The Last Othellan

The Aftermath

Legolas barely noticed the cheers as the conquering army passed through the gates of Minas Tirith. The men's joy seemed to mock his own grief, his terrible fear for the one unconscious in his arms. Aúthiel had lost consciousness just after they had left the ruin of Mordor behind. It had been a stroke of luck that they had found their horses again, for if they hadn't he doubted Aúthiel would even have made it this far.

She still might not make it.

Swallowing a lump in his throat, Legolas held her tighter to him and swung off his horse as lightly as he could manage as Aragorn, Gimli and the hobbits rushed towards him. They too barely seemed to notice the cheers, the tearful reunions, and the calls of 'long live the King!' that surrounded them. Their faces were anxious and grieved.

"Come". Aragorn laid a hand on his shoulder and steered him into the houses of healing. There was a crowd already assembled there full of wounded soldiers and women with young children calling out for ones they hoped had returned. However, they parted easily when they saw the King of Gondor rushing forwards, with the fellowship behind.

The fellowship, Legolas considered, was well known now. Their full purpose in these lands would be confirmed by those who had survived the battle. Many people were looking to the victorious new King, but many still were also looking at the other members of the fellowship.

The crowd fell back solemnly when they saw Aúthiel. There was a dark stain on her tunic, which had grown larger even though Aragorn had bandaged the wound as best he could on the battlefield. They moved quickly and easily through the crowd. Legolas saw Éowyn run up with tears pouring down her face. Faramir followed her, saw the grim state that Aúthiel was in, and swallowed, pulling Éowyn into a hug.

Pippin ran ahead and threw open the door to a private room which was mercifully empty. He and Merry had pulled back the blankets on the bed by the time Legolas entered. He laid Aúthiel down as if she was made of delicate crystal, hating that he could not fix her as he so desperately wished to do.

Someone had got Legolas a chair and placed it next to her bed. He sank into it, his knees weak, and watched as Aragorn and another healer cut away the blood soaked tunic and bandage, his knuckles white as he gripped the chair's arms. Before the last piece was cut, and her wound was fully revealed, Aragorn turned hesitantly to Legolas.

"Perhaps you should leave, for the time being". Legolas could tell that Aragorn knew his request was a lost cause before he finished the sentence, and spoke for the first time in hours to confirm the man's suspicions.

"No".

The rest of the fellowship members present looked equally determined, but Aragorn ushered the hobbits away with instructions to tell Éowyn what had happened. Gimli drew up a chair next to Legolas and gripped his arm tightly as he sat.

Aúthiel's hand was lying palm up on the bed between herself and Legolas. He stared at it for a second, then, even though he knew it was fruitless, even though he knew she wouldn't feel a thing, he squeezed her hand tenderly. The warm familiarity of it calmed him.

Legolas would never forget the next half an hour. Everything, taking away the dirty bandage, cleaning the long tear in Aúthiel's stomach, stitching it up, and putting a new bandage tightly around her. It felt like the pain stemmed from his own body, from his core.

He was unsurprised to find that tears rolled freely down his cheeks when it was finished and the healer had left. Aragorn and Gimli said sympathetic, encouraging words, but Legolas did not hear them.

"Will she wake up?" was the first thing he recalled saying, her hand still lying in his. Aragorn sighed.

"She is in a lot of danger" he said grimly "but you know how strong she is. We have to hope that she will pull through. But she will take time to heal if she wakes. You should get some rest, Legolas."