A/N: Thanks everyone for your reviews! Here is the new chapter.
"Legolas!" Aragorn screamed, running to his friend and taking his from Boromir's arms into his own, feeling desperately on his neck for a pulse. It was weak and fluttery beneath his probing fingers.
Gandalf was quickly by their side as well, and he touched the elf's forehead, which would be unnervingly cold by human standards, but for an elf it was terrifying.
"He is fading," the wizard breathed, and he pointed to a clearing a few yards ahead.
"Get him there, and someone start a fire, quickly!"
The others ran to do his bidding and Aragorn stood, the elf light in his arms. They quickly made their way to the clearing, and Boromir had put out his bedroll to lay the elf upon as the hobbits and Gimli worked on getting a fire and water and such.
The moment the warmth of Aragorn's warmth left him, the elf began to shiver violently, curling in on himself, and even as he felt freezing sweat rolled down his temples.
"Get all the blankets we have! Put them on him!" Gandalf commanded, and to everyone's surprise it was Gimli that scurried away to do his bidding.
When he reappeared only seconds later with an armful of blankets, handing them to Aragorn, he was stunned by the growing rage in the ranger's eyes as he looked upon him.
"Do not come near him," said Aragorn. "You insensitive creature! Did it not occur to you the entire time you spoke your words to him that he was a person? That he has a soul that is as sensitive as anyone else's? That there was a legitimate reason he did not want you to insult his family?"
Gimli was speechless, having thought the same thing over and over to himself after the previous night, but hearing them from the ranger was something different. He could not help the tears that gathered in his eyes, and he clamped his hand over his mouth to contain a sob that was reaching up the back of his throat as he berated himself from the inside. Aragorn was still giving him a harsh look, so he backed away, realizing his help was not wanted.
Gandalf was not particularly pleased with what Aragorn had said to Gimli, but he himself would have said something similar, so he let it pass and took the blankets, spreading them one at a time over Legolas's shivering form.
"What is wrong with him, Gandalf?" asked Aragorn softly when he had finished.
"He is fading," Gandalf said, just as soft, and Aragorn's eyes widened and he shook his head vigorously.
"No!" he clamped a hand over his mouth, hating the tears that gathered in his eyes as he looked upon the elf's face. In the flurry of activity he had not yet had the opportunity to look at his friend closely. The elf was incredibly pale and sweaty, and occasional shivers still wracked his body. His eyes were closed, which was unusual in itself, and his eyes were searching around the inside of his eyelids, as if he was watching something. And he probably was, Aragorn told himself. There were plenty of memories that Gimli's words could have provoked.
He brushed a clump of hair, damp with sweat, from the elf's forehead and took Legolas's longer fingers within his own, squeezing them as if it would help.
"He cannot…he must not leave us…" Aragorn said, looking up at the wizard, searching his emotionless eyes for a source of confirmation that Legolas would pull through for them.
"No, Aragorn," Gandalf said, looking positively miserable. "I don't think he will."
Aragorn was speechless for a moment.
"What do you mean, you don't think—" he cried, but at that moment Legolas's eyes snapped open, his breathing unsteady and heavy.
"Legolas!" said Aragorn, gripping his friend's hand within both of his own. "Are you alright?"
Legolas did not seem to see him, in fact, it was like he was looking straight through him, his eyes completely empty and their usual light gone.
"Legolas? Please speak to me, mellon-nin. I am worried about you."
Legolas remained silent. Aragorn sighed, and he could not help but pull the elf into an embrace. Legolas remained cold and stiff in his arms, and when he drew back, there was still no emotion in his eyes.
"Legolas," said Gandalf, and Legolas stared at him, eyes glassy and emotionless. "We cannot afford to lose you, and neither can your ada. Please speak to us, penneth, if it will make you feel better."
Legolas did not seem to hear him, and he tried to stand, stumbling clumsily over his own feet. Worried, Aragorn pressed him down, but Legolas did not respond well to being restrained and began to make unintelligible sounds, reaching out desperately. It took Aragorn a few seconds to realize he was reaching for the trees around the clearing.
Realizing the elf's need to speak with his long-time protectors, Aragorn released the elf and watched as he tripped and caught himself, stumbling toward the trees with a desperate need. His eyes fell upon Gimli, and a flicker of anger filled his eyes, but it disappeared so quickly Aragorn thought he might have imagined it.
Legolas remained frozen, as did Gimli, and they stared at each other. Dark brown eyes met icy blue, and the emotion came, gradually at first but soon exponentially, into Legolas's eyes once more, and the look of sadness and defeat Gimli saw within his companion's heart was crushing.
Turning back to the trees, Legolas began to walk toward them again.
"Wait, elf—" said Gimli, and Legolas stopped but refused to turn and look at him, instead choosing to merely pause.
"Yes?" the word, so full of hurt and fear, drifted through the clearing.
Gulping, Gimli tried to swallow his pride and the words from his father.
"Never trust an elf."
"They are deceitful, conceited beings."
"I hope you never have to meet one."
Looking past the words, he realized that he had never heard anything so far from the truth in his life. The being before him was a beautiful blend of strength and vulnerability; he had the strength of ten dwarven warriors and a heart that welcomed all, despite their potential to hurt him. Yet if any of those that he welcomed hurt him enough, it could kill him as surely as any sword.
"I…I'm so sorry, laddie," Gimli said, trying to wipe away the tears on his cheeks before they fell into his beard. "I was so wrong about you. Please forgive me."
He could not stop his little dwarven legs from hurtling toward the elf, hugging his around the waist. Legolas looked positively startled, and he stared down at the dwarf with wide eyes.
After a few seconds, Gimli drew back, and as he saw Legolas's bewildered face his cheeks reddened in embarrassment. He was about to speak, but Legolas's face contracted with pain, and he cried out, falling to his knees.
"Nana!" he yelled, seemingly not with them in the clearing anymore. Aragorn and Gandalf rushed to him, but by the time they got there,
Legolas was already back on his feet, and he shuddered once before moving his hand to his temple.
"Sorry…" he said, and the rest of the group looked at him, concerned, but they did not say anything.
"Well, let us be going," said Gandalf, looking at Legolas. "If you think you are fit to walk, that is."
Legolas nodded wordlessly, and they packed up their temporary camp and began to walk again.
When they stopped for the night, a fire was made once again, and they gathered around it. Sam made a simple stew with some rabbit meat Aragorn and Legolas had gathered a few days prior, and before Legolas could protest, there was a bowl in his hands and everyone was looking at him expectantly.
He took a small sip to please them, and they immediately went back to their own meals seeing he had started. Fading didn't effect an appetite, apparently.
"Legolas?" Merry questioned cautiously, and the elf looked up from his food blankly.
"Um, Pippin and I were wondering…um…could you tell us…about your mother?"
Legolas's expression must have turned grave, because Merry immediately backtracked.
"No-I mean, you don't have to…we were just curious. You know, whatever. It's not important."
There was a pause.
"Galadriel."
"What?" said Merry, looking up at Legolas, who had spoken the name softly.
"They said her beauty rivaled that of Lady Galadriel, in the Golden Wood. Should you ever see the Lady of Lothlorien, you will know what I mean. But my mother possessed a different kind of beauty than Galadriel, because she did not have the strength of a ring of power to depend on, and she was ruling a darker realm."
"What did she look like?" said Pippin, curious even though he didn't know who Galadriel was.
"She was…maybe a little taller than I am now, and very slim. She had brown hair, not dark as Elrond's, but…maybe halfway between his and mine? It was down to her waist, and curly. She always wore it down when she was on duty as Queen, but when she was out in the woods it was in a simple braid. And she had green eyes, bright as the leaves of our homeland once were."
"You don't look much like her, then."
"Well, I have my father's eyes and hair, but if you compare our facial features we look very different. That is what I inherited from her."
"And…well, your father must have been very busy, right? Did she take care of you?"
Legolas was misty eyes as he responded. "Yes. Every day, unless there was something urgent, in which case I would be left with a maid. But most of the time she stayed with me while my father ran the realm."
Merry nodded, knowing his most prominent question was the one they could not ask. Pippin, however, did not have that boundary.
'How did she die?'
A/N: Annnnnnd...another cliffhanger! MWAHAHAHAHA!
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