Chapter Seven
In the early dawn the shadows of the bed curtains partly hid the elf, covered in blankets. Stretched on his stomach, easing the pressure on the cuts on his back, Legolas tried to push himself up, wincing and falling back down. Eomer stared at the elf, concern in his eyes. He'd no idea how long Legolas had been awake, or how much he'd heard.
"Lay still, love," Eomer said, hurrying to sit beside the elf on the bed, scrunching up the covers. Malwyn stooped, felt the head, looked into the eyes. Legolas returned the look with anger. She got the cup with Offa's potion in it and held it for the elf to drink.
He refused, looking frustrated. "No! Take what, 'Mer?" Eomer was worried, ran a hand through his hair, not knowing how much to tell him. Malwyn passed the cup to the king.
A rap at the door signalled the arrival of the boy with Eomer's breakfast. Malwyn took the heavy tray from the lad and sent him down the hall for Offa with a few whispered words. She placed the tray on the table and turned to the elf.
"I'll make a deal with you, my lad," she said gently. "You drink this up, and let Offa have a quick look at you. Then Eomer will explain what's happened." She spoke with quiet authority and the tone of those who dealt with the sick. Legolas glared at her, trying to twist his head.
Booted heels were heard running through the hall. Offa, having thrown on his trousers and shirt with obvious haste, skidded into the room. He took in the tableau, the angry elf, the worried king, the chatelaine.
"What's going on?" he asked, looking earnestly at the elf. Legolas regarded him with wariness. The elf was done with half answers and prevarications.
"What happened?" Legolas asked, his voice raspy from lack of use.
"Drink that first, it'll help." Malwyn said, nodding at the cup. While Legolas glared at her, she turned up the lamps in the room.
Offa checked the discontented elf over, nodding to himself. "You need to lie still, you're gong to open these wounds again. You've still got a lot of healing to do. Sleep is still the best thing for you right now."
"No more sleep!" Legolas said, trying to speak around the broken jaw, the stitches. He flinched at the pain, then set his face.
"Don't get stubborn, love." Eomer said, shifting on the side of the bed the elf faced. He stroked the head softly. "Drink the potion, then we'll explain."
The elf made a token resistance, but allowed the straw between his lips. He drank, noticing the bitter taste of the drug. He looked over at Malwyn.
"Liked yours better," he said, blinking to focus on her.
She took the cup, setting it on the table, next to the covered tray that held Eomer's food. She hoped she'd be able to get some of it into him after this.
"We found you in the forest." Eomer began. The elf concentrated on the man. "You've been seriously hurt. You were up in a tree. I don't know exactly what happened to you. But you're safe at Edoras, now." he looked around at the other two, worried that he was making a botch of it. Malwyn smiled at him encouragingly, while Offa just nodded.
Emotions crossed the elf's face. Confusion, panic, dread. The elf seemed to try to focus on something important. Then he set his face again.
"Gimli?" he asked simply, the look of pain in the eyes the only sign of suffering on his stoic face. Eomer looked away, looked back at those tortured eyes.
"Don't know, love." the man said honestly. "We're still searching, but it doesn't look good."
The keen began as a low moan, rising until it bruised the ears, made the teeth chatter. Eomer felt it in the bones behind his ears, the hair on the back of his neck stood up, a freezing upheaval filled his belly. The elf continued the scream, until he ran out of breath, then started it again, twisting in his agony, rolling himself to his back, trying to curl up against the splints that held the broken bones, the physical pain lost in the heartrending emotions.
"Don't, oh, don't, love," Eomer cried, trying to gather the elf in his arms. Malwyn stood on the other side of the bed, rubbing the elf's hip, tears in her eyes.
"Let him," Offa said, softly, his hand on the king's shoulder. "Let him get this out, it will help."
Hroth stood beside the bed, his howls making an eerie counterpoint to the elf's agony. Tears ran from the pale eye, from beneath the bandages on the other side, making pink streaks on the linen. Legolas screamed his grief, the threnody echoing through the hall, waking people in the dawn.
Breaking down into hiccoughing sobs, he stared unseeing, unaware of Eomer's tears, of Malwyn wiping his face with warm cloths, Offa holding his wrist. Finally the drug took hold and he sobbed his way into sleep.
Eomer, wiping his own tears with the back of his hand, looked to Malwyn. She held a flagon out to him, and he drank it down, not knowing, not caring what it was.
"Sweet Eru, I hope never to hear that again," he whispered. Malwyn was busy with instructions to the boy, who was wide eyed in horror. As he looked hopelessly at Offa, she had a bath started.
"Now, my lad," she told Eomer, tugging him off the bed. "Into the tub with you."
"This is not the time." Eomer said, horrified at her lack of sensitivity. She ignored him and forced him into the tub, washing his back and pouring the hot water herself. He found himself relaxing under her ministrations, in spite of himself, and was not sure if it was the hot water or the drink she'd given him. Drying off in warmed towels and slipping into a clean and warm nightshirt, he didn't care. Within moments, she had him tucked up into the cot, humming softly. He drifted off, almost as quickly as the elf had.
Offa was still monitoring the motionless elf. He'd repaired the damage to the bandages Legolas had caused with his anguish and tucked him up again.
Malwyn turned the lights down again. Hroth lay beside the bed, his big head on his paws. She turned to the healer, a sad look in her dark eyes, matched by his.
"Give me a few minutes to get things settled out there, Offa. Then you go back to your bed. Go get some rest, I can do what needs to be done here."
The healer stretched before the fire, as she closed the door behind her. He could hear her calm voice, explaining things to the crowd outside the King's Chamber.
Legolas woke to a remembrance of a great sorrow, something that pulled at him, tried to drown him in it's blackness. He fought it away, opening his eye, seeing the big head of the dog looking at him. Eomer still slept soundly, the occasional snore racking his body.
Malwyn was pulling the drapes open, letting in the dull, early afternoon light, while rain still sheeted against the window. Then she crossed to the elf.
"We'll let him sleep a bit longer, shall we, my lad? Let's see if we can't get you a bit more comfortable." she matched actions to words and quickly had him easy, propped up on pillows.
"You must be famished, with nothing but Offa's mixes in you. I've got some broth here, we'll try you on that. I've made it myself, so it's got some taste to it, not just nourishment."
She spooned a few mouthfuls into him, and he swallowed gratefully, not realizing until then how hungry he was. He ate the rest, ravenously, then leaned back against the pillows again, exhausted by the effort of eating. He drank the potion she gave him, noticing the sweet taste.
"Now, Offa wants to have a look at the eye today. It's not bright today, so we'll leave the curtains open. I'll just take this bandage off." She gently removed the padding, noticing that the swelling was almost gone, although the bruising was still livid against the pale skin of his face. The elf blinked, trying to focus both eyes together. Malwyn was grateful to notice there was no cant to the injured eye.
"It gets a bit depressing with nothing but lamplight," she continued, cheerfully. Legolas wished he could remember what her name was. "My first real patient was another eye injury. Got a bit high handed and his horse brought him right back down again. What a kick that was!" she laughed. "He was the most gentle man around horses after that! Some only seem to learn from experience."
"Malwyn, you'll talk him back to sleep" Eomer's voice came from the cot. "Some of weren't quite ready to get up yet."
"Malwyn," Legolas said, fixing the name. She turned her dark eyes on him.
"Yes, my lad?" she asked, as she adjusted the bandages on his face.
"Thank you." he said.
"Think nothing of it. Now, I'll go and see how Offa is getting along. Eomer, you call if you need me. I should be back in a few moments." She strode out the door. Eomer stretched and crossed over to the bed, still in his nightshirt. Legolas looked at him, trying to smile at the incongruous sight of the King of Rohan, hair tangled, sleep in his eyes.
"Well, you look much better with both your eyes." Eomer said lightly. "Are you lucky enough to see two of me?"
Legolas tried to shake his head, but the headache kept him from doing so. He gave up and rested against the soft pillows. "How bad am I?" he asked with resignation.
Eomer looked at him seriously. "Pretty bad. You've got some broken bones, cuts, looks like you're going to keep those beautiful eyes, though. How are you feeling?"
Legolas groaned. "Like hell." There was a question he wanted to ask, but something in his mind pulled it away from him. He reached for another, safer, query. "You rescued me?"
"Found you. I'm glad you decided to come home with me. You always could put up a fight."
Legolas grunted. "Not much choice. Put me to sleep every time I said a word..."
Eomer grinned. "Didn't want you to change your mind." Then he turned serious. "I don't know what you remember," he said, in a low and loving tone. "You told me you still loved me..."
Legolas gave him a sleepy grin. "Not still. Always...wanted you. Needed...time..."
Eomer groaned as the elf closed his eyes and drifted away. He sat on the edge of the bed, stroking the uninjured side of the face.
Time for what? Eomer wondered. Time to realize he loved Eomer? No, that had been plain from the first night they'd spent, tangled in these bedclothes. Time to sort out Gimli? No, Legolas had always been very clear where Gimli fit into his life. His best friend, his soul friend. What he and Eomer shared was separate, different. Time for Eomer to realize that? Perhaps. The elf always did have the most aggravating habit of dropping off when Eomer needed to talk.