THE RED RIDER ; lord of the rings {legolas} ✔

Chapter XX

Chapter XX

The day brought a few injured into our room in the House of Healing, though there were many more rooms for more seriously injured soldiers than Faramir and I, who were on the mend.

One such patient was Eowyn, killer of the Witch-King of Angmar, infected with black magic. Gandalf and Aragorn aided her recovery alongside a few doctors while Eomer watched from a few steps back, worry written all over his face, but I usually turned my back and pretended to sleep; I didn't want anyone to get distracted if they saw me. Instead I spent most of my time resting and watching the black scar along my arm; it probably would never heal, but it seemed to fade slightly. I didn't admit it to anyone except the doctors, but I was still feeling weak from my fight against the Nazgûl; my extreme use of powerful magic had exhausted my mind and my energy, and the minimal though fierce sword-fighting had exerted my muscles greatly. I knew I could probably only stand one more fight; my power was diminishing slowly but surely, and my time would soon come to pass into the Valinor.

On one particular day, Faramir and Eowyn were feeling up for a walk and went out together to meander through the sixth level, where the Houses of Healing in Minas Tirith were located. I stayed in the room, leaning out from the balcony after they left, and watched the reconstruction of the White City below me, feeling tired and slightly restless.

A soft knock sounded from the door, and I responded with an eager "Come in!", wanting to talk to someone even if it was a doctor or a nurse that I'd been seeing everyday. I was, however, surprised, when two bundles of joy raced through the door and tore across the room with a shout, hugging me around the waist : Merry and Pippin.

I laughed; it was wonderful to see them. I put a hand on their heads. "Glad to see me, then?"

"The doctors said that you'd be ready for visitors today," Merry explained rapidly. "Pippin and I ran all the way up here from the third level when we realized what day it was!"

Pippin grinned and extracted himself from the hug; his arms were being crushed by Merry's. "We abandonned elevensies for you, Elena. Can I call you Elena? I kind of like it."

Merry shook his head and walked over to my table and helped himself to a glass of water. "Well, you brought the bacon, Pip. Besides, Elenathrian is a powerful elf! Her name alone means queen of stars! You can't just shorten that, otherwise it doesn't mean anything anymore!" He looked at me from over the rim of his glass. "Right?"

I just smiled, having missed their excitable company. "Pippin can call me whatever he wants, but if you must know, Merry, Elena means 'of the stars' in Quenya."

"Hmm," Merry said thoughtfully, taking another sip. "Well, that still makes sense."

Pippin's eyes lit up. "Great! Elena it is, then!"

Merry, having had set his glass down on the table, sat on the bed with a small bounce, and asked, "So, what exactly happened to you, then? Gandalf wouldn't tell us. Eowyn said something about the Nazgûl, and the Witch-King..."

I wondered whether to respond with the whole truth, or whether just to brush this off with a smart response, but I looked at both of their faces : curious, slightly anxious, and a little bit excited as though in preparation for a great story. I smiled to myself; these two Hobbits had grown so much over the course of the whole journey. They'd been taken from their homes, volunteered for a quest they weren't sure of whether they'd return from, fought in a war and helped win it. They'd been separated from each other and from everything they knew, and still they stood strong, eager, and loyal. They could certainly handle a story.

I walked over to the bed and sat down; Pippin followed suit, the two cousins on either side of me, watching in anticipation. "Well," I said, "You know how Aragorn went in through the door under the mountain?"