A/N Thanks to everyone who reviewed! Also, sorry this is so late. I don't know what possesses teachers to assign homework over break, but that is what I have been working on.

Chapter Two

Aragorn remained frozen, staring at the sword for several long seconds as the rain continued to wash the evidence away.

What was Legolas' blood doing on his sword? Unless it was someone else's blood—but they were nowhere close to Imladris and it was unlikely that any other elves would be around.

The sword continued to glint up at him, almost as if it knew the story that Aragorn couldn't remember, mocking him. A crack of thunder echoed across the sky and the drops of rain began to fall faster, whipping against the bare skin of his face. Shivering, he pulled himself out the trace and scooped up the blade. Their first priority was to find shelter and get out of the elements; then he could figure out what the mystery of what had happened. Just looking at the sword made Aragorn shudder and he hastily ran the blade over his pant leg, removing any other stains from it.

Hesitantly, he buckled it back into place at his side. The weapon had spilled a friend's blood and it was tainted in a way that Aragorn would never have imagined, but they needed some sort of protection.

Going back to his original task, he studied Legolas for a minute. Crouching down, he draped one of Legolas' limp arms around his neck and wrapped one arm around the elf's waist and rose. Aragorn's good hand clamped down on Legolas' wrist, holding him in place as the prince's body hung lax against him. Legolas' head lolling sickeningly off to one side and Aragorn jostled him until his head flopped against his shoulder.

"Alright, off we go. Shelter." Aragorn's own head hadn't stopped throbbing and cold shivers were starting to shake him.

Moving steadily forward, Aragorn began to weigh his options. He couldn't climb up the steep walls of the ravine, not with Legolas and a broken arm. It was all he could do to keep both of them staggering forward. Nor did the path behind them appear easy, their best option was to simply continue on and follow the stone wall and hope for the best.

THEDEADLYONES

Night was quickly descending upon them and Aragorn gazed dully around him, watching his breath fog up. They still hadn't found shelter and he was growing desperate. His nose and fingers had gone numb long ago as the wind and the rain continued to beat him.

Legolas was dead weight in his arms and Aragorn couldn't help but fear that he was dragging his friend's corpse along

"Please…help us find someplace to stay," the man whispered, looking up at the skies. The rain continued to fall and he had to squint to see in the growing darkness and around his headache. Trudging forward he slipped and his knees hit the ground hard.

Groaning, he bowed his head and closed his eyes. They needed shelter, Legolas needed shelter. Opening his eyes, he blinked in surprise. In front of him was a giant slab of stone. It appeared to have crumbled off the cliff wall a long time ago and it rested on its side at an angle. Over the years, other smaller stones had also fallen around it and had created a wall of sorts. There was one small opening between two of the larger rocks and Aragorn was sure that they could squeeze into it.

With new found energy, he forced himself to his feet and slipping and sliding made his way towards the entrance. Turning sideways, he shuffled his way in. The lack of wind and rain was noticeable immediately and Aragorn felt like he could cry with relief. A scattering of rain continued to drip through the cracks as the wind found holes to whistle through and it was small and cramped, but the shelter was more than welcomed.

Moving to the far back of the cave, he eased Legolas to lay flat on his back before straightening. The prince was white, his lips looking blue in the dark cave and Aragorn tentatively grasped his wrist.

Legolas' heart was still beating sluggishly and Aragorn sat back against the rock wall. He buried his head in his hands and blew out a long breath. Legolas wasn't dead, not yet anyway. The chill of the stone leaked through his heavy coat and he continued to shiver violently. They may have found shelter but his job wasn't done yet.

"Legolas," he whispered softly, scooting back over to where the elf lay. Legolas didn't respond. Reaching out his hand, Aragorn covered the prince's forehead firmly. "We need wood. We need a fire," he began, hoping that somehow the elf would hear him. "I've got to go find some, but I'll be right back. Don't move or I'll…well, I don't know what I will do, but you won't like it."

Smiling, he bowed just low enough for their heads to touch before hurrying out into the maturing storm. His head gave a painful throb of protest as the rain and wind began to bet against him again and he rubbed at it, wishing that it would just go away.

Like everything that had happened that day, it seemed to take longer than he had hoped or wished to find what he was looking for. Most of the wood was wet, but at long last, he managed to find a heavily wooded area just outside of the ravine where the ground was dry. Gathering up several sticks, he stuck them under his arm and braved the storm once more.

Shaking with cold and some frustration, Aragorn slipped back into their small shelter. Legolas was exactly as he had left him, small puffs of air fogging up as he breathed.

At least I know that he is alive, Aragorn couldn't help the morbid thought and set to work lighting the fire. Thanking the Valar that he always kept a few spare matches in his breeches pocket, he piled the wood up. His hands were numb from cold at and it took some creative balancing and some swearing to get the matches to strike on the damp wood but at long last they did.

After that small task was complete, Aragorn turned his attention back to Legolas, his own needs would have to wait for a little longer.

The elf was drenched completely through and a small puddle of water had formed around him. Hir wet hair was sticking to his pallid face and Aragorn gently brushed it aside. Blinking past his headache, Aragorn wrestled the elf out of his jerkin and tunic and laid them out by the fire to dry. Still, Legolas made no move and Aragorn frowned.

Rolling him over onto his side, Aragorn pulled the bandages back. The wound was still bleeding sluggishly and he grimaced, turning for his pack only to be reminded that it was gone. He had nothing. He didn't have herbs, or needle, or bandages, he didn't even have a pot to heat water and clean the wound. Guilt flared up in his heart and he hastily rebound the wound. He didn't want to think about whatever had happened; he would take care of it the morning.

Hissing under his breath, he began to shed his own soaked cloak and shirt, spreading them by the fire to dry. The little shelter was beginning to warm up nicely by now and his shivering had lessened. Running a hand through his still wet hair, he shook it out, sending water flying every direction.

He returned to the elf's side, once again tracking the beat of his heart. It wasn't as sluggish as before and Aragorn silently thanked the Valar.

Feeling that Legolas was as stable as he was going to get for the next few hours, Aragorn returned to the fire and added several more sticks. The fire crackled happily, accepting the offerings. Their clothing was drying nicely and if he gave it another hour he could use them for blankets.

Turning, he couldn't help the wide yawn that split his face. Sitting down next to Legolas, he pulled him into his lap and back to rock lightly as he waited. He gazed outside at the falling rain, attempting to keep his eyes from closing.

All he was really wanted to do was wrap up in a warm blanket and sleep for a week straight but he had neither a blanket nor the time. His headache thumped away faithfully behind his eyes and he had to pause, squeezing his eyes shut and pinching the bridge of his nose hard in hopes that it would help. It didn't.

Cursing, he leaned his head back against the wall. After reexamining Legolas' wound he hadn't been able to help but notice that the gaping hole in the elf's body was the same size and width of his sword. The thought made him feel slightly ill and he shuddered. He still didn't know how his sword had ended up impaling the elf. For all he knew, he could have been the one to stab him. Battle was chaotic, after all. What if he had accidentally done the damage?

Aragorn couldn't comprehend it. Sighing, he rested his head on Legolas' shoulder.

His friend was as still in his arms, much too still for someone who always had more energy than he knew what to do with. Dried blood was staining his skin and it didn't take very much to imagine that Legolas was dead.

What if he had killed the elf, accident or not?

Legolas let a long breath, breaking the moment and Aragorn let out a shaky sigh.

Reaching behind him, he checked their cloaks to find them mostly dry. Gathering up the warm material, he scooted back to sit against the wall directly next to the fire. Gently grasping Legolas under the arms, he hoisted him up further against his chest. His arm gave a throb of pain worthy to match his head, but he ignored both.

Throwing what was left of their cloaks over them like blankets, Aragorn huddled up against Legolas. His friend was like an ice-cube against his chest and Aragorn frowned, trying to rub some life into the prince.

His eyes began to drift shut of their own according and Aragorn placed his good hand on the elf's chest, assuring himself that if anything were to change that he would know.

Leaning his head back against the cool stone, he was asleep almost before his eyes closed.

THEDEADLYONES

Aragorn awoke to a weak sunshine filtering in through the small cracks in the rocks. The fire had gone out long ago and soot drifted across the cave, pushed along by a gentle breeze. It was frigid cold in the small shelter.

"Legolas?" Aragorn shifted, trying to get a good look at the elf's face. He was instantly alarmed that he hadn't been awakened through the night, but he could still feel Legolas' chest rising and falling against his hand. He huddled against Legolas for a moment, sharing in the warmth, but he knew he couldn't stay there forever.

Sighing, he tossed the cloaks back, bringing in a rush of cold air. Shivering, Aragorn eased Legolas back down to the ground, resting him atop the cloaks.

Breath fogging up, Aragorn hastened to relight the fire. It had stopped raining sometime in the night and the ground was still glistening with it. Once the fire was up and going he began to quickly take stock of how he felt.

His body was sore and his arm was throbbing in beat with his heart. The swelling was noticeably more than last night and dark bruises had blossomed up, making it look worse than it actually was. It hurt, but at least his headache had faded; thinking was easier and that was a relief all by itself. Turning his attention back to Legolas, he winced in sympathy.

Magnificent bruises were lining Legolas' chest and back, showing where he had hit the ground. His face was swollen and similar bruises lined the lump of his broken nose. Aragorn should have fixed that last night. Shaking his head, Aragorn efficiently placed his hand against Legolas' nose and with one sure jerk, snapped it back into place. The elf whimpered at the sudden pain and Aragorn's eyes brightened.

"Legolas?" he called, smiling as Legolas' head twisted to the side. The elf's features scrunched up into a pained expression and another soft groan left his lips. "Legolas, can you hear me?" The elf moaned, his eyelids fluttering but he couldn't seem to pry them open and Aragorn pressed harder, calling his name louder.

At long last, his eyelids flickered. He gazed around the room, trying to figure out where they were at.

"What happened?" Legolas croaked. His eyes fluttered closed again and it was with an effort that he wrenched them open.

"I don't know," Aragorn replied honestly as he sat back on his heels. He wrapped his hand around Legolas' arm, just glad to see Legolas awake. Legolas grimaced, swallowing shakily as he came to term with the pain. His face paled and after several deep breathes he was able to refocus.

He blinked dazedly at the human. "What happened to your arm?" he asked, waving one hand vaguely in the man's direction. Even that effort seemed to cost him and it dropped back to the ground. Aragorn carefully tucked it back under the cloak.

"It's fine, only broken, and it looks worse than it is." Aragorn glanced down at it his own hurt, shifting it to a better position. The sharp hiss of pain didn't go unnoticed by Legolas.

"Put it in a sling," he requested. "Don't you know these things, aren't you a healer?"

Aragorn ignored the jibe and the advice.

Scooting closer to Legolas, his eyes narrowed. "How are you feeling?" he asked seriously. Legolas just shook his head, his face a painful sort of pasty color.

"I'm taking it that I ended up on the wrong side of a fight," he said, grimacing and biting down hard on his lower lip.

Aragorn watched him intently, his worry increasing. "How's the pain?"

Legolas shrugged, breathing in deeply. "I've had worse."

"But you've also been better." Aragorn inched closer. He tried to offer a smile but it fell flat. "I would have drugged you already but…" he trailed off, waving his hand towards the empty cave. "Our packs seem to be missing."

Legolas nodded before the meaning of the words sunk in. "What, wait?" he asked, his eyes snapping open. "Where's my bow? What do you mean our packs are gone?" Urgency crept into his voice and he tried to sit up but fell back with a cry.

"Hold still!" Aragorn snapped, reaching out to stop him. Legolas wavered, his face had gone whiter then fresh snow and Aragorn thought that he was going to pass out for a second. Gripping his arm tightly, he hovered over him while Legolas took deep shuddering breaths.

"Don't move," Aragorn said wirily, sitting back against once he was sure that Legolas wasn't in danger. Legolas didn't pay him any attention.

"Where's my bow?" he asked again, looking around as if the treasured weapon would just appear in there already cramped confines.

"I don't know," Aragorn said again. He shrugged helplessly when the elf's eyes meet his, the unspoken questions clear. "I honestly don't know how we ended up in this position." He paused again, indecision weighing on his face. "Do you remember what happened?"

Legolas screwed up his face, thinking. "We…we were out scouting for Elrond, right?" Aragorn frowned, thinking. That felt right, so he nodded. "The twins went further north, we went—"

"—Northwest." Aragorn nodded, the memory coming back to him.

Legolas stopped, frowning. "That's all I can remember," he admitted. Aragorn didn't know to be happy or upset about that. He still didn't know who had stabbed his friend, but he didn't know for sure that it had been under his hand. His relief didn't last long. Did he tell the elf? He chocked on his words, unable to get them to leave his lips but Legolas saved him.

"Something is wrong here," he said, his face dark as he shoved an elbow under his body, trying to rise once more.

"Ah, hold up," Aragorn pressed the elf back towards the ground. "You just about passed out two seconds ago and you want to just waltz out of here?"

"We need to leave!" Legolas insisted, looking around him. "Something is… off." He once again tried to sit up but he ended up curled over, once again breathing through the onslaught of pain. His belly was on fire and all this moving wasn't helping.

Aragorn laid a firm hand on his side, keeping him in place.

"I told you," he chided. Legolas looked down at where he clutched at his side. His hand was spotted in blood and he hurriedly pressed it back before Aragorn could see.

"But—"

Aragorn shook his head, cutting the elf off. "We are safe at the moment. Legolas, you can't even stand up. You are in no condition to be traveling."

"What other choice do we have?" Legolas tried again, resisting Aragorn's attempting to get him to lie back down. "Don't tell me that you do not feel the heaviness in the air. Something is wrong and the quicker we get out of here, the better."

Aragorn looked once at the elf, before staring out into the day.

"Evil deeds were done last night," he said at long last. "I don't know by what or," he paused, eyes not meeting the elf's, "who." Guilt surged up in his chest and he looked over at his friend. He may not know for sure how they ended up like this but there was a loud, mocking voice in his head that said that he had been the one to handle the sword. "But Legolas, you can't run, you can't even stand."

"I just need a few minutes. I can do it," Legolas assured him, still keeping his hand pressed against his belly. "Please. You've trusted my judgment before. Something is off, I'm telling you. The mere fact that neither of us remembers anything should be alarming." The long speech seemed to have winded the elf and slumped further down, his head hanging low.

Aragorn sighed heavily, watching the elf with worry. Legolas was right and he knew it. Something was wrong. The feeling of being watched the other night came back to him he resisted the urge to shiver.

"Besides," the elf added. "You said we have no packs. We don't have supplies. No food, no wood, nothing."

"Alright, alright!" Aragorn shook his head. "We leave as soon as we are able." Legolas nodded the relief clear on his face.

"Hannon le," he whispered tiredly. Aragorn sighed, shaking his head.

"This isn't going to be easy," he warned. Legolas only nodded in agreement and Aragorn rocked onto his feet and looked around the carven. He gathered up the rest of the clothing from the ground and kicked out the fire. Tucking the shirt over Legolas' head, he was helping to wrestle him into it when he saw the fresh blood staining the elf's side.

"Where you going to tell me about that?" he demanded. Legolas smiled weakly and Aragorn rolled his eyes, his hand tightening into a fist.

"You can be so difficult, you know that right?" He spent the next couple minutes retying fresh bandages around the wound, trying to get the bleeding to stop for good. When it was as good as it was going to get, Aragorn rose.

He stood there for a minute, a hand on his waist. "You know that feeling that you get when you are packing and feel like you are forgetting something important?" He looked around at Legolas, who was nodding. "Well, I'm having that feeling now but there is literally nothing else to pack. There is nothing else here besides rocks."

Legolas snorted, rolling his eyes. "And those are so helpful, please do pack your pockets with them," Aragorn half turned, raising his eyebrow in a grand imitation of Elrond.

"You are so strange," he stated.

"I'm strange? I can't believe that you just had the nerve to say that."

TBC...

The plot thickens next week, so stay tuned! This adventure is far from over. :)

Sorry for any mistakes and I am open to suggestions Review and let me know what I could do better on or what you liked. Thank you again and hopefully, all the Americans have a marvelous Thanksgiving.

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