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Ragged breaths were the only sound besides the crickets and other creatures of the night.
Gimli’s grip on Legolas’ hair was tight. Half to make sure it didn’t get in the elf’s face and covered in vomit, half to ease the stress he was feeling. Running his thumb along the soft locks in his fist helped distract him from the situation. Seeing Legolas in such a state scared him deeply.
“I think it’s-“ Legolas winced, his stomach lurching again. He retched and the last of the organ’s contents were spilled onto the grass.“That’s the last of it… I’m certain now.” Breathing heavily, he got up from where he’d been crouched
“We need to tell the others about this, it’s been happening for nearly a fortnight.” Gimli insisted, a severe look in his eyes.
“There are more important matters they, and you, should worry about instead of wasting concern on me.”
They’d been having this same conversation in circles ever since this started.
Gimli grabbed Legolas’ hands “Listen to me. You are ill, somehow you are. Vomiting most nights, you’ve been tired, weak, unfocused. Despite barely eating you’ve started looking distended.” he squeezed the elf’s hands “You need help. Even if it takes us off course. You’re more important to me than anything.”
“Gimli-“
“Anything.” Gimli kissed Legolas’ hand.
The elf sighed deeply “I suppose… it may be wise to at least tell Gandalf. Perhaps he’d have some useful knowledge regarding this.” He felt shaky, too fatigued to argue anymore, he only wanted to return to his and Gimli’s bedroll.
A relieved smile cut through the worry on Gimli’s face “Thank you.” He breathed, supporting Legolas as they walked back to camp.