Chapter 5 - Courage Found

He is too young for this. He should not be here. I should not have brought him to this so soon. He is so frightened, and yet he still walks towards the bed, and his head he holds high. He would be as brave as Legolas, and he is too young. Eärendil, help him! He is the son of your son’s daughter. Send your light of hope into his heart. Give him the strength he needs.

Rúmil continued to pray for Eldarion, the short prayer of a warrior before battle:

Eärendil, give your strength to this warrior who needs it. Let your hope be there for him as he marches towards death.

With his own heart aching, the warrior watched as Eldarion slowly and fearfully walked from the door to his friend’s bedside. His thin body was held too tightly erect as he feigned courage. Rúmil had done that himself as a very young warrior. He wanted to stop Eldarion in this walk towards his fear, but he knew he must not. It was a journey the child must make. Still, he could walk with this child as Haldir had done with him when he made his own journey towards his first battle so many years ago.

In his pain, Legolas knew not yet that the child was there. His head move restlessly on his pillow, but he made no sound. He knew if he screamed it frightened the mortal child in the chamber with him. The child he had tried to save. The child of Gondor that hated him.

Legolas had seen Gurth’s face and its fear that first time when the elf had refused the oblivion that Haldir offered. Legolas had screamed at the first sudden wave of torment that hit his body without the healer’s potion. He fought now always to keep himself from screaming. And, his gentle heart mourned when he did not win his fight.

In his own pain, he pitied more the child. If he had only moved faster, if the boy had not struggled against being caught by an elf, he might have been spared and stayed whole. Legolas’ heart ached that he had failed the child. He found no comfort in being told that but for him the child would have surely died. He knew too well the pain that wracked his own body. That the child’s was thought to be less did not comfort him. There was no end to this pain, and no child should carry even a portion of it.

For himself, he had decided he would no longer drink the draught that would make him unconscious. He continued to refuse it each time Haldir offered its release. He had told Haldir he would rather die while awake and fighting. Haldir bowed his head to the courage of Legolas at each refusal and took the cup away.

Instead, he left for Gilúviel sticks of a softer type of wood. Sticks that Legolas could bite upon when he convulsed with pain. Sticks and short lengths of hithlain that he tied to the bed for Legolas to grip with his hands when he needed to hold onto something.

For Haldir had seen the terrible bruises upon Gilúviel’s own hands where he had let his brother cling to him. Only Gimli’s tough dwarven hands were strong enough to endure the long pale fingers to which that pain gave such force. Haldir knew that Gilúviel still often gave his hands to his brother instead of the rope. The bruises upon them were always fresh. He did not reproach the dark elf for this. For his own brothers, he too would have offered his hands.

Gilúviel was alone with his brother when Rúmil brought Eldarion to the room. He sat by Legolas’ bedside, and Sulka sat as ever with Gurth. It was a quiet time usually. He and Sulka had reached the point that at times they would speak together to drive away their individual fears that arose in the quiet of the healing chamber. He knew she watched with him as the boy approached Legolas.

Haldir had opposed the visit, but Rúmil had fought with him for Eldarion. The boy had chosen a path he said. He must be allowed to walk it. They must respect him in his choice.

No force could wear down Rúmil once he decided. This Haldir knew. He bowed to his brother’s wish, and said the boy might come in the afternoon. Legolas was a little stronger in the afternoons.

*****

Eldarion suddenly felt Rúmil’s strong hand grasp his shoulder as he drew nearer the bed. He had not heard the elf approach him until he was there. Eldarion looked up into the grey eyes of his most feared teacher and saw only gentleness there. Rúmil smiled his crooked smile at the boy and shrugged his shoulders.

To Eldarion, he looked as ever fierce and brave and proud, but now there was a gentleness he had never before seen. Eldarion saw suddenly how much Rúmil resembled Orophin. He had seen that gentleness in the face of Orophin holding his sleeping princess.

Eldarion made his own face smile at Rúmil and felt a little warmth creep back into his body. With Rúmil beside him, his path suddenly saw light.

"To be brave, child, can be to laugh when we are most frightened. Come, I will walk this path with you a little. Legolas has need of all his friends. You will bring him joy, and I will lend you my courage until you find your own."

Rúmil smiled again the crooked smile that so many dying orcs had seen as their last sight on Arda.

"Eldarion, your own courage will find you. You are the son of Aragorn. He is a great king among men and honored among elves and all the free peoples. I honor him more than you can know. You are his son. His son will ever bring Aragorn joy. This life of yours that now seems so small will become a tale of the minstrels. Eldarion, son of Aragorn, I pledge myself to your service. I will help you find your own light. There is no shame to you in this. This path is too hard yet for one alone."

*****

It was well that Eldarion had strength other than his own. If not, his first sight of Legolas would have driven him crying from the room.

The elf lay with his eyes closed against the light of Anar, which it now hurt him to see. His blond hair Gilúviel combed and braided each day, so that it seemed almost normal to the boy. All else was strange.

Legolas was clad in a soft white sleeping tunic, and his skin was as pale as the tunic’s cloth. His whole being was beyond the lightness that was normal to any elf. His face and body showed every fine bone as if they would cut through the delicate skin that covered them. Blue shadows colored the skin beneath the great eyes in the deeply sunken face. You could see the blue-corded veins in his forearms, for there was no longer enough flesh to hide them. His lips were cracked and dry despite all Gilúviel’s efforts to heal them with ointments. Blood lightly stained the corners of his mouth and flecks of it spotted the fair neck that now was so thin. His still beautiful hands gripped the lines of hithlain tightly as if they were all that yet anchored him to Arda. His shallow breathing was rough to the boy’s ears and frightened him more than anything.

Once Eldarion had seen a horse gravely wounded in battle. The healers strove to save it, and yet nothing brought it relief. The pain of its breathing had haunted him always. He had watched and wept for its relief as the warrior who had raised it and long rode it to battle sent an arrow in swift mercy into the poor beast’s brain. Eldarion remembered how the tall elven warrior had dropped his bow then and wept over the bloodied body of his horse. His friend who was now lost.

"You should not be here, little one. They should not have brought you." The voice was soft and weak and infinitely sad.

"I made them bring me to you, Legolas. You are my friend."

"Ah, I remember that well. I have so missed you, Eldarion. Still, I would not have you be here if it were my choice."

"It is my choice, Legolas. I would be here." Eldarion bent and softly kissed the cheek of his friend. "Finrod came when his friend’s need was greatest."

Legolas’ cracked lips smiled and with great effort he raised his hand to touch the boy’s cheek. "And Beren was glad that he came. Even as I am to see you, Eldarion. I do love my friend."

"I love you, Legolas. I will no longer be apart from you." Eldarion bent and kissed one of the thin hands that held the cords of hithlain. It was the only part of Legolas’ body that he knew was safe for him to touch. Those hands were yet strong. He would not bring pain touching them.

"Child, this road is too hard for you. Turn away from it with your honor intact, my little one. You are so young. You deserve only happiness." Legolas voice was so cracked that Gilúviel lifted his head then and gave him water from a cup. Legolas swallowed it with difficulty. He was grateful for the complete silence of his brother. He needed all his strength for this one small child.

"I would rather walk together with you, Legolas. If the path is dark, I would be there still. I am not afraid. Do not send me away!"

Legolas looked long into the eyes of the child before him. There he was the first to see the courage of Eldarion begin to flower. He smiled and touched the boy’s face.

"I will no longer let them send my heart away from my side. Sit beside Gilúviel whenever you would. I will feel you there, and it will bring me peace."

Then did Legolas close his eyes with the weariness of speaking, but his soul felt the child sit down next to his brother. The wave of pain receded but a little, and he slept.