Notes:
Category: Lord of the Rings
Author: Sadie Sil
Betas: Virtuella and Puxinette. My thanks to both of them.
Genre: Adventure/Angst/Hurt/Comfort
Characters: Legolas and Aragorn
Rating: T
Timeline: Third Age (at the Helm's Deep's battle and after it)
Disclaimer: I didn't create any of these wonderful characters. I've just borrowed them from the Professor, devoting them all my love. Now I feel they are also a little bit mine, but I am sure the good Professor won't mind sharing them with me.
Synopsis: A lot of bad things have happened during the Helm's Deep Battle, but the horrible event also solidified some friendships. Note: In this story, as in the book, none of the elven people fought in the Helm's Deep, only Legolas.
Vocabulary: mellon-nín: my friend; Ilúvatar: The unique God's name in Tolkien's world.
PLEASE REVIEW...
AND WE ARE STILL HERE
Not everything that can be counted counts, and not everything that counts can be counted.
Albert Einstein (1879-1955)
I*
Legolas carefully approached his friend, who readied himself for the conflict. Aragorn hadn't even looked after his own wounds or sat to rest. The lines in the ranger's face were ones of deep worry and anguish; lines that the prince had helped deepen.
"Forgive me, Aragorn," Legolas said with sadness, as he offered the ranger's sword back to him. Aragorn needed this weapon – the reforged Anduril - to face whatever fate had reserved for them. "It was not my intention to offend you or show distrust," he added lowering his gaze. "I trust you and your wise decisions... but..."
"But?" completed the ranger, still upset as he sheathed his sword.
"My heart is uneasy..." the elf finally admitted. "I fear no battles or death, but... but I have never fought side by side…" Legolas paused, anguish clear on his face. "…side by side... with children."
Aragorn closed his eyes, grimacing at the truth of Legolas' statement. Being hit by that reality, even by the words of a sincere friend, seemed an even worse nightmare than the one he was already experiencing. He finally turned to his elven friend, who was standing by him like a statue. Legolas had not rested or eaten since they arrived, limiting himself to walking along the trenches, like a tireless sentry, deeply worried with what was to come.
"We are alone, mellon-nîn," he answered bitterly, while resting a hand on the prince's shoulder. "They are the only help we have..." he admitted at last, lowering his gaze too. "And because... if we fail... there will be no survivors."
Legolas pressed his lips together, his silence a sign of pure solidarity— but not agreement.
"My friendship is yours, Aragorn," he declared. "Be it here or in the deepness of the most terrible cave, I will follow you, and from my mouth you shall not hear more laments."
Aragorn's heart had never hurt as much as now, hearing that declaration from his friend. Legolas always seemed more fragile than he really was, and his musical voice did not show what a skillful warrior he was. Aragorn, once known as Estel, raised by the wise Elrond in Imladris, was finally dressed in the clothes of his true heritage, and he now faced the destiny that was his. If he could choose anything on this dreadful day—or on any other—he could not choose better company. Aragorn would give up an entire army to have Legolas by his side.
"Many roles you had in my life, mellon-nîn," said Aragorn with feeling, fearing that another opportunity would not come to say what he desired. "You were like a father when I was a little boy, a brother, when I grew up, a friend every time I needed one." He stopped for a few moments, feeling Legolas shake slightly with the awakened emotion. "So, powerful Prince of Mirkwood," Aragorn said, his tone rising with respect, "your father needed you to help rule and protect his realms, but you resigned it all to come with me in this incredibly hard battle. You fight for mere humans that the whole of Arda seems to forget or ignore... I know that you are here for me... only to brandish your weapons by my side..."
"Estel," Legolas wanted to protest, embarrassed, but Aragorn kept a firm grip on his forearm and placed two fingers on his lips.
"If I die by your side, Legolas, mellon-nîn," he said with seriousness, "if we don't last until the sun comes to bless us again, I want you to know this, and may this truth never fade in your heart: I have always noticed everything you did for me, all your smiles of encouragement, all the times that, like today, you offered me your hand, closing your eyes to tomorrow. All these things are, and will always be, engraved in my soul... If I die by your side, Legolas, my friend, my brother, it wasn't before I said thank you."
Two silent tears traced their way down the elf's face, his lips pressed together without answering. Legolas placed his hand over his heart and respectfully bowed his head, just as solemn as the situation they were both in. He then left in complete silence; an escape that would save him from showing emotions that would not help his worried friend at that moment.
Aragorn watched him leave, his stride elegant. So many years had passed and both he and the elf had learned much, but one thing never changed. Aragorn still had the same strange impression he had when he was a child: the whole world seemed to come to light wherever Legolas passed by.
At the end of the long hall, the ranger could see him nod his head to the dwarf coming from the opposite way, and they exchanged a few words; words that Aragorn could not hear, but that made Gimli shake his head and smile.
"Stubborn elf," said the approaching dwarf with a frown.
Aragorn laughed. How many people could still call Legolas that?
"That is Legolas' last name," Aragorn said.
"He doesn't want to wear armor," Gimli grumbled, straightening the strange armor that obviously was not made for him.
"He is an archer," the ranger reminded him.
"Of course," Gimli agreed with extreme irony, as if vital information had been given. "Everyone knows that archers have their chests naturally protected against any form of attack."
Aragorn laughed again.
"The armor will get in the way of his movements, Gimli. Don't pretend that you don't know that."
The dwarf snorted, throwing himself on a nearby bench, the wood creaking with the weight.
"He will be in a favorable position, my friend, do not worry," the ranger assured him. "I already forbade him to join the ground battles, even if he runs out of arrows."
It was Gimli's turn to laugh. The dwarf's laugh echoed in the empty corners of the sad halls around them, awakening a strange sentiment in Aragorn's heart that suddenly reminded him of his brother Elrohir, whose sarcastic wit had been directed at Aragorn more times than he could count.
"And have you already asked for the sun to rise a little earlier tomorrow, noble Dúnadan?"
Aragorn's forehead creased with confusion.
"That stubborn elf will not take orders and you know that better than I," the dwarf clarified, lighting his pipe. "At the smallest sign of danger, wherever we are, he will come to our aid. Unless, of course, you decide to chain him by one of his legs up there."
Aragorn frowned more deeply, but turned his back to his friend so his worry would not be visible. He had never feared a conflict so much as the one they were about to face.
II**
"Legolas! At your left!" the dwarf screamed. Gimli was meters away and sighed as he saw the archer stop yet another climbing attempt by the insistent monsters. But there wasn't much time for him to say thank you, there wasn't much time for anything. The agile and persistent intruders of the army Saruman had created were gliding up the ladders effortlessly. There was no rest, nor space for doubts. Aragorn jumped down a flight of stairs three at a time, hit the ground and ran to where the tide of the battle was against his men. He suddenly heard a familiar voice grumble by his side.
"Damn evil creatures!" Gimli complained between sighs of tiredness. "I will get thinner running with the weight of this damned armor made for oliphants."
"This is not an appropriate time for you to make me laugh, my friend," Aragorn answered without turning his eyes to his companion.
"And who says I wish to make you laugh, miserable Dúnedain?" the dwarf screamed, as he threw himself into the conflict with a determination one could only envy. "What I want is to skin you alive for putting us in this mess."
Aragorn allowed himself a smile, even with an uncountable hoard of repulsive beings heading in his direction. War was the worst way to end conflict between races, but was a good place for valor to be seen and true friendships to form. Good blossoming from evil, to either soothe or heal him.
Swords ringing and challenging shouts, along with agony and despair, were the only sounds heard. There was an almost complete and terrifying darkness, but even so, a few stars dared to show in the sky, which was almost all covered in clouds. These stars seemed to have a shy glow. The few torches only added a more chilling aspect to that picture of blood and doubt.
Aragorn defeated one more opponent and fell to his knees, beaten by weariness. Those dark beings seemed to multiply like a deadly plague. He raised his eyes then, and felt a shiver run through his spine. Legolas was no longer at the post where Aragorn last saw him; he was not defending the territory as he had been ordered. Aragorn rose immediately and looked around in search of his friend.
"Twenty-seven!" Gimli shouted, and offered a smile that showed all of his teeth from beneath his unshaved beard. "I want to see that presumptuous elf beat that one!"
"Gimli!" Aragorn said, and pulled the dwarf by the arm. "Gimli, have you seen Legolas?"
Gimli looked in the same direction his friend had searched earlier and started to share Aragorn's worry.
"I warned you, stubborn human," the dwarf chuckled, but it was a forced laugh that hid the tremor of his visible worry. "That creature would not say 'yes sir' even to his own creator."
But Aragorn had not the time to answer his friend's provocations. Another group of foes approached now and required immediate action.
"Go up there, Gimli!" he ordered and swung his sword, taking off a few more heads that rolled on the ground like so many fruits spilled out of a basket. It was an indescribable scene, that Aragorn didn't intend to tell even to his sons, if one day he came to have any.
"Yes, sure!" the dwarf said with irony, scooting under the legs of a huge Uruk-hai to hit him in the back. "I will just ask our guests to excuse me to do so. Do you think they would care?" he asked. He then used his axe to lop off the head of one enemy that had been felled by his friend.
Aragorn took a deep breath, but the answer would have to wait. An even bigger creature grabbed him from behind and held a knife to his throat. He widened his eyes, but didn't have time to react, because in seconds they were both on the ground; he underneath and the big creature covering him completely with his dead weight.
It took Gimli a few petrified seconds to understand the scene unfolding before him. His gaze fell on the Uruk Hai that covered his friend. A white dagger was nailed in its back. But it didn't stay there very long. Thin fingers grabbed the blade and pulled it out.
Aragorn was finally able to take a deep breath when the uruk's body was pushed off him. He looked up in time to see Legolas turn to fight another opponent.
"Legolas!" Aragorn yelled. "Legolas, what are you doing here?"
But the answer didn't come. The archer didn't even hear the question. He was already at a distance from them, killing more of those evil beings with his lethal white-handled dagger.
"Twenty-eight, Gimli!" he yelled to his dwarf friend.
Gimli frowned, processing the information. In the elf's eyes there was no irony or any air of superiority. Gimli looked once more to his blond friend, small in the middle of a sea of opponents that seemed to be twice as big, and understood the challenge, understood what the elf meant. – Twenty-eight, Gimli... and I am still here... how about you? - And that was, in fact, a big challenge... and, unquestionably, something to praise.
"Thirty, little elf of pointy ears." He threw himself at the heat of the battle. "I am ahead of you!"
"By my side, Master Gimli," the elf said, and ran back the way he had come. "My luck… Thanks to Ilúvatar!"
Gimli stopped for a few moments. He believed to have misheard, but the time for questions was not then, and the quick elf was already climbing the stairs with a lightness that was beautiful, even in the middle of the deadly fight in which they found themselves. The dwarf smiled and shook his head. Strange people those elves were, whose beauty possessed a dimension he was finally beginning to understand.
"Where is he?" Aragorn yelled, one step away from the dwarf.
Gimli laughed.
"Following your orders," he answered with disdain. "Returning to the post he was not supposed to leave."
Aragorn moved his gaze to the stairs, but he didn't see Legolas. He searched what he could see of the fortress. Legolas wasn't there. He turned around, three hundred and sixty degrees, a search of slow agony, and didn't find the elf.
"Where, Gimli?"
But the dwarf was incapable of answering. Surrounded by more than three enemies, he brandished both his axes and screamed names that Aragorn hadn't heard in a long time. The ranger laughed, remembering that the dwarves had the widest offensive vocabulary that he knew, and threw himself to his friend's aid.
III ***
Above the fort, Legolas rushed to help a desperate group of aged men, whom the fight had transformed into warriors again. They were trying at all costs to prevent an enormous creature from reaching the top of a ladder that had been raised. There were moments of great fear until that wooden construction went back to where it came from. Minutes later the elf heard a strange sound. Above him, he could see that one person seemed to be surrounded by enemies. Two creatures beset the fighter with an unquestionable perseverance, but the only sound the elf could hear was that of a shield receiving hard impacts and bearing them all with no help.
One after another, the two enemies fell by the blonde elf's hand, until the only one remaining was the figure behind the shield; a shield which was already damaged by the blows it received. Legolas looked around him, insecure; then he knelt down and leaned his hand on the metal that still seemed to shake.
"It is alright," he said in a soft voice. "They are gone."
And behind that cold plate appeared two brilliant blue eyes that blinked incessantly. Legolas smiled sadly and worriedly, a strange cloud disturbing his thoughts, a fear that he could not explain. Then he placed his hand on the child's forehead.
"They are gone," he repeated.
But the boy's eyes turned again into two spheres of dread. Legolas raised his head and felt an impact against him, throwing him down. When he opened his eyes, a huge sword slashed toward his chest. He rolled quickly on the wet ground, and the weapon found the hard stone bare inches from him. The beast that attacked him, however, had no time to react or even realize what had hit him after that. Legolas likewise had no time to feel proud of his quick reaction. A huge uruk-hai, who seemed to delight in the screams of his victim, began dragging the child away by his hair."Food! Fresh and tender meat!" shouted the hideous creature to some of his fellows, who were a bit below them. He lifted the boy into the air, dangling the small body over the parapet, shaking him violently. "Come and get him and have some fun!" he shouted, growling between his teeth like the monster he was.
"Put him down, stupid beast!" he heard a voice shout.
The monster turned, his smile disappearing because of the unexpected interruption, but soon the satisfaction returned to his face. A weak and skinny elf was threatening him with just a dagger? That was the scene of the day. He dared to wonder about the other's stupidity.
"Ha ha ha ... So the cute puppy wants to play with me?" He laughed loudly, his dirty mouth wide open. "Come here to play with your master; come little creature!"
Legolas filled his lungs to shout out his rage, but stopped when he finally realized how important and precious it had been to tolerate his friend Elrohir's sharp provocations his entire existence. He gripped his dagger firmly, and thanked the young twin mentally for the important lessons. Then he raised his chin defiantly.
The creature laughed; he still held the boy, who cried desperately, clawing at the hand that held him by the hair.
"A really interesting little creature you are," the uruk said nastily to the elf, a little more than a meter from the prince. "How about I let this little maggot go free, and you meet me down there?"
Legolas kept his eyes fixed on the monster in front of him, while he weighed his chances. And they weren't good. There was no way to win against this well armed and physically superior opponent with only the weapon he had left.
"If you put the boy down safe, we can talk about whatever you want," replied the elf as he looked the uruk-hai in the eyes.
The monster wrinkled his dirty and grotesque face and showed his stained teeth, a malicious glance directed to the elf.
"Come closer; come," he said, with a gesture of his hand for Legolas to approach. "Who would imagine that, in the middle of this despicable battle, I would find a cute little puppy like you?"
Legolas looked at the enemy from the corner of his eye, like a wary cat. He walked around the monster with his weapon down, his eyes alert. He had to gain time, to hope that someone would notice what was occurring.
Something that probably would not happen…
"Come here, come," taunted the creature. "I will not hurt you ... not that much ..." He laughed out loud.
"Put him down, then," insisted the elf.
The smile of the uruk-hai then became more malicious, and Legolas could see that the monster was hiding his true intentions behind those horrible teeth, but there was no other choice than to wait for an opportunity to present itself. He needed to believe in that.
"I am a bit tired of this game..." threatened the creature and lifted the boy even higher."Let's finish this."
Legolas' heart seemed to stop in his chest as his eyes followed the child against the gray sky. The boy's body flew through the air, hurled awkwardly by that horrendous creature, and fell atop a pile of bodies and strange weapons.
The uruk-hai's plan seemed to have worked.
Legolas, instinctively, was caught in the beast's trap as his gaze involuntarily followed the child's trajectory, which diverted the elf's gaze from a too close enemy. It was a serious error that gave the beast an opportunity to use his own weapon.
It was an opportunity that the monster didn't waste; he thrust his javelin into the elf. Legolas screamed and fell to his knees, his hands covering a bleeding patch on his tunic. He closed his eyes and tried to think, to follow his warrior instincts, but he couldn't. He could think of nothing but the horrible image of that scared child. He couldn't feel anything but a terrible pain, an intense pain that wasn't just physical. Elbereth, he couldn't protect that poor child… He couldn't…
For that reason Legolas could not react when he felt the enemy kick the knife away from his hand and grab his hair to drag his body across the wet ground.
"What a gift!" said the uruk-hai in total delight. He looked all around him while he walked down the stairs with the elf. That was really an easy battle to him. All he could see were his fellows everywhere with raised weapons and wide smiles, and all he could hear was the enemies' screams. What a glorious day he was having, and he wanted to play a bit more with this special enemy before giving him the end he deserved.
Legolas forced himself to open his eyes. He didn't want to; he didn't want to face the reality, but he knew there were other warriors in this battle, other people, and other lives he just couldn't ignore. He must get back into the fight—these people were depending on him.
He was trying to see where he was. The ground was now at a reasonable distance, and if he fell, he'd not be hurt.
The steps of the cold, wet stone stairway were hurting his back, but the situation gave him a wild and risky idea. He then dismissed the possibility of developing a better plan, and in an effort to save precious time, put it into practice immediately. He moved his legs over the side of the stairs, and gravity took his body over the edge. The idea worked and now Legolas was held only by his hair, still firm in the enemy's hand.
"What?" cried the surprised uruk-hai, when the momentum caused by Legolas' antics almost caused him to drop the elf. He forced his arm to bring the prisoner back to the stairs. "Do you want to fall from a height like that, strange creature?" he asked the elf who seemed unconscious now. The monster checked once more around him, still worried, and then returned to look carefully at the prince's visage. "Very different you are from the others, aren't you, puppy?" He laughed then, letting go of the elf's hair to place a hand on his face. It was the last mortal mistake of his life. Legolas raised his right leg and used it to propel the body of the distracted enemy over the side of the staircase. The uruk-hai grappled at the stone, trying to grip something, but soon the elf heard, after a roar of surprise, a scream of fear drifting away, and eventually the expected noise of a body hitting the ground.
Then a small moment of peace ensued. The silence of freedom. And Legolas allowed himself to smile for a brief moment before remembering the pain… all of it. Then he lowered his eyes and saw his shirt awash with blood, the red staining the green once more. He sighed, closing his eyes, but then crawled to the corner of the staircase and held the wound, wondering what to do. The pain was great, but the battle was far from its end. The night would still have many battles until the sun unveiled everything again. So he took off his cloak and tore it, improvising a bandage to stop the bleeding. Then he rested his back against the opposite cold wall and stood with a muffled groan. He was exactly in the middle of the stairs, but he had to choose the more difficult option, he had to climb them, and try to discover what had happened to the child. This was the most important of all…
IV****
His body was sore, but the pain he felt was different, very different from any he had ever felt before. An evil thing lurked on the horizon, but Legolas did not understand exactly where it was, or when it would come. And that doubt was added to the others he had in his mind. It was added to the physical pain as well. It was added to the images that had filled his mind. His head felt like a huge whirlpool that seemed to turn him mercilessly, just to throw him, drowning, into the stream, bouncing off rocks hidden beneath the surface over and over again.
He was so lost in those thoughts, his watchful eye fixed on what was waiting for them on the horizon, that he didn't even notice his friend's arrival. The man had stopped beside him. His worried eyes were on the elf.
"Does the dark and cold horizon reveal many secrets today, mellon-nîn?" Aragorn asked, without even looking at the place he had described. The young prince put his hands on the ledge of cold stone. Having his friend there was what he really didn't need in that miserable moment, when hiding what was inside him was almost impossible.
"I thought there was a party happening tonight…" he managed to comment.
"Yes, there is." He heard the answer as the ranger took a step that brought him uncomfortably close. "And Gimli is drinking everything he can and even more," he finished with a smile.
The corners of the prince's lips rose, and he lowered his tired face.
"Is there any good wine as well or just that warm beer you used to drink?" he asked, trying to look natural.
"Just that wonderful beer we used to drink," answered the other, provocatively.
Legolas smiled. His right hand was placed lightly on his abdomen, a movement that wasn't unnoticed by his friend.
"So why are you not there by your dwarf friend?" asked Legolas.
Aragorn sighed, then pressed his lips together.
"I had this cruel doubt in my mind..." he confided then, rubbing his beard. "I wanted to ask your opinion, but I was surprised when I didn't find you in the room Lady Éowyn so kindly arranged, only given to the Elf Lord who should not sleep in the same room as the others."
Legolas wrinkled his face slightly this time, trying not to laugh.
"She probably considers me an abomination or something close to that," he remarked, and the comment surprised his friend, who raised his eyebrows at the strange opinion he heard. "Maybe she believes I am infected by some dangerous or contagious disease."
Aragorn shook his head and approached the prince even closer.
"Where do you get these ideas from?" he inquired with a grin. "She actually considers you a superior person. Haven't you noticed the way everyone here looks at you? Haven't you noticed the deep admiration in their eyes? Besides, you know that you are part of the Mirkwood kingdom; you are a prince ... The noble Prince Legolas Thranduilion from the Kingdom of the Dark Forest: The only elf willing to help a lost cause."
Legolas closed his tired eyes. That joke had pleased him, but he no longer felt able to offer even a laugh.
"We, from Mirkwood, are accustomed to fighting for lost causes," he finally said. These sweet thoughts had formed the image of the courageous forest people in his mind.
But then a sudden seriousness appeared on Aragorn's face.
"One boy asked me an interesting question," he said finally.
Legolas focused on the friend by his side, waiting for clarification, but he did not ask the question he knew was being awaited. Actually, he did not think it was necessary to do that because if he did, that would be just another question, hovering in the air with all the other questions he had.
"It came from a little boy whose brother... unfortunately died in the battle yesterday," Aragorn informed him. He was closely watching Legolas' reactions.
Legolas trembled, but did not dare to look at his friend anymore.
"A brother," he repeated faintly.
"He was attacked... Attacked by a huge creature was what the boy said."
The prince frowned.
"He was thrown by this creature," Aragorn completed in a sad tone. "His neck was broken... as I could understand."
Legolas didn't say a word this time. He just leaned on the cold parapet.
"The little brother saw the scene," Aragorn continued, coming closer. He raised one hand, wanting to touch his friend, but for a reason that he could not identify, he simply could not. "He was hiding..."
A painful silence filled the place, a silence of minutes that seemed decades of pain.
"The party should be interesting," the elf tried again, but his voice was already announcing what was happening in his heart.
"The boy asked me how fast an elf can recover from an injury," the ranger continued with a sad smile. "He said he thinks you are magical creatures..."
Silence.
Aragorn felt his courage rise and put a supportive hand on his friend's shoulder.
"He saw the whole scene… He saw an elf ... protecting some people ... among them… a child... His brother…"
"Sometimes children do not know what they see," said the prince.
"Since when do you sound like your father?" Aragorn asked suddenly.
Legolas was startled by that comment, and his eyes finally found his friend. He then walked away, with visible difficulty, back to the stairs that led to the terrace.
"Legolas... Legolas wait..." Aragorn called and ran ahead of his friend, to catch him before he reached the first step.
"Let me go, Aragorn," the prince declared, with his eyes on the ground, and then he gently swayed, trying to find a way around Aragorn, a path that would help him escape his friend.
"Forgive me, please."
"Go to your party. You have things to celebrate."
"No, we do not," Aragorn replied firmly now, while he held his friend by the shoulders. "I do not have anything to be happy for and that's why I am not there."
Legolas went silent. He was confused. He didn't know what to think about the things he had just heard. Elbereth, there was another child there. How many children were there, how many he just could not help as he could not help that poor boy? No, he had no strength for that discussion. He just wanted Aragorn to get out of his way. .
"Let me pass, Estel, please," he said in a sad tone and brought back a name that Aragorn had not heard for a long time and that, of all those around him now, only Legolas knew. A feeling, bitter and sweet at the same time, sprouted in his heart.
"Las..." the other said, using as well a name he hadn't used for quite some time. And the past was present once again. And the world around them ceased to exist. They were again those two friends who talked in Rivendell under the big tree, making jokes and teasing, enjoying the happy moments.
"Las, let me help you."
"I'm fine," the prince declared, but his cold body denied each word he said.
"Let me confirm that then," Aragorn teased. "I do not trust the patient's diagnosis. I prefer doing my own."Legolas did not look at him. His eyes were fixed on nothing as he tried to think of an excuse for what Aragorn would find. But he simply did not have the energy. A slight tightness in his shoulder showed that he could not fulfill his plan. It was amazing, the influence his friend had on him. Just a look from Aragorn could undress him of all of his masks, and could scour his depths, even if he tried to hide a miniscule particle of himself. And it was mutual, it had always been like that, and he was sure it would continue to be that way. Tears welled up in his eyes, but he didn't allow them to fall. Trying to hide them from his friend, he rubbed tiredly at his eyes with his fingertips.
"Estel ..." he tried once more. "Estel, let me pass. I'm tired."
Aragorn lifted Legolas' face, and then saw the gleam of tears that his friend was trying to hide.
"You are suffering," Aragorn said with regret. "You are suffering various types of pain ... Why don't you let me help at least where I can, Legolas?" he asked finally, too confused to think of a better argument.
"The pain that you want to ease... I… I have already taken care of it," Legolas said, but moved his face away so his friend could not see the unconvincing lie he was telling him. "If you let me pass I will be able to relax and my body will do the rest."
"Why do you consider me a fool, Legolas?" Aragorn asked, indignant at last, awakening a puzzled look on the elf in front of him. "If you really wanted to be in the bed which was granted you, you would already be there."
Legolas parted his lips and even the air which ran through them seemed cold to the ranger in front of him.
"Because ..." He tried to think of a reason, but could not. It was time to put that foolish game aside. They were not in Rivendell, arguing about a tiny thing one of the twins did or said. "Estel..." he finally said, directing a look that stole the mask Aragorn was trying to use. "I am hurt, it's true ..."
"Legolas ..."
"I do not want you to take care of my injury," he said, still with his eyes on his friend.
Aragorn was surprised by the statement, a frown bunching his eyebrows.
"I don't understand ... Why ..."
"I do not want ..." the elf simply repeated, lowering his head and looking for a way out of that place, before his legs could not take him there anymore.
Aragorn allowed him to pass this time, completely silent, touched by his friend's words. Legolas approached the stairs.
"It was my fault, was it not, mellon-nîn?" He heard Aragorn's voice ask then. "You do not want my help because I am guilty for what happened here... isn't that what's troubling you?"
First Legolas directed a confused look at his friend, but then he leaned one hand on the stair's handrail. Why could not Aragorn simply go away? Why did this conversation have to be extended so much and through so many tortuous and difficult paths?
"No," Legolas tried to say.
"That is the reason, isn't it? I know it is… I know…" Aragorn approached with shining eyes. Shining eyes that showed his agitation and guilt. "I was the leader. I led those unfortunates to that terrible end. I left that boy without his brother ... I accepted those children in the battle, even when you warned against such action."
Legolas shook his head while his friend made those harsh accusations against himself.
"It was not your idea, Estel."
"I led them. I could have refused to do that."
"And they would all be dead," Legolas said, then placed his cold hand on his friend's chest, right over his heart. "We would have lost the battle if you have not guided us, Estel ... They ... They knew nothing about war ..." He unconsciously leaned his head down against his friend's chest. His whole body seemed very heavy now. "They were peasants; farmers..." he added in a lament. "They had never taken up weapons of any kind to a battle of that scale before... All of them… were children ... Even the oldest of them ... They were not soldiers."
Aragorn was speechless when he finally understood what Legolas meant when he referred to that group as children. The Prince of Mirkwood was actually much older than anyone who stepped on that war ground, and, without any doubt, he was the most experienced of all as well. For this reason, above all the others, those people's deaths, especially the little adan one, weighed on him so much.
"They were all children..." repeated the elf, and his knees just gave out.
Aragorn grabbed him before he fell, and helped him to lie on the ground. He finally understood why Legolas was suffering from that deep pain and now it made sense. However his initial concern gave way to an even more worrying one. There was still a terrible injury that tinged the elf's tunic beneath his vest with a round spot much redder than he would have expected to see.
Legolas still wanted to prevent his friend from touching him, but Aragorn's eyes pleaded for him to quieten down.
"Shh, do not do that, mellon-nîn." He pushed away Legolas's hands and undid the ties of his tunic. "Let me help you, let me ease this pain… I know this is not the worst of all compared to what you are feeling, but… it's the only one against which I have a cure... just stay quiet, please..."
"This pain... this pain is all I have..." Legolas finally declared. "It is what I have to feel for ... being there inside that evil battle… This is the part that fits me... the punishment I deserve..."
Aragorn pressed his lips together. This was not fair. Aragorn had brought his friends here, he had decided to stay and fight, and now Legolas was carrying the weight of Aragorn's mistakes just because he'd followed him.
"Children in war." He sighed while he lifted his friend's tunic carefully, just to note how serious the injury was. It was unbelievable how the prince had managed to hide it for so long. "If you're guilty of something, we all are guilty with you, mellon-nîn."
Aragorn began to worry as he analyzed the bleeding cut. He needed his herbs now. "You could not have saved them all," he completed with another sigh. "They were helpless sheep led into a fierce attack of wild wolves... and there were few... such few shepherds ..." he said with deep regret.
More tears flowed from Legolas' eyes, and they were not reflections of physical pain. Legolas took a deep breath as he tried to contain himself again, but it was getting increasingly difficult to do that.
Aragorn was also trying to control his own grief, which rose stubbornly up his throat. He pressed his mouth closed and decided to do something more practical than lament. He needed to move his friend to a place where stitches and other care were possible.
"If you don't rest, you won't get any better," he said.
Legolas did not respond. He was completely exhausted and the pain was intolerable.
"I need at least a few leaves of Athelas," Aragorn said to himself. "But I don't believe that Gandalf has any left."
Silence.
"So many wounded," Aragorn continued to talk to his own fears, as he looked around confused. Suddenly he was feeling as lost as a boy in a strange place. Their certainties ran and disappeared as the tears spilled. "I... do not know if I can ... do not know if I can be ..." He started rubbing his face. Who was he? ... Ilúvatar! Where was the truth? What was he doing? Why was he doing it ?
"Nobody can..." Legolas' voice emerged in response. His breathing was quiet, his eyes half open. "People should not need a leader for war, they should not go to war," he stated. His voice almost echoed, like it came out of a closed well. "But if they need... the best thing to happen to them is just this... finding a leader who does not believe himself infallible, who will still reflect and doubt himself."
After that the elf's eyes appeared slightly out of focus, and a sad smile was formed on Aragorn's lips. He was touched by the truths that tempered his friend's words and by the relief of realizing that the elf seemed to be relaxing a little.
"I'm going to take you out of here," he decided. Aragorn looked around and then moved an arm under the prince's back to lift him carefully.
Legolas opened his eyes, then and let out a moan of pain.
"Forgive me," Aragorn apologized. "I will be more careful. Can you walk?"
Legolas did not respond. A sudden weakness hit him, and he realized he could not face the pain anymore.
Aragorn bowed his head to look at the face the elf was hiding. Aragorn sighed, as he tried to ignore the despair that knocked insistently at the doors of his heart. Then he rested a hand on Legolas' face and guided the elf's head until it leaned on his chest.
Legolas allowed himself to relax in the arms of his friend; he was no longer able to be stubborn. Aragorn moved his right arm under the elf's legs and lifted him, standing for a moment to regain balance. That was when he realized his friend's body was limp.
"Legolas?" he called and sought a reaction. Concerned about the lack of response, he rushed down the stairs, carrying the prince.
When he turned the first corner with the unconscious body in his arms, Aragorn almost ran over Gimli. He could not see his friend, so he was only alerted to a possible collision by the dwarf's concerned voice. Gimli immediately started in with a series of questions, alarmed by the elf's unconsciousness.
"He is very hurt."
"Hurt?" asked Gimli as he followed his friend. "What has this stubborn elf done?"
"The door, Gimli!" warned Aragorn, when they stopped in front of the room that Erkenbrand's wife had offered the elf at Eowyn's request. The dwarf stepped forward and opened the door. He entered first, removed the belongings of Legolas from the bed and pulled down the covers.
Aragorn put his friend's body on the mattress and Legolas mumbled a few words in his semi-conscious state which his friend did not understand.
"What did he say, Gimli?"
The dwarf frowned and brought his face close to the elf's, while Aragorn was again opening the makeshift bandages.
"Forty..." The prince's lost voice trailed off.
"What?" insisted Gimli, leaning toward his friend. "What, elf?"
"Forty-one... Dwarf ..." The voice was softer then.
Gimli took more than a few moments to absorb the information, and then he closed his eyes, with a lump in his throat.
"Forty-one ..." Legolas repeated.
"And we are still here," completed the dwarf.
Legolas smiled, his eyes were closed now. He seemed satisfied to know the message was definitely understood.
"And we are still here," he repeated.
Gimli put his calloused hand on his friend's forehead. The elven race would always be a large and complicated puzzle to him, a mystery he had not intended or had the patience to decipher. But this elf in particular was definitely someone for whom he would change his concepts, even the oldest ones.
"I got forty-two, stubborn elf." He laughed to himself, listening to Aragorn laugh too, while the ranger finished the archer's bandages. The friendship was healing old wounds. The doubts were gone for a while. "I am still ahead of you," teased the dwarf.
"By my side..." corrected the prince, parting his lips. Having the pain eased by his valiant friends' care and attention was inviting him to sleep. "That is my luck... Thanks to Ilúvatar..."