Character: King Elessar
Source: Post-Ring War
Disclaimer: Tolkien discovered Middle-earth and all who dwell there, they are his.
Sorry - rather late but as a completist, I have to try...
King Ellessar was heartily sick of water. In the deserts of Harad they’d had too little, back on the ships heading north again… there was too much! Far, far too much… too lively… too... ooooooooh!
He’d never been a good sailor. He’d memories of returning northwards many years ago, when he’d been taken with the flux and all but died... Not that he remembered the actual voyage - that was a haze of gut-ache and misery. He did remember the blessing of cool water when the companions sent to meet him discovered him dumped on the quay among the garbage.
As he rolled over in his bunk, the pin of the green-stoned brooch pricked his chest. He fumbled with unfastening it, doing his best to finish undressing, stripping off his sweat-stained shirt… his boots and breeches were long gone, too cumbersome to manage when he needed to use the bucket in the guard-robe.
Collapsed on the bed in nothing but his small clothes, he felt the tiny pricks from the feathered mattress along the sensitive skin of his back and thighs…
"Called ‘King’ and still can’t get comfortable lodgings", he muttered, before bile prickled the back of his throat again...
A soft knock at the door, Elessar, King of Gondor groaned, and threw up once more, not that there was anything left in his stomach. Eyes closed, he became aware of cool hands and murmured a name.
A soft chuckle answered, “Nah, not I”.
Aragorn squinted at the face outlined by pale braids.
“Legolas?” He was surprised how cracked his voice sounded.
The figure nodded, bringing out a steaming jug and tipping in some dried looking herbs… instantly the fetid cabin filled with sweetness.
“Aaaah… blessed weed”, Strider croaked, inhaling deeply.
“Sleep gently Estel” murmured the elf, cradling his friend.