TWO

Darkening Night

Night has fallen dark and dense.

The road goes on; I care not whence.

I wander alone among the thorn.

Captive, lost and heart forlorn.

Broken upon the hardened ground.

I seek the home I once had found.

Lead me back, I hope and pray.

Leave me not and let me stay.

The storm had resumed much of its fury, lashing tree limbs and sheeting rain against the windows by the time Legolas found his way to the Healing Room. Met by Elrohir and Glorfindel, the young prince had turned his weary horse over to a stable hand and followed them indoors. Having taken very little time to provision for the posthaste journey to Rivendell, and caught by the sudden storm, Legolas was very grateful when Elrohir supplied him with a change of clothing and what few answers there were to his questions about Estel.

Now, as he slipped quietly in behind Elrohir, Legolas felt his stomach tighten anxiously as he took in the sight within the Healing Room. Aragorn drew his attention instantly; the human's feverishly flushed cheeks underlain by an unnatural pallor that made the archer swallow convulsively. Lord Elrond remained sitting with his son, gently working with the cooling cloth. Seated where Glorfindel had been earlier at the head of Aragorn's bed, Elladan offered the Silvan prince a faint smile of welcome but said nothing.

"Mae govannen, Legolas." Elrond said simply as he looked up at the archer who stood with his head slightly bowed in respect but whose sapphire gaze had not left the face of his friend. Coming closer now, Legolas nodded a bit. "I should have known my sons would send for you." The statement normally would have carried a note of amusement in it, but given the circumstances and the Elf Lord's growing worry, it sounded rather tired and flat.

"Hannon le, hir nin." Legolas responded quietly. "I came as quickly as I could, as soon as Elrohir's message arrived to me." The archer bowed his head a little sheepishly. "I'm afraid in my haste I rather left your messenger behind, Lord Elrond. He'll arrive with the escort my father wished to send with me, quite likely." A slight smile dared to flicker on the younger elf's features. "I rather left them behind as well."

"I see that's not the only thing you've left behind." Elladan joked lightly, reaching over to tug the sleeve of the tunic his twin had provided the Silvan elf. "Noldorin red isn't exactly your color."

"Perhaps not," Legolas agreed slowly, coming alongside the bed now, kneeling next to his friend. "But after that downpour, were our places exchanged, I think even you would consent to wearing Silvan green." That drew a gentle, albeit tired, chuckle from the older twin, and Elladan shifted to place a hand upon Legolas' shoulder.

"Mae govannen, mellon nin. I'm glad you're here." Elladan said earnestly. Legolas barely heard the words as his attention had completely shifted to the motionless form within the bed, his fingers instinctively seeking out Aragorn's other hand and wrapping protectively around it. Despite hoping otherwise, there was no response to his touch, and Legolas frowned anxiously at the amount of heat he felt from his human friend's hand. The Silvan elf felt his eyes mist a bit, as he gazed upon the still features, and thought for a brief moment that the lump forming in his throat would choke him.

"Has he been awake much?" Legolas asked tremulously, his eyes not leaving the face of his human friend.

"Occasionally." Elrond replied with a small nod. "When the fever hasn't been too high to allow it." The Elf Lord reached up to rub his eyes as casually as he could, trying to stave off the exhaustion he felt nipping at him.

"Ada…?" Elrohir was beside his father in an instant, one hand upon Elrond's shoulder. The Elf Lord offered the younger twin a wan smile.

"I'm all right." Elrond reassured, reaching up to touch the hand on his shoulder. "I've lingered here too long, however. If anything changes or there is other need of me, I will be in my study." He leaned down and brushed his fingertips affectionately along Aragorn's fever-flushed cheek. "I'll be back soon, ion nin."

The Elf Lord stood reluctantly, charging the three younger elves to stay with Aragorn; not that any such instruction needed giving, before striding quickly from the room. The determined line of his face was one that the twins were well acquainted with; Elrond would find an answer for his son or fairly die trying.

Is the answer even here in Rivendell at all?

The thought passed through Legolas' mind briefly, but he hadn't the chance to pursue it, or even speak it aloud, before Elrohir was placing the basin of cool water within the Silvan elf's reach and the cooling cloth into his free hand. Legolas looked up at the younger twin, who smiled a bit.

"I know you'd rather help him than to just sit waiting."

Legolas returned the smile slightly, nodding in agreement. He would do anything to bring some relief to his closest friend. Releasing his grip upon Aragorn's hand, the blonde archer dampened the cloth in the basin. Very gently, he turned the ranger's face toward him with his fingertips, and took up the task of trying to control the fever ravaging the ill human. Long minutes passed in relative quiet as Legolas worked, longing to see some flicker of response that would tell him that Aragorn would be all right. Valar, he had to be all right! Legolas shoved the thought of losing Estel away from his mind, unwilling to consider it.

Beneath the archer's careful touch, Aragorn abruptly stirred, just slightly, a faint moan slipping from cracked lips, and Legolas paused in his motion, leaning closer.

"Estel…" He whispered worriedly. "Estel, ceri le lasto nin...?" Do you hear me…?

The sudden outcry that answered him startled Legolas, its strength more than he would have thought possible from Aragorn in his current condition. Equally startling was the fear that seemed to drive it as the young ranger twisted away from Legolas' touch, as if it burned.

"Al mellon nin! Al Legolas…saes…Daro! Daro…al Legolas…saes…" Not my friend! Not Legolas…please…Stop! Stop…not Legolas…please." Aragorn's head turned restlessly, begging for his friend against whatever evil he saw. Suddenly eyes glassy with fever and pain snapped open, unfocused, and Aragorn struggled to sit up, to fight the enemies manufactured by his burning mind.

"Im si, Estel." I'm here, Estel. Legolas murmured anxiously, moving his hands to the ranger's shoulders, pressing him gently back into the pillows. "Baw erio, mellon nin." Don't get up, my friend. "Baur lin na an idh." Your need is for rest.

"Avo naegro hon. Saes…daro…Leithio hon!" Don't hurt him. Please…stop…Release him! Aragorn struggled weakly against his friend's grasp, his eyes wide but staring at things unseen by all but himself. "Legolas!" In his delirious state, his cries slipped from the grey tongue into his own language. "Mercy! Please…grant mercy."

Legolas was nearly as frightened as his hallucinating human friend was, Aragorn's anguished pleas striking through the young prince's heart as he held the trembling ranger down. Aragorn could not see him, was not aware of his touch, was totally seized by the fear stalking his dreams and Legolas was shaken to see him so.

"Estel! Im si…Avon awartha le, mellon nin." I'm here…I will not forsake you, my friend. Uncertain if he was getting through at all, with Aragorn moaning painfully within his grasp, Legolas leaned down until he was practically speaking into the ranger's ear. "Estel…it is I, Legolas. I am here beside you and I am unharmed."

"The sickness has driven him to fever-terrors." Elladan said, distressed as he watched the Silvan elf struggle to calm the trembling human. "I do not know if he will hear you, mellon nin."

Legolas swallowed tightly as his efforts to soothe Aragorn met with little success. He released his hold on Aragorn's shoulders and instead took up the ranger's hand, clasping it between both of his own.

"Aragorn!" He said quietly, but urgently. His use of the ranger's human name in the company of other elves was testament enough to Legolas' desperation to reach his friend. "Tolo ad ammen…saes…lasto nin." Come back to us…please…hear me. "Tiro na nin. Al erui le." Look at me. You are not alone.

Legolas was not certain what prompted him to do so, but he began to hum very softly the song they had sung together that night under the stars, the tale of the gift of song from Varda to the Firstborn. Holding Aragorn's hand firmly in both of his own, one thumb rubbing gently along it in hope of reinforcing the contact between them, Legolas hummed the gentle melody.

Amazingly, Aragorn's anxious murmuring faded and his besieged body sank back into the pillows. Legolas fought the urge to grin foolishly at Elladan's surprised expression, and continued to hum, eventually breaking into the lyrics, his soft voice the only sound for long minutes as Aragorn's eyes drifted closed once more and a sense of peace seemed to pervade the room at last. Legolas lifted one hand away from Aragorn's and gently brushed aside dark hair that had fallen into Aragorn's face during his fitful movement.

"It's working." Elrohir breathed out, gracing the archer with a smile of his own. Legolas simply nodded a little, not stopping the song but letting it spin its comfort around the ailing human. If it meant giving his sworn friend relief from the fearful dreams, he would sing all night if he had to. Aragorn shivered suddenly, feverish chills sweeping his frame, and Legolas moved to tuck the blanket more closely about the ranger, carefully placing the hand he had held beneath it.

Elrohir moved to the fireplace now, stoking up the fire that had been started earlier by Glorfindel. A mighty crack of thunder made the younger Peredhel jump, and even Legolas' voice hitched just a little at the ferocity of it. Pausing in his singing, the blonde elf glanced at Aragorn, making certain the human was peaceful enough before rising and walking over to the window.

"That was loud enough to wake the dead from their very graves." Elrohir commented uneasily. Legolas nodded slightly, his sharp gaze directed outward. The Mirkwood prince thought idly that the stable-hands likely would not have an easy time of it trying to keep the horses calm during this.

"It is as evil a storm as I've ever seen." Legolas agreed, despite the fact that, by Elvish reckoning was still rather young. The Silvan elf glanced down, fingering the sleeve of the borrowed tunic thoughtfully. Turning around to look at the twins, Elladan still seated nearby Aragorn and Elrohir tending to the fire, Legolas asked softly, "El…'Ro…what happened to Estel?" Elrohir threw another piece of wood onto the fire.

"Estel was doing some scouting for Ada up into the north country." The younger twin started, looking back at Legolas. "There have been more Orcs sighted up there and Estel was going to see what he could learn from the Dúnedain as well."

"He was overdue to return by nearly a week," Elladan took up the tale. "And Ada was about to send us out after him but just before we were to leave, Estel came back…"

"Estel!" Elrohir cried out, and his happy shout drew the attentions of both Elladan and Elrond, who joined him in the courtyard to see Aragorn's horse clatter into the courtyard, the human rider upon its back bearing all the marks of a scouting trip—filthy, worn and a little worse for wear. None of which prevented the youngest member of the Peredhil household from handing out warm hugs in greeting to his foster brothers, neither of whom protested—too much.

"'Ro! El!" Aragorn grinned, despite the exhaustion that clawed at him like a thing alive. "You don't appear to have missed me too much…you don't look like you've gotten into any trouble at all while I was away."

"We were bored stiff." Elladan confirmed with a laugh. "There was no one to play tricks on except Glorfindel…"

"…And you know how stuffy Glorfindel can be when…" Elrohir added.

"…we make too much of a mess of him." Elladan finished. Aragorn laughed as well, shaking his head a little.

"Good to know I was missed." Aragorn replied lightly.

"You were, ion nin." Elrond joined his sons and smiled. "Welcome home, Estel. I'm sure you have quite a bit of news for me but it's nothing that can't wait for a bit of rest and some clean clothes." The Elf Lord raised an eyebrow. "You look as if you are about to fall asleep where you stand."

"Mae govannen, Ada." Aragorn blinked dazedly; as Elrond suggested, he felt so tired. A little over two weeks on horseback was long enough, even for a Ranger, and he abruptly swayed a bit on his feet. Just that quickly, Elrond's hand was upon Aragorn's shoulder, the piercing eyes looking at Aragorn cautiously.

"Estel?"

"I'm all right. Only tired, as you said." Aragorn waved him off a little. "I just need a warm bed and a long sleep."

"Estel went up to his room, and we didn't see him again until after supper." Elladan continued. "By the time he came back down, we were all in the Hall of Fire, just talking."

"He looked awful." Elrohir took over once again, his voice softer now, and tender. "Tense…and exhausted. Almost like he hadn't slept at all." The twins looked at each other before Elrohir went on.

Aragorn slipped into the Hall of Fire, his steps quiet, smiling as he listened to his brothers arguing about something or other. As with his arrival in the courtyard, Elrohir noticed him first, and the younger twin pushed up from the large throw pillow he'd been lounging on in front of the fire.

"Estel…" He grinned. "You're just in time to settle something for us."

"You're not dragging me into the middle of anything!" Aragorn exclaimed lightly, trying not to laugh aloud. "It's my first night back!"

"El here says…" Elrohir started, and then stopped. "Estel, are you all right?"

Elrond looked up from the text he was perusing, having largely ignored his twin sons' lively banter, and swept a practiced look over his youngest son.

"You look a little pale, ion nin." Elrond observed a little worriedly. Aragorn shrugged it off.

"It was a lot of hard riding, Ada." He explained simply. "The Dúnedain have had their hands full with these Orc incursions. We ran into a band of them on the southern perimeter of the Dúnedain camp." Aragorn dragged another of the large pillows close to the fire and dropped down onto it, a small grateful smile to be home. He closed his eyes and listened to the "argument" resume and a faint smile crossed his lips…only to disappear as he reached up to lightly rub his temple.

"He thought nobody saw it, but I did." Elrohir said dejectedly. "I should have said something then, but I just thought Estel was still only tired from the journey."

"It wasn't until a day or two later that we finally realized that something was really wrong." Elladan echoed his brother's woeful tone. "You know how stubborn Estel is. He never said anything about feeling bad."

"Or that he wasn't sleeping well." Elrohir added. "El and I found him out in the gardens just staring up at the stars one night, and I've never seen Estel look so…"

"…troubled." Elladan finished, finding the word that seemed to escape his younger brother.

"Troubled?" Legolas interrupted the telling of the tale at this point, looking from one Peredhel twin to the other. It was like looking into mirrored images of upset and puzzlement. "Did Estel tell you what was troubling him, El?" Almost as one, the brothers shook their heads and Legolas' expression drew into a tight frown. Folding his arms across his chest, the Silvan elf glanced back at Aragorn.

"We began to see that he was in pain," Elrohir said softly, continuing the explanation of the events that had led up to writing the note to bring the Mirkwood prince to Imladris. "Estel tried to hide it, but we could tell that he was hurting. He wouldn't even tell Ada what was wrong."

"Headaches." Elladan said softly, worriedly. "And they were getting worse."

Elladan raced up the stairway, his steps light and swift but not nearly light enough to go unnoticed by Aragorn, who simply rolled over in bed and clasped the pillow over his head with a soft grunt just as the elder twin opened the door.

"Wake up, sleepy." Elladan announced cheerfully. "Today's the day, Estel. We're supposed to…" He trailed off as he noticed how his foster brother had curled beneath the blankets as if to ward off the very day. A slight frown graced his features as he came further into the room, allowing the door to swing mostly closed behind him. Something that sounded suspiciously like, 'go away' came out in muffled tones beneath the pillow, but Elladan sat down on the edge of the bed. "Estel…" He said worriedly. "Are you all right?"

The pillow moved, now as Aragorn flung it aside irritated and squinted up into the bright morning light at his brother.

"Perfectly fine, thank you very much." The young ranger said grumpily. "Aside from being dragged out practically at dawn to…"

"Dawn? Gwador nin, it is nearly mid-morn. Ada wondered why you hadn't come down for breakfast."

"Wasn't hungry." Aragorn hedged, not willing to discuss the true reason for his absence. Elladan raised his eyebrows in what Aragorn found to be an irritating similarity to Elrond himself.

"It's another one of those headaches, isn't it?" It was more statement than question, and at his foster brother's agitated sigh, Elladan shook his head, upset. "You need to talk to Ada about this, Estel. This has been going on ever since you got back from the Dúnedain camp. Did you not sleep again last night?"

Aragorn hesitated; he could see how upset El was becoming.

"No." He finally admitted, and Elladan could see how rough Aragorn was beginning to look.

"Not at all?" Elladan pressed, and it earned him a dark look from his younger brother. "All right…Estel, peace. I just…I'm worried is all." Aragorn sighed softly.

"Go on down, El. Let me get dressed and I'll be down in a few minutes."

Elladan hesitated, but simply placed his hand upon Aragorn's shoulder in silent concern. Slipping from his brother's room, he reluctantly made his way back down the steps, and sat down on the bottom pair of stairs.

"You look like you did when you lost that shooting contest to me." Elrohir announced as he came around the corner and his gaze fell upon his brother. "Did Glorfindel chase you out of the—El? What's wrong?"

"Estel." Elladan replied quietly, and instantly Elrohir's gaze went to the top of the stairs.

"Will you two stop fretting? I'm fine." Aragorn announced from the landing as he started down the stairs, his steps nearly as light as his elven brothers' were after years of mimicking their mannerisms. Elrohir dropped his jaw; it was clear enough to him at least that his human brother was not fine. There were dark circles under the ranger's eyes, which instead of their normally clear blue-grey seemed slightly dulled.

"Estel…" Elrohir started, but stopped at the look Aragorn shot at him.

"I didn't even get a chance to say anything to him." Elrohir shook his head a little. "The next thing I knew, Estel was falling…down the last four or five stairs, right into me and El. He was…" The younger twin's voice cracked anxiously. "He was in terrible pain, holding his head and saying…saying things that didn't make sense."

As with the comment about Estel being troubled, that also caught Legolas' attention, and the Silvan archer leaned forward a little.

"Things that didn't make sense? What was he saying?"

"'Ro, I…" Aragorn started to wave off his brothers' concerns. Suddenly the ranger winced sharply, one hand coming abruptly to his temple and the other one grasping for the railing but his fingers missed it entirely as his knees buckled. Before either elf could react, their mortal brother collapsed completely, tumbling down the steps and falling into them. Elrohir was the first to respond, getting his hands beneath Aragorn and carefully easing him off Elladan and down onto the floor.

"Estel!" The younger twin exclaimed, gently turning Aragorn over. The ranger groaned sharply, one hand still pressed against his temple, pain written in his expression.

"Beware…the Black Star!" Aragorn gasped between gritted teeth. "Leave them alone!" He brought his other hand up, both fists held tight to his head. "The Star will be the ruin…" Aragorn sucked in a sharp breath before sagging, abruptly unconscious, against Elrohir, who still held him.

"Then we carried him up here." Elladan motioned briefly around them. "Estel did not awaken for four days, and when he did, he was incoherent, confused…" The elder twin's expression grew distressed. "At first Ada feared he had taken some sort of wound at the hands of the Orcs…but there wasn't a mark on him. If Estel has fallen to poison, Ada has not yet found its type or source." He looked away, unable to vocalize his fears, that there was no help for the fallen ranger.

"The terrors started after that, and that's when I sent for you." Elrohir finished very softly, still kneeling by the fire but his head bowed sadly. "The fever's been taking his mind."

Legolas' own expression grew taut, a slight frown. Black Star? He thought, puzzled. What in Arda are you talking about, Estel…? The archer's heart fairly ached. Ruin what, mellon nin? What happened to you? Silently he walked back over to the bedside and settled back down at Aragorn's side, worry clearly broadcasting from the slender woodland elf like a signal beacon. Placing his hand gently over the wrist he knew was beneath the blanket, Legolas settled himself to keep vigil alongside his friend.

"Al erui le." He repeated very softly, even though he knew that Aragorn could not hear him. "Gwesto an le, sui na Legolas Thranduilion, al erui le." You're not alone. I swear to you as I am Legolas son of Thranduil, you are not alone.


The candles were burning low and the fire had died down considerably. The only sound in the room was the rumbling of thunder and the rhythm of rain as the fierce storm continued to vent its fury into the late hours. There was the passing thought that there could be a danger of flooding down below but it was a fleeting one.

Scrolls and books and musty papers were strewn across the desk…the table…lying in his lap. Elrond leaned back in his chair, dark eyes watching absently as candle wax dripped from the edges of an overflowing candlestick, onto a stack of papers. Absently he watched the drops fall, cooling even as they fell onto the growing lump of soft wax, before a white flare of lightning startled him back to the moment.

The Elf Lord reached up with the fingers of his right hand, rubbing at eyes weary from the endless search. Healers' texts, histories, even lore so far had been no avail. For a moment, the guttering candles arrested his attention again and the mists of memory swirled around him. A small, curly-haired adan hên in all his childish curiosity completely capturing the attentions of three Elves centuries older. A ghost of a smile crossed Elrond's lips; it had seemed merely yesterday that the twins had returned from the scenes of battle, Elladan cradling the small boy in his arms.

However, clasped around his neck on a chain, until his hand should grow into wearing it, was Barahir and Elrond knew at that second the identity of the sleeping child in Elladan's arms…who he was born to be. The weight of the world of Men would rest upon those small shoulders one day, but it was not that day.

Nor the next…or the day after that.

Those days were simply filled with a child growing up, and Elrond could only hope that he had done right by his foster son, whom he had come to love as one of his own. It wasn't the first time that a son of Elendil's line had found refuge in Imladris, but none had entered his heart the way Aragorn son of Arathorn had.

There were lessons. There were games. When he was old enough, there was instruction in the arts of warfare and of healing. There were many things this one would need to know, and with all the care that foreknowledge could bring him, Elrond hoped they had imparted those things to Aragorn.

However, there was now no knowledge, no foresight that revealed to him the path that laid before his adopted son now. Elrond could only see shadow and mist, where once there had been the clarity to know that Aragorn's destiny, should he accept it, would kindle the promise of Men.

That promise laid suffering under his own roof, and Elrond closed his eyes abruptly, bowing his head to his hand once again. It was so much more than even that…it was the fate, he realized, of his own heart. The burdens he had borne, from the moment Isildur had kept the One Ring for his own, had found some balm in Aragorn. Even now, Elrond yet hoped that the ranger would one day take up his heritage and restore the line of Kings. Nevertheless, it had become more than the healing of his trust in Men—it was now the healing of his heart as a father. He could no more bear the thought of burying Estel than he could stand the thought of losing Elladan or Elrohir to an enemy's blade.

"Ada?"

The tremulous voice behind him brought Elrond up from his misted thoughts and the Elf Lord looked up to see Elladan standing in the doorway, an obvious expression of concern upon his features. Elrond sat up abruptly, spilling the parchment in his lap to the floor in his haste.

"Estel…?" He questioned, half standing before his son could even hold up a hand to stay the motion.

"Estel is sleeping." Elladan reassured, coming further into the study and taking in its disheveled appearance with a disbelieving eye. He had never known his father to be anything but neat and orderly; this carnage of papers and books and references testified to Elrond's urgent search. "He had another fever-dream but Legolas managed to calm him down."

At that, Elrond did smile just a little. It was good that Legolas was here. The Prince of Mirkwood had been a great gift of the Valar to his youngest son, and in turn, it was quite obvious that Aragorn had become Legolas' most trusted companion.

"You did well to summon him here." Elrond remarked, as he finally sat back down and retrieved the papers he had dropped. "I know how deeply their friendship runs."

"Elrohir did that, Ada." The older twin confessed, settling into a nearby chair. Elrond's smiled deepened a little at that information, and he nodded.

"I was just remembering the day that you and he brought Estel home to Imladris."

Elladan's expression instantly sobered, recognizing the tiredness and worry in his father's tone, and his own look reflected it back to the Elf Lord.

"He was so small." Elladan nodded a little, remembering. "It was nothing to carry him."

"And now we must carry him again." Elrond remarked sadly. "I fear his strength will not last much longer under this…assault." There was no other word that he could think of to describe the strange affliction that plagued his mortal son.

"Neither will yours, Ada, if you do not take some rest." Elladan said hesitantly, not wishing to arouse his father's ire, but knowing that Estel's fate rested in Elrond's hands. Hands that would need a rest very soon if they were to keep up their efforts. "Please…Legolas and 'Ro and I will watch over him through the night. If anything changes, we'll wake you, I promise."

Elrond's head tipped back into the chair, and he regarded his oldest son affectionately.

"You do not yet know the drive of a father fearful for his son, but…"

"I know the drive of a son fearful for his father." Elladan interjected as boldly as he dared. "Ada please." He motioned around the room. "The fire has died and the candles are nearly spent." Elrond drew in a slow breath, his gaze again drifting to the flickering stub of wax left in candlestick he had been gazing at earlier. At last, he slowly stood and leaned over the candle, blowing out the flickering flame.

"Leave instruction with Glorfindel that I am to be awakened at dawn." He gave Elladan a look that meant his wishes were to be strictly followed. "I will not spare time for more than what is necessary. I fear Estel doesn't have it to spare."

Elladan moved along the perimeter of the room, dousing the other candles until only the soft glow of embers in the fireplace illuminated their discussion.

"I swore that day I would do all in my power to protect him." Elladan said softly, suddenly. "And now that I find I cannot…"

Elrond found his own heart sink with those words, and he crossed the room quickly, placing his hands upon his son's shoulders. There were tears in Elladan's eyes, the first ones that he had allowed himself to part with since Aragorn's collapse. Elrond steeled himself the best he could despite feeling dampness well in his own eyes.

"He knows, somewhere inside, that you are at his side, El." The Elf Lord said softly. "That is protection enough, ion nin. We will fight for him, I promise you."

As father and son left the study, however, they both were left to wonder if that fight would be won…

…or eternally lost.