Source: Appendices – Aragon travelled Middle-earth in his youth
Disclaimer: Tolkien’s characters, Tolkien’s Middle-earth; Kortirion’s just gap-filling.
He could hear it, the wind in the trees – how it blew! Whistling among the columned balconies, he could hear ropes creak... Ropes? Ah... of course... He was in Lorien. The talan shifted as the trees bent in the wind. A stormy night. And hot. Estel struggled, but was tangled in a sweat-sodden blanket. The talan swayed alarmingly, bile rose in his throat. Sour liquid burnt his mouth, bringing him back to semi-consciousness... the fever... He coughed, shivered, groaned...
No great forest... He was still aship, sailing north to Dol Amroth - with nothing but fouled, green water to drink.
He could hear it, the wind in the great trees – how it blew! He could hear ropes creak... Ropes? He struggled to sit up, but... so weak...! He pushed away the canvas stretched overhead... green trees! The cart swayed beneath him, dipping and rising over the uneven ground as a sailing-ship breasts the waves.
“He wakes!” said a familiar voice.
Feet landed lightly beside him, and knelt.
“Hush Estel. Drink.”
“Haldir?” croaked Estel.
“You caught the flux. They dumped you on the quay. Fortunately, elf-friends found you and sent word... You’re safe now.
Estel nodded, slumped... green-faced, pallid... but home.