So, I think this is one of the longest fics I have ever managed to get published and I am so excited to have one about Legolas and Aragorn. If you like it or not, let me know. I would love to hear your thoughts!
Disclaimer: Not mine of course.
Legolas cried out, arching away from the whip that bit deeply into his back once again. He wrapped his slender fingers around the rough ropes that bound his wrists, trying to give himself something to focus on. He managed to muffle his next cry as the whip descended again, rocking his body forward in his bonds, but he bit his lip hard, trying to maintain control. As long as he could keep breathing, he would be fine. This was far from the first whipping he had endured. He closed his eyes, trying not to listen to the cruel voices of the Orcs around him. He needed a plan to get out of here. He was not naive enough to think that he could not be broken, even though it had never happened before. He couldn't let these monsters be the ones to do it. Never had it mattered so much before, never had it been so important that he not break. Gritting his teeth, he felt a groan catch in his throat as the whip fell again.
"Gonna talk now?" the Uruk asked, coming around to Legolas's front. He grabbed the Elf's chin in his gnarled fingers, digging the broken nails into the Elf's fragile skin.
Opening his eyes, Legolas stared at the horrific face of the Uruk. "You will never get anything out of me," he hissed, trying to keep from flinching away from the monster.
With a hiss, the Uruk drew back, backhanding the Elf hard. "You'll be singing like a bird before we're done with you," it snapped, "or you'll be screaming, which would be fine with us." He turned to the rest of the group. "We're gonna hear the Elf scream!" It shouted. The other Uruks howled in approval.
Legolas licked at the blood trailing from the corner of his lip, not responding. There wasn't anything he could say that would help this situation, or rather, there was, but not anything he would say.
"Where is the Ring?" The Uruk asked, its voice no more than a growl.
Legolas sighed shallowly, thinking over the events of the past days that had caused this.
The Fellowship had been at the falls of Amon Hen when the Uruks had attacked. Aragorn had been the first to engage them, and he had barely survived the waves of Uruks that had nearly overwhelmed him. Legolas and Gimli had come to his aid, but there were too many. Boromir was killed, and two of the hobbits, Merry and Pippin, had nearly been captured. Legolas had come after them, and he couldn't remember how many he had killed, but in the end, he had been captured instead. At least the Hobbits had gotten away. Legolas knew he was better able to stand up under torture than they would have, and he would not have wanted them to attempt it.
He looked up, blinking the memories away. "I won't tell you anything," he hissed.
The Uruk growled, driving its fist into Legolas's stomach. The Elf choked, doubling over as much as his bonds would allow. The Uruks cut him down, driving him to the ground with harsh blows.
Legolas cried out again, curling into as tight a ball as he could manage to protect his vulnerable midsection. The action tore at his flayed back however, and the kicks and punches that landed on the bleeding whip wheals did not help matters. He struggled, attempting to keep from screaming. Elves did not scream. Harsh sounds were not meant to be torn from their fair throats. He wanted to close his eyes, but then he had no warning when the next blows were coming. He tried to watch, to pay attention and brace himself, but the Uruks were blurring together, the white hand that marked them flashing before his eyes. A heavy boot caught him harshly in the back, digging roughly into an already deep whip lash and snapping one of his ribs. He couldn't keep from screaming at that, but another blow caught him across the temple, snapping his head back, and the scream was cut short as he felt darkness descend on his mind.
SECRETS
Aragorn's head snapped up as he heard the tortured scream, cut short too soon. He recognized that scream, even though he was likely one of the only people in Arda who would. Legolas did not scream easily, only when under unimaginable pain. Gritting his teeth, he ran faster, following the tracks of the Uruks. They tore up the earth when they ran, destroying nature and ruining the land. It was easy to follow their tracks, but they had a head start on him by the time he had taken care of Boromir's body and sent Gimli and the Hobbits on to Rohan. Frodo and Sam had gone on to Mordor, there was nothing he could do for them anymore, but Legolas, his best and oldest friend was captured, and he could help him.
He knew this was likely suicide. Despite the numbers of the Uruks that had been killed in the first battle, there was still far too many for him to be able to fight on his own, but he couldn't let Legolas be killed by them, and he knew they would kill him, for the Elf was far too stubborn for them to get anything useful out of him. His dear friend. Of course, he would rescue the Hobbits at risk to himself. Legolas never thought of himself in any case, but he always ended up paying for it.
He approached the Uruk encampment warily, not wanting to rush in without a plan. That wouldn't do Legolas or himself any good. The days of rushing into battle without thinking were long gone. He had seen too much of the world and too many battles for that to be of any use to him. There were still over fifty Uruks to contend with, though they were all huddled around something on the ground right now, and Aragorn knew what that something was. They didn't seem to still be hurting him though, so his theory that Legolas had passed out was likely correct.
Aragorn sighed, backing away into the trees. He would have to wait until daybreak to rescue Legolas. Even though the Uruks could move in the daytime unlike regular Orcs, they were still weaker in the sunlight, and they would likely be sleeping. He could only hope that Legolas would stay unconscious that long. It would go easier for him. He clenched his fists, hating to leave Legolas in their hands for a minute longer, but he had no other choice. Chewing his lip anxiously, he began to look around for different healing herbs. Legolas would need them.
SECRETS
Legolas groaned involuntarily, his eyes fluttering weakly. The first thing he saw were stars, which comforted him. His eyes automatically moved to Eärendil, finding a bit of relief in its familiar presence. He was still curled on the ground, but he could hear the Orcs moving around, still awake. He forced himself not to move, no matter how much he wanted to. He didn't want to have them start in on him again. He couldn't tell them about the Ring, no matter what they did to him. He had to keep telling himself that. This was the most important secret he had ever kept. All Middle Earth would fall if he could not be strong enough.
Once he was more awake, he began to feel just how much his body was hurting. His head was throbbing, and he could feel blood dried on his face, sticking his hair to his cheek. His back felt as if it were on fire, and there was a deeper ache from the rib that had snapped at some point. Aside from that, his body ached from the beating he had received before falling unconscious. At this point, it would be a miracle if he made it back to Isengard. He had no doubt that was there intended destination
He knew better than to expect rescue. Frodo was more important. Getting the Ring to Mount Doom was more important. Aragorn would know that. He would know that Legolas would prefer for him to finish the Quest rather than come after him, no matter how much the Uruks hurt him. He could be strong. He would carry the secret of the Ring to his grave. He had been carrying another, nearly as important secret for many years now. This would not be any different. As long as Aragorn did not come after him, then he knew he would gladly die to protect his best friend, as well as the new friends he had made since the Fellowship was formed. If Aragorn did come after him- Legolas shook that thought away before it could form. The man would not. He would realize what was more important. Sighing, Legolas continued holding very still, hoping that the Uruks would not realize he was awake.
SECRETS
Garthung, the Uruk in charge since their last leader had been killed, glared over at the prone body of the Elf. Saruman would not be pleased with this. Their orders had been to take the Hobbits and kill the others. Now here they were stuck with no Hobbits and an Elf in their place. Despite having just been created a short time ago, Garthung had the natural hatred of all Orcs toward Elves, and he would far rather just kill this one then bother taking it back to Saruman at all. He sat near the fire, thinking. One of the men in the group had been killed, and he was confident in the idea that no one would come looking for the Elf. He was certain that no one, and especially the small group that was left of the Fellowship, would dare attack a horde of Uruks like his.
With this thought in mind, he looked at the Elf again. Wouldn't it be better for them to force the Elf to tell them everything he knew, then go after the Hobbits again? Saruman would not be so angry with them if they did that, and Saruman's anger was the only thing that the Uruk truly feared. Its lips pulled back in a twisted version of a smile. Yes, they would torture the information out of the Elf, and it would die screaming. Then they could finish their hunt.
He looked up at the sky, seeing it begin to lighten with the first rays of dawn. First, they needed a better place to camp, where they could torment the Elf without dreading the sun. "Get up!" Garthung bellowed, getting to his feet. "We're moving on."
The annoyed howls and grunts of the other Uruks greeted his ears at that statement, but he ignored them, going to the Elf. It looked as unconscious as it had earlier in the night, but he didn't care. "Get up," it snarled, kicking Legolas in the ribs.
Legolas had been prepared for that, and he did not react with the cry of pain that the Uruk had been hoping for. Instead, he simply rolled to his knees, then got his feet under him, forcing his hurting body to cooperate. Any sign of weakness would be just another reason for these monsters to torment him. He didn't know why they were leaving right when the sun was coming up, but he supposed they had orders to get back to Saruman as quickly as possible.
The Uruk grabbed the Elf's arms, binding them back behind him so tightly that the Elf could barely feel his fingers. "You're gonna run," he snarled, pulling the Elf back against him. He could feel it cringe, not wanting to be so close to him, and that pleased the Uruk. "If you don't run, we'll drag you, which likely won't be as fun for you as for us." It shoved Legolas forward, pleased to see the Elf stumble. They would have fun with the creature for a while once they stopped again.
Legolas managed to keep his feet under him, really wanting to avoid being dragged. He sighed, watching the Uruks pack up camp in a crudely efficient manner. They were running again in an incredibly short amount of time, and Legolas was forced to keep up. Once his body worked out some of the stiffness that had come from the torment he had endured and lying on the ground for several hours, he managed to do fairly well. Breathing was hard with his broken rib, but he forced it to the back of his mind. He had to keep going, had to keep up, that was all that mattered right now.
SECRETS
Aragorn's head snapped up, the bellows of the Uruks reaching his ears. Were they moving? He had not expected them to leave. Moving quickly, he packed up his little camp and drew nearer to the monsters. What had made them decide to leave right as dawn was breaking? Aragorn studied the group, making sure to stay well out of sight. He found Legolas in the middle of the group, looking pale, but standing on his own. That was a small blessing at least. He wished he could offer the Elf some hope, but he couldn't risk being seen. Not yet. He frowned as the Uruks began to run, forcing the Elf to stay in the middle of their ranks. Aragorn sighed. Even being shoved by the monsters and wounded, Legolas was still more graceful than any of them. He shook his head. He could only hope that the Elf would stay that way, that he would be able to get him out before that proud gracefulness was destroyed.
SECRETS
Legolas didn't know how long they ran. He could probably have kept track by watching the sun, but he was unable to look up at it without fear of falling or being tripped. It had been at least several hours though, and he was already trying to forget this hellish experience. The running was not terrible, nor even the fact that he was bound and wounded. It was the presence of the Uruks that brought such oppression to his mind and heart. The foul smell of them was all he could breathe in, and the numbers of them that surrounded him made it impossible to see anything but the sea of black bodies and white hands that marked them. He bit his lip, trying not to choke on the thick dust that rose up around them. The ground cried out at the Uruks' passage, and it went against everything in the Elf's nature to be a part of this foul group. He lowered his head, continuing to run. How odd it felt, to be running freely toward what would likely be his doom.
SECRETS
On the eaves of Fangorn, the Uruks finally stopped. The day had passed, and it was well into night by this point, but instead of being exhausted from their run, they seemed to be merely annoyed and irritable. Legolas wasn't sure what to make of it. He was reeling, his body weary, and his mind clouded from the evil of the Uruks. However, he was not left time to recover.
Garthung, after making sure that camp was being set up, went to the Elf. He roughly grabbed the creature's arm, dragging him to the edge of one of the fires that was being built.
Legolas could do very little for himself as the Uruk tossed him to the ground. With his hands bound behind him, he couldn't catch himself, and narrowly avoided obtaining another head injury. He sighed quietly, knowing there wasn't much he could do. He thought once more about the secrets he had to keep, locking them away out of his thoughts. He was under no illusions about what they wanted to do to him.
He was proved correct when the Uruk dug his boot into Legolas's ribs, kicking him onto his wounded back. He pressed down on the Elf's chest, digging the whip lashes into the dirt beneath and crushing Legolas's bound hands. Legolas grit his teeth, forcing himself to keep breathing.
"Where is the Ring?" Garthung asked, bending over the Elf.
Legolas frowned, not liking the Uruk's hideous face that filled his vision. He wrinkled his nose at the foul breath that he was far too close to as the Uruk asked his questions. "I will not tell you," he said.
Garthung could easily hear the difference in his own harsh tones and the soft, melodic ones of the Elf, and that annoyed him perhaps even more than the answer itself. He kicked the Elf cruelly, enjoying the way it curled in on itself, gasping for breath.
"The Elf won't talk," Garthung said, looking up and around at its companions. "So we will make him. We will torture the words out of it, since it won't talk on its own." This announcement was greeted with bellows of approval, and the Uruks crowded around the Elf.
Legolas swallowed hard, struggling to remain calm, but they renewed their beating from the night before, and he felt panic beginning to swallow him. He could see nothing but the heavy boots and ragged clothing of the Uruks, and the pain that he had been keeping at bay for so long, flared back up to envelop him. With his hands bound behind him, he couldn't even curl in on himself to try and protect his body a little. Their brutal kicks pummeled his body, continuously driving the air from his lungs, until yellow spots danced in front of his eyes from lack of oxygen. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't remember how. He didn't even have the breath to cry out. Another rib snapped, and Legolas arched up, a strangled cry leaving his lips. He couldn't control the panic because he couldn't breathe. That was always his most important rule in these kinds of situations, to keep breathing. Otherwise, the terror of the monsters and the pain in his body would overwhelm him.
He didn't know how long they kept it up. It was hard to measure time when each second was filled with attempting to snatch a pitiful gasp of air. When at last they drew back, Legolas was left, trembling on the ground, his chest heaving as it struggled to keep him breathing. With a soft moan, he rolled to his side, pressing his face to the dirt, blood drooling from his lips. Legolas shuddered, hoping they would be done for the night.
Garthung had no intentions of letting the Elf gather his strength. After only a moment, he drew his knife, coming forward and grabbing the Elf's arm. He hauled it to its feet. "Got a different answer for me, Elf?" it snarled, bringing the blade up to the Elf's cheek.
Legolas listlessly hung from the Uruk's grip, not even attempting to get his feet under him. He barely registered the cold iron against his cheek. The Uruk's questions rang in his mind though, and he cracked his eyes open. Anger welled up inside him against these monsters, and he mustered his strength. Despite knowing how badly this was going to end up for him, he spat in the monster's face.
Garthung howled in fury, slashing open a cut down Legolas's cheek. He tossed the Elf several paces away, swiping at his face.
For the second time in less than an hour, Legolas hit the ground. This time he couldn't stop his chin from banging against the hard dirt, but he was pleased to have narrowly missed landing in the fire. That thought was only brief however, for the Uruk came back, grabbing his bound wrists and dragging him across the camp. Legolas gasped, attempting to get his feet underneath him, for the pressure on his arms was twisting his shoulders in a way that was unnatural at best and incredibly painful at worst. He could only hope that the Uruk would stop before his shoulders were dislocated.
With a growl of anger, Garthung did stop, but it was not for Legolas's benefit. He slammed the Elf against a tree, wrapping his thick fingers around the Elf's fragile throat.
Legolas's eyes widened slightly, and he couldn't figure out what he was going to do. He hadn't gotten his breath back after the beating from moments ago.
"Where is the Ring?" Garthung asked, his voice dark and threatening.
Legolas didn't reply. He couldn't with his throat being squeezed like this.
Garthung sneered, seeing the fear flash in the Elf's eyes despite how much Legolas tried to hide it. He leaned forward, licking at the blood that dripped from the cut in the Elf's cheek.
Flinching, Legolas struggled to get away, his vision wavering as the Uruk strangled him. He hated these creatures, hated everything they represented. With desperation in his movements, he drew his legs up, kicking the monster in the stomach with both feet as hard as he could.
Surprised at the Elf's resistance, Garthung stumbled backward, releasing Legolas to slide to the ground. He wasn't that hurt, but he didn't like the idea that the Elf could still fight back. With a roar of anger, he picked up a thick tree branch, bringing it down on the Elf's body.
Legolas cried out, flinching away from the blow. There wasn't anywhere he could go. The other Uruks had crowded around, shouting their approval at seeing the fair being in pain. The branch descended again and again. Once it landed on his already sore shoulder, and Legolas screamed at the audible popping noise, signifying it had been dislocated at least. He slumped fully to the ground, unable to even keep himself propped up against the tree anymore. The branch came down on his bound hands, and despite how numb they were from the tightness of the ropes, he could still feel the pain as one or more of his fingers broke beneath the blows.
He was sure he would be unable to stick to consciousness for much longer, and Legolas was fairly begging to pass out, but suddenly, he heard a soft whooshing sound, and the branch stopped falling on him.
Garthung dropped the branch, staring in surprise at the arrow that had slammed into his chest. He fell to the ground a moment later, dead.
The other Uruks stared at him for a long moment, then chaos ensued. They grabbed their weapons, trying to figure out where the arrow had come from. The Elf was momentarily forgotten as the Uruks stormed into the woods around them, looking for whoever their attacker was.
Legolas coughed weakly, knowing that this was the best chance he was going to get to escape. He struggled, trying desperately to get to his feet, but his body was betraying him. He was too weak and hurt too much to force his legs to work. Anger was working through him, and a soft curse echoed past his lips as he tried again to sit up.
"You talk to your father with that mouth?" A whisper sounded in his ear, making Legolas jump.
"Aragorn?" Legolas asked, his voice hoarse with surprise. "What in all of Middle Earth are you doing here?"
Aragorn smiled grimly. "You really think I would let you get taken off by Orcs by yourself?"
Legolas was not amused. "Aragorn, this is not funny. You can't be here. They can't find out who you are."
"And they cannot kill you," Aragorn said, just as seriously. "You think I would let them destroy you?" He knew that would happen. To be captured by the Uruks would utterly destroy the Elf. "Come on, let's get out of here before they realize what is going on." He cut the bonds on Legolas's wrists and helped him to his feet.
Legolas sucked in a breath, struggling to hold himself up. "Alright," he whispered. He straightened a little, managing to clear his blurry vision. Unfortunately, what he saw was not what he wanted to see. "Strider!" He tried to push them out of the way, but he was not strong enough, and the blade the Uruk had lifted behind Aragorn was thrust down into the man's shoulder.
Legolas didn't think he would ever forget Aragorn's scream as the blade tore through the man.
Aragorn felt nothing but white-hot agony as the sword was thrust into him, and he crumpled to the ground. He thought he had screamed, but he wasn't sure. He knew he screamed when the blade was pulled back out.
Legolas fell when Aragorn did, not having the strength to keep himself upright. "Strider," he pleaded, grabbing the man's arm with swollen fingers as he tried to figure out what they were going to do.
"I caught him!" The Uruk howled, sniffing at the blood on his sword. "It's the human from the group we've been following!"
Legolas bit his lip. This was very bad. "Strider," he whispered. "You have to get up."
Aragorn attempted it, but the Uruk kicked him back to the ground. He moaned, blood soaking his tunic and jacket and the ground beneath him. This had not been how things were supposed to go, but he could not let them keep beating Legolas. He had been afraid that they would kill him with that branch.
The other Uruks crowded around, trying to see the man whom they had been chasing for so long, and who had been the one to kill their last two leaders.
"What do we do with them now?" one of them asked.
"I say we eat them," another said. The smell of blood was thick on the air, and many of the other Uruks thought the same thing.
"We can't eat them," another one of the Uruks said. "We have to take them back to Saruman."
"No, we have to find the Ring," a very large Uruk named Morgs said gruffly. "And since the Elf won't say anything, I know of a way to get some information out of them."
Legolas narrowed his eyes. "Strider, whatever happens, we cannot tell them anything about the Ring," he said, speaking in Elvish so the Uruks would not understand.
Aragorn nodded. "They can't keep hurting you though," he said softly. "You can't take much more."
Legolas smiled wearily. "I can take a lot more than this," he said softly. "It's you I'm worried about."
"Aye, I'm worried about both of us," Aragorn said softly. "The Ring is safe though." He gasped, arching his back as a heavy boot slammed into his spine.
"None of that Elf talk," Morgs said gruffly, grabbing Aragorn's arm and hauling him up.
Legolas watched helplessly. This was what he had been dreading. If they weren't killed by the Uruks here, they would be taken back to Saruman and the white wizard would find out who Aragorn was. Legolas closed his eyes. He had to keep the secrets, they were worth far more than his own life, and he had to get Aragorn out of here.
"Let's see if the Elf is more willing to talk if he has some incentive," Morgs said, twisting Aragorn's wounded arm up behind his back. The man paled but did not utter a sound. "Where is the Ring?" The Uruk demanded.
Legolas bit his lip. "I will not tell you," he said softly. After all the pain he had already taken and the questions he had been asked, that was the hardest thing he had ever had to do, for he knew how Aragorn would pay for it.
Morgz leered at the Elf before twisting the man's arm harshly. "Fine," he muttered. "Bring me a whip," he ordered, setting to work tying the man between two trees.
Aragorn swallowed hard, attempting to stay calm. He felt selfish for being glad that Legolas was the one who had to stay strong and not say anything. He did not know that he would have the same strength.
Legolas was wondering the same thing. Would they really torture Aragorn to make him talk? He knew the answer, for of course they would. He bit his lip hard. Difficult as it was, he had to stay strong. The secret of the Ring was the most important one.
The whip lashed across Aragorn's back with a sharp crack that made Legolas jump. He closed his eyes, knowing it would be a long time before Aragorn made any sound. There was nothing else he could do. It was the hardest thing he had ever done, to sit and watch Aragorn be whipped, and knowing that this time, there was nothing he could do to help his friend.
Aragorn bore it stoically. If Legolas had taught him anything, it was how to bear pain, and he knew how difficult it would be for Legolas to withhold the information. He gasped, biting his lip as the whip bit deeply into his back. He had to stay strong. He had no plan at the moment though, and no way of figuring one out.
Legolas closed his eyes, unable to watch the brutal beating. He had been in that same position only yesterday, and he knew how it felt. He bit his bloody lip hard, forcing himself not to simply blurt out the information about the Ring, if only so they would stop hurting his friend. He heard the soft sounds of pain that Aragorn was struggling to control. He shook his head, ignoring the sharp stab of pain that went through it at that motion. He had to be strong, even if strength in this case meant doing nothing.
The Uruk Hai laughed and jeered at the torment of their captives. Most of them didn't particularly care if they found out where the Ring was, but they liked hurting these two, especially since they tried so hard to not cry out.
A visible flinch contorted the Elf's features when Aragorn at last cried out, his voice filled with pain. Legolas didn't know if he could bear the thought that Aragorn was suffering because of something he could not say. When the Man cried out again however, Legolas looked up. Had he heard something else or was that just wishful thinking? A moment of hard listening yielding the answer he was hoping for. Hoofbeats. He was sure of it.
It took several moments for the sound of the hoofbeats to come close enough to be heard by non-Elven ears, but by then the Uruks were so excited about the blood of the man that they did not hear until it was too late. Legolas was ready though, and the second the horses burst into the camp, he was on his feet. Although he was unsteady and in more pain than he wanted to think about, he staggered over to Aragorn, untying his bonds. "Come, my friend," he urged softly. "We have to go."
Aragorn fell to his knees, attempting to catch his breath. The sound of screaming men, horses, and Uruks all blended together, making him very confused about what was happening. His shoulder was bleeding profusely still, and his back was on fire, but after a look at Legolas, he realized that he couldn't really complain. "Where will we go?" he asked breathlessly.
"Into the forest," Legolas replied, his voice tight with concealed pain. He looked into the trees. His heart told him there was some reason they needed to go there, and it was the quickest path out of the battle. After making sure Aragorn was following, he turned to stagger into the woods.
Fangorn Forest was old, older than Mirkwood, and something about it felt different than his forests from home. He could not dwell on it though, not while he could still smell the foulness of the Uruk Hai.
"Legolas," Aragorn said softly, catching up to his friend. "The riders, they are likely from Rohan. We should stay with them and thus get back to what is left of the Fellowship."
Legolas shook his head weakly. "No, we must go this way. Can you not feel it? There is something here."
Aragorn bit his lip. The last time he had ignored Legolas's instincts had been at the falls of Amon Hen and the Uruks had attacked soon after. Much as he did not want to doubt Legolas, he was afraid that his friend's injuries were telling him to seek solace in the woods that he loved so well.
Legolas stumbled, falling against one of the trees. He left blood on the bark, which did not escape Aragorn's notice. "You are badly injured, my friend," he said softly, gently helping Legolas to the ground.
To his surprise, Legolas laughed weakly. "I think I will not argue with you," he said softly. "But we cannot stop here. The battle is still too close, and should any of the Uruks escape, they will follow our scent here."
Aragorn knew the Elf was right, but he did not particularly like it. "Well, let me help you at least," he said softly."
Legolas frowned. "You are hurt as well," he murmured.
"Aye, but not as much as you," Aragorn pointed out. "Come, let us just go a little further into the woods where I can take care of both of us." He was glad now that he had gathered the extra herbs. His friend would need them.
Nodding, Legolas managed to regain his feet, but he staggered as he walked, the normally graceful step reduced to a shuffling, pain-filled gait.
Aragorn looked around, wishing that he knew more of Fangorn. The forest seemed more alive than any he had been in before. The trees creaked and groaned, and strange animals made sounds that he had not heard before. He did not like this forest he decided.
Legolas was becoming more and more unresponsive as they went on. Aragorn didn't know how the Elf was still walking at all. He had not slept for over two days and had been tortured during that.
Aragorn sighed with relief to find a small creek running through the forest. He helped Legolas gently to the ground. "Let me just get a fire started," he said softly, trying to ignore the pain in his shoulder. It hurt more than he wanted to admit.
Legolas watched sluggishly, trying to stay focused. "Aragorn, there is something…" he trailed off, unable to form his sentence into a whole thought.
"I know, Legolas," Aragorn soothed softly. He knelt beside his friend. "Let's get to work," he said softly, trying to take stock of everything that Legolas needed.
Legolas looked up at him. "Bind your shoulder," he murmured. "It is still bleeding."
"So are you," Aragorn pointed out.
Legolas looked pained. "It would ease my heart to know you are taken care of," he said quietly. "I thought...I thought they would kill you, and I could not help."
Aragorn nodded. "Alright," he said. He grabbed a roll of bandages, tying them tightly around his shoulder to stop the bleeding. He was feeling a little weak and would have to deal with his back sooner or later, but that could be later.
Legolas smiled weakly. "Alright, you can fuss now," he said quietly.
"Aye, you weren't going to stop me," Aragorn said. "Let's do your shoulder first," he said softly, gently pulling Legolas's tunic off.
Legolas winced, wondering how long it was going to be before he passed out from this.
Aragorn frowned, examining Legolas's eyes. "You have a concussion," he said softly. "I am going to need you to stay awake."
"Of course," Legolas groaned. "The one time I wouldn't mind passing out."
With a small smile, Aragorn probed the swollen joint. "Alright, let's sit you up," he murmured, helping Legolas up.
Legolas squeezed his eyes shut, trying to stay relaxed. He knew what was coming.
Aragorn jerked the arm up then down in a sharp movement, resetting the joint.
Legolas did an admirable job of not screaming, but a choked moan did escape his throat. He slumped back against Aragorn, breathing hard. "That's it, right?" he asked softly, knowing that it was not.
"Aye, that's it for the next few minutes," Aragorn agreed, letting his friend rest against him. He didn't mind, letting his heart calm down from the stress of nearly losing the Elf. "Next time you go after a horde of Orcs on your own, do you think you could manage not to get caught?"
Legolas sighed. "Aye, I'll try that next time," he said softly. "Too bad I didn't think of that."
"That's what happens when you try and leave me out of something," Aragorn explained.
"Aye, well you seemed to get in on it pretty quickly," Legolas said dryly. "I thought you had grown up enough to not rush into something without a plan."
"I had a plan," Aragorn said. "But then…" he broke off. "Then they wouldn't stop beating you, and I thought you were going to die." His voice was very quiet now.
"So did I," Legolas admitted quietly. "But I was willing. The Ring would have been safe, and it was not you in their grasp."
"I would rather it was me," Aragorn said softly.
Legolas frowned, shifting so that he could look up at Aragorn. "I will not run the risk of the Hope of Middle Earth being lost to a bunch of Orcs, even if they are Uruks."
Aragorn snorted. "Don't call me that," he said softly.
"Why not?" Legolas asked. "It's what you are," he said softly. "Your time is coming, and I would rather you not die before then."
Aragorn shook his head. "I don't want it. I never wanted it. I don't think I can do it."
Legolas smiled softly. "You can," he said softly. "Because you are the only one who can. Who else has had such an upbringing, amidst Elves, Rangers, Men? You are Estel, Strider, Thorongil, Aragorn. You have the ability to unite all the peoples of Middle Earth and make them follow you. I have followed you, believing in you, for over sixty years. You will not abandon your destiny now. You will be King of Gondor, and I will follow you to whatever end." He paused, reaching up a hand to place on Aragorn's shoulder. "You have been preparing for this your whole life, and now is the time for you to accept who you were born to be."
Aragorn lowered his eyes. "Every decision I have made on this Quest has put someone in danger. Gandalf is gone, Boromir is gone, Frodo and Sam have gone on alone. Even you have nearly died now."
"They made their own choices. I made my own choice. You cannot blame yourself for everything. Isn't that what you always tell me?" Legolas asked softly. "You will make decisions in the future that influence armies. Will you blame yourself for every death? No, you cannot. When Orcs or Spiders attack one of my patrols, I cannot blame myself every time an Elf is killed or hurt. I cannot."
"Aye, but how many years did it take you to learn that?" Aragorn asked softly.
"That isn't the point," Legolas muttered, letting his hand drop. "The point is, you are ready. You will be the greatest king Middle Earth has ever seen, and I will be there to see you crowned."
Aragorn smiled. "Thank you, mellon nin," he said softly. "I would want no one else by my side." He lowered his head, resting his brow against that of his friend for a long moment. "I do have to see to the rest of your wounds though."
Legolas snorted. "Of course you do," he muttered. "Fine, get to it. I still think there is something out there, so we should probably get done." He sighed carefully, his ribs throbbing angrily. This was not going to be enjoyable.
"I'll hurry," Aragorn promised, He sighed, this was only going to be a short reprieve before he had to get back to being a leader. He still wasn't sure how he felt about it all, but he knew he had Legolas by his side, and the secret of the Ring was still safe. That was all that mattered for the moment.