The rain pelted down loud and unmercifully as Gimli hurriedly assisted Aragorn carry the drenched and motionless elf toward safety. The dwarf's pipe was long forgotten.
        Hastily reaching a reasonably sheltered grove, the duo placed the flaccid elf upon the leafy ground, kneeling beside him.
        Reaching out a tentative arm, Aragorn hovered two fingers over the pale elf’s throat, fearing the worst.
        The Ranger closed his eyes, and took a deep breath.
        O please let there be something. Anything at all, just let him be alive!
        And quickly, so as not to delay the inevitable anymore, Aragorn pressed for a pulse.
        He could feel nothing at first, but suddenly there it was, though thready and weak. Relieved, he sat back, running a hand through his sodden, dark hair.
    Gimli met his concerned gaze, and the Ranger try as he might, could not suppress a small grin. For as much as the elf and the dwarf bickered and contested during the daylight hours, the two's feelings obviously ran deeper than face value. And here and now, the dwarf's disquiet towards his companion was just as obvious.
    "He must be fine then," spoke Gimli. "For surely you would not smile if he were too badly hurt."
    Hope was in the bearded dwarf's eyes.
    "You are right in that. You need not worry, for Legolas will be fine. Though he will most certainly be cold and frozen when he awakens, and that will not be for a while yet. So come, help me take him back to camp where we shall wrap him in blankets, and lay him next to the warmth of our hearth, before he protests as he is prone to. And please friend, when he is awake, do not provoke him as you so usually do!"
    Gimli looked up with a look that was far too innocent.
    And with that, they rose, and picked up the slack and icy elf. Carrying him delicately back to the safe haven of their camp.
    They travelled the dry routes, for neither wished to pursue the rain. And ever so gradually, because of this, Legolas began to dry. But as he did so, his numbness thawed as well. And immense shivers began to run down the unperceiving elf's spine, ere it became difficult to hold the light elf up. For nearly dry though the clothing was, it became slippery and did not grip against the clammy elf's pale skin, so the pair frequently found themselves hauling the young prince back up from his steady progress toward the ground.

        When they reached it, the camp seemed to sing to them. Pulling them into its warm embrace.
        And they submitted with joyous hearts, simply content in the knowledge that were three here on this nigh, and not just two.
        Setting about their various tasks, Aragorn wrapped the shivering prince in warm thick blankets, while Gimli sought alternative resources to light the dying fire.

        He could find nothing, and search as he may, the more he tried, all the more fruitless did it become.
        And then it came to him. Perhaps a trifle silly, but his friend was in need of life giving warmth.
        Scurrying over to his pack, Gimli pulled out his shattered and splintered axe.
        Yes, he thought smartly. This will do just fine. And out loud with his damaged axe raised for emphasis, he spoke quickly, "Aragorn, lend me your sword for a moment, as we need wood and light, just as Legolas does warmth."
        So, understanding what Gimli had in mind, the wise ranger nodded, unsheathing his long sword and handing it to the short dwarf.
        Acting speedily, the dwarf carefully separated the split wooden handle from the sharp bodied blade, and chucked the unceremoniously into the fire.
        Almost immediately, the light span of the camp increased, and warm, fiery crackling sounds wafted through the glade with the smoke. With this, a warm feeling of satisfaction settled deeply into the gruff dwarf's heart.
        And as he turned to observe his two companions, he realised he could not have a more valuable kinship with these men.

        As the midday's sun shone brightly once again through the thick blanket of trees above, a low groan rose from the quaking elf. And as Legolas continued to stir, Aragorn rushed quickly to his comrade's side.
        Placing one hand on the Silvan elf's brow, the Ranger frowned slightly. Legolas still shuddered with the impending cold, though he had been lying here in the warmth of the growing light, and still running fire since the previous night.
        He was not really worried, for he knew the prince was going to be fine. But he had expected Legolas to rise a lot earlier than this.
        Perhaps there is more water in his system than I had first thought, surmised Aragorn. Nonetheless it seems like he is waking now, and the truth will soon be told.
Surely enough, the son of King Thranduil awoke not long after this notion had been thought.

    As he awoke, Legolas was conscious of only one thing. He hurt. A lot.
    With each movement came a stabbing pain in his right side, and his right leg was just as bad. His lungs and head ached excruciatingly with every rasping breath, and each time he drew such in, his stomach would somersault, and a sickening feeling would overcome him. It seemed he had been out for a long while, and even though the throngs of unconsciousness are nothing like sleep, he felt annoyed at being so weary.
    Though he was still so cold, the Prince of Mirkwood could feel the warm rays of sun through his closed eyelids. And deciding that it would probably not yet be wise to unsettle his already fragile state of mind and stomach, he kept his eyes shut, for bright light would be too much.
    Though at least he seemed to be dry.
    To his left he heard the soft sound of footsteps coming toward him, and he shallowed out his breathing in order to hear more.
    Whoever it was, set himself down beside him, laying a burning hand across his forehead. The hand itself was uncomfortable, for though he craved warmth to calm his shivering body, this radiating heat was uncomfortable and far too intense.
    Legolas groaned and shook his head slightly, trying to get away from the disrupting presence.
    "Legolas?" A warm voice spoke uncertainly. He gave no response, but instead shook his throbbing head all the more vigorously.
    "Legolas!" There it was again.
    The young prince simply opened his misty grey eyes, and stared straight back into the deep hazel depths opposite.
    "P-please take y-your hand off my head Aragorn, it's f-far too hot for my p-p-preference at t-the moment."
    The Ranger removed his hand from the young prince's forhead, and looked questioningly toward the ailing elf. "How are you feeling Legolas? You had us both worried, especially our irritable dwarven companion. Can you sit?"
    "I'm fine," Legolas lied, leaving the last question unanswered. For in truth even he did not yet know whether he were able. There seemed no point in bothering Aragorn about his ribs, for they could only heal of their own accord, and he had always healed fast anyway, due to his elven blood. Aragorn looked dubious as to his previous answer, but stayed silent.
    "No really. I-i'm fine, just a little c-cold is all." He seemed to be saying this more to convince himself than he was Aragorn.
    Turning away, and then back again, he noticed the Ranger staring intently at him with a searching look, and eventually Legolas had to look away from its severity.
    "Where's Gimli?" Legolas asked promptly, avoiding the uncomfortable air rising between himself and Gondor's heir.
    Aragorn gestured roughly toward some point south east, and said, "Our dwarf has gone hunting. He left no more than an hour ago, and will be back before sundown, as we are running far too short on supplies, and a hot meal is better than trail food."
    Suppressing what would surely be a painful laugh, Legolas faced a wry grin, his feel for humour returning. "Hunting? W-what a sight that would be. Gimli would f-frighten off any game within sixty paces from him. Don't worry though Aragorn, feeding two won't be so bad, as I'm not feeling hungry at the moment."
    "You would do well not to mock him so, Legolas. Our friend has not left your side since we got you back here, and the only reason he is gone is because I forced him to take a break. You have a good friend in him, my young prince. Do not judge him so disrespectfully." Aragorn fixed him with one of those firm stares yet again, but this time, it was not Legolas who looked away, as the betrothed of the beautiful maiden Arwen rose and stirred the embers on the fire vehemently.
    Legolas sighed and closed his eyes against the impending light. Weariness was setting in again and he turned his head aside for more comfort. He could feel himself drifting off dreamily.
    "Rest now Legolas, for I know you are still fatigued. I will wake you tonight when Gimli brings us food back." Aragorn paused, grinning at the pale elf's turned head, and added, "As he will, my friend."
        But Legolas was already asleep.

        Just as the warm golden sun fell from behind the treetops, a deep voice could be heard singing joyously over the treetops.
        Gimli son of Gloin, with rabbits and hares strung over his shoulder, marched loftily back into the makeshift encampment, where Aragorn stood and greeted him.
        Setting his equipment and quarry down upon a cloak, the short dwarf looked up into the calm and wise eyes of the human heir.
        "Has he awoken yet, Aragorn?"
        "That he has, Gimli. And he seemed coherent and fine. He said he was a little cold, but that's to be expected under the circumstances. Though the way he was reacting to the light makes me feel he might have an aching head also. But we know how Legolas is with an injury, don't we my friend?"
        "Oh aye," grinned the dwarf. "We've dealt with that many a time. Well, glad am I that he is in reasonably good health! Shall I start dinner? The spit I was making last night should serve, and these plump rabbits look delicious!" And in the fading light, the fiery bearded dwarf stared hungrily from the future meal to the fire and back again.
        "No more rationed trail food for me!" Gimli praised enthusiastically as he felt his mouth water in anticipation. "Enough for us three for four eves! Done well have I on this day!"
        So, in not much time at all was it that dinner was almost ready, and Gimli moved from the bright flickering fire to wake the sleeping elf.
        Legolas was no longer shivering much, and his translucent ghost-like pallor had almost returned to normal. There was not the bluish tinge to his lips or redness to his cheeks either, and all in all, the prince looked a little better for wear.
        Crouching beside the sleeping prince, Gimli held his shoulders and shook Legolas gently.
        "Awaken Legolas, my feast is almost prepared and there is plenty enough for everyone! Awaken!"
        Opening his eyes slowly, Legolas rid his mind of sleeping fog, and glanced up to the delighted expression of the dwarf's face. He could not help but smile back.
        It was good to see Gimli again. Why had it seemed so long this afternoon when he had been away? It had been not even a day since they had last talked, and the young prince had been indisposed for most of it.
        How could this be? I must be losing my senses, and at my age too! He was lost.
        "Hail Legolas. You are looking much better this evening if you don't mind my saying. A little blue last night, you were," and with this Gimli chuckled. His strange humour, as usual eluding the Silvan elf.
        "Yes Gimli, strange though it is, I feel much better now than previously."
        But in his mind, Legolas knew this to be not entirely true. Though in a manner of speaking he was feeling more aware, his ribs and leg was painful. And much as he would like to admit it, he had the feeling showing his injuries would just cause unnecessary trouble and caution. This in which they did not need, for when they had departed, the hopes of getting to Hobbiton in time were looking dim, but now they were looking impossible. They had tarried a whole day, and could afford to wait no more. They would just have to move on.
        Due to his reply, Gimli laughed a deep laugh, and patted his Legolas on the shoulder.
        Though suddenly a puzzled expression came into his small eyes.
        "Why do you not sit friend? You are even smaller than I when down there, and I am not used to looking down. Here, let me help you up. It shall save you the effort." And before Legolas could stop him, the blankets were wrenched from upon him, and his arm grabbed roughly. Gimli tugged him up with no such effort, but with dizziness and a pained cry the prince dropped straight to the ground again, cradling his ribs and immobilising his leg.
        Alarmed, Gimli immediately crouched again. "What ails you Legolas? Are you hurt? You should have told me, for Aragorn did not!" The dwarf was earnestly distressed.
        Legolas replied painfully through tightly clenched teeth. "I-i'm fine G-Gimli. Just got up-p a little fast i-is all. L-let me go."
        But disbelief rang true in the eyes of Gloin's son, and with surprising strength for a man so small, he pushed the young elf flat to the ground and held him there.
        With a fierce stare and a half snarl toward Gimli, Legolas realised he was in trouble. Hiding an injury from his friends was going to offend them, but he was doing it for their best interests. Or lack of it. Though they would not understand this, and with this thought, the fair blonde elf began a hasty prayer to the gods of invisibility.
        The gods either did not hear him, or chose to ignore him. For the gasp and the glare he received when Gimli checked under his shirt was, neither friendly nor cheerful. And from what Legolas took it from his own unobserving downcast look, his painted ribs were not invisible either.
        Who needs religion in times like these, notioned Legolas. This promises to be an interesting night.