to the elven song, but am woken by Harry who is twisting around in his sleep, face scrunched up in pain. I move closer to him, laying down so that our shoulders are touching and take his hand in my own. It is only a few more moments later when he calms back down, and I drift off to sleep, secure in the knowledge that he is okay.