Master Of Death

Chapter 9

Legolas POV

Everyone was happy to see that Harry was awake, although he was still injured, that didn't take away from the fact that Harry was alive. I held back from the group, the smile on my face never faltering as I watched him. Harry, while still a little out of it, was more relaxed now. He stayed with the Hobbits, and it was a joy to see him laughing at their antics, particularly something Merry said.

"I need to dress his wound, Pippin would you get something to dry him off with for me, please?"

Aragorn stood up after ruffling Harry's wet hair to the males annoyance. Pippin nodded before returning with a piece of cloth to use. It was actually a piece of torn shirt, it had been getting more and more ragged as the journey went on, each time an injury occurred, the shirt was torn apart some more. I enter the small group, gently tugging the ruined shirt off Harry's torso -this too is likely to become part of our healing kit - frequently apologizing as Harry winces far too often, it seems impossible to tend to him without causing him more pain.

"I was worried, you know. I'm glad you're back with us." I grin at him, wanting to hug Harry but refraining.

The last thing I want is to cause him more pain. I settle for giving his hand a gentle squeeze which Harry returned weakly. I dried him off as best as I could with the dry cloth, then let Aragorn take over. He steeped the wound in a kind of weed called Athelas. The sweet fragrance fills the camp, and I watch intently as Harry's face relaxes under the influence of the healing weed. Aragorn expertly crafted a bandage from their tattered clothing, the Athelas embedded inside and wrapped up Harry's chest. The others reluctantly left after a few more moments, intent on setting up camp and getting food ready to eat.

"I thought you were going to die; I thought you had died. That, along with Gandalf falling - I'm glad you're going to be okay." Aragorn's words were quiet.

The words were only meant for Harry and me to hear, but they were full of relief, though sorrow was hidden in the stern way in which he spoke them. He spent a few more moments finishing the bandage, making sure it was secure, before standing to go help the Hobbits with gathering wood.

I stayed with Harry, happily chatting with him, unable to leave his side. I will never leave his side so long as I can help it. I barely noticed as the sun went down and we ate, Harry occasionally resting beside me as it became harder to keep his eyes open. I made sure the others didn't disturb him, knowing he needed it, but distantly worried he wouldn't wake back up - it's irrational I know - Death said he cannot die. I feel sure he can suffer though. The others were mostly silent, the weight of the past twenty-four hours weighing heavily on our minds. There were occasional tears from the Hobbits interrupting long stretches of quiet.

"Death says hello," I whisper when Harry wakes later that day.

Everyone else had fallen asleep, their eyes puffy from both shed and unshed tears. Harry looked up at me, startled and confused.

"Death isn't real," he attempted to say, the words coming out in a slight stutter.

I raised an eyebrow at him. "He explained a few things with me while you were... unconscious," I replied.

A lump formed in my throat just thinking of him dying in my arms - even if it was only temporary. Harry flinched slightly, frowning as he tried to shift to a different position, trying to face me. Harry's bandages were lightly dotted with blood, something that was limiting his movement.

"The river, it was supposed to help heal you, but it only seemed to slow the process." I nodded towards the scar on his chest, the wizard followed my gaze.