Author's Note: Thank you so much to everyone who read, reviewed, and/or favorited chapter one. I will reply to each review, but I had to choose between that and posting the second and final chapter, and I figured you'd rather have the rest of the story… Without further ado, here you go!
The Value of Friendship
Chapter 2
Elrond was walking the paths of the gardens, lost in his own reverie, when he was disrupted by a commotion from the courtyard. He heard the clatter of hoof beats on the bridge that lead to The Last Homely House and wondered who was creating such a commotion. He idly considered that Estel and Legolas had returned, but dismissed the possibility—they were not expected to return for several days yet. He was therefore surprised when he heard his son's frantic calls for help.
Alarmed, he moved quickly to the courtyard. He arrived and took in the scene before him in an instant. A frazzled attendant was holding the reigns of the horse upon which his son sat, supporting a boneless Legolas in front of him. Blood stained the young elf's tunic, his eyes were closed, and he was limp in the human's arms.
Estel saw his father and called out to him, "Adar! Please help him, Adar!" His voice expressed his relief at the healer's sudden appearance, and also an unmistakable note of fear.
Elrond wasted no more time and ran forward, carefully relieving his son of his burden and pulling Legolas from the horse. Legolas's head lolled in the general direction of the elven lord, and half-lidded eyes gazed unfocused in his direction. While glad to see the young elf still somewhat conscious, his condition was hardly encouraging. "What happened, Estel?"
"Orcs," Estel replied, swinging off of the horse, shouldering his pack, and immediately falling into step beside his father, swiftly heading toward the healing wing, "We were attacked only a few hours ride from here."
Elrond frowned, orcs so close to his well-protected borders was ill news indeed.
"We killed the ones who attacked us, but there may be more. Legolas suspected that we only encountered a scouting party. He took a bolt to the chest, near his heart, during the fight. He suspected poison, so I removed it before we returned," Aragorn dutifully reported.
If this unwelcome revelation alarmed Elrond, the steadfast healer did not show it, "What are his symptoms?"
"His heart beats too slow and he mentioned tingling in his extremities. Breathing became a struggle for him on the way back. For nearly an hour now, he has fought for every breath. He is very weak, but I bound the wound well—I do not believe his troubles are caused by blood loss."
Elrond feared the assessment of some sort of poison or toxin was correct, but hoped he would be able to solve the problem, "Do you still have the bolt?"
"Yes," Aragorn nodded, "In my pack."
"That is well."
They reached the healing rooms, and Elrond carefully placed Legolas on a bed and began removing his torn and bloodied tunic.
Aragorn opened his pack to grab the object of their present misery, "I tried to keep him awake. He has been in and out of consciousness for the past hour."
For his part, Legolas caught only snatches of the conversation. He kept repeating the mantra in his head, stay awake, stay awake, breathe, stay awake…stay…awake…breathe…stay… But it was confusing and difficult and the words had lost their meaning. Aragorn wanted him to fight to stay awake, so he fought. But he was losing, and he knew it. He only realized he had stopped breathing and needed to take a breath when his body became oxygen deprived and demanded he force air into his lungs. It was gasping and shallow and unsatisfying. Breathe...
Elrond bent over Legolas and considered his patient. He listened to the labored, shallow breaths, felt the weak and slow beat of the pulse, and noted the lack of awareness and general lethargy. Carefully, he removed the bandage covering the wound on the archer's chest, loath to take any action that would cause Legolas to lose more blood, but knowing the wound needed proper treatment, especially if there was poison. Fresh blood seeped from the wound when the bandage was pulled away, undoing any clotting that Legolas's healing abilities had caused. Grabbing a clean cloth, Elrond pressed firmly onto the wound, needing the bleeding to slow so he could inspect it properly.
Legolas drew in a ragged breath, his body tensing and rising slightly from the bed. His hands started upward as though to stop the knew pain the healer's actions caused, but failed halfway through the gesture, dropping clumsily back to the sheets. He instead clenched his hands into fists and pressed his head back into the pillow. He was dimly aware of someone repeating his name, begging him to listen, to relax. Aragorn, Legolas realized.
"Easy, penneth," another voice sounded, deep and soothing. Legolas tried to make his eyes focus on the elven lord's face, but he was struggling to keep up with what was happening around him. He was aware that he was no longer on a horse, and he felt safe, everything else was lost on him.
"You can let go now," the deep voice sounded again, "Sleep…"
Legolas caught the word "sleep" and sighed in relief. Sleep would be wonderful, but how was he supposed to sleep when Estel had told him to stay awake and it felt as though someone was twisting a blade in his chest. And he feared the numbness that was starting to spread throughout his body. He had felt such a thing before and knew it meant danger.
Elrond recognized his patient's struggle, still keeping pressure on the wound, he placed a hand on Legolas's forehead, "You have done well, Legolas, rest and let us help."
The touch soothed Legolas and slowly, slowly, he relaxed. The tension draining from his muscles, the pain faded to the back of his mind. This time, when the darkness came for him, he did not fight it, and instead slipped quietly into its embrace.
Aragorn was boiling water and adding athelas to it over the room's fireplace, the calming sent filling the air. He looked over to his father and Legolas, guilt twisting in his gut at the sight of his friend. "Is it wise to let him sleep?" he asked quietly.
"Aye, he wastes energy fighting to stay awake and straining to stay still against the pain, I'd rather he save that strength to fight the poison now that he is here. You did well to keep him awake until your return," Elrond assured Estel, "I doubt that he would have answered the call of many on your journey. He is fortunate that he was with you."
"Legolas always tries to answer when I call. He is a dear friend," Aragorn replied as he disposed of the soiled bandages he had applied in the field.
"Your voice can compel many to answer, whether they be friend or stranger."
Aragorn froze for a moment before resuming his task, "He should not have to answer anyone's call right now. He was hurt protecting me." The ranger offered his father the bolt.
Elrond examined it closely, inspecting the tip, which was stained with more than just elven blood. He sniffed it and considered this new evidence along with his patient's symptoms for a moment before nodding to himself. He handed the bolt back to Estel. "What do you think?" Elrond, ever the teacher, asked as moved to mix the appropriate herbs.
Aragorn looked up from where he was meticulously cleaning the wounds to his friend's chest and back to take the arrow. He too eyed it critically and sniffed it, something that he had not had the time to do after removing it, "Aconite?" Aconite was a toxic plant that could be weaponized and applied to arrows or blades. Even a small dose could cause a slow and painful death. Aragorn didn't have Elrond's strong sense of smell, and could only detect the faintest trace of the plant, but the symptoms matched.
"Aye," Elrond agreed, "Aragorn, had this arrow struck you, Legolas would not have been able to heal you and you almost certainly would have been beyond my help before he could have gotten you here. On the other hand, he will recover."
"He did not know that he would live when he did this. It would not matter what toxin the orcs had used or even if they had used none at all had it struck his heart."
"Perhaps he knows that some people are worth any saving, even at a great price."
Aragorn shook his head, "Adar, please, let us not have this conversation now. Legolas needs us."
Elrond smiled at his son, he had never stopped moving to attend to the prince and would not put a life in danger for the sake of a conversation, however important, but acquiesced to his son's request, "Indeed he does."
Father and son worked together over the wounded elf. There was no antidote for this particular ailment, but they could treat the symptoms, make Legolas comfortable, and give him the help he needed to fight off the toxin himself. Elrond was proud of the skill Aragorn had acquired. As they worked together, he admired the human's steady hands and gentle touch.
They worked until nearly dawn, ensuring the wound was clean and stitched and preparing herbs that would ease the labored breathing, fight the fever, and alleviate the pain. Legolas had already begun to respond to their treatment. He still had a fever, but his breathing was less labored and Elrond was satisfied by the steady, if still somewhat slow, beat of his the young elf's heart.
When there was nothing more that could be done, Elrond settled into a chair next to Legolas's bed and gazed at the guilty look on his son's face, "He will recover, Estel. You've no need to feel such guilt over his actions."
Aragorn, sitting on the edge of the elf's bed, did not look like he agreed, "It could have gone so differently. If the bolt had struck but an inch lower, if we had been further from your halls, if he had not felt the poison before we set out... It all could have gone differently. It was supposed to be a safe, relaxing trip. We weren't even hunting!"
Elrond took his son's hands in his own, "However it could have gone, this is how it did go. The Valar must love you both. Do not dwell on such dark possibilities when they did not come to pass."
Estel sighed and took one hand from his father's and placed it upon Legolas's brow, "He still has a fever."
The elven lord also reached out to check on the young elf, "Aye, but you know that is to be expected. It has not gone up in the past hour, which is well. And his heartbeat is much stronger now, and steady as well. He will heal; you know his strength."
Aragorn bit his lip, but nodded. He knew that Legolas was mostly past the danger now, but would not be satisfied until his friend woke up and told him so himself.
"I have no doubt," Elrond continued, "that in a few days' time, it will be all but impossible to keep him in bed. Legolas is generally only compliant with such a demand when unconscious or asleep."
Aragorn smiled at that. It was true, Legolas was a notoriously restless patient. Unused to inactivity, he did not take to it well, even when his body needed rest. "I hope so, his refusal to stay in bed is the first sign that he is truly on his way to recovery."
"Estel," Elrond said, settling more deeply into his chair, "you should go clean up and rest yourself. He will not wake for some time and you too had a trying day."
"No," Aragorn protested, "Not yet. I wish to stay with him for a while."
"If you will not rest, at least go and change clothes."
Aragorn looked down at himself. He had cleaned his hands, but blood still stained his tunic and trousers. His friend's blood. He suddenly felt that he could not change quickly enough, but his eyes again flitted to Legolas.
"Go, Estel," Elrond assured him, "I will stay with him. Take your time."
Aragorn nodded gratefully and fled the room.
When Aragorn was out of ear shot, Elrond turned to the still, pale elf on the bed. He gripped the too warm hand in his own and whispered, "Thank you. Thank you for everything." Elrond put Legolas's hand back down at his side, and smoothed the blanket covering him in a very fatherly gesture. He placed one hand on the elf's chest to monitor his breathing and heart, confident that it would be well, but wanting to be reassured of it himself.
Legolas had long been a friend to Elladan and Elrohir, and Elrond had always regarded the courteous, gentle-natured young prince fondly. As the threat to Mirkwood grew, however, Legolas's visits to Imladris decreased in frequency and duration. Occasionally, his father would send him to Imladris to rest or to heal. During that time, Legolas seemed different on every visit, and he was changing rapidly, especially for an elf. Still courteous, there was a hardness to him that had not existed before. His eyes were still warm and welcoming, but sometimes Elrond caught a haunted look in the young elf's eyes when he thought no one was looking. The elven prince had been raised to be a warrior, but training to be a warrior and going to battles as a warrior were two different things. Always slender and strong, the elf had become more angular and more muscular. In short, Legolas was forced to grow up too quickly and too soon, and to take on duties beyond his years. Elrond's fondness shifted to protectiveness as he wished to shelter the young one from the horrors of war. He could not do so; Legolas saw and suffered terrible things, but the elven lord could offer him a safe refuge in which to heal when either his duties allowed or his injuries demanded time away.
Legolas had been wary of Elrond's human son when he had first met him. He was never unkind to him, but he kept his distance. But the boy's unreserved fascination with and admiration for "a real elven warrior from today, not from forever ago" had worn him down. The human child had brought out a youthful side in Legolas that had been all but gone for centuries. Now, Elrond regarded Legolas with a fatherly affection. He would have mourned deeply had something happened to the young prince. But he was also grateful—grateful that this young elf loved his most fragile son enough to give his life for the human, grateful that his son had someone like that in his life, and grateful that Legolas would survive this.
Legolas slept on in a deep healing sleep, lulled by the peace of The Last Homely House.
Legolas woke slowly. Senses returned to him one at a time. First, scent. He could smell herbs, the distinct scent of a fire, and—more faintly—fresh mountain air, tinged with flowers. He was not home then. Home smelled of damp earth, fallen leaves, and the resin of the trees. Sound was next. He could hear his own shallow breathing, and the steady breaths of someone else nearby. Farther away, he could hear birds singing and the gentle roar of a swift flowing river. Dully, he realized that he was in Imladris. Feeling followed this realization, and it was a sense he could have done without. Although he found himself on a soft bed, he was not comfortable. His lungs ached and he had to work for each breath he took, it felt as though a weight was settled upon his chest. A sharp, persistent pain made itself known near his left shoulder and he could not stop the groan that escaped his lips.
A chair scraping the floor sounded next to him, "Legolas? Are you awake?"
The elf heard, but did not respond right away. It would have been pleasant to just drift away again, but there was worry in the voice that called to him that he could not ignore. With far more effort than it should have taken, Legolas opened his eyes. Without yet moving his head, he glanced to his side, Estel knelt next to the bed and leaned over him, concern showing in his eyes.
Memory came back then, the pain, the struggle to breathe, the ride to Imladris, the bolt, the danger to Aragorn… "Are you well?" Legolas asked, his voice raspy with sleep. He thought he remembered asking this before, was almost certain that his friend had not been hurt. But he was not completely certain, and he had to know.
Estel shook his head in exasperation, "I am fine, Legolas, you are the one we should be worried about."
Legolas did not answer, and instead closed his eyes and concentrated on drawing another deep breath, testing the strength and capacity of his lungs. It was much better than he remembered it being on their way here. When he opened his eyes again, Aragorn had moved away.
Estel went to the fire that still burned in the hearth and added a handful of fresh athelas to the pot of water sitting above it. The sweet, calming scent filled the air and he heard the elf inhale deeply again behind him, and exhale with a sigh of contentment. "How is the pain?" he asked.
"Much better than it was," Legolas said slowly, "I think I am alright."
"You almost weren't," Aragorn poured a cup of water from a pitcher on a nearby table, and set it on the nightstand next to Legolas. Carefully, he helped the elf to sit up, and arranged the pillows behind Legolas, trying to avoid looking at the pained expression on his friend's face. "If we had been farther away Legolas…" Aragorn trailed off, not wanting to think about what that could have meant as he handed the water to the elf.
Legolas took sipped the water carefully, flatly ignoring the way his hand trembled, "But we weren't, and even if we had been, I trust you and your skills as a healer."
But Aragorn wasn't ready to back down and accept the elf's dismissal of his fears. He had been stewing over what could have happened, what very nearly had happened the entire time his friend had slept, "Legolas, you took an arrow for me!"
"A bolt," Legolas muttered, "Don't compare that foul weapon to true archery."
Aragorn shook his head, "This is no joke! Call it what you want, Legolas, you must have realized the risk of poison from any orc weapon! And even if it had not been poisoned, that was no guarantee of your survival!"
"I saw that you were in danger. I acted to stop it. I will not apologize for that."
"You should not have done it!"
"Of course I should have! I gladly risk my life for you; you are well worth it."
"No, Legolas," Aragorn responded, his father's efforts to discuss his future still on his mind, "I am a ranger of the north, nothing more. You see things because you want to see them, even if they are not really there. All my life people have seen things in me that are not there. I am not worth such a sacrifice!"
"What?" Legolas responded, surprised by the change in conversation. They had been talking about what had happened, not what may happen someday. The elf had not realized just how much this particular topic weighed upon his friend's mind when they discussed it earlier. His mind still moving slowly, he took up the new topic, "But you're not just a ranger—you are great now and you are destined for greatness in the future! Aragorn, you cannot stop others from seeing that in you. That is what friends do—they see the best in us even when we can't see it for ourselves."
"I would not have you risk your life so that I might claim a destiny I do not even want!"
"You think I risked my life for you so that you might someday be king?"
"Yes! Legolas, I love you as a brother, but my whole life people have been making sacrifices for me so that I might someday claim the throne of Gondor—it is not worth that."
Legolas felt his jaw drop and his face twisted in surprise. Those words hurt him deeply. It had not occurred to him that Aragorn had mistaken his motivations. Normally, Legolas would have explained calmly, but this new emotional pain, added to the fatigue and physical pain he already felt, made his temper run short. Legolas rose to his feet fueled by a temporary strength born of frustration, "Let me be perfectly clear, ranger, I did not risk my life for you because you are Aragorn, son of Arathorn. I did it because you are Estel, my friend. I do not care whether you become king, remain a ranger, or take up a life as a barkeep in Bree. I did not realize that you saw me as a shepherd leading you unwillingly to a future you did not want." Legolas was only halfway across the room when his adrenaline-fueled energy failed him. He faltered, staggering slightly and grabbing for a chair to remain upright.
Aragorn was at his side in an instant, grabbing his elbow and supporting him, "Sit down, Legolas, you will only make the wound worse."
Legolas didn't have much choice in the matter as Aragorn guided him the few steps back to the bed. The herbs for the pain he had been given before were starting to wear off and the toxin and blood loss left him feeling weak and shaky. He half sat down, half fell down, as the back of his knees hit the side of the mattress. He let himself keep going and let his head fall into his hands, taking deep, deliberate breaths as he waited for the blackness in his vision to clear. Aragorn rested his hand on the elf's back, feeling the unnatural heat that was still present there.
Without looking up, Legolas spoke, his voice tight, "I value you and our friendship more than I value my life. Never have I tried to make you someone that you are not or someone that you do not want to be. You are kingly without regard to whether you ever sit on a throne."
Aragorn sighed, "Not now, Legolas, just breathe."
Legolas shrugged out from under Aragorn's arm, and looked at his friend, "Yes, now, Aragorn. I have taken injury with you before, why are you so troubled over it this time?"
"Because this time you did not take injury with me but for me. And you nearly died for your trouble. And worse, I know you would do it again. I am not worth it! If you die, that is an immeasurable sacrifice! Immortality, an infinite possible number of years, ended for a mortal life! It is not rational!"
"Perhaps not from that perspective," Legolas allowed, "But I do not agree with your measuring system. Your worth to me is not measured in years. Never has this been so. And immortality is no guarantee of forever—the elves of my homeland know that better than most. I stepped in front of that bolt for me as much as for you. I could not live with myself for a day let alone eternity had I known I could have done something to save your life and failed to act. You would do the same for me, I think. And I do not believe you would do so because I might live longer than you."
Aragorn turned away, a pained expression on his face, "Of course, Legolas, of course I would. But so many have already given their lives that I might survive. I could not live with myself if you were on that list as well. I could not live with the burden of your death."
"If that should happen, I would ask that you live with the gift of my life, not the burden of my death."
Aragorn let out a sound that was half a strangled sob, half a laugh, as he sat next to Legolas on the bed and let his arm fall about his friend's shoulders.
"I have no regrets for what I did, Aragorn," Legolas said, looking Aragorn square in the eye, "If we are in the same situation in the future, I will do nothing different. But I tell you again, I did not act so that you might claim a throne, I did it so that my friend might live."
"Would you be able to live with it, Legolas? Would you be able to live with it if I laid down my life for yours?"
Legolas cast his eyes downward, "I would feel the pain of your loss every day. But, like you, I already live with the pain of lost loved ones who died so that I might live. It is hard sometimes, but I do try to recognize their sacrifices for the gifts they are."
"I cannot handle such a gift—its cost is too great."
"It is not, for you would owe nothing in return."
Aragorn sighed. He had long known that Legolas cared for him, that Legolas saw him as a dear friend, but this had proved they were something more. Lord Elrond was his father, Elladan and Elrohir his brothers. But they took him in, protected him, raised him, and trained him because of the destiny he might one day fulfill. He knew that he was loved, but he also knew they had expectations of him. With Legolas, it was different. The Mirkwood elf owed him no obligation, but nonetheless offered his friendship freely, expecting nothing in return. The elf might have hopes for him, but there was no pressure behind those hopes. There was only a promise to stand by his side, no matter what.
Here was one who did not value him for who he might be, but for who he already was. That was the truest measure of friendship, and the greatest gift Legolas could give him.
Legolas rested his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands. He was ready to keep fighting with Aragorn if the human was determined to continue being stubborn, but the pull of exhaustion on his mind was growing stronger.
Aragorn sat down next to Legolas and put his arm around the elf's shoulders, "I have no truer friend than you, Legolas."
"And I you, Estel. Despite your youth, you know me and understand me as no other does, not even elves who have fought by my side for centuries in my home. I cannot place a value on friendship such as that. But do not despair of your father and brothers, they too love you no matter what."
"Perhaps," the ranger hesitated, but then decided to hold nothing back, "Legolas, I fear I shall disappoint them, that I will lose my home and that there will be no place for me."
"No place for you? Estel, you've more homes than anyone I know—Imladris, with the rangers, in the wilds, and you are always welcome in my home! Your father and brothers have hopes for you, but they will not abandon you for anything. It would go against the nature of your bond with them. You will always be family, and this will always be your home."
Aragorn looked at his friend. It should not have taken this to get him to completely open up to the elf; he should have trusted in the elf's love for him from the beginning. "When did you become so wise?" Aragorn asked wryly.
Legolas leaned heavily against his friend, "Foolish human, I have always been wise, your mortal attention span has just been too fleeting to notice."
Aragorn rolled his eyes. Under normal circumstances, he would have tried to shove his friend, and the elf would probably have danced just out of reach at the last moment. But these were not normal circumstances, and he instead stood and helped his friend lie back down. "I'll get you something for the pain," he held up his hand to stop Legolas before the elf could interrupt, "Don't say you don't need it, I'm not going to listen to you anyway."
Legolas looked away, but did not protest. He would never admit it, but he was not entirely opposed to something that would ease the sharp pain of the wound a little. Moving as much as he had was unwise, what was once a dull ache was now a sharp pain. But he did not regret it. Far better that he suffer a little physical pain than leave Estel to continue wrestling with such emotional turmoil.
Aragorn handed the tea to the elf a few moments later. The herbs did their work quickly and Aragorn watched as the lines of pain on his friend's face eased and his breathing slowed and became deeper. The elf could barely keep his eyes open.
"You don't need to sit there, you know," Legolas murmured, feeling sleep pull at his mind, "I'd wager you could use some rest as well."
"I will rest, but I would sit here a little longer," Aragorn replied, unwilling to leave his friend.
Legolas did not protest, but instead closed his eyes, relishing the scent of athelas that still hung in the air. He was nearly asleep when Estel murmured, "Thank you. Thank you for seeing me for who I am, and asking nothing more. Thank you for your friendship."
Legolas just nodded and drifted off to a peaceful sleep.
Aragorn watched over his friend, feeling more content than he had in a long time. The future would come and it would bring challenges both big and small. In that moment, Aragorn felt he could face all of them so long as his friend was by his side.
End Notes
And we have reached the end! I'm curious to get your thoughts. It was very difficult to write a fight between two characters that I view as friends/brothers and I hope I got it right. I think we saw in both the books and the movies that these characters were capable of succumbing to frustration under extreme circumstances, so hopefully it didn't feel OOC or forced.
Anyway, thank you so much for taking the time to read the story. As always, I embrace constructive criticism and would love to know what you think. I wish you all the best and hope to post again soon—I'm working on a few more short stories. Realistically, it will take at least a month before I post anything else. I tend to re-read and rework a lot before I'm ready to publish. I enjoy writing h/c or angst stories that feature Legolas; if you have any prompts or ideas, I'm open to suggestions.
Finally, to anyone who submits a review as a guest—thank you! I can't personally reply to those in messages, but know that I appreciate that you took the time to comment!
Until next time,
Cool Breeze
