Aragorn stumbled in the snow, blinking the cold flakes from his eyes as he slipped and slid his way to the motionless Elf laying nearby. Despite the cold temperature, he felt uncomfortably warm due to the adrenaline pumping through his veins.
Please don't be dead, mellon-nin, hang on, I am coming.
Finally he was at the Prince's side, and with shaking hands he gently turned him over.
Heat radiated from the Elf's skin at such an alarming temperature that it made Aragorn yank his hands away in shock. His clothing, particularly around the lower side and chest area, was soaked with blood, and his skin was so deathly pale that it was almost the same shade as the snow around them. To make things worse, his eyes were closed - something that Elves never dealt with.
Aragorn desperately looked around the area, trying in vain to peer through the thickly falling snow for a sign of shelter. After a few moments, he spotted what looked to be a cave.
The Valar knows what could be in there, he thought grimly, but he decided that he had no choice. He'd much rather face whatever could be lurking in the cave than Legolas' death. Turning back to his friend, he carefully tried to awake him.
"Legolas, mín baur na (we need to move)," he said softly. The Elf didn't respond, much to Aragorn's dismay. He usually wakes up easily, he thought nervously. He shook him harder. "Legolas!"
The Elf moved slightly, his head turning to the side before his eyelids fluttered open. Aragorn sighed in relief. "It's cold," The Elf muttered finally, his voice weak, and Aragorn smirked before he could help it. "We're in the Carahdas mountains, my friend, or do you not remember? Of course it's cold," He said lightly. There was a pause as Legolas seemed to process what he said, which Aragorn found slightly unnerving. "Can you look at me?" Aragorn asked, and the Prince turned his eyes to Aragorn. The icy blue eyes were slightly unfocused, which Aragorn had suspected - he had seen the Orc hit him with the sword hilt. He certainly had a concussion.
"Okay, we're going to stand up," Aragorn said, looking back up towards the cave. "I'll help you." "I can manage," Legolas said, a streak of determination entering his voice, but Aragorn gave him a stern look. "I admire your attempt, but I think you know as well as I that since I am the healer here and you are injured, I will make the decisions. Wrap your arm around my neck." To his surprise, Legolas didn't make any more protests of the matter - the Elf wordlessly put his arm around Aragorn's neck, his face etched in pain from the movement, and together the two stood.
"We're going to that cave over there," Aragorn said, giving Legolas a moment to get steady. "Once we are in there, I can tend to your wounds." When he received no response, Aragorn looked worriedly at him. "Legolas?" "I'm fine," Legolas said in a gasp. "What is it?" Aragorn asked immediately. Legolas shook his head, waving his good hand as though to say 'it's really nothing', but in the act of doing so he let out a groan of pain.
"I need to sit you back down," Aragorn said, panic rising in his chest. "No, no, we must … walk to the cave …" Legolas said. Aragorn bit his lip as he looked from the cave to where they currently stood. He wasn't sure which would have a better outcome - by putting him back down, he might have much more difficulty getting back up. Quickly he decided that perhaps it would be better to go to the cave, and so he said, "We'll go to the cave, then. Then we'll lay you down. Are you sure you can walk with me?" Legolas managed a nod, and together the two struggled towards the cave. It wasn't too far of a distance, but it seemed like an eternity as Legolas began to slow down, his dead weight making it more difficult for Aragorn to walk. Within minutes the Elf began to mutter incoherently, to Aragorn's shock. He looks bad, I know he's bad, but how can his condition deteriorate within minutes?
Finally they reached the cave, and Aragorn warily prepared for an ambush, but nothing came. He thanked the Valar above for at least that much, and quickly proceeded to lay Legolas down. He immediately set to work and gently began peeling Legolas' shirt off, speaking in a soft, soothing tone when Legolas cried out in pain. "Let's see what's up," Aragorn muttered as he removed the shirt, and when he got a view of Legolas' chest he gasped.
He'd been expecting the cuts, blood and bruises that he now beheld, and the extremely deep gash on the Elf's side was to be expected. But Aragorn was not expecting the black, oozing wound that resided right below his left ribcage, the area around it a purplish color as the deadly poison spread through the Elf's system at that very second.
Aragorn sat back, his mind reeling, fear overtaking his mind. He couldn't process the idea that his closest friend had been poisoned, and couldn't process how they had ended up in this situation.
He also couldn't process the sound of the arrow whizzing towards him until it had imbedded itself into his arm.