Disclaimer: I don't own the Middle-earth. Then again, neither does Sauron.
Summary: Aragorn and Legolas were off together, eager to discover the remote parts of Middle-earth. Their journeys had lasted for months and they were returning to Rivendell. On their way home, they fell on a party of orcs full of mischiefs. In Rivendell, Gandalf, Elrond, Aragorn and Legolas have to decide on how to reactagainst the evil that spreads from Mordor.
The events depicted here are set around two years before The Fellowship of The Ring, and you will see what led Aragorn to post his Rangers and himself in Bree and its surroundings.
Characters involved in this story: Aragorn, Legolas, Elrond, Gandalf, Elladan, Elrohir and Arwen (plus a few elves of lesser importance).
Rating: T for first 4 chapters and M afterwards (there is actually nothing too violent, tender or graphic -and between Aragorn and Arwen only-, but it gets more mature). Definitely no slash, only friendship.
Thanks for reading this, and please review. I hope you'll enjoy it! Namárië.
Chapter 1: The Hope of Men
The man was standing in the middle of the field, out of breath. His fallen enemies laid all around him, their blood mixing with the green and soft grass. His sword was heavy in his hand and he barely had the strength to carry it. He looked around. How many orcs had he slayed that night? A lot -and he had no strength to count. Exhausted, he let go his sword which fell hard on the ground. His right side was painful and he felt weak. During the ferocious fight he had won, an orc had come from behind him and entered his blade hard in Aragorn's side. The latter had cut the creature's head off out of revenge. He had had no time to check on his wound, then, for many other orcs were still around him, armed to the teeth and eager to kill him.
The young man slowly sat down -or rather slowly fell down- and looked at the damages the orc had caused him. The wound seemed deep and heavily bleeding. The blood was dark. Aragorn found himself fearing his enemy might have injured a vital organ. Then again, since there was nothing he could do about it, he decided not to fret over it.
His thoughts were now towards his elven friend who had accompanied him, but had left right before the orc attack. He had gone hunting for the dinner and still hadn't returned. Had he also been attacked by the creatures? Since he was too weak to go searching for the Elf, Aragorn propped his back against a tree behind him to rest for a while. He would go look for his friend afterwards. He knew the latter too well to know that the Elf, being too swift and smart, would never get outnumbered by orcs. Therefore was he surely all right.
The moon was round and bright, that night. The sky was pure and the stars were shining. Evenstar... The Dúnadan thought, morose. His Evenstar. Arwen. He missed her dearly. He had not seen her for long, and still wouldn't, for she was in Lothlórien, at present, in the company of the Lady Galadriel and the Lord Celeborn. She would not return to her father for some time, and since Aragorn had not planned to go to Lórien, they would not meet again soon.
The sound of a person approaching took Aragorn out of his reverie. Unable to get on his feet, he pulled his knife out and waited silently for the person who was coming. Was it another filthy and coward orc who had waited, hidden and safe, until the battle came to end? If so, Aragorn would welcome him by the rule book. Then again, the Man doubted it was an orc, for the person approaching was swift and quiet, two characteristics of hunting unknown to some stupid orc. This somewhat reassured Aragorn, for he feared he might not be in any state of fighting, at the moment. The person was now very close and Aragorn held his breath, squeezing the hilt of his elven knife.
"Estel!" he heard the person whisper. He instantly recognized Legolas' voice and got up -with difficulty- to his feet to greet the Elf, pressing his left hand on his wound to try and ease the pain.
"I'm here, Legolas," he answered softly, coming out of his hiding place. "Le abdollen..."
Legolas smiled warmly. "Mellon nin! When I laid eyes on our camp, which now looks more like a battlefield, I feared for you."
"Have you such little faith in my fighting skills?" Aragorn asked with a smirk.
"Aragorn, they were so many!" The Elf retorted, gesturing to the many bodies that laid motionless. "This is not just skill, this is a feat! You are indeed Estel, the Hope of Men." Legolas couldn't say aloud that Aragorn was indeed the heir of Elendil -because, in Middle-earth, even trees have ears-, but this is what he meant and the Ranger understood it well.
Aragorn smiled and put his hand on Legolas' shoulder as a sign of gratitude. "Hannon le."
The Elf returned the smile and grew more serious. "Do you know where they came from? And what they were after?"
"No, I don't. But I doubt they were after us. They seemed to be in a hurry. When they arrived here, they acted as if they wanted to kill me as soon as possible, so they could get back on their way."
"But you didn't give them the opportunity to do so. Neither did you leave one alive, so that we could interrogate him..."
Aragorn raised his eyebrows -something he had learned from Elrond, a reminder of his childhood spent in the House of the Elven Lord, raised by the latter himself.
Legolas understood the meaning of this expression and acknowledged that his last statement was groundless. He then smiled to his friend. "Of course, I understand. You had no time to think while fighting."
Aragorn winced. The pain in his side was beginning to become unbearable and he was still bleeding. Legolas, who still hadn't noticed his friend's condition, grew concerned. "Aragorn?" he asked, distress in his voice. "You've been wounded!" He held Aragorn's arm tightly and helped the Man sitting down, propping his back against the tree, so he could rest and recover his strength. The Ranger's hand was still covering his wound. Legolas took it and gently removed it to take a look at the injury. It seemed to be deep and painful. The problem was that Legolas had nothing to clean it, here, in the wild. He found himself thanking the Valar that the House of Elrond was near, for Aragorn was in dire need of the skills of the Lord of Imladris.
"Was this caused by a sword or an arrow?" Legolas asked.
"What difference does it make, anyway?" The Ranger retorted with a grump. His head was resting against the trunk of the tree and his eyes were shut.
The Elf assumed that the Ranger's mood was due to the terrible pain he must have been feeling. "Because the swords are sometimes poisoned. The arrows never are. As a Ranger, I thought you'd not that."
"It was a sword," Aragorn whispered, taking no offense of his friend's last remark. He was too tired to engage in a verbal jousting anyway.
At the statement, Legolas' brows furrowed, concerned. If his friend had been poisoned, there was no time to lose. Then again, did they have enough time to return to Imladris? If the poison was already spreading in Aragorn's body, it would be quick to reach the Man's heart... "I'm going to get some Athelas, Aragorn. I'll be back. Try not to move. And stay awake," the Elf added as his friend didn't respond. "If you fall asleep... Well, you have to remain conscious. You hear me?"
"Yes..." the young Númenórean answered weakly.
Legolas then left in a hurry, looking for the precious weed. He had to be very quick. After some minutes spent in the quest for Athelas, Legolas finally fell upon some, which he swiftly -but delicately- cut off from the ground. He rushed back to his friend.
"Aragorn, I've found the plant," he announced, placing a hand on the Man's shoulder. The latter slowly opened his eyes and smiled at Legolas. "Well done, mellon nin..."
Legolas placed some of the weed in his mouth and bit it, then he gently placed it on the wound. Aragorn moaned and flinched.
"Sorry," Legolas said, meeting Aragorn's grey eyes. The Man smiled weakly.
"I'm afraid I don't have any bandages. And I can't bandage it with our dirty clothes. It will have to stay that way until we reach Imladris. Do you think you can ride on your own, Aragorn?"
"Of course I can," the Ranger answered, getting up.
"Careful, try not to move the wound too much, it's not covered, so nothing will stop the bleeding."
Legolas helped him get on his feet and then went to the horses.
Meanwhile, Aragorn bent down to pick up his fallen sword. It felt unusually heavy to the young swordsman who had trouble putting it back in its sheath. Once it was done, he got on his horse and both Man and Elf rode towards the city of Imladris.
To be continued...
Elvish vocabulary:
Hannon le: Thank you
Le abdollen: you're late. (This is actually a dialogue from The Two Towers, when Aragorn gets back to Helm's Deep after his fall. Legolas says this right before giving Aragorn Arwen's jewel back. I thought they might have said that to one another in the past).