"Oh, it feels so good to be outside in the fresh air again," Eowyn sighed appreciatively to her companion as a brisk but pleasant fall breeze blew past them and rustled some of the fallen leaves laying strewn across the garden walkway.

"I am sure it does," Arwen, the Queen of Gondor, replied with a friendly smile, "I know you have spent most of the last few weeks in bed." The two ladies were currently strolling through the palace gardens, admiring the fall changes in the trees. They walked at a leisurely pace, with no hurry to go or be anywhere but just enjoy the present. As the two continued along they happened upon a stone bench sitting alongside the pathway that weaved through the gardens near a roofed walkway running along the length of the palace that stood not far from where the path winded.

"Do you mind if we sit for a moment?" Eowyn asked, gesturing towards the stone bench. "I just do not have the stamina I once had," she joked lightly.

"Of course. Carrying such a burden must become tiring after a time," Arwen said as they both sat down on the garden bench.

Eowyn laughed lightly and gently rubbed the seven months’ pregnant swell of her belly. "Oh, it is not so much of a burden when you know that in less than two months you will have another child to love."

Arwen smiled. Like Eowyn, the elven lady loved children and was eagerly anticipating the addition of yet another young member to the palace household. She could only look on in anticipation for when she and Aragorn would create their own little life together and bring it into the world. "Is Faramir excited?" she asked curiously.

"Oh yes," the White Lady of Rohan answered, "He only says he hopes for a daughter. Theomir is such a little hellion at the age of only two and a half that Faramir does not know if he can handle two rambunctious boys born so close together." The two ladies laughed heartily, reveling in the woes of men and child-rearing.

As the two ladies continued to converse with each other, they caught the sound of talking behind them. They turned back and saw two female servants talking to each other on the open, roofed walkway of the palace several paces away. They spoke to each other in hushed, hurried voices as if exchanging urgent news. The one doing most of the talking talked animatedly, using flamboyant gestures to punctuate her speech. The other looked on wide-eyed and stunned, her mouth open in disbelief.

The two ladies quieted and pretended to admire the vibrant leaves of the changing trees as they secretly listened to the exchange going on behind them.

"...I heard that the whole third floor near the royal guestrooms is in an uproar." the first servant woman said excitedly, pulling the other closer as if to whisper a secret.

"What is it? What’s going on?" the other one asked curiously.

"The king’s friend – the elven prince. The one that’s been in a coma the last several years. He’s just woken!"

"You jest!"

"No! It’s true. Frida who works in the kitchens just told me that Erien, some servant girl that works on the forth floor, said that he just woke up and is now having some kind of attack! She was sent to summon King Elessar and Lord Elrond for help. The twin elf-lords and the dwarf are trying to control him but he fights as if possessed! The whole palace is in an uproar!"

The two servants continued to talk between themselves, but Arwen and Eowyn heard no more of what was said. For by then they had already leapt to their feet and were racing down the garden pathway back towards the entrance that would lead them back inside the palace.

******

"It’s going to be alright, Legolas. I promise... It’s going to be alright..." Elrohir tried to reassure over the sound of Legolas’ cries as the elf continued to thrash on the bed beneath the restraining grips of his friends. Continuing to keep Legolas’ arm pinned down to the mattress with one hand, Elrohir reached out with his other and began petting matted blond hair away from his friend’s face, desperately trying to calm the writhing elf. Legolas only cried out louder and violently tossed his head back against the pillow as if trying to escape the brother’s touch. "It’s going to be alright, Legolas... It’s going to be alright..." Elrohir babbled frightenedly, trying to keep back his rising panic.

What was wrong with Legolas?! What was happening to him? Why was he screaming and thrashing about like this?

But Elrohir didn’t know. Neither did his brother who was trying to keep Legolas’ legs pinned down to the bed. The brothers’ eyes met for a brief moment of time as they fought to kept the elf subdued. Panic and fear shined in both their ancient grey depths. Never before had either of them ever seen anyone seized by such a sudden and violent fit such as this. Was Legolas dying or suffering from some kind of adverse effect from coming out of his coma?

"What’s wrong with him?!" Gimli’s deep, baritone voice rang out over Legolas’ shouts as he fought to keep Legolas’ left arm and shoulder pinned to the mattress. For as thin and wasted Legolas had become over the years, he fought against his friends with amazing strength. But it was still nothing like the strength he had once possessed before the accident. If Legolas had been in top condition at that moment, it was doubtful even all three of them would have been able to have kept the bucking elf down.

"Where’s father?!" Elladan shouted frantically as one of Legolas’ legs broke out of his grasp and blindly kicked outwards, almost striking the elf in the chin.

"I don’t know! Just hold him down!" Elrohir shouted back.

Just at that moment, there came a loud voice from beyond the wall of wide-eyed servants blocking the doorway. "What’s going on here? What’s all this shouting? Make room!"

Elrohir, Elladan, and Gimli looked up towards the door, all praying that it was Aragorn or Elrond who had finally arrived. But instead of the retired ranger or elf-lord, pushing his way through the crowd of servants was the king’s Steward, Faramir.

"What’s going on in here? What’s happening?" he demanded as he finally broke through the crowd and into the room. His eyes were immediately drawn to the wild flurry of movement coming from large bed of Legolas’ old guestroom where the two elves and dwarf were desperately struggling to hold someone down. "What’s going on? Who is that?" Faramir demanded. But just as the words left his mouth, the man gasped as realization hit him like a battering ram in the gut.

He was in Legolas’ room...

Long blond hair whipped through the air near the headboard of the bed as the person continued to madly thrash against the brothers and dwarf. Unintelligible cries of a familiar voice filled the air – a voice he had not heard for the past five years. "Le– Legolas?!" Faramir stammered in shock as he dumbly stared down at the bucking form of his friend who only yesterday had laid there so still and quiet he could have been mistaken as dead.

"He just woke up!" Elladan called out to him, "But he’s having some type of seizure! Please! Go find our father or Aragorn! We need their help!"

For a moment, Faramir could not find the power to move. His mind felt frozen. All he could do was stare in shock at the awakened elf thrashing on the bed.

"Faramir!" Elladan cried, startling the man out of his trance.

"Right. I’ll be back as soon as I can," he called back as he started to turn towards the door. But he did not have to go far. For just at that moment came the most welcome sight in all the world to those fighting to keep Legolas on the bed: both Aragorn and Lord Elrond pushing their way through the crowd of servants into the room.

"Let me through! Let me through!" Aragorn’s cried, desperately wadding through the mass of on-lookers blocking the door. "Legolas! Where is he?"

Bursting into the room, the man froze where he stood as he was met by the sight of the thin, withered form of his friend violently twisted and fighting on the bed and heard the elf’s strangled cries piercing the air. The servant girl that had gotten him had said Legolas had woken up and was fighting against Elrohir and Elladan, but that still did not prepare him for what he actually saw.

Elrond soon broke through the crowd himself and came to a halt beside his mortal foster-son. But while Aragorn stood paralyzed in shock, the ancient elf-lord swept his eyes over the scene, quickly analyzing everything he saw.

Legolas was beginning to weaken. Though it seemed his sudden fit had lent him a burst of unforseen strength, it was quickly draining his wasted body of energy as he continued to struggle against the twins and Gimli. He had begun to only weakly writhe beneath his restrainers’ grips, his thrashes beginning to slowly peter out. Legolas’ cries had become nothing more than weak, keening wails as he tossed his head back against the pillows as if trying to escape Elrohir’s touch who was still trying to calm the struggling elf. Helpless tears streaked down his cheeks from wide-shot, bright blue eyes.

"Release him!" Elrond cried, realizing what was going on, "Let him go! Now!" Elrohir, Elladan, and Gimli all looked back at Elrond as if he had gone quite mad, but immediately followed his orders and released their hold on the thrashing elf.

Like a string pulled so taut that it snapped, the colors and storm of emotions attacking Legolas’ mind abruptly disappeared at the sudden severance of physical contact. The elf fell limply back against the pillows, gasping for air. Dazed with shock, he weakly rolled onto his side and curled into a protective ball with one arm thrown up over his face as if trying to hide from anything else that might try and harm him.

A heavy silence filled the room as everyone there stood in a palpable air of shock. The only audible sound to be heard was the shuddering gasps of air from the small blond form curled up in a ball on the bed. The elf lay with his back to the door and everyone there except for Gimli who stood several paces away from the bedside, staring at the awakened prince in open amazement as if he still could not believe what he saw.

The first to break out of his trance was Aragorn. "Legolas..." he whispered in disbelief as he began to make a rush for the elf’s bedside. But before the man could get even two steps, he was abruptly stopped by Elrond catching him across the chest with a strong arm.

"No, Aragorn," the elf-lord reprimanded gently as he pulled the man back, "Let me see to him first. He is still in shock from waking up. We do not want to cause him anymore undue trauma. We need to take this slowly." Aragorn looked torn. Anxious grey eyes darted between his foster-father and the huddled form of his friend on the other side of the room. It was obvious Aragorn desperately wanted to go to his friend who he had not seen awake for the past five years, but with a reluctant nod, the man stepped back, allowing his foster-father access to the bed.

Elrond slowly approached the bed and sat on the edge of the mattress, facing Legolas’ back. "Legolas?" he called gently, leaning over towards the huddled body, "Legolas, can you hear me?" There came no response from the blond archer, but Elrond thought he saw the tense muscles in the elf’s shoulders relax a little at the sound of his voice. "Legolas, it’s alright. You’re safe now. It’s alright. No one is going to hurt you," he spoke softly as if trying to calm a frightened young colt. He slowly reached out a hand towards Legolas’ back. He felt the elf instantly tense at the gentle touch of his fingers but then slowly relax again as nothing happened. "It’s alright... You’re safe now..." he continued, beginning to rub soothing circles into the younger elf’s back, trying to relax away the tension.

He gradually felt Legolas relax under his touch. Finally after a few moments, Legolas let his arm drop away from over his face. Reassured by this small action, Elrond gently whispered into the other elf’s ear, "Legolas, can you look at me?" Again, he received no answer, but he saw Legolas slowly uncurl from around himself and try to push himself up onto his elbows. Unfortunately though, the elf did not seem able to manage that small movement and miserably flopped back down onto his side.

"Help... I– I can’t..." came a low, raspy plea.

Elrond gently snaked an arm beneath the blond elf’s boney shoulder and helped roll Legolas back onto his back. As Legolas came over into the elf-lord’s arms and back into his nest of pillows, he dazedly looked about the room. His breathing was still slightly ragged and uneven from his previous fit, but he now seemed much calmer. Legolas lay for a moment trying to regain his bearings. He felt unnaturally tired and drained of energy. His eyes lethargically scanned the faces of all his friends staring back at him from around the perimeter of the bed.

"What happened?" he finally rasped after a moment, blinking blurry eyes into focus. "Why can’t I move?"

Not giving an immediate answer, Elrond looked back over his shoulder and gave Faramir a quick but deliberate nod towards the open door of the room where at least a dozen servants still stood staring inside at the newly awakened prince. Faramir immediately caught the elf’s unspoken meaning and turned towards the door. "Don’t you people have work to do?" he barked, startling the servants out of their trance with his authoritative voice, "Go! Be gone! You’ve done enough standing there in the door." As the group of on-lookers broke up and hurried back to whatever tasks they had been doing before Legolas’ sudden awakening, Faramir quickly strode forward and shut the door to Legolas’ room.

"What happened to me?" Legolas again implored as he looked up at Elrond sitting beside him on the bed, "Why can’t I move? I can’t feel my legs. No one will tell me."

Elrond seemed to weigh his answer for a long moment before finally answering. "You cannot move because your muscles have atrophied," he said softly.

Legolas blinked in surprise. "What? How– how could that have happened?" he demanded, feeling a rush of panic surge through his veins. He weakly brought his arms up in front of his face. "What happened to me?" he cried as he surveyed the wasted, rail-thin remains of his arms. By now, his emaciated body had begun to shake with building panic. All he could do was stare at his arms – arms he no longer recognized as his own. "What happened to me?!"

"Legolas, calm down. It’s alright. Just calm down and breathe," Elrond tried to soothe in a low, calm voice.

"Calm down?!" Legolas cried incredulously, "How can I calm down?! What happened to me?! Why can’t I move?! Why did my muscles atrophy?!" Blinded by panic and disbelief, he once again tried to push himself up and sit on his own power.

Seeing what Legolas was trying to do, Elrond gently tried to restrain him. "No, Legolas. Just relax."

"No! I need to sit. I have to sit up," the elf cried stubbornly, still trying to force his wasted muscles into pushing himself up onto his elbows. "Please! I just need to sit up!"

Elrond noted the frightened tone lacing Legolas’ voice and slipped an arm behind under the elven prince’s back. "It’s alright, Legolas. It’s alright," he whispered softly as he helped lift the almost weightless elf up into a sitting position against the headboard and pillows of the bed.

Legolas’ vision wheeled out of focus as he came perpendicular to the bed. Blood pounded in his ears. He suddenly felt light headed and extremely dizzy from the sudden shifting of position for laying there on his back for so long (though he yet did not know how long a time that actually was). He felt his stomach clench in protest, and for a moment he thought he was about to be sick.

One of Elrond’s sons seemed to see this and immediately handed Elrond a metal basin that had been sitting there on a night stand near Legolas’ bed. The ancient healer held it up under the young prince’s mouth for several minutes until Legolas finally felt his stomach’s begin to relax and shook his head in negation to the unneeded bowl. As Elrond handed Elrohir back the unused basin, Legolas fell back against the headboard, breathing hard to calm his rapidly beating heart and his still slightly unsettled stomach.

A thin sheet of sweat had begun to form on the archer’s brow. Blinking back the hazy ring of darkness tunneling the edges of his vision, Legolas looked back at Elrond. "What happened? Why did my muscles atrophy?" he again asked, his voice weak and very soft.

Elrond again hesitated. "What do you remember?" he instead asked.

Legolas’ eyes slowly looked up towards the ceiling as he searched his memory. "I was riding back to Ithilien..." he said softly, his eyes narrowed in fierce concentration, "We were riding through the mountain pass of Emyn Arnen... Arod wouldn’t be quiet in the gorge..." he continued, when a sudden spark of remembrance flashed in his eyes. "There was a rock slide. We tried to get out but the rocks were coming down too fast..." Legolas trailed off and sharply looked up at Elrond. "What happened? Where’s Arod? Did he make it out?" he demanded, fear and concern lacing his voice.

"I am sorry, Legolas," the elf-lord said solemnly, "Arod was killed."

A stricken look crossed over the elf’s face. "No..." he moaned as he shook his head in denial and turned his face away from Elrond. "No..."

"I’m sorry, Legolas. I really am..." he said, putting a comforting hand on the elf’s painfully thin shoulder. Legolas sat for awhile, quietly reflecting on the white stallion he had lost. Unlike men who saw the horses they rode as nothing more than beasts of burden, elves viewed their horses as friends and companions. Finally, after a moment, the blond elf lifted his head and looked back at Elrond with sorrow laden eyes. "What else do you remember, Legolas?" Elrond asked gently.

It took a minute for Legolas to find his voice again to speak. "Not much," he answered softly, "All I remember is Arod becoming caught in the landslide and then seeing a rock coming towards me..." As he trailed off again, Legolas subconsciously raised a hand to the left side of his head – right to the spot where a patch of pure white hair streaked his golden mane. He paused as he felt his fingers burrow down through the silky white strands to the scalp below and felt a soft, raised section of old scar tissue. A startled look flew across his face. He then looked back down at his wasted arms and began turning them over back and forth, as if searching for something. "What happened?" he demanded sharply as he turned frightened blue eyes back up at Elrond, "Why don’t I have any cuts or bruises? Shouldn’t I have suffered some kind of injury if I was caught in such a large rockslide?"

Elrond gave a quick glance over his shoulder towards Aragorn and his twin sons standing together in a group near the foot of Legolas’ bed, and shared an uncomfortable, knowing glance with them for a brief moment of time. Turning back to Legolas, the ancient elf-lord held the archer’s gaze for a long moment of silence before finally speaking.

"You have been in a coma, Legolas..."

"What...?" Legolas stammered, thinking he had somehow misheard Elrond.

"You sustained a very extensive head wound," Elrond explained, "It is a miracle you are awake, let alone alive. If Elladan and Elrohir had not gone after you to deliver a message, you could have very well died in that mountain pass before anyone ever found you."

"You were bleeding very heavily," Elrohir’s voice piped up from the foot of Legolas’ bed, "We almost lost you several times before we were finally able to stop the bleeding."

Elladan nodded beside his brother. "We had to use a heated piece of metal to cauterize the wound and stop the bleeding," he added, testifying to just what extreme measures they had had to take to save the younger elf’s life.

Legolas stared down at the bedcovers, lost in a storm of a thousand different thoughts. Everything they were saying to him seemed so distant and unreal. "H– how long?" he finally found the voice to ask in a small, dazed tone, "How long have I been unconscious?"

There was no answer from any of his friends.

"How long?" he demanded, rising his tone insistently as he looked back up at those standing around him and stared at them expectantly.

The elven twins shifted uncomfortably under Legolas’ gaze, but said nothing. Aragorn stared down at the floor, as if lost in thought or unwilling to meet the elf’s eyes. Faramir, likewise, did not seem able to look directly at the elf. Elrond remained stoically quiet, his face and eyes relenting no answers to the young elven prince. Gimli seemed the only one able to meet Legolas’ eyes, but he held the elf’s gaze solemnly as if what he refused to say was too painful for him to speak.

"How long?" Legolas again demanded, starting to become frightened by his friends’ lack of response.

"Legolas, I think you should try and rest now," Elrond said from beside him, "You have been through much in the last few minutes. You need to regain your strength."

"No!" Legolas cried panickedly, "Why won’t you tell me? How long was I out?!"

"Legolas, please. You are in very weak state right now. You need to try and rest," Elrond persisted calmly, "We will answer your questions later, but right now you need to try and rest."

"Why won’t you tell me now?!" Legolas cried, sweeping his eyes across his friends’s faces, desperately imploring answers. "How long have I been unconscious?!"

"Legolas– " Elrond began but was abruptly cut off as the door to Legolas’ room suddenly burst open.

"Where is he? Is he awake?" Rushing into the room in a flurry of long dark hair and flowing red gown came Aragorn’s wife, the Queen of Gondor, Arwen, and behind her the White Lady of Rohan, Eowyn, both their faces a twisted confusion of urgency and anxiety. "Where is he? Did he actually wake up?" Arwen called out, looking about hurriedly.

The two ladies came to an abrupt halt upon seeing the others already crowding the room, and immediately turned their attention onto the large bed occupying the far left side of Legolas’ room. Staring back at them from the confines of the bed was a pair of frightened, sapphire blue eyes. Both women froze, openly staring at the blond elven prince laying awake against the headboard of the bed.

"Legolas..." Arwen whispered in disbelief. Any other words she might have spoken at that moment seemed frozen in her mind or caught deep inside her throat. For a long moment of silence the two women and elven prince just stared at each other.

Legolas was almost ready to turn his attention back to Elrond and demand for more answers when his eyes happened to fall on the protruding bulge of the Lady Eowyn’s seven months’ pregnant belly. For a moment, the entire world seemed to come to a grinding halt around the elf as he stared in complete disbelief, unable to comprehend what he actually saw.

"How long have I been asleep?!" he cried, sharply turning back on Elrond and weakly grabbing hold of the elf-lord’s shoulder in unrestrained panic, "How long?!"

"Legolas, please..."

"How long?!"

Elrond paused. The younger elf’s face was a raging storm of panic. He never thought he had ever seen Legolas look so terrified. A tense, heavy silence filled the room as Elrond looked back into Legolas’ frightened blue eyes. There was no way to delay the inevitability of telling him the truth any longer...

"Five years," he finally said, "You’ve been asleep for five years."

Legolas sat for a long moment of silence, frozen in shock. Though Elrond’s words madly swirled around in his head, he still could not seem to make them register. "Fh– five years?" he repeated numbly.

"The date is October 18^th, 1426 of the Fourth Age," Elrond continued, "You have been in a coma for the last five years..." Legolas paled and seemed to become physically nauseated.

"Five years? Five years?" he repeated in shock, starting to hyperventilate as the full meaning of those words slowly began to sink in. "How could I have been asleep that long?" he cried in a small, frightened voice. He shakingly brought his hands back up in front of his face and looked down at the emaciated remains of his arms. "Oh gods! How could I have been asleep that long?!" he cried, shaking his head in denial. He slowly looked back up and scanned the face of all his friends standing around him, as if desperately pleading them to somehow make what Elrond just said not true and end this terrible nightmare. But they could not, and only stared back at Legolas, the painful truth shining in their eyes.

"Five years...?" he whined in a small, frightened voice as if still trying to make himself believe the words, "Five years?" By now, he had begun breathing very hard to control the raging panic and disbelief that was quickly building up inside him. His painfully thin chest heaved with the effort. Tears of denial stung his eyes.

"Legolas, it’s alright. It’s ok," Elrond tried to sooth as he reached out to calm the shaking elf, "We can rehabilitate your muscles. With intense physical therapy I have total confidence you will walk again."

But Legolas did not seem to hear him. "Five years?" he moaned pitifully. Shaking his head in denial, the elf hung his head down his chest and hid his face behind a thick curtain of blond and white-streaked hair. His gaunt shoulders shook with building sobs.

"Legolas, it’s alright. It’s alright," Elrond continued to soothe, rubbing the elf’s trembling back in attempt to halt the racking sobs. As he continued to comfort the sobbing prince, Elrond looked back over his shoulder to his two sons. "Elladan," he said softly, "Would you go and make an herbal tea for me – an infusion of apple grass and worm root." Elladan seemed slightly taken aback by his father’s request but finally nodded and quickly left the room to make the requested tea.

"Legolas, your friends are with you. We will help you through this," Aragorn said, taking a step closer to Legolas’ bedside. Though some small part of his mind still could not believe his friend was actually awake, the immediate joy of such a miracle seemed to override that lingering disbelief and lent him the strength to break out of his shocked state and offer comfort to his distressed friend. "I will do everything in my power to help restore you back to your former self." General nods of agreement came from the others standing around Legolas’ bedside.

Legolas seemed to take some consolation in his friends’ heartfelt eagerness to help him and slowly began to regain control of himself. "Thank you," he finally whispered after a time, his dry raspy voice barely even audible to those around him. But to all those around him, though Legolas now seemed calmed of his initial shock, they could not help but notice the soft, laden note of despair tainting the elf’s frail voice.

"Now none of this!" came a gruff order as Gimli finally broke out of his stony silence and took a step closer to Legolas’ bedside. "I refuse to hear you speak with such despair in your voice, elf," he said sternly, "Do not worry. I’m sure Lord Elrond and Aragorn will have you trapezing through the trees again like some overgrown squirrel in no time."

Legolas could not help but smile and stifle a small chuckle at his friend despite the tears still shining in his eyes. Despite the dwarf’s attempts to keep up his stern facade, he could not keep the smile pulling at the corners of his own mouth from spreading across his face. Gods how much he had missed that elf’s laugh...

"Thank you, Gimli," Legolas said with a small, heartfelt smile still lingering on his gaunt face.

"Think nothing of it. It’s just good to finally have you back," Gimli replied with no shame in his voice for actually speaking his heart. With no real thought to what he was doing, the dwarf reached out and gently placed a hand on his friend’s shoulder, overwhelmed with joy for finally having his friend back.

But what happened next happened so fast it took everybody there by surprise.

As Gimli’s hand came in contact with Legolas’ shoulder, a lightening bolt of searing white light suddenly shot through the elf’s brain – just like it had when Elrohir and Elladan had first touched him earlier. Legolas gasped loudly. His body stiffened and snapped back against the headboard of the bed. With no conscious thought guiding his actions, he reached up and tightly grabbed hold of the dwarf’s hand, pinning it there against his shoulder. The elf’s body spasmed down against the pillows. His face twisted to the side, his eyes wide and staring blankly into the distance. His free hand clawed at the bed sheet, clenching it tightly between his fingers.

"No! It’s happening again!" Elrohir cried as he tried to push his way to Legolas’ side.

"What is?" Aragorn demanded.

"This! Legolas is having another attack like he did when he first woke up!"

"Just stay back!" Elrond commanded, halting both his son and Aragorn’s advance as they both began to move to the aid of their friend. "Gimli, let go of him," he ordered.

"I can’t!" the dwarf cried as he tried to wrestle his hand out of the seizing elf’s grasp. The frail fingers wrapped around his wrist felt like clamps of iron. How the elf’s emaciated body possessed that much strength, the dwarf had no idea.

Another jolt of white lightening shot through Legolas’ skull, elicting a strangled cry from his lips as the power of the blast threw his head back against the pillows. The light blinded him. It consumed his mind. But then, all of a sudden, unlike the first time such a thing had happened, he could now see...

A cave...

"A cave..." he whispered, staring up at the ceiling. His thrashes had died away, leaving him laying very still and rigid on his back.

It was dark. He could barely see anything around him. He stretched out his arms to try and getting a bearing of where he was and felt the damp rugged surface of cold stone walls on either side of him. He was in a narrow tunnel. Though he could not see, he could almost feel the weight of a thousand tons of rocks pressing down around him.

In the distance, he suddenly heard the low murmur of voices. Piqued with curiosity, he began to move towards them, his feet slowly shuffling forward in the darkness and his hands running along the walls on either side of him as he walked blindly ahead. Finally, in the distance he saw a dim glow of light. As he neared, the voices began to grow louder.

He finally reached the end of the tunnel and found himself at the entrance of a large stone antechamber. Columns of glittering stone jutted up from the floor and down from the ceiling. The entire chamber was approximately a hundred and fifty feet across and just as long. Flickering torches stationed around the perimeter of the room illuminated the cavern in a warm, glowing light. He suddenly knew where he was. These were the Glittering Caves of Aglarond, though he did not recognize this particular section of the cavern network.

He again picked up on the sound of murmured voices coming from the far side of the room. He again began to move towards them. As he neared, he saw a large group of people working near the far end of the chamber. Picks and spades sliced through the air where the movements were immediately followed by a low clang of metal striking rock. There were perhaps twenty or so of these stout little miners. The chorus of their collective work echoed loudly through the stone chamber and rang in his ears. Their backs were turned to him but he knew who they were. Dwarves...

"Hello?" he called out, trying to gain their attention. But none of them seemed to acknowledge his presence. "Hello?" he tried again but was again ignored. He suddenly realized they couldn’t see or hear him.

Confused, he looked around in bewilderment. How did he get here? Why couldn’t they hear him? He looked back on the mining dwarves. They only continued to hack and chip away at the thick wall of stone. His eyes slowly scanned the row of dwarves. He happened to notice what looked like a somewhat younger looking dwarf working off by himself on the far left side of the line. He slowly walked towards him.

He came to a stop behind the young dwarf and watched as he continued to swing his axe again and again at the stone wall. As he watched, he came to notice a small crack running up from the ground on the wall near where the young dwarf was working. The dwarf continued to mine at the wall. And as he watched, he saw the crack begin to widen and with every consecutive blow snake a few inches higher up the wall.

He felt his heart stop in his chest. He remembered someone once telling him something about this. Who exactly that had been he couldn’t remember. The person’s name seemed at the tip of his tongue, but whenever he tried to grasp it, it fled from memory. But he remembered what that person had said. He could hear it in the back of his head like a recording:

‘When a stress fracture or crack begins to form near the ground of where a person is mining, it is one of the first signs of a potential cave-in. It means there is an unstable wall of support there and that if it is mined any more, the wall could collapse under its own weight and cave-in...’

"No! Stop!" he cried, reaching out to halt the dwarf’s next swing. But his hands met nothing but air and seemed to literally pass right through the dwarf’s arm, as if he were a ghost. "No! Stop now! Don’t!" he shouted desperately, again trying to reach out and grab the dwarf’s hand.

But he could not stop him and the dwarf’s axe once again connected with the wall with a loud, resounding clang. For a moment, it seemed as if nothing happened. But as he stood there, his heart still racing in dread, he saw the crack at the base of the wall split apart further and suddenly race up the length of the wall. Long fissures began to branch off from the main crack and spread out across of the wall’s face. The low groan of distressed rock began to fill the air.

"Run! Get out of here!" he screamed, trying to pull the dwarf away from the cracking wall, but only watched helplessly as his hands passed right through the dwarf’s body like smoke, "Run!" But the dwarf seemed paralyzed with fear as he continued to stand there and watch the wall slowly crack and crumble before him. "Run! Go! Now!" But the dwarf still did not seem to hear his desperate pleas.

A low rumble had begun to fill the room. He could feel the ground beneath his feet begin to tremble and shake. Startled cries were rising up from the other dwarves. "Run! Run!!" he cried, turning his attention desperately to the others. Large chunks of rock were beginning to fall to the ground. The whole cavern was now quaking. Several of the torches lighting the room had fallen over and were knocked out, dousing the chamber in semi-darkness.

The dwarves were beginning to run for the other side of the chamber where the narrow tunnel leading out of the room stood. He could barely see them anymore. All he could hear was the thunder of rocks falling down all around him. Somewhere through the darkness he could hear the dwarves calling out to one another...

"What’s happening to him?" Gimli demanded as he watched his friend toss his head back and forth over the pillows. Legolas’ legs weakly kicked at the bed, as if he were trying to run from something. The elf moaned and twisted over the bed sheets. His eyes were wide and clouded as he stared up at the ceiling as if seeing everything and nothing at all. "What’s wrong with him?!" the dwarf cried, desperately looking at Elrond sitting on the other side of the seizing elf.

Despite his training and thousands of years of experience as a healer, Elrond seemed just as startled and mystified by the elf’s sudden fit. "I don’t know," he admitted, "It might be the cause of some brain damage he sustained from the accident, but I don’t know." A small note of panic had crept into the elf-lord’s normally calm and composed voice, rising the fear and anxiety of everybody else there.

"Father, what should we do?" Aragorn cried anxiously, coming around the foot of Legolas’ bed to be on the same side of the bed as Gimli and get a better viewpoint of his seizing friend.

Elrond shook his head. "I don’t know. Just try and hold his legs down."

But before the man could do so, Legolas suddenly began to speak. "Baruk dul! Nathrig orn ga drim!" Startled, Aragorn jumped back from Legolas’ bedside. "Kladrug drumir!"

Gimli gasped softly, his ruddy face visibly paling.

"What is that?" Faramir demanded from the foot of Legolas’ bed where he stood protectively holding his frightened wife as they both helplessly watched Legolas convulse and spasm before them on the bed.

"It’s Khuzdal..." Gimli whispered in shock, staring down at his friend’s face in disbelief.

"What’s that?" Eowyn asked.

"It’s the dwarfish language..." Aragorn replied, almost struck speechless by the elf’s sudden speaking of tongues.

"But how would Legolas know the dwarfish language?" Arwen asked frightenedly, "Are not Dwarves very protective and secretive of their language?"

"They are..." Elrohir affirmed, stunned by his friend’s unknown ability to speak dwarfish.

"Did you ever teach Legolas your language, Gimli?" Elrond demanded, looking at the dwarf intensely with his deep grey eyes.

"No," Gimli whispered, almost too stunned to speak, "I– I offered to teach it to him once, but I never got a chance to before the accident. He knows a few words, but nothing like this!"

Legolas suddenly arched up over the bed. "Daglathir! Brom khuzlin dum ar drugar!" he cried, his eyes blindly staring up at the ceiling.

"What’s he saying?" Elrohir inquired as the young prince fell back down onto the mattress.

"I don’t know. Be quiet for a moment," Gimli ordered, edging closer to the elf’s side. Legolas lay against the pillows heaving for breath. His fingers still painfully gripped the dwarf’s hand, almost crushing it in his powerful grasp.

"Thoren krith drain mur..." he whispered softer now, as if his attack was beginning to weaken its hold on him. He weakly tossed his head back against the pillow. "Naranir..." he whispered, "Naranir..."

Gimli sat for a moment of complete silence.

"What’s he saying, Gimli?" Elrohir again prompted impatiently.

"Seventeen," the dwarf answered numbly, "The number seventeen..."

"What does that mean?" Arwen asked as she looked to her husband in confusion. Aragorn could only shake his head in ignorance.

"Naranir..." Legolas continued to whisper as he limply fell back and lay against the bed, "Naranir..." His breathing was beginning to slowly steady. His grip on Gimli’s hand had slackened, but he still did not let go. As if coming out of a trance, the elf blinked and slowly turned his head towards the dwarf sitting beside him on the edge of the bed. "Gimli," he called weakly in a frail, raspy voice.

"I’m here, Legolas," he answered, squeezing the archer’s hand reassuringly, "It’s alright now. You’re safe– "

"There was a cave-in..." Legolas interrupted as he stared back up at the dwarf, weakly blinking his eyes as if completely drained of energy and desperately fighting to keep them focused and awake.

A startled silence fell over the room as everyone there froze at the elf’s words. "What?" Gimli stammered in confusion.

"The Glittering Caves..." Legolas said softly, "In the western section of the network... There was a cave-in... A large cavern... There were dwarves working... There was a crack in the wall and it collapsed..."

"How do you know that?" Gimli demanded in shock.

"What’s he talking about?" Aragorn questioned, seeing Gimli reaction to Legolas’ words.

"We thought there weren’t any large-scale caverns in the western part of the Caves, but we just discovered one a month or so back," Gimli answered, "They just started mining on it right before I left. But how could Legolas have known about that?"

"Gimli, there are people trapped in there..." Legolas whispered softly, tightening his grip on the dwarf’s hand desperately, "You have to save them... I tried to tell them to get out, but they couldn’t hear me..."

Everyone there exchanged concerned, surreptitious glances with one another. Gimli however seemed too stunned to take his eyes away from the elf. It was then that he noticed the elf’s eyes staring into his own. The inner circles of Legolas’ irises had darkened to a deep indigo blue – so dark Gimli almost thought them black. The elf seemed to stare into him, piercing through flesh, bone, and blood all the way to Gimli’s soul. They were no longer eyes he remembered as his friend’s. They were something different and frightening, as if he knew the elf was seeing inside his soul.

The dwarf was suddenly frightened and scared. This was not his friend. This was not Legolas. But it was then that he remembered he had seen this look in Legolas’ eyes before; on the day of Legolas’ accident, in the courtyard of the Hall of Kings right before the elf left for Ithilien. He remembered how the elf had seemed to look right through him. As if he could actually see inside him.

"Please, Gimli," Legolas begged weakly, "You have to hurry. They’re trapped. I saw it. The cave-in... Please, you have to hurry!"

"Easy there, Legolas," Elrond soothed, gently petting the matted blond hair away from the younger elf’s clammy face, "It’s alright. It was all an hallucination from the shock of waking up. It’s alright."

"No!" Legolas cried stubbornly, "I saw it! I was there! There was a cave-in! You must believe me! I saw it!"

It was at that moment that Elladan returned. In his hand he held a small mug of dark, steaming liquid. He seemed momentarily taken aback by the charged tension he sensed hanging in the air over everyone and looked to his father unsuredly.

"Here, Elladan," Elrond called, motioning for his son to come closer with the herbal tea he had just returned from preparing.

Ignoring Elrond, Legolas continued to focus his attention on Gimli. "Please, you must believe me, Gimli," he begged, "I saw it. It was like I was actually there. You have to believe me! There were at least two dozen dwarfs. One of them was younger, hardly past his coming of age. I swear!" Gimli seemed struck by Legolas’ last statement.

"A younger dwarf?" he repeated hesitantly.

"Yes! He was the one that actually caused the collapse! He didn’t see the crack forming at the base of the wall!" Legolas exclaimed, thinking he had finally somehow gotten through to his friend, "Please, you must believe me!"

But before Gimli could respond or say anything else, Elrond finally spoke up. "That is enough," he declared as he took the cup of tea from Elladan and turned back to the distressed elf. "Legolas, you must rest now. You have been through too much too soon. Here, drink this," he directed as he held the rim of the cup to Legolas’ lips and tipped it back into the elf’s mouth before Legolas could make any form of refusal. The prince instinctively swallowed, choking slightly at the bitter taste of the drink. He tried to pull away but could not because of Elrond’s hand firmly holding his head in place at the base of his neck as he continued to drain the cup into the elf’s mouth. Finally though, after a moment, Legolas became resistant and violently shook his head. Choking on the last mouthful of liquid Elrond managed to pour into his mouth, the elf reached up and pushed the still half filled cup away from his mouth.

"I don’t want any of your tea!" he cried angrily, "Why won’t you people listen to me? You have to hurry and send word to the Glittering Caves! There has been a cave-in! There are people trapped down there!"

"Legolas, it was an hallucination," Elrond asserted gently, "The Glittering Caves are almost a week’s journey away on horseback. There is no way you could know such a thing actually happened there."

"No! I saw it! I was there!" Legolas protested vehemently, "I saw it happen!"

But the elf-lord still seemed unconvinced. "Legolas, just lie back and relax," he coaxed soothingly as he began to gently push the elf back down into his nest of pillows. "Just relax..."

"No. I was there," Legolas still tried to defend himself even as Elrond forced him flat onto his back. "I saw it..." He was about to try and plead his case more when he was suddenly overcome by an intense wave of drowsiness. He felt his eyelids suddenly grow heavy and his head go fuzzy and light.

"What did you give me?" he demanded in a slurred voice as his head sluggishly lolled back into the pillows.

"Just something to help you sleep," Elrond answered as he reached down towards Legolas’ feet and pulled a blanket back up over the elf’s frail body.

Legolas desperately fought to resist the seductive urge to just let himself sink back into Elrond’s conjured darkness, but he quickly found himself losing. "I’ve been asleep for five years..." he whispered softly in a dying voice as his eyes began to drift shut against his will, "Don’t you think I’ve slept long enough...?"

"Everything will look clearer in the morning when you wake up," the elven healer whispered reassuringly, "I promise." But Legolas did not hear the last of what he said, for he had already slipped away into unconsciousness.

A still silence filled the air as everyone there stood trying to comprehend everything that had just happened. Legolas lay still and quiet in a sea of rumbled bedding, just like he had for the past five years. Had they really just seen him awake and talking, or had it all be some kind of dream?

"By the Valar..." Aragorn whispered as he brought a slightly trembling hand up to his mouth and stared down at his sleeping friend with wide, bewildered eyes. No one else spoke, still too stunned to think of anything appropriate to say in the wake of what they had just witnessed.

With no warning, Gimli suddenly jumped to his feet and was quickly moving towards the door.

"Gimli, where are you going?" Faramir called after the fleeing dwarf.

"I– I need to send a message to the Glittering Caves..." he said, his usually deep and baritone voice now trembling and shaken, "I have to make sure..."

He was almost to the door when a figure suddenly materialized out of the darkened hallway. "Gimli!" it called breathlessly as it came to a halt in the doorway. Everyone there immediately recognized the newcomer as Kim, one of Gimli’s fellow dwarfs who had helped aid in the reconstruction of Minas Tirith after the War of the Ring and was considered something like Gimli’s second in command. The dwarf’s face was a mixture of panic and distress.

"What is it?" Gimli demanded, feeling a new stir of apprehension in his heart.

"We just received an urgent message from the Glittering Caves..." he said hurriedly, "There has been a cave-in in the western section of the tunnel network – in the new cavern we just discovered..."

A pin could have been heard dropping in the utter silence that fell over the room like a lead weight. For a moment, it seemed as if everyone’s heart just stopped dead in their chests.

"There were heavy casualties," Kim went on, "Several were trapped in a small pocket of debris, but rescuers were unable to reach them before the air supply ran out and they suffocated."

Gimli looked physically sick, his face a ghostly shade of white.

"How many?" he somehow managed to ask in a numbed voice, not really wanting to know the answer.

"Seventeen. All toll, seventeen are dead..."

******

Did you like it? Hate it? Either way tell me! I love to hear your comments.

Before I go, I just wanted to point out some interesting info that I found out about Khuzdul while I was researching for the dwarfish language part of this chapter. Basically, I made up all the dwarfish words and phrases I used here. Tolkien never really went in-depth with creating an actual vocabulary for the dwarfish language like he did for Elvish and other such languages, and only really just constructed a basic framework for it.

The background info on it however was real (though I’m not quite sure how accurate a statement that is seeing as how dwarfish is a made up language...). Anyway! Tolkien explained that Khuzdul was a very difficult language to learn and that Dwarves were very protective and secretive of it. Even if someone was willing to try and learn their language they would more often than not refuse to teach it. The fact that I had Gimli actually offer to teach Legolas Khuzdul works to signify just how strong a bond and friendship they shared. I just thought that was something I should include. After all, Legolas took Gimli with him to Valinor in the books, so it seems only proper that Gimli should somehow show Legolas such a gesture of friendship himself. Well, that’s about it!

Don't forget to review!  I enjoy reading any and all forms of constructive critiscm or response!  Come on now, don't be shy!

‘Till next time!