Title:  THE GOLDEN BELL OF GREENLEAF

Author:  lwarren

Summary: Forced back to the settlement, Aragorn and the others face their growing fear as Legolas remains unconscious. 

Disclaimer:  The characters and places of Middle-earth belong to J.R.R. Tolkien.  I am merely borrowing them for a time and make no profit from their use, except for the joy I gained in the writing of this story.

Reviews:  PLEASE!  I have discovered there is nothing more encouraging than a reviewer, and treasure each one sent!

A/N: Chapter 7 became so long and unwieldy I decided to split it in two.  With the long holiday coming up, I’m going to post 7 and 8 at the same time, because who knows when school will let me post again!  I hope each of you has a blessed day of thanksgiving!  J

*Characters’ thoughts will appear in italics.

Chapter 8: Safe Havens

     A rising wind chased down the mountain slopes, swirling across the plains and bending the tall grasses almost to the ground.  The sound of wind mingled with the thunder of the hoofs of many horses as a large collection of travelers made their way towards one of the settlements of the Rohirrim.  The King of the Mark and his guard led the procession, with trailing scouts keeping a sharp lookout for any unexpected dangers. 

     The dark gaze of the King swept the open land around them.

    We have become complacent during these years of peace.  Eomer’s eyes hardened as he remembered their encounter with the “unexpected” a few days past. 

     How could we have ignored the signs?  Rumors have been rampant lately…I even asked Legolas to investigate their validity…and still we were caught unaware.  His handsome face as grim as his thoughts, the King shifted his hold on the precious passenger riding in front of him and shook his head. 

     The price paid is too dear.  They will not catch us unprepared again.  In a few days, once this storm has passed, I will dispatch hunting parties to search for any remaining orcs that might still hide in those heavily wooded places near the mountains, and reinforce the existing border patrols.  We have sent word to a few scattered settlements along the way, warning them of the danger.  For now, it will have to be enough.

     “What of Legolas, Father?”

     Eomer, startled from his thoughts, looked down into the worried blue eyes of his son seated before him on his big stallion.  Because of the abrupt nature of their flight, the boy had ridden with his father to ensure his safety.

     “Will not this move hurt him more?” Elfwine asked, twisting to look past his father’s broad shoulders and locate the tall roan stallion ridden by Aravir.  The boy’s brow wrinkled slightly in concern as he noted the still figure warmly wrapped and held securely in the elf’s strong arms.  All he could see of his fair elven friend was the top of his golden head, and several long gleaming strands of hair that had escaped the covering.

     Eomer shook his head.  “Aragorn thought not, since the fever broke yesterday at the encampment.  Our need to escape the coming storm is the main reason that drives us back to the settlement now.  We decided all would be safer within the confines of more permanent shelters.”

     “You mean houses, Father?” the boy questioned.

     Eomer chuckled at his son’s ability to cut through adult rhetoric, and hugged him.   “Even so, Elfwine.”  The boy looked back into his father’s smiling eyes, answering with a grin of his own.   It felt good to smile again, even if only for a short time.

     In a sudden reminder of the power of the approaching storm, a grumbling sound of thunder rolled down from the mountains behind.  The wind kicked up the dust along the trail.  The air itself felt heavy and threatening.  

     Elfwine shivered at the sight of towering black clouds marching across the summits of the mountains to spread across the plain, darkening the land as they came.  Jagged streaks of lightning pierced the darkness as portions of the clouds dissolved to gray and sheets of rain poured down upon the earth.

     He turned back and concentrated on moving in harmony with the ever-quickening pace of his father’s horse.  His fears about Legolas, however, continued to plague him in spite of Eomer’s comforting words. 

     The boy wrestled with them for a time before giving in and turning to look up into his father’s dark eyes once more, asking, “Why does he still sleep then?  Should he not awaken now?  And what of the tears?”

     Eomer tightened his arms around his son reassuringly and replied, “Aragorn is actually encouraged, my son.  He says Legolas is not caught in the unconsciousness of the fever any longer, but instead sleeps deeply.  He says that sleep will help in his recovery, as Legolas is still healing from that poisoned wound.  As for the tears, we can only wait and ask him when he awakens.”

     Elfwine nodded slowly.  “Oh … all right.” 

     He returned his gaze to the passing countryside.  Suddenly he straightened, pointing to the left of the trail.

     “Look, Father!  The mare and Arod!” 

     Eomer smiled at the two horses galloping alongside the column of riders, both moving easily side by side.  “The sun and moon travel together,” he murmured softly to himself. 

     Elfwine turned shining eyes to his father.  “Legolas will be pleased when he awakens and sees her, won’t he?”

     The man smiled at his boy’s enthusiasm.  “Indeed.  He will be pleased, my son.”

                                       ~~~*~~~*~~~

     The large mounted party swept into the village about two hours ahead of the storm.  A somewhat controlled chaos reigned for a time as the townspeople claimed the visitors, starting with the injured Prince, and took them to safe lodgings.  Men led the horses to the shelter of several large barns near the edge of town. 

     Eomer installed Elfwine in the room they would share, with strict instructions to unpack their belongings and await his return.   He then left to see about Aragorn and the stabling of the horses, leaving behind a disgruntled, rebellious child. 

     The boy quickly obeyed his father’s edict, stuffing their clothes haphazardly in the room’s empty wardrobe drawers before standing at the window to watch the weather grow progressively worse.  Storms were not uncommon, although usually by the time they reached Edoras they had lost some of their power.

     The boy found the unbridled power of this one fascinating as well as frightening.  He brought a quilt from the bed over to the window and climbed onto the window seat.  He then spent long minutes twisting and wrapping and turning (in the manner of young boys and puppies) until he finally felt comfortable.  But the gray skies soon reminded him of elven eyes, and his thoughts turned abruptly to Legolas.

     Elfwine stilled, remembering the return of his father and the others to the main camp days ago, the bloody, unconscious body of Legolas carefully cradled in Aragorn’s arms.  He remembered the fight for the elf’s life over the next days, his own fear and despair and finally, the overwhelming relief when the fever had broken and Legolas slipped into a deep, healing sleep.

     He thought back to the urgency Gerrith had displayed when he had come to his father yesterday and warned him the weather would change, and soon.  The late summer storms that swept down from the mountains and across the plains were brief but vicious, and not to be taken lightly. 

     Eomer had conferred with Aragorn about Legolas’ condition and once reassured that the elf could travel safely, had given the orders to strike the camp and leave by morning.  Judging by the increasing ferocity of the wind, they had arrived at the settlement just in time.

     Elfwine frowned.  He wanted to see Legolas, but knew that was not possible at the moment.  He wished he could go to the stables and help Ranalf.  He also wanted to see to Storm, and make sure Arod had been taken care of.   His father still showed an unfortunate tendency to treat him like a child.  He was, after all, nine years old now.  Everyone said he was strong for his age.  He could help if they would let him.  He leaned both elbows on the windowsill, and propped his chin on a fist, sighing gustily.  This stupid room did not even face the streets!  How could he see what was going on?

     An hour dragged by, and his father still had not returned.  Tired of waiting, and chafing at the inactivity, Elfwine decided he had had enough.  Jumping from his perch on the windowsill, he bounded over to the wardrobe, shrugged into his cloak and slipped out of the room.  Hugging the walls of the hallway, the boy stealthily made his way to the back door of the house and slipped outside. 

     Skirting the groups of people rushing about the streets, he made his way through the town to the large community stables each settlement maintained for emergencies.  He hid in a corner outside the building, and found that by standing on an abandoned barrel, he could just see through a window into the stable itself.  He watched the last of the horses, including Arod, led down the aisles into stalls and quickly cared for.  The threat of the storm became immediate, and one by one, the men left quickly to return to their own homes.  The boy scowled as he considered his options.

     Well, I cannot help now.  Storm must be in the next stable…and I do not see Father…maybe he is there, too.   I will wait until everyone leaves and then see about Arod!

     Cheered by that thought, the lad waited about ten minutes, then slipped out of his hiding place in the alley and ran to the large wooden doors.  Pulling and tugging against the strong wind, he slowly swung one of them open and peered cautiously into the dimly lit room. 

     Seeing no sign of the stablemaster or Ranalf, he slipped into the barn and trotted down the aisle, searching for the silver-gray horse in each stall he passed.  Finally, he found Arod in the last stall, and quickly scaling the gate, he hung over the top, calling softly to the occupant dozing in the middle of the large enclosure.

     “Arod?”  The whisper roused the gray horse and, snorting his recognition, he moved over to the gate, nuzzling the delighted boy’s shoulder.  Elfwine petted the broad forehead, straightening the horse’s silky forelock. 

     “Want some company, boy?” he asked, throwing his leg over the top of the gate and quickly dropping to the hay-cushioned floor below.  Arod backed away a few paces, but stood firmly in the way when Elfwine made to pass him and explore the large stall.  A sudden movement in the farthest, darkest corner of the stall stopped the boy in his tracks, and his breath caught as the mare moved into the dim light. 

     “Hello, girl,” he whispered softly.  “I wondered where you had gotten to, but I forgot to ask Father.  I did not think you would let them bring you in here.” 

     The mare watched him warily, but made no move towards him.  Elfwine had not had the chance to see her from such a close range.  She had the look of a queen, with her regally held head and bright, intelligent eyes.  The two observed each other closely.

     A loud, sudden crack of thunder shook the wooden structure, causing both horses to toss their heads and stamp restlessly.  Elfwine tore his eyes from the mare and looked at the ceiling apprehensively, hearing the roar of the wind increase.

     “This barn looks sturdy enough,” he said in a shaky voice, as his frightened blue eyes continued to search the ceiling for any sign of leakage or weakness. “We should be just fine in here.” 

     He jumped when Arod nudged his shoulder, snorting softly and pushing the boy farther into the warm confines of the stall away from the window.  The mare watched the boy carefully for a time, then lowered her head to lip at the fresh hay on the ground.  Elfwine stood close to Arod as the full fury of the storm crashed into the building, pounding the roof with sheets of driving rain and heavy-handed gusts of wind.

     Almost an hour passed before the youngster finally gave in to tired legs and sank to the ground, leaning against the wall.  As the storm continued unabated, he dozed, comforted by the close presence of Arod. 

      Elfwine had slept for about an hour when the heavy pounding of the rain gradually assumed a steady, lighter cadence, the lightning flashing only intermittently and the thunder reduced to low grumbles.  Not much later a dark shadow slipped into the stall.  Arod raised his head, watching the figure approach and kneel next to the boy. 

     “Suilad, Arod…my lady,” Aravir whispered to both horses as he checked the sleeping boy with quick eyes and soft touches.  “And how long has this young one been here?” 

     He laughed quietly at Arod’s vigorous shake of his mane, and scooped Elfwine into his arms, wrapping his cloak over the boy to protect him from the still falling rain and smiling when the boy mumbled something in his sleep and snuggled closer to the elf’s chest. 

     “Well, his Adar is frantic…which of course has made ALL the men frantic.  While the storm’s strength appears spent for now, I think it will return.   I will take him to the others while there is time.”  Arod nosed Elfwine’s shoulder gently, and nudged Aravir towards the door.

     Aravir slipped back outside the stall and turned, “Hannon lle, Arod, for watching after this one so carefully.  He will see you both later… IF his father ever lets him outside again.”  The elf turned and left, striding down the corridor and disappearing into the gray gloom of the rain-soaked evening.

                                        ~~~~~*~~~~~

     Thus Elfwine was returned to a greatly relieved father.  He awakened as Aravir stepped through the door, to the exclamations of those waiting.  To his great consternation, his father reached him first, taking him from the elf’s arms and hugging him fiercely before setting him on his feet and giving voice to his extreme displeasure.   Aravir left the two to their discussion, remembering well times when he had driven his own adar to distraction with ill-thought decisions and escapades.

     Quickly returning to the house he, Gimli, Aragorn, and Legolas were staying in, the elf stopped inside the door, removing his dripping cloak and boots.  Padding on silent feet into the large sitting room, he discovered Gimli sitting before the warmth of a blazing fire, the remains of a simple, yet hearty meal on a table beside him.  The dwarf looked up as the elf walked to a chair nearby and sank into it, his hands held out to fire.

     “Did you find the lad then?”  Gimli asked.

     Aravir nodded.  “In the stables, as you suggested, Gimli.”  The dwarf shook his head, a smile tugging at his mouth.

     “Ahhh…I thought as much.  He is as horse-crazy as all his kin.  I thought he might want to see if his favorites had been properly cared for,” Gimli remarked, looking inquiringly at Aravir.  “Is Arod alright?”

     Aravir smiled.  “Yes, he is fine.  Dry and fed and in fine company.”

     Gimli looked at him oddly.  “Company?”

     Aravir nodded.  “The mare consented to sheltering in the stable with Arod.  I suppose the severity of the storm helped convince her.  At any rate, she is there with him, and they both kept watch over Elfwine during the worst of the storm.”

     Gimli snorted softly.  “Horse has more sense than some I know.”  Aravir laughed. 

     About that time, the lady of the house and her daughter entered the room, their arms full of bedding and blankets.  The older woman placed her load on a bench, and stood, hands on hips, surveying the elf.

     “Well, Master Elf, back are ye?”  Aravir started to answer, but she had continued on, clucking over his sodden state.  “And soakin’ wet, too!  Did ye find the boy?  Probably drier than ye were, runnin’ around in the worst of this rain lookin’ for him…well, don’t just sit there, lad, get yourself into the next room and change.  My daughter will fetch a tray whilst I make up these cots for ye and Lord Gimli.” 

     She shooed the bemused elf out of the room, and bustled about, instructing her daughter from time to time in a low voice.  Gimli rose to help, but subsided back into the depths of the chair at her narrowed look. 

     “Tis no trouble for us, my lord, none at all…just sit down and stay out of the way.  We’ll have ye and your friend settled in no time…” The daughter, who appeared about 14 years old, glanced at Gimli’s face and smothered a grin at his look. 

     The woman and her daughter made the beds quickly, the girl slipping away to the kitchen for the tray of food.  Aravir returned quietly and the woman turned to him to nod approvingly. 

     “Is there naught else I can bring ye, good sirs?” she asked. 

     Gimli shook his head no, murmuring, “My thanks, lady, for all you have done.” 

     Aravir raised bright eyes and smiled.  “We are most grateful, my lady.  Is there any word from King Elessar?” 

     She frowned disapprovingly, and replied, “Well, he ate.  But all his attention is on his friend.  He’ll not sleep much, I’ll warrant.  I did hear what he told ya…eat and rest.  Were I you, I would obey the King.  He’ll be needin’ ya both to help him tomorrow.” 

     Gimli stared into the fire.  “And the elf?” 

     The woman looked at him thoughtfully.  “I could see no change, Lord Gimli.  He still sleeps.” 

     The girl returned then, carrying the tray loaded with food.  Placing it on the table between Aravir and Gimli’s chairs, she waited for her mother’s next order.  Her mother announced briskly, “Now, eat and get some sleep.  The rain looks to continue for some time…these storms can last for several days at this time of year.  Call if ya need anything…”

     She looked warningly at her two guests.  Aravir caught the eye of the girl, who had the beginnings of a mischievous grin on her face.  He returned the grin with a nod, the light in his eyes kindling to a laughing sparkle.  After one last glance around the room, the woman gathered her daughter to her side with a look and they took their leave. 

     Gimli heaved a great sigh and looked into Aravir’s laughing eyes. 

     The dwarf smirked, remarking, “She is a formidable woman, that one…reminds me of my own mother.”

     Aravir sat before the tray, sniffing appreciatively at the bowl of meat stew and fresh bread, and indicating that Gimli should help himself again if he so wished. 

     “All mothers are forces of nature, and not to be trifled with, my friend,” Aravir agreed, and applied himself to the thick stew before him. 

     After finishing the meal, Aravir stacked the dishes neatly while the dwarf banked the fire and they settled on the cots.  “Will he awaken tomorrow, do you think?” Gimli asked. 

     “I cannot tell.  We can only hope he will,” Aravir whispered. 

     They lay there in the dark, the strict orders to rest issued by Elessar the only thing keeping them from the room down the hall.  It was some time before sleep claimed either of them.

                                        ~~~~~*~~~~~

     The large, roughly furnished room gradually lightened as dawn came and went, a blustering wind still blowing sheets of rain against the side of the house.  The door opened silently, and Aravir entered, carefully balancing a tray of steaming porridge, fresh rolls, and tea.  His quick green gaze noted the still, silent figure in the large bed, and the large, equally silent man dozing in the chair nearby. 

     The elf placed the tray quietly on the bedside table, and stepped over to his lord’s side.  Placing a gentle hand on Legolas’ brow, he sighed in relief at the absence of the fever they had fought earlier.  He turned his attention to Aragorn, only to find the King’s gray gaze already fixed on him. 

     “My lord, I brought your food,” he whispered, indicating the tray.  “And Eolyn told me to inform you it is now YOUR turn to rest.  I am to stay with Lord Legolas for a time, and then Gimli will relieve me.  You are to eat, and then sleep in a real bed for the rest of this morning.”

     Aragorn arched one dark brow, causing Aravir to respond.  “You may think to stay, my lord…but trust me, the lady of this house will have her way.” 

     Aragorn leaned his head back against the chair and closed his eyes, a huff of laughter escaping his lips.  “Oh, a motherly type, is she?” 

     “Indeed she is, my lord.  She and I will look after Legolas’ comfort this morning.  If you do not want her attention turned to you, you should do as she says.” 

     The elf took the large bowl of porridge and handed it to Aragorn, who accepted it gladly and began eating hungrily.  The elf went to the fireplace and stoked the blaze until it burned brightly.  Silence reigned for a time as the man ate and the elf served him.  Finally, the two stood by the bed, looking down at Legolas’ unconscious face.  Aravir leaned over and brushed moisture from the pale face.

     “He still weeps,” he noted softly.

     Aragorn nodded wearily.  “From time to time though it is not constant like it was several days ago.” 

     He raked a hand across his tired eyes and said, “I must confess the lady has the right of the matter.  I am too tired to do anyone much good right now.”  He looked at Aravir.  “Promise me you will alert me if there is the slightest change.” 

     Aravir nodded.  “You know I will, my lord.  Go now and rest.”  The man turned and walked to the door.  He paused for a moment, then opened the door and let himself out of the room.  Aravir straightened the covers over the sleeping Prince, then settled in the chair to watch. 

     The next few days continued much as that first one.  The three friends watched over Legolas, and Eolyn worried and fussed over all of them.  With her help, their patient was bathed and changed often, and warm nourishing broth carefully spooned down his throat three or four times a day, along with strong, sweet tea and water.  All were encouraged at the elf’s ability to swallow, and Aragorn felt in his heart that Legolas would waken soon…which made each day he did not more wearing on all. 

     On the first clear day after the rain stopped, it was Gimli who finally made the suggestion.  “Take the fool elf outside, Aragorn.  He needs to feel the wind and sun and fresh air on his face.  You know how he is when he has been inside for too long…he wilts like a flower deprived of water!” 

     Aragorn had looked at the dwarf, his surprise fading to a growing smile.  “You know, Eomer said exactly the same thing about him.  You are right, Gimli.  That is just what he needs.” 

     An outing was quickly planned, with Eolyn overseeing the removal of Legolas to the small garden she cultivated out behind the house.  It was one of the few gardens with trees, a fact Aravir was pleased to note as he spread the heavy tarp the lady had provided over the wet ground and prepared a place for Legolas to rest. 

     The air smelled crisp and clean, and the temperature remained mild.  Aragorn carried Legolas outside, Gimli striding along beside him.   They settled him under the tree, with Aragorn holding him and making sure he stayed covered.  The others sat beside them, talking in low voices and enjoying being out in the open air again.

                                         ~~~~~*~~~~~

     Elfwine slipped out the back door of the house where he and his father stayed and ran towards the stables again.  The rain had finally stopped, and he had heard his father talking to Gerrith only that morning about Legolas.  The elf still slept, to the increasing fear of all, and Gerrith had come to tell his father that Aragorn had decided to take the elf outside in the hopes the fresh open air would somehow reach past his unconsciousness and rouse him. 

     Eomer had murmured his thanks to Gerrith and made plans to go see Legolas later.  Elfwine had not even seen Legolas since they had left the encampment.  He was determined he would today, even though he knew his father had confined him to the house for the week.  But first, he had something to do.

      He made his way quickly towards the edge of the settlement, reveling in his first taste of freedom in days.  He grinned broadly, running through the streets and avoiding as many puddles as possible.  At first.  But as he went the temptation of the water grew stronger and stronger until the boy finally “misjudged” a leap and landed right in the middle of one very large inviting pool.  No one thought to stop the young Prince, but watchful eyes marked his progress, and Eothred followed unobtrusively behind, curious as to the errand the boy appeared bent on. 

     The man stepped behind one of the smaller outbuildings, keeping an eye on Elfwine and raising a hand in greeting to Ranalf, who had spotted his odd behavior and joined him.  The stablemaster’s eyes widened when he saw the figure of the King’s son a short way down the street. 

     “What is that young scamp up to, Eothred?” Ranalf asked, smiling as he watched the boy land with force in the middle of another particularly large puddle.  “I thought he was confined to the house after his last adventure.” 

     “Not sure, Ranalf,” Eothred replied, leaning on the wall of the building, prepared to wait for Elfwine’s next move.  “And he was…confined, that is.  The King does not know the boy left the house.  I only happened to see ‘em as he ran by.  Thought I’d follow ‘em, though.” 

     Ranalf nodded, murmuring, “Good idea.” 

     They watched in puzzled silence as Elfwine slipped into the stables, only to emerge a short time later and make his way around to the corral containing a dozen or so horses in back.  He climbed up the fence to the top and uttered a soft whistle.  Both men started in surprise as Arod appeared from the middle of the group and trotted over to Elfwine.  The silver white horse stopped before the boy, allowing him to stroke his face as he spoke to the horse in a low voice. 

     After a moment, the boy jumped down from the fence and made his way to the gate, which he carefully untied, allowing Arod to walk through.  The big horse waited while Elfwine refastened the opening, and then the two began to walk back towards the house.  Elfwine had his hand on the neck of the horse, and seemed to be carrying on an earnest conversation with the attentive animal.  Ranalf and Eothred watched them pass, then looked at each other.  Both shrugged, and followed at a distance, keeping the two well within in sight.

     Elfwine led the horse on past his own lodging, to another house at the opposite end of the village.  They walked around behind the house onto an expanse of green grass with a garden carefully planted on one side, complete with several young trees. 

     Sitting under one of the trees, the two men could see Aragorn, Gimli, and the other elf, Aravir.  Cradled in Aragorn’s arms was the unconscious figure of Legolas.  The three looked up in surprise as Elfwine approached with Arod, but greeted the boy gladly, inviting him to sit.  Arod stood by Aragorn, head bent over his friend, snuffling gently at the blond hair visible above the blanket.  Ranalf and Eothred exchanged sad looks, and quietly left the boy and horse in the care of the King of Gondor.

     Elfwine settled beside Aragorn and reached immediately for Legolas’ hand.  He held it carefully, watching the quietly sleeping face until he became aware of the King’s close regard.  He looked up into the silver gray eyes that watched him and flushed slightly.  Aragorn noted the blush with amusement, and heard Gimli huff softly. 

     “Tell me, Prince of Rohan, does your father know you are here?” Aragorn asked gently. 

     The boy shook his head no, ducking his head and becoming quite fascinated by the long, elegant fingers of the elf.  Then he looked up suddenly. 

     “But he is coming, my lord…soon!” he said. 

     “Hmmmm,” Aragorn stroked his chin, apparently trying to decide what to do with the runaway. 

     “Please let me stay, my lord!” the boy begged.  “I haven’t seen Legolas in DAYS!  I wanted to see him for myself…and so did Arod!  We’ve both been very worried about him!”

     Aragorn felt the warm breath of the horse right before he was thoroughly nuzzled behind one ear, and grinned up into the intelligent eyes of Legolas’ equine friend. 

     “Oh, all right!  You may stay, of course!” he smiled openly as the horse tossed his head and the boy stifled a triumphant shout. 

     “Oh, do not be so excited, Elfwine,” he admonished the exuberant boy. “Your lord father will have much to say about this penchant you have developed for sneaking out of the house!” 

     “I know,” the boy said seriously, “but I just had to see him.  Everyone has been saying they do not think he will ever wake up.  I had…I had to tell him that I know he will wake up when he feels he is healed…and that we will be here when he does.” 

     Aragorn felt his eyes sting.  “You believe that wholly, with all your heart, do you not, Elfwine?” 

     “Of course I do.  Don’t you?  He would not just leave us!” the boy declared.  “See?  Arod knows this also.” 

     Aragorn looked up to see the horse nodding his head in apparent agreement. 

     Aravir whispered, “Arod says that Legolas will awaken when he knows the time is right, and that we are to hold fast to our friend and not lose hope.” 

     Elfwine nodded vigorously.  Gimli cleared his throat gruffly, “Well, I for one think the elf is testing us.  Believe me when I say he will have much to answer for when he opens those eyes of his!” 

     Elfwine looked at Gimli knowingly, and said, “He loves you, too, Master Gimli.”  At Gimli’s outraged expression, the others laughed softly. 

                                        ~~~~~*~~~~~

     Nienna stood watching the tall form of the elf as he stood on the edge of the cliff, his eyes closed, his face raised to absorb the waning light of the sun.  The shining, exalted expression on his face confirmed what she had already discerned.

     “Now he knows, Olorin,” she whispered.  “Now he will continue to strengthen his friends and add his appointed part to the Great Song.”

     “And he will experience a measure of peace at last,” the gilded figure beside her spoke, his voice filled with relieved satisfaction.

     “His true peace will be attained when he takes the Straight Road and joins us here,” his companion reminded him, “but, yes, he will find a measure of peace now.  While the sea may still call him, it will no longer haunt him to the degree it did before.”

     “I am glad he was brought to your attention,” Olorin said, smiling as he watched the elf commune with the sea.

     The Valie glanced up at the Maia and nodded.  “Indeed, he is all I was told to expect.”  She cocked her head slightly, as if listening to a distant voice.  “It is time he returned.  Do you wish to speak with him?” 

     The Maia shook his head no, and replied, “I will wait, and meet him and Gimli on Tol Eressea when that time comes.” 

     Nienna bid him farewell and left to make her way down to the cliff’s edge.

     Legolas was roused from his reverie by the soft touch of a hand placed on his shoulder.  He looked into the crystal gaze of Nienna and breathed, “My lady, I did not know.” 

     He took a deep, shaking breath and continued, “Now I do.  Now I understand.”  She nodded, and both turned their bright eyes to watch the sun’s descent into the fiery waters. 

     Finally, she spoke quietly, “It is time for you to return to your friends, Legolas.  They are in fear for your life, and their grief grows by the hour now.  Go to them…relieve their fears and strengthen their hearts.” 

     Legolas bowed his head in acquiescence.  “I will, my Lady.”  He raised grateful eyes to her.  “I cannot thank you enough…

    The Valie placed a gentle hand over his lips to stop him.  “You know very well that I am merely the messenger, Legolas.  Your thanks and mine both belong to Another.”

     “He knows the depth of my heart’s gratefulness, my Lady.  And yet surely the messenger deserves some gratitude also,” he said, “and you certainly have mine.” 

     He bowed, one hand over his heart in the elven salute of respect, and stepped away from her as he asked, “What must I do?” 

     She replied in her strong, quiet voice, “The dream will end and you will awaken.  I trust you will know how to proceed after that?” 

     He smiled.  “I will know,” he answered softly, and closed his eyes as everything faded to black.

     Waking up was like surfacing after a dive into a great container of his favorite pudding.  He pushed past the thick, cloying shadows of sleep and lay quietly, eyes closed as he tried to orient himself to his surroundings.  Oddly enough, he was outside.  He could hear the sound of the wind, and the gentle, tentative song of young trees nearby.  Warm sunlight caressed his face and he heard voices talking above and around him.  A warm, inquisitive nose was nuzzling his ear, blowing softly. 

     Arod?

     There you are. 

     Ai, Arod!  I am so pleased you are here, mellon nin.

     And I am pleased you are able to tell me that you are pleased.

   Legolas started to laugh at the horse’s wry tone, only to find he was quite unable to make a sound.  He began to sort through the voices around him, recognizing Estel, Gimli, and Aravir.  And was that Elfwine?  He thought so. 

     He thought about moving to announce he was awake, but it seemed he was swaddled in blankets like an elfling and held securely in Estel’s strong arms.  So he concentrated on the conversation instead. 

     Elfwine was teasing Gimli, it seemed.  “You must admit it, Master Dwarf.  He is as a brother to you.”

     “Hrrrummph, well…that brother has a lot of explaining to do,” the dwarf said peevishly.  Then, almost under his breath, he muttered, “I just want him to wake up and do it!”

     “I…I am awake, Gimli,” Legolas whispered.  He slowly opened his eyes to the sight of astounded, tearful faces and the sound of joyous shouts from his friends. 

     “Yes, I am awake,” he repeated, and closed his eyes again, a satisfied smile on his face. 

TRANSLATIONS:

hannon lle - thank you

suilad - hello (greetings)

mellon nin - my friend