In a deep haze, Nimoë clung to the front of Legolas’ tunic, her tears soaking into the soiled fabric. The strength in her fingers slipped away, and she felt them lose their grip, but could not muster the will to worry that she would fall. Arod stepped gently and, in the arms of her love, there was no chance that she would slip from the horse’s back. Even before they had reached the Hornburg, Nimoë felt her eyes slipping shut, and she did not try to fight the wave of sleep which swept over her, sending her from agonized present into peaceful oblivion.
        Legolas guided the horse in through the gate of the Hornburg, and gently dropped Nimoë down into the arms of a waiting horseman. As soon as he was on the ground he took her limp form back into his own arms and brought her up two flights of stairs to a small room, which was occupied by a few other men sleeping.
        He settled her into a corner and covered her with a nearby cloak, which had been lost during the fighting, then contemplated finding food and drink. Weariness was also hard upon him, for the battle had been long, but he resisted the temptation to sink into sleep until he had brought sustenance with him to where Nimoë rested. When she woke, she would need it. The only thing she had eaten in more than a week had been the small meal the morning they left Edoras.
        A wave of protectiveness swept over him, looking down at her innocent fragility, and he thought fiercely that it was time someone cared for her hurts, rather than the other way around. She had been a tower of strength, but he was surprised that she had managed to last as long as she did before losing her fight to remain with the waking world.
        He climbed to a higher level, where he was able to find some food. As he brought a skin of water and some stale bread, with some vegetables, down the spiraling stair, he again marveled at the tenacity of spirit that dwelt within of the daughter of Naldor. He tried to imagine how he would have fared in her stead, the deprivation and horror of her imprisonment, added to the rigors of battle, and found that he thought he could have done no better.
        A voice hailed him as he passed a door. “Sir Elf!”
        He turned and saw that he was passing in front of the infirmary. Swiftly he stepped inside. “Yes, can I help you?”
        The man who greeting him was careworn, but his face was smiling. “I only wanted to send my thanks to the lady Nimoë. All of these men you see here will live, and it is all due to her healing. They were beyond the aid of any other here. Please give her our thanks, and tell her that we will always be in her debt.”
        “I will. It will lighten her heart,” spoke the Elf. “I must go now, for I have left her alone, and I do not like to leave her so for long.”
        “Farewell then, and may fortune smile on your travels.”

        When Legolas returned to the room where he had left Nimoë, he found it more crowded than it had been. He stepped over the sleeping forms of the Rohirrim to make his way to the corner. He smiled when he saw that she had not so much as moved a muscle since he left. Good. She needed sleep now more than anything, and he was glad to see that she was getting it.
        He bundled the food up in its cloth and lifted her head off of the stone floor, resting it down again on top of the food and the water skin. It would serve as a pillow well enough until it was eaten. Then he laid himself down beside her, and wrapped her in his arms. Finally, he also closed his eyes and surrendered to the sleep which would refresh him, leaving him strong for the continuing journey.

        All too soon, Legolas awoke to Aragorn shaking him lightly by the shoulder. “We leave in an hour. Be ready.”
        Legolas nodded his understanding and the heir of Gondor left him. The Elf sat up and gently shook Nimoë, hoping to rouse her. Her body rocked with the motion, but remained limp, and her eyes did not even blink. “Nimoë, wake up. I have food. You need to eat.” Still no response.
        With a sigh, he lifted her up by her shoulders and leaned her up against him. Her head dropped forward against her chest. This would be more difficult than he had anticipated. With his long arm he grabbed the packet of food and unwrapped it. He took a drink of the water himself to make the flow of water easier to control, then tipped her head back, positioning the skin against her mouth.
        It was like caring for an infant, he thought, as he forced water into her mouth. She swallowed reflexively, and soon was drinking deeply. Finally, the awareness of her actions seemed to seep into her unconsciousness, and her eyelids lifted halfway. She turned her head away from the skin, and Legolas drank what was left of the water while she watched him, almost as if she wasn’t sure that she was really seeing him.
        He handed her a chunk of the bread and slowly, mechanically, she chewed and swallowed, and as the food worked its way into her system, her eyes began to register some inkling of life within her. When the bread was gone, she grabbed a carrot, and ate that as well.
        When all of the food was consumed, and both were satisfied, Legolas spoke, “We must go. We ride to Isengard. You can ride with me, and sleep as you need. With rest enough, and food, you will soon begin to feel yourself again.”
        She nodded, unable to muster the energy for a verbal response. They rose together and walked down the stairs to the stable room. The score of Rohirrim who would ride to Isengard were arriving as well, and they all mounted up onto their horses. Gimli was already seated behind Eomer, who sat with his back straight and stiff, appearing to challenge any to approach him. Gimli sat, looking exceedingly uncomfortable, behind the temperamental horse-lord.
        Nimoë moved like a shade of the dead. Legolas was forced to keep a firm hand on her waist, for he was afraid she would either collapse to the floor, or keep on walking straight into a wall. He found Arod and lifted her up, mounting up behind her. As soon as he took the reins in his hand and wrapped his arms about her, her head fell back against him, and he knew that she was again asleep.
        Aragorn approached on his chestnut stallion. “Legolas, should we bring Finduél with us? Do you think that she will be well enough to ride ere long?”
        Legolas thought for only a moment and then he nodded. “She will. If she can rest for most of the ride to Isengard, and gets food and drink, I think that she will recover her strength quickly.” He smiled at his close friend and admitted, “Much as I enjoy having her with me, I think that she will soon wish for some form of independence. She will feel herself less like a burden if she can ride on her own, and that will be a balm to her pride.”
        “So be it. I will have Finduél brought along. We are leaving momentarily.” Then he wheeled his horse away, leaving the two Elves in peace.
        Legolas dropped a kiss onto Nimoë’s temple, and whispered in her ear, “Rest well and deeply, dear heart. I long to see you recovered, for it frightens me to see you laid so low. By the time we come to Isengard, I hope that you will be strong again. At least strong enough to continue on.” He sighed, hoping that some part of her had heard and understood him, and he squeezed her tight. “Take comfort in knowing that tomorrow will be a new beginning.”