Something touched his shoulder, and the fire heightened to an unbearable pitch, he could not take it any longer, he would die of pain........then suddenly, it cooled, and he fell into clouds...or was it a river? It was mist, grey, soft, comforting............
Slowly he awoke, slipping ever so quietly from darkness to greyness, from grey to light... shadows danced across his face. Was it leaves? Green and gold, swaying above him.....
He realized suddenly that he was fully awake, lying on his back and gazing up at a canopy of gold-edged leaves dancing gently above him. Dappled sunlight fell through them onto his face.
Stirring, he found that his right arm had been tightly bound across his chest. It ached sharply when he moved. Without rising, he looked about him, wondering where he was.
He found himself in a small, tent-enclosed glade, though the tent had no roof, only four walls. It was bound to four, slender, white tree-trunks, forming an enclosed space. He was lying on a bed, covered by white blankets. His armor and weapons lay by his bedside. The shirt of mail was torn on the right shoulder and blood-stained, but someone had cleaned his sword and knives and unstrung his bow for him.
Carefully, slowly he sat up, pushing the covers back slightly. A slight wave of dizziness swept over him, but vanished as quickly as it had come. He took a deep breath and rested for a moment, leaning on his arm.
The flap that made a door for the tent moved suddenly, and to Aldamir�s surprise, none other than Mithrandir entered. Clad in his customary white robes, he paused when he saw Aldamir sitting up, and then a smile broke over his face. Aldamir noticed many thin lines around his eyes, as of worry.
Aldamir placed his hand on his heart and bowed his head briefly. "Mithrandir," he acknowledged.
"Never mind the greetings," said Mithrandir, a bit gruffly, and then he smiled again. "It�s good to see you up again. You�ve been sleeping for five days, you know."
"Five days?" Aldamir was startled.
"It seems your whole trip from L�rien and onwards quite wore you out," the wizard responded. "Don�t go doing that again, now."
"I�m not likely to get the chance," answered Aldamir. "Not now that the War is ended!"
"Ended... yes, it has," said Mithrandir. "Ended because of two young hobbits which need tending. I must be off now."
"Two young... you mean Frodo and Sam?" asked Aldamir, hardly daring to believe it.
Mithrandir, on his way out, paused and glanced backwards. "Yes, I quite certainly do mean them," he said. "They were rescued from Mordor thanks to the Eagles, but they�re in worse shape than you or any others from the battlefield and need tending. Take care of yourself, and your friend is in the tent beside you," he said, and was gone.
Aldamir had opened his mouth to ask about Lindir, but shut it again. For a moment he sat in silence, marveling. Frodo and Sam had been rescued... they had not perished in Mordor�s downfall after all! Suddenly he grinned to himself. He ought to have known that Mithrandir wouldn�t have let them die there without trying to prevent it.
Then his mind turned to Lindir, who he last remembered lying senseless and wounded on the battle-field. Dread gripped his heart, and he got to his feet. Taking his cloak from where it lay neatly folded by his bed, he wrapped it about himself and stepped outside the tent. In a moment he had entered the tent beside his own. A woman was bending over Lindir, seemingly just finished with bandaging his chest. Aldamir hesitated in the doorway, but when she saw him, she smiled, a trifle breathlessly. "Oh... hello. You must be Aldamir, Lindir�s friend?"
Aldamir was slightly confused. "I... yes... but how did you know?"
"Oh, Gandalf knows everything and everyone, he does, and I�ve been tendin� more than one wounded man, I have � I mean Elf," she added hastily.
Aldamir nodded. "How is he? Is he..."
"No, he�s quite alive," she assured him. "He took a nasty cut, that�s for sure, and it was poisoned, too. It�s been an anxious few days tending his wound, I tell you. If it weren�t for the King there�s many that wouldn�t be livin� still, and him too. Though it�s still not to tell if he�ll live through it or not. Not that I know anything about Elves, beggin� your pardon, for all I know they might be stronger�n us mortals. Here, I�ll be leaving now. Goodness knows I�ve got a great many others to tend to," she chattered busily as she left the tent.
Aldamir would have chuckled had he not been worried for his friend. Stepping swiftly to the bedside, he bent over him. Lindir lay still and unmoving, his chest swathed in a tight white bandage. His face was drawn and pale, but his shallow breaths were regular. Aldamir laid his hand on his brow, which was slightly warm but not overly so.
Exhaling in relief, Aldamir slid to the ground beside Lindir�s bed. For the moment at least, he was not dying. From what he had gathered of the woman�s swift chatter, Lindir was over the worst but not through it yet. But Gandalf was here, and the King � belatedly Aldamir realized that she must have meant Aragorn.
Leaning back against Lindir�s bed, Aldamir let his mind wander. Suddenly the thought hit him like a wave of cold water � the War of the Ring was over. Finished. Sauron had fallen, the Ring had been destroyed, and the West had won. Against all odds, they had defeated the darkness. There would be no more desperate battles, no more hopeless, dark nights when rain poured down and orcs marched by the thousands; Middle-earth could return to peace and a new age.
Aldamir marveled.