Chapter Four.

Aragorn's scouting mission into the unknown ahead of the company came to a premature halt when he arrived at a wide, fast flowing river, so he decided to return to the group and call a break for a few minutes. When the ranger arrived back at where the hobbits were helping Gimli over a jagged mound of rocks, he was disquieted to see that both Legolas and Boromir were nowhere in sight. Listening to the alarm bells ringing in his head Aragorn abruptly turned away from the quizzical fivesome and dashed back the way they had come, panic growing in his chest with every step he took.

Even though he was fighting against a frantic urgency Aragorn still moved across the rocks as silently as smoke, so when he heard the sound of near silent movement and hushed whispering he was able to approach without being noticed. What he saw ignited a flash-fire of rage inside his chest and every last piece of Aragorn's composure and self-restraint left him as he took in the sight of Boromir choking the voice out of Legolas and touching him with unwanted and malicious lust.

As if in a dream Aragorn's hand floated down and slid his knife from its sheath, a look of savage fury contorting his usually calm features until he looked almost feral. Stepping slowly and deliberately Aragorn crept forward until he was inches behind Boromir and then, in a move so brutally swift it was almost invisible, the ranger slid his arm around Boromir's neck and slit his throat so violently that the man was dead before his blood splashed across the rocks. Shudders shaking his body with both rage and sickened despair Aragorn slowly lifted his head to look at Legolas.

The almost uncontrollable rage fell away from Aragorn's mind as his gaze ran over Legolas' blank face that was splattered with a thick spray of Boromir's blood. There were tearstains on the elf's blood-stained cheeks, but apart from that and the gore that decorated his white skin his face was still void of emotion and his eyes empty of life. In a moment of unconsidered thoughtlessness Aragorn stepped forward jerkily and laid his hand on Legolas' shoulder, but his heart broke in his chest when the traumatized elf flinched away, jerking back from his touch.

Aragorn stumbled backwards, sickened beyond belief that Legolas was so damaged that he perceived his oldest friend as a threat. Momentarily at a loss for what to do the ranger stared Legolas who was staring back at him with unseeing eyes. Time stretched out until Aragorn was wracked by a violent tremor and he suddenly found himself choking on anger that bordered on madness. Forcing the useless emotion away Aragorn faltered, having no idea where to go from here.

Agonized blue eyes travelled once more over the elf's face, noting every drying tearstain and every brilliant red splatter of blood. Unable to bear the sight of Legolas defiled by the blood of the treacherous Boromir for one moment longer Aragorn slowly tore a long strip off the bottom of his tunic and stepped forward to stand in front of the elf once again. Seeing that Legolas was well beyond doing it himself, Aragorn steeled himself for the inevitable cringe away from his touch and reached out gently to wipe away the blood.

Legolas' fragile world of razor-edged glass collapsed so fast that it made his head spin and he was utterly unable to defend himself or even think when Boromir dragged him into the rocks. Even if he had been able to force a scream from his frozen throat Legolas could barely breathe around the cruel hand at his throat, and with his back jammed against the lumpy rock he could only stare into Boromir's eyes that were filled with merciless, vicious hatred. The worst thing though was the undercurrent Legolas could see beneath the anger in Boromir's gaze, a dark and loathsome lust.

The man's hands mauling his body fractured Legolas' mind even further and when Boromir murmured his fervent message the elf found that a part of his mind agreed that he should just leave, disappear into the wilds to die. Then Boromir trailed his hand down to squeeze him intimately and Legolas' eyes rolled back in his head, wanting to scream until the world fell apart but unable to voice anything above a guttural whisper. In his chest the elf's heart shattered into a thousand pieces that cut deep into his soul and he was too far gone to react at all when Boromir's throat suddenly opened in front of his eyes, drenching him in hot blood.

Mostly unaware of what was happening around him Legolas felt Aragorn's hand touch his shoulder and his mind screamed that he was about to be tortured once more. Recoiling violently Legolas cringed back against the rock behind him, knowing his pathetic action was only inviting further advances but unable to do anything else. Trapped in the hell of Boromir's assault, the incident replaying endlessly in his head, Legolas was beyond noticing Aragorn's distress at his rejection of a comforting touch.

Blinded to the real world Legolas could only see Boromir's burning gaze staring at him and hear the distorted snarl that fell from the man's lips. Still pressed hard against the rock the elf was oblivious to Aragorn's actions until the man stepped forward hesitantly and lifted the tattered rag to his face. A choked groan tore from Legolas' throat at the contact but with the unyielding stone behind him he couldn't pull away. Hopelessness in his staring blue eyes Legolas pressed hard enough against the rock to bruise his back as Aragorn delicately wiped the splatters of blood from his face.

The task of cleaning the blood that had splashed across Legolas' face served to allow Aragorn to get a grip on the anger that still made his hands shake, but he also was pierced by razor sharp pain every time the elf tried to flinch away from his touch by pressing harder and harder into the solid stone behind him. Once he had managed to wipe every last spot of red from Legolas' skin Aragorn paused for a second, trying to work out how to get them back to the rest of the group without further traumatizing his friend.

As it turned out Aragorn didn't need to formulate a plan. The second that the ranger took the blood-soaked rag away from Legolas' face, the elf listlessly pushed himself away from the rock behind him and began to slowly walk away in the direction the group had originally been heading in. As Legolas brushed past him Aragorn caught a glimpse of the look on the elf's face and in his chest his heart shattered into pieces. On Legolas' face was a blank look that didn't quite conceal the strain and veiled agony that marked his features, but deep in the young elf's eyes was a look that spoke of death.

Aragorn's usually confident stride was faltering and slow as he followed Legolas back to what remained of the Fellowship. Just before he rounded the rocks to arrive at the impromptu campsite Aragorn realized that he had Boromir's blood splattered across his arm and hand and he knew that he had to come up with a story to explain the man's death. It only took the split second between strides for Aragorn to think of a story that was close enough to reality to ring true and he took a deep breath before stepping into the sight of the worried hobbits and suspicious dwarf.

Meeting each of his companion's eyes in turn Aragorn glanced over at Legolas who had slid down to sit with his back against a rock and he said quietly, 'Boromir is dead. The ring must have affected his mind in an attempt to sunder the Fellowship and he attacked Legolas out of sight of the rest of the company. His strength wasn't natural and if I had not killed him first it would have been Legolas lying dead in the rocks.'

In the uproar that followed Aragorns grief-laden words no one noticed the hitch in the man's voice or the way he turned his head to hide the shine in his eyes. Taking a moment to pull himself together Aragorn knelt down beside Legolas who was staring sightlessly at the ground but when the elf flinched and scrambled away from him he closed his eyes for a moment trying to hold back tears and then turned away, knowing that he had to take charge of the rest of the group lest everything they had worked so hard for slipped beyond their grasp in a single moment of blood and betrayal.