Bearded

Chapter 23

Gimli saw a bright light.

He smelled the healing herbs and he wondered if he was awake or still in the swift-moving dream in which he had been wrapped. The world had been rushing by with the wind singing loudly in his ears. He could remember nothing but a spreading stain of red on Arod's flanks. Had the horse been injured?

With effort, he had tried to recall which battle he was dreaming of, but his memory was drowsy and uncertain. There had been a ride at terrible speed without a halt. Legolas had spoken soft words to him but in a strange tongue. He had only recognised 'Melleth', 'Mellon', 'Gimli-nin'. Then he had remembered being on the ground by the gates of Erebor. And chaos had passed over him and he could see fear in the eyes of the guards.

Sleepily he tried to reckon whether he was thinking of the battle of Helm's Deep, but the injury there had been to his own head, not to their horse. Gimli decided to close his eyes for just a moment more and rest, that this weary feeling may pass. He reached for Legolas' hand, but he was not there.

Dimly, he became aware of comings and goings. He was tired and uneasy. He heard his mother's voice. Someone was giving orders. There was incense being burned around his bed and he felt runes being drawn on his body and sank back into the comfortable warmth and stillness.

Gimli woke to the sound of voices. He tried to sit up and found his hands had been bound to the side of the bed upon which he lay. He had no way of telling what time of day it was. Smells of incense and herbs surrounded him. His brow felt damp with sweat. Many healers stood around him with grave looks upon their faces. The whispered discussion could be heard but his ears could not make sense of the words. His mother was speaking to the healers and as he listened, Gimli became aware that he himself was being discussed.

This time a healer stood by his side.

"Sleep again and do not be afraid!" said the Dwarf to him in a business-like voice. "For soon the enchantment will be lifted and the fever will pass. Then you will be safe again among your kin! You will be free of the Elf."

"You do not comfort me," said Gimli, but nonetheless sleep crept over him.

The last thing he remembered before he fell into a deep dream was a glimpse of Legolas' hands bound. He wondered where he was. He knew that if he were able, Legolas would have been with him. Had he been killed in battle? He could hold onto those thoughts no longer and sleep overtook him.

Gimli became aware of a dipper being put to his lips. By reflex he swallowed the thin trickle of liquid and he became drowsy again. He could hold onto the thought that Legolas was in danger, and needed him, but he could not stir and felt himself falling into a deep hole of unconsciousness.

When he eventually climbed back up to awareness he tried to speak. "Legolas, ghivashel," he croaked. His throat was dry, as if his voice had been unused for days.

"The charms have not worked. He still lies under the enchantment."

"Perhaps he is trying to say what happened."

"It matters not. When the Elf has been executed, he will return to his right mind."

With that Gimli attempted to sit up, but instead jerked at his restraints and lurched to the side and almost overturned the low hospital cot.

A strong hand gripped his shoulders. A hand he had known all his life. Gimli cowered back, afraid for a moment, wondering how his mother had come to the battlefield. She was speaking gentle words to him and allowed him a few sips of water from a dipper. He opened his eyes and then saw he was not in the camp hospital of a battlefield of a war now long ended. He could not remember how he had come to be here. He stirred and spoke.

"Where are we, Amad?" He shuddered violently and his fingers tightened on the sheets below him. He tried to speak again but could not form words.

"In the healers' caverns," his mother answered. "You are being treated for a wound."

Gimli found his strength and cried out suddenly, clutching at the sheets. "Legolas, where is he, is he safe? An Orc attacked us! I know not if there were more!" Consciousness was slipping away from him like water cupped in a hand. He felt himself sinking back into foggy sleep.

He heard his mother's voice clearly. "Gimli, you must awaken, and you must be brave. Take no more milk of the poppy for time is short. See! They have bound your Elf and he is in need of your aid. War is at our doorstep."

"It may be too late," said the healer. "For the Elves mass at the gates." He bustled officiously and produced a roll of parchment. "He is not yet fit to leave my care. You will need to sign your mark here-"

Mili swept the paperwork onto the floor and barged past the healer. "Let us pass on now, quickly! For the King Under the Mountain will be eager to hear the full truth of the matter."

She turned again to Gimli and spoke. "The healers have restrained you because you kept trying to get up, and we feared you would do yourself further injury. Will you follow our instructions if we untie you?"

He nodded, then shivered at the memory of Legolas on the ground beside him. The image was filled with menace. And with that hideous memory he woke fully.

"Legolas." he rasped.