Disclaimer: As before, everything is the creation of J.R.R.Tolkien. I claim nothing and receive nothing in return, except for a review every once in a while. Thank you to those who offer them.

Part Two: Recovery

"You do much to build me up," Legolas laughed as he sprang to retrieve the arrows that vibrated still in their landing sites. His steps were light and his laughter rang in the cool winter air. Reaching out, he pulled his arrow from the exact center of its intended target and then turned to retrieve the shorter arrow fired from the crossbow, now lodged in a tree some two meters away from the target. He tugged and felt the arrow give as he said, "You make me feel like I am a master again."

The Dwarf shrugged in his resignation, "Who would not look expert when compared with a student as inept as I?"

"Patience, my friend. My skills have been practised over the course of many long years in training, and yet I still find myself needing to learn more. You have been at this for a mere hour or so. Give yourself at least a little time to learn this weapon," Legolas said with a clap on the Dwarf's shoulder as he ran back to their starting point.

It was a glorious day, and the Elf's spirits were high. In his joyous romp, Legolas had convinced his friend to accompany him in target practice. After a few disastrous attempts at the Elf's longbow, the pair had opted for a training crossbow that Legolas was able to locate for the Dwarf. While Gimli admired the beauty and craft of the weapon, he grumbled at the idea of learning to use such an instrument. But Legolas had been undaunted and had patiently directed Gimli's feeble attempts. In the short course of his first lesson, the Dwarf could fire the weapon with the arrow going at least near the mark he intended, and at considerable distance. Despite his protests, Gloin's son showed promise.

For Legolas' part, he was disturbed by his own lack of endurance and his fatigue showed in small slips of the bow that the Elf could not ignore. But he would not be discouraged on this beautiful day.

"I have yet to see the point in learning this. I am old and set in my ways. I will never be happy with any weapon but my axe," Gimli griped.

"The point is you are never too old to learn something new," Legolas chided.

"In that case, since you are the elder between us, oh ancient one," the Dwarf said bowing deeply, "Let me give you some lessons on a true instrument of war."

"An axe? An axe is only good if you are sitting on top of your opponent or felling a tree," the Elf said with a superior tone, then he cocked his head as he said reconsidering, "Though I suppose you could shave with it in a pinch." Then dismissing the idea, he said, "No, a bow is a much finer weapon as it is deadly from either a distance or near."

"Ah, but can you take down a tree with your arrows?" the Dwarf asked as if he had won the point.

"I have yet to be attacked by a tree so I have never attempted it," the Elf laughed.

"Well at least my weapon is superior for its use in close shaves," Gimli said. His eyes sparkled at his poor joke.

Legolas scrunched up his face and said, "Perhaps, but if that has been your method of grooming, please allow me to introduce you to a barber."

The Dwarf responded with a gentle push that met Legolas' laughter as the Elf said, "I am renewed because you are here, my friend."

"You may feel renewed, but I feel tired. Just watching you makes my bones ache. Is there any chance this game may end soon?" the Dwarf said referring back to their target practice.

"You spend far more time complaining of your aches and pains than you do in actually causing them. Nay, your problem is you sit about too much. You need to frolic more, Gimli."

Gimli snorted. "I am a Dwarf. Dwarves do not frolic." But he could not help laughing. Legolas was practically dancing in his own mirth that day, and the Elf's exuberance was contagious.

They were spending the day in the garden, much as they had been for the past many weeks. Legolas found it refreshing to be out of doors, and being there had done much to revive his spirit. Although it was still winter, spring was nearing. He could feel it would come early that year, and signs of life were evident everywhere about them. The birds were marking a return from their wayward journeys and the air was littered with the sound of their calls. Smaller creatures, who would normally be locked in their wintertime dreams, flitted about, scurrying up and about the trees and rocks, enjoying the frivolity of this wonderful day. The sun arced down on the landscape, unhindered by any canopy of leaves or branches and warmed their bodies in its pleasant gaze. Blades of grass showed signs of giving up brownish hues as green tints teased their form. And smells of the earth pervaded the air, freshening the world as if dousing it in a cleansing bath.

Looking at his companion as they put their weapons away, Legolas could only think his attitude was the result of the undeterred nature of the Dwarf. The Elf felt eternally grateful to his companion, for Gimli's resolve had never dimmed in the long weeks of Legolas' recovery.

It was the Dwarf's idea that they make a daily habit of going to the garden. Even on the days when the scenery had been draped in a blanket of snow, Gimli had insisted they walk in the landscape. And like the crocuses that drew out small spikes from their wintertime cocoons, Legolas had found his spirit revived.

It had been slow progress. But then, injuries such as the ones Legolas had taken were the slowest to heal among Elves. Legolas had been despondent at first, desiring nothing more than his own death and a languorous recovery followed in the apparent apathy of the Elf. It was a full week before he was able to rise from his bed, and yet another before he could do it without aid. To the Dwarf's credit, he said nothing about the delays, and almost seemed to encourage them, perhaps for fear the remission would end if he pushed too hard. And slowly, Legolas began to feel encouraged. His hands shook involuntarily, but neither he nor Gimli made mention of it until it ceased on its own. Color came back to his cheeks, and as their stays in the garden grew longer and more vigorous, the light slowly returned to the Elf's eyes. His appetite grew as well, and the Dwarf laughed when he saw the Elf racing through the midday meal, reminding Legolas there would always be more if he so desired. The young lord showed every sign that he was healing well.

Yet despite the coltish feelings he displayed, Legolas had fears that weighed on him. The cuivëar, which had receded to a quiet whisper in the back of his mind, was beginning to creep back into his conscious thoughts. On days like this, it was easy to keep the haunting quality of his affliction in check, but the Elf knew he would not always be in such good form. He was eager to see himself fully recovered and he thought that perhaps, if he could mend his broken spirit, there was a chance he could still survive. It had been a long time since Legolas had had any hope that he could make this last. Thanks to Gimli, he was feeling almost young again. He wanted to keep that sensation. It was what defined him as an Elf and he realized it was what had been missing in his ever-long preoccupation with the illness.

His mood was bright at that moment. A beaming smile drew across his lips as the sun glowed on his face. A wisp of wind caught a few tendrils of his golden hair and feathered them about his cheek and all fed his happiness. His strength had grown and with it his desires. He felt the world's beauty and innocence and he wanted to experience them again firsthand. The idea of new adventures thrilled his soul, and he longed for it more than he had much else in many long years. He looked up to the sunny sky and smiled.

And then the universe melted away.

****

"Legolas! Legolas!"

Someone was shaking him, and he tried to recall where he was. Blinking his eyes, the world came back into focus though it seemed dimmer than he could recall. He found himself still within the garden.

"Gimli?" he called. His legs felt weak and his heart was racing erratically.

"I am here," said a deep voice at his side.

Legolas looked down at the troubled face of the Dwarf. He felt dazed and nauseated. "Gimli, what happened?" he asked.

"I was about to ask the same of you. I believe you had another attack. One moment you were fine, and the next you were lost. You would not answer me when I called you," the Dwarf answered with great concern.

Anguish washed over Legolas. "No. Not again." he whispered regretfully, bringing his hands up to his temples as he tried to will out the sound of his longing.

"Come sit," the Dwarf said pulling Legolas aside to a bench.

The Elf nodded as he dejectedly yielded to the seat. But then his eyes grew wide and his breathing increased to quick pants as the world began to spin around him. "Gimli!" he cried, "It is coming again!"

Gimli grabbed his arms and held the Elf steady as he started to sway back. He pulled his friend's face down to meet his. "Look at me!" he yelled. The Elf's eyes fell away. The Dwarf pulled him in tighter. "Look at me!" he demanded.

Legolas' eyes fixed on the Dwarf's. His breathing was ragged and a look of terror crossed his face. He was shaking in fear. His voice quaked as he spoke, "Gimli, why is this happening? It should not be happening like this?"

Gimli held his gaze and made quieting noises in a soft whispered voice. "Keep your eyes fixed on me and stay calm. Calm now. Do not speak…Relax…relax and listen for the sound. Do you hear it?" The Elf nodded his head, his breathing still panicked. "Good. Calmly, calmly focus. Concentrate and control it. Control it and gently push it away." Legolas closed his eyes and wrestled the sound of the cuivëar away from his mind. "Turn the sound away. You are in control. You are here now." The Elf's breathing slowed to normal, and shaking his head as if he now could manage, he slowly opened his eyes.

They sat quietly for a few minutes before either of them spoke. Legolas was shaken and withdrawn. Gimli watched his friend's face protectively to see if the symptoms were truly released. Finally, he spoke.

"How do you feel?" he asked in a kind voice.

"I feel very old and tired," said Legolas defeatedly. "May we go back to the house now?"

"Of course," said Gimli as he rose and, with great gentleness and concern, wrapped an arm about the Elf's waist. Slowly the pair walked back to the house.

The day was destroyed. No more laughter would be found. Even the birds ceased their chatter.

****

A blazing fire crackled in the hearth and a log shifted in the andirons sending sparks flying as the wood reordered itself. Legolas stirred his gaze up only to see the warming flames stayed contained and the fire did not need attendance.

He was feeling much improved. A few days rest had done much to restore his health as well as his composure though much of his hope had been lost. Still, he felt fit enough to draw himself to the library where he had always found comfort. Much of the tasks of his title were done in this room and he always found something to occupy his mind there, even if it was just to gaze out the windows and think of the past. He had never really been fond of closed spaces, preferring to spend his time out of doors when he could. But his duty required he live as a lord in this realm and as such he had many tasks requiring studious labor. Although he would have preferred to work out in the park-like settings of Ithilien, that was not always available to him. So instead, he found this one place in the house that met to his liking. It was bright and airy, yet intimate and inviting and it was clearly his favorite room as he easily spent hours there in quiet contemplation without even noticing the time passing.

And so he was there, diligently reading the scrollwork document spread out before him as he jotted notes on a separate sheet of paper.

A soft tap on the door interrupted Legolas' thoughts. Glancing up, he saw Anaran framed at the threshold quietly waiting for permission to enter. Legolas sighed and stood up. "You do not need to say it, Anaran. I know. I missed supper." The grey-eyed Elf's slight smile told Legolas he had hit his mark. The Elven lord smiled sheepishly in return. "I suppose the cook is upset."

"She has rather enjoyed your return to good health, my lord. She fears your absence may be due to something she has done," Anaran said taking a few steps into the room.

"Assure her that all is well. I merely got caught up in this reading and lost track of the time," Legolas said waving back at the papers spread out on the desk.

Anaran walked over to the table and fingered one of the top sheets, "Trade Agreements. Not exactly light material, is it?" he said with a raised brow.

"They only arrived today. I thought I might look them over briefly before passing them off," Legolas said rounding the desk again to take his place in his chair. Leaning back, he scrutinized the other Elf's face and laughed lightly, "Do not fret, Anaran. I know my limits. I will not take this on myself."

Noting the thickness of the stack, Anaran said, "You have always seemed to enjoy your duties, my lord," he shook his head as if unable to comprehend such a thing, "even if it meant dealing with trade agreements."

Legolas arched an eyebrow as a small smile pressed his lips. "I was a prince of Mirkwood before I became Lord of Ithilien. My father taught me well the art of diplomacy and negotiation. It is as important to protect out peoples' rights as it is to protect their homes. While it may not seem so to you, there is as much talent to drawing up an agreement as there is to drawing a bow. My skills are not limited to either."

Anaran looked skeptical as he said, "If you say it is so," then he returned to his own concern. "I just would not want you to overtax yourself in your indulgence of such personal pleasures, strange as they be."

Legolas sighed, "It seems more and more that the things I enjoy are diminishing." Then shaking off the mood, he turned back to Anaran, "Tell the cook I would have her make up a plate for me. I should not sacrifice one of her meals for the trivialities of my silly vices."

"Then you will dine. That is good," said a baritone voice from the doorway.

"Does everyone in this household notice my eating habits?" Legolas said with bemusement toward the Dwarf.

"Only when you do not participate in them," Gimli growled.

"Peace, Gimli. I have already been scolded. Anaran, tell the cook she may punish me by taking away my desert," Legolas laughed, truly brightening now.

"Egad, no," exclaimed Anaran. "She would take off my head. I think she would have it the other way around until you have regained your full health."

"Twice as much desert?" asked Legolas as Anaran smiled back. "She will not be satisfied until I look like a stuffed partridge!"

Gimli sat in a plush chair and made himself look comfortable. "Take the desert, my friend. It was exceptionally good tonight." And in a false whisper he said, "I will happily assist you in your punishment if it will satisfy the cooks indulgence."

Legolas laughed. "Very well, Anaran," he said as he walked over to take the seat next to Gimli. The servant left quietly. "The cook wants me healthy. I fear I may disappoint her. I may never be quite as strong as she would like me to be."

Gimli looked concerned. "Are you still fatigued from the other day's attack?"

"No. It is not that," he said furrowing his brow. He frowned as he thought on the recent event. It had been a small one, he knew, but it frightened him all the same. "The swiftness of this last occurrence is what troubles me. It was untypical as it came on without warning. I seem to be losing my ability to contain the attacks. This last episode took me completely off-guard and I believe it foretelling of worsening times. I am only grateful you were there."

Gimli leaned forward in his seat. A distressed look creased his face. "It worries me as well," he said quietly. Pausing, he looked hard at his companion. He hesitated before speaking, then finally said, "I fear we have long delayed talking on this topic. It has not been pleasant watching you suffer like this, Legolas. Do you not think it is time you answered the call of your affliction's desire?"

"Gimli, how long do you intend to stay?" Legolas said in a casual voice.

The Dwarf looked confused. "I have not made any alternative plans. I will stay as long as you desire it. Why do you ask?"

Legolas smiled brightly, touching the Dwarf's forearm as he softly spoke, "Because you are a comfort to me. I would not have been able to stave off the most recent demon were you not here. It is assuring to me that I can depend on your companionship to fight this. That is all I require at present."

Gimli sighed deeply, and then spoke in a firm voice, "Legolas, I think it is time to stop fighting. I believe you are long overdue for your voyage to the Undying Lands."

Legolas looked hard at Gimli for a long moment and then laughed aloud rocking back in his seat. He reclined fully in his chair and looked incredulously amused at his friend. "You must think I am daft. No, I heard your words well and I have indeed noticed the effect the cuivëar has on me. And on you, for that matter." He laughed again looking at his friend's confused face. "So many of my own people think I am mad to not have gone on to Aman. They think I have succumb to the illness one too many times and have lost my wits as a result." Seeing his friend's expression of remorse, he said gently, "Do not lament for me, Gimli. I have long given up caring what they think. It is what you think that matters to me." He sobered and said, "But you see, my friend, I am very aware of my predicament and I long ago tried to remedy it. Sadly though, it cannot be resolved. I have already tried to leave Middle-earth and have failed."

Gimli was shocked. He shook his head as he tried to make sense of what the Elf had just said. His deep voice sounded reproachful and hurt, "What do you mean you tried? When would this be? I thought you had made a pledge to me?"

Legolas' laughter rang loudly again, "You amuse me so, Gimli. You are here telling me you think I should go against my oath. And when I tell you I already have, you grow angry? Silly Dwarf! Would you not have forgiven me for breaking my vow? Especially since you now attest to the harm of such folly?"

"Of course I would forgive you," Gimli said stung. His eyes looked troubled as he remembered his long guilt, "You just do not know how I have held myself to blame for your plight."

Legolas' mirth disappeared and was replaced with genuine concern. "Then I apologize to you for bringing you anguish. It was never my intent to harm you. Will you forgive me?"

In a humble voice, Gimli said, "You need not even ask. But it is I that feels sorrow for forcing such a pledge on you. You should have never have felt compelled to go against your word. It was wrong of me to push you to say words you did not feel and I know breaking your vow would not be an easy thing for you to do. Forgive me. Your need must have been great to do so."

Legolas gazed fondly at the Dwarf and sadly smiled, "So it was. But do not apologize, my friend. My words were true when I spoke them. I would not hold you to blame."

"But you said your attempt was failed. What happened?" Gimli said moving his thoughts back to the event to which Legolas had alluded.

Legolas stared reflectively into the fire as it sputtered, "There is a reason we have not talked on this subject much: it is physically discomforting to me. But, you are right to say we have put this off too long. If we must talk on it, the light answer I give is that I befriended mortals and have fallen under their spell. I am bound to this world by my love for my companions."

"And the more ponderous answer would be…?" Gimli asked with raised brows.

"I cannot break the spell my heart holds for you. The anguish I feel at the thought of departure is as great as any the Sea-longing can sunder," Legolas said with a distressed face as he concentrated still on the fire. "My heart will break if I leave and I shall die as surely as I will under the cuivëar."

"I think I need to know more to understand," Gimli said with a slight shake of his head.

Legolas sat up straight and leaned forward looking directly into Gimli's eyes as he spoke. His face remained disturbed. "I went with Sam. I escorted him to Mithlond," he confessed quietly. He looked back into the fire, then shut his eyes to the memory, "Forgive me Gimli, but I truly would have broken my vow. I had every intention of escorting him through his journey. Thankfully I did not speak of it to him, and in hindsight I am glad, for it would have made his troubles even greater." Then opening his eyes again a look of despair pressed his eyes. "My fears loomed fiercely, for the cuivëar was pressing hard on me, even then. I thought sure I must leave, for the idea of mortality was a terror to me, and mortality is most certainly what I would be trading if I did not go."

"My despair grows greater for having inflicted this on you," Gimli said in a scared whisper. "And yet you did not leave."

Legolas turned his gaze on the Dwarf. Earnestly he said, "I should have felt joy at my decision to leave, as that is the way of my people. The departure for the Undying Lands is supposed to be a wondrous event and though we are sad to remove ourselves from Middle-earth, overwhelmingly we are supposed to look happily to our new venture."

"You did not."

"Oh that I could!" he said with an agonized grimace. Gimli could see the revelation still tormented his friend, so anguished was his expression. "It was painful. Every step toward that appointed realm brought me such grief as I have never known. The symptoms of cuivëar were upon me, but it was not that illness that befell my fate. My hands shook and my head throbbed and my chest ached with every breath I took in of the Sea air. Gimli, I wanted to go so desperately, and yet my legs would not carry me across the plank to that bridge." His eyes filled with tears, "Such anguish I felt. A torrent of despair. I could feel my heart ripping at just the thought of departure. It was heartbreak as I had never felt it before. Such grief! And poor Sam!"

"What of Sam?" Gimli asked as if now remembering his other friend.

"Poor Hobbit!" Legolas said with a sorrowful smile. "He did not know what to make of it. He only saw me weaken and fall. He was beside himself with worry and he would have stayed to mend me had I not had the foresight to deliver him to Círdan. And then he only left when I assured him I would recover, that it was only a momentary lapse. I am sure his departure quite troubled him. He cried such sad tears as he sailed away. I cried too, for I felt truly torn between two worlds at that moment," Legolas said reliving the moment.

"And since that time?" Gimli's voice broke.

Legolas mustered himself bravely, and looked again at his friend, "I have learned to accept my fate. I am dying. I am as good as mortal. Given a choice, I would want to go to the Undying Lands. This world has grown quite gray to me. But I know my heart will not allow it." His brow creased to a deeply pained expression, and he closed his eyes to it as a gasp escaped him, "Even now, just the thought of it renders agony to my breast. I wish not to speak further of it. The pain is so great!"

Gimli held his breath as he grasped Legolas' hand. It gripped the arm of his chair and the Elf's knuckles had gone white. He watched as his friend pushed the thought back and the torture receded.

"Do you know what is amusing?" Legolas laughed weakly and scornfully. "My father. My father said, 'Such is the price you pay for associating with mortals. They will rip your heart out in one way or other. You should have departed long ago and yet you remain. Such foolishness! Lingering for the likes of a Dwarf!'" He shook his head defiantly "And do you know what I said in return? I said, 'But you are wrong Father, for I would not trade my friendships for all of the gold in your realm. My mortal friends have been my greatest asset.'" Legolas looked again at his friend as tears brimmed his eyes. "And they have been. You have been, Gimli. He does not know the price of immortality is small compared to the richness of your friendship."

Gimli looked down, afraid to look in his friend's eyes for the emotions that welled in his own chest. "But he is right. You will die because of us. Because of me."

"I have tried to die, Gimli. I had given in to the disease and was prepared to go to my death. But you intervened and I was saved, for a time at least. Is that not a gift? Should we not try to enjoy it while we may?" He smiled bravely and squeezed his friend's hand. "My heart is no longer strong. I fear my death will come soon. A trifle could bring me down." Tears began to spill from his eyes. "But you are a brightness in this prison life has become, and I am thankful for the light you bring to my gray world. If my friendship with mortals means my own death then I welcome it. Gimli, knowing you has been a greater experience to me than any I have known among my own kind."

"What should we do?" the Dwarf said choking back his own tears.

"Pray for salvation. And beyond that nothing. Enjoy what we can still have." Legolas looked back at the fire.

"Should we travel? Would that be fitting?" Gimli looked up with a brighter expression on his face as a tear gleamed in his eye.

Legolas smiled sadly, "It would bring me great pleasure, but it would be asking a lot of you. The cuivëar still looms. You would be taking a risk of watching me succumb to it in the unprotected world."

Gimli bolstered himself. No longer thinking of his own fears or guilt, he said bravely, "Legolas, you should well know I care not for the risks. Your happiness is what concerns me. Where would you rather die? In your bed or under the stars?"

"You know my answer," Legolas said in a whisper.

"Then so be it. We will plan a long journey. We shall have an adventure," Gimli said with finality. And then he smiled at his friend who returned his with a melancholy smile, yet the Dwarf noted a touch of hope returned to his eyes.

****

There was a knock on his door the next morning and when the Dwarf opened it he found Legolas on the other side. The Elf stood before him with eyes locked in fear, his skin an ashen hue. He wore a dazed expression. A sheet of unfolded parchment was in his hand and he entered the room without asking entrance.

"Legolas, what is it?" Gimli asked with trepidation, fearful another attack was gripping his friend.

"I am afraid we must set to the road sooner than expected. It is not quite the journey we had anticipated," Legolas said absently. He dropped the note that had been dangling lightly from his hand. "I have ordered a horse made ready and suitable goods and attire for our journey."

Gimli bent down and picked up the paper. The broken seal was that of the House of Elessar.

"We can leave as soon as you are ready. It will not be a long ride. Not even a day," the Elf continued.

Gimli opened the letter. Elegant penmanship contrasted harshly with the curt message scrawled there. The note was from Arwen.

"I hope we are not too late."

The letter read: My king is dying. Please come.

TBC