Title: Fighting Another War

Author: CrimsonSnowflake

Warning: A little blood and gore, not too much to worry about

Disclaimer:

A/N: Oh the winter has been tough this year, I mean, its been at least -25 degrees celcius here and the snow has just piled up, I can't tell you how ecstatic I am now that I can actually see the asphalt on the sidewalk, it's a sign that spring is finally headed our way! :D

Anyway, I hope you all enjoy this chapter!

Lisa

His hoarse voice rang through the air as a resonating scream forced its way out of his throat. The overwhelming urge to grab onto something in order to stop his descent bubbled right under the surface. He didn't allow it to take over though; the chance of losing a hand was too great for him to risk it. He was immensely aware of the raging water that was beneath him, the prospect of fighting the waves and the current with just one arm was far from tempting. He needed all the strength he could muster to keep both himself and Aragorn, having fainted from the pain of both Harry's flame and strain his body had been through, from drowning.

His breath was knocked out of him as he harshly connected with the water's surface. The flames, which had come to surround his whole body during the fall, were extinguished the moment the water surrounded him. Green eyes shot open, taking in the blurry world before him. Hurriedly he latched onto Aragorn and, with an amazing show of strength, pushed them both to the surface.

His lungs burned, his breath was lost, his feet kicked frantically to keep them afloat. They were mercilessly dragged down the stream. Waves descended upon them, pushing them down under the water as they were violently thrown in every direction. The river was unruly, unconquerable and determined to drown them.

He had no idea, no grasp of how long they had been in the water, an hour, maybe two. He couldn't be sure. All he knew was that the massive powers that the river displayed were slowly draining him of all his strength. He didn't know how long he would able to keep both himself and Aragorn from drowning. He feared that if they didn't reach land anytime soon, then they would both succumb to the harshness of the water.

Blindly, he reached out for something, anything that would keep them from drifting further down the river. The waves had grown in size and strength, making it near impossible for him to see anything as they always washed over him when he tried to open his eyes. His muscles were screaming, flexing and trembling with the effort it took for him to keep a hold of Aragorn. His feet were starting to grow numb, chilled by the icy cold waters. It felt as if he was treading water with large stony lumps instead of the soft muscles and tissue his feet, in reality, were made out of.

It was no longer a question of if his legs would cease to work, but when. It could be no clearer to Harry, when taking into account the cold water, strong current and his steadily weakening limbs, that death was looming over him, ready to snatch him up the moment he stopped breathing. There would be no mercy to be found; only the darkness and loneliness that he had always imagined would accompany death.

Something hard grazed his cheek, scraping the skin there so hard that blood rose to the surface. Numbly, he stared at the stony ground, heaving for breath and not quite registering that they were safe. There was no strength left in him. He had given it all up in fighting the waves and current from dragging them down into the haunting darkness of the river.

A cough from his left brought him out of his stupor. Green eyes shifted to take in Aragorn's drenched form, watching as the man rolled onto his stomach, his body wracked with a violent coughing fit. Groaning, Harry pushed himself onto all four, crawling towards his friend on shaky limbs. The adrenaline that had been running through his veins for the better part of an hour, maybe longer, had just now been flushed out and Harry could clearly feel the results of it. He was trembling, his muscles were shaking with the effort it took to keep him upright and, had he had any choice in the matter, he would have preferred to just lie down and go to sleep, to rest for a moment. He didn't have the time for that though, he needed to make sure that Aragorn was fine and then they needed to get going, they didn't have any time to waste.

"Aragorn," He said his voice cracked and hoarse from all the screaming. "Are you alright?"

"I'm getting there." The man groaned, shifting to lie on his back as he turned to look into Harry's eyes. "They'll be furious, won't they?"

"Absolutely livid." The young man agreed, running a hand through his hair while gently squeezing the water out of it. "They won't let us out of their sight for at least two weeks, I can imagine."

"Weeks? Perhaps for me, yes, but Legolas is a rather possessive person, Harry, you won't be allowed on your own for months and even then he'll be watching you from the shadows." There was an absolute truth to Aragorn's words that compelled Harry to believe them.

He was well aware that Legolas was a rather possessive and, dare he say it, jealous male, the way he reacted when someone even dared to look at Harry in an appreciative manner only confirmed that. And, based on these experiences, Harry came to the conclusion that Aragorn's words were true and that it was very likely that, the moment he had fallen off that cliff, he had earned himself an overprotective shadow.

"I'm doomed, aren't I?" Harry sighed.

"Now, I wouldn't say that, Harry," Aragorn replied, sending a boyish grin his way. "You're destined to have an overprotective elf watching your every steps and chasing away anyone that can be considered as overly friendly, yes, but doomed? Don't exaggerate Harry."

"Oh shut it, I'm doomed and we both know it." The young wizard deadpanned, unsteadily rising to his feet.

The sound of hooves clicking against the ground suddenly reached them, drawing their attention away from the conversation. A brown horse, suspiciously familiar, was trotting towards them, its mane dancing in the air.

"You have an incredibly intelligent horse, Aragorn."

"Indeed."

He was numb, bordering on cold, from the inside out. Tears filled his eyes as he stood beside Legolas, watching as the elf's blood rushed from his face and the glow, that surrounded all elves, seemed to vanish right in front of him. His grandfather, Gróin son of Farin, had told him stories of what happened to elves that lost their mate. They would wither, he had said, inconsolable and consumed by their sorrow they would slowly lose their mind until nothing was left but an empty shell. They died, following their mate into the afterlife and there was no medicine or magic that could keep this from happening.

"They were delectable, the screams of your wizard." The orc rasped, black blood flooding from his mouth as his yellow, rotten teeth was bared in a malicious grin. "It's a shame that I couldn't force more out of him. I would have loved to have a go at him, in more ways than one, if you catch my drift."

Gimli did nothing but watch as Legolas drew his long blade, stabbing it right into the disgusting creature's vulnerable belly before twisting it around. He had never imagined that he would see Legolas, one the most friendly and non-violent beings he had ever met, performing such a cruel and malevolent task as this. He did not blame him, however, for he would have done the exact same thing himself if it hadn't been for the fact that Legolas had gotten there before him.

The perverted leer that had occupied the orc's ugly face was forced away in order to make way for the pained grimace that followed the harsh stabbing. A shriek, so loud that it hurt his ears, filled the air as the creature writhed and clawed at the ground, blood spurting in every direction as the twisting of the knife continued. Legolas was unrelenting and didn't stop until the orc fell to the ground, motionless and dead and even then he kicked the orc right in the face as he got to his feet.

If he had thought the orc to be ugly before, it was downright nasty after the elf was done with it. Black blood coated its whole body, its nose, which had admittedly been very crooked and disfigured to begin with, was an unrecognizable mess and Gimli was sure that, had it been alive, the pain would have been so great that it would have been unconscious within seconds. Its armour covered foot, the right one, was twisted in such an angle so unnatural that no one could be in doubt of the fact that it was broken.

A sense of satisfaction rose within him as he took it all in. The broken, beaten and dead body. There was no doubt in his mind that the repulsive creature deserved it, no doubt at all. The immoral things it had insinuated, the fact that it had dared to sully Harry by even speaking of doing such revolting acts to him all led Gimli to believe that no one would mourn the loss of this horrible being, not even its comrades or master.

The orc was, however, the least of his concerns now; his top priority was now to shake Legolas out of his grief long enough for him to get the elf onto a horse. They had to get going; they didn't have the luxury of lingering in order to search for their two comrades. The women, children and old people that had been sent towards Helm's Deep in advance had to be caught up with, only when they had reached the stronghold could Legolas and Gimli even think of looking for their lost friends. The possibility of them being dead never entered his mind as he had great faith in them both, he was sure that a mere fall from a cliff couldn't possibly be enough to kill them.

With that in mind, the dwarf walked towards the cliff and the kneeling Legolas. A strong, calloused hand settled on the elf's shoulder, offering comfort while at the same time serving to drag the male's attention away from the dark waters and onto Gimli.

"You shouldn't listen to the foul lies spouted by that fiend," He said, hesitantly smiling at the pale man. "Harry and Aragorn are both alive; you and I both know that none of them could ever be defeated by a measly orc."

"Then why can't I feel him?" Legolas' hollow voice flowed into his ears. "Why can't I sense his presence?"

"I don't know, you couldn't feel him when he was with the blue wizard, perhaps this is just like that time." Gimli gruffly replied.

"It isn't, this time it's different. Our bond wasn't as strong when he was with Alantar, but he's accepted it now, it's stronger and I should be able to feel him no matter how far away he is." It was quite clear, by the whitening knuckles, that the elf was barely restraining himself from punching something.

"Harry's fine, you'll see." The dwarf insisted. "Now come along, they're all waiting for us, and I'm sure neither Harry nor Aragorn would be happy if we abandon them now that we're so close to reaching our destination."

"No, I daresay they would not." Legolas gently replied, a small smile lingering on his face at the thought of his mate's temper.

He was tired, oh so tired. His stomach was screaming for food, his muscles, particularly his abs, were longing for reprieve and he could barely keep himself and Aragorn on top of Brego without falling. They had been riding for a whole day now and it still didn't seem as if they had gotten anywhere. The scenery hadn't changed and all Harry could see were the rocks and vast country that he had come to think of as familiar when in the land of Rohan.

A bead of sweat ran down his face, evidence of the effort it took for him to keep Aragorn upright. The man had been unconscious for some time now, the wound on his right shoulder having taken its toll on him. It was difficult, to say the least, to manoeuvre the horse with a man larger and taller than his small frame sitting in front of him, his ability to see what was before them was greatly reduced and he found that Aragorn's body was getting heavier and heavier.

"Shit, you're bloody heavy." Harry grunted as he shifted slightly, reaching down with one hand to rub some feeling into his feet again.

The urge to just stop the horse, get down from it and flop down on the ground in a boneless heap was tempting, incredibly so, but it was not an option. They needed to reach Helm's Deep before nightfall, before Aragorn gave in to the blood loss. The wound, which had seemed so innocent when they had first began their trek, had turned out to be a curse in disguise, it had steadily weakened the otherwise strong man and, mere hours before, it had become clear that if they didn't get a doctor to tend to it soon it would become infected. An infection was, understandably, their worst nightmare. It could easily become the bane of Aragorn and if the man died, well... the future didn't look so bright when taking that into account.

Grimacing, he shifted his grip on Aragorn, squeezing him tighter around the waist before pushing himself close up against his back, had Legolas been there to witness their position, their bodies pressed tightly up against each other while leaving no room for anything else between them, Harry imagined that he would have been torn away from the other in a matter of seconds. The man sagged a little, falling slightly forward so his head rested against the horse's neck. A soft snort from Brego could be heard, making it perfectly clear to Harry that he wasn't the only one that was struggling. The combined weight of both him and Aragorn couldn't have been easy for the horse to carry, that accompanied by the fact that Brego had been walking non-stop since that morning made it perfectly reasonable that the steed was just as tired, perhaps more so, as the two humans on top of it.

"Easy, Brego, we'll be there soon." A cold hand rose to soothingly pat the side of the brown horse's neck. "I'm sure there's a warm booth, filled with hay and all the treats you could imagine waiting just for you somewhere in Helm's Deep, all you need to do is hang on a little longer."

Harry had discovered that, in times when he had no others to speak with, it was strangely comforting to talk to a horse like this. A sense of companionship, which could only come from being around animals, filled him, washing away any negative feelings he might have harboured. It didn't last for long though as in mere seconds later a quiet rumbling sound flowed into his ears.

Jerkily, he snapped his head to the side, green eyes frantically searching for the source of the noise. His face, which had been flushed with exertion, paled rapidly, the blood rushing unnaturally fast from his head. A large black mass, tramping intact, was headed straight towards them, looking just as menacing and dangerous as Harry believed them to be. A whole army of orcs and uruk-hai, not even Aragorn and Harry's combined efforts, however great they were, could compare to that.

"I think," He whispered into a pointy, furry ear. "That we need to get our arses in gear, my friend."

And in reply the strong horse started into a gallop, its fur shining with sweat while its nostrils widened and shrunk with Brego's heavy breath. Harry could feel the powerful muscles flexing underneath him as he pressed himself and Aragorn down, his thighs tightened their grip on the horse's body in order to accommodate for the rest of the ride. It would be wise to provide as little wind resistance as possible, anything that could ease Brego's road needed to be done.

"That's a good boy." He whispered over the wind, a small smile crossing his lips at the thrill of travelling at such a speed.

Quickly, Harry turned to look behind them, watching to see if they had been spotted. The massive army was marching on as if nothing was out of the ordinary and he released a relived sigh as he saw that, even though they were in plain sight, no one had seen them. Or at least, it didn't seem that way to Harry, surely, if the orcs had noticed them, then arrows would have been raining down upon them mere seconds after.

Assured that the enemy behind them would pose as no threat, Harry turned around again, focusing on the path before him. The need to get to Helm's Deep was even greater now, he had to inform them of the danger that was headed straight for them. It would be disaster if they didn't get there in time.

For hours on hours they rode at full speed, only stopping for quick breaks so that Brego could get some water and, if time allowed it, food into his body. It was positively exhausting, both for the horse and the riders, especially Harry. Aragorn had yet to wake up and so the fact that Harry had to take care of himself as well as a man that was nearly twice his size served to drain his energy much more quickly than it would have had it been him alone. And that, accompanied by the ever looming danger of being caught up with by the army of orcs, goblins and Uruk-Hais, forced a relieved sigh out of him as the stronghold came within sight.

Never before, Harry mused, had a large fortress etched out from the mountain looked as inviting and promising as it did in that very moment. The cold stone walls were just as beckoning as the soft sheets that had been on his bed at Hogwarts, the heavily armoured guards that were patrolling the gate weren't at all intimidating in Harry's eyes, in fact, they looked like large teddy bears to him. The urge to leap at them and embrace them, however silly it was, flooded through him as his eyes burned with elated tears.

"You did well, Harry." Aragorn's hoarse voice reached his ears, urging him to look down upon the man he had been holding for so long.

The ranger's countenance was as pale as ever, but there was a small sparkle within his eyes that told Harry that the danger of him dying had passed. Dirt and dust covered the man's face, making him seem more like a filthy commoner than the royal descendant that he was.

"You had me scared for a while, Aragorn," A small smile fluttered across his face as he gently tapped his legs against Brego's side, tightening his grip on the reigns as the horse fell into a soft trot. "For a moment there I was beginning to doubt you would ever wake up."

"I would never leave this world, Harry," He replied, straightening a little in order to take in his surroundings. "Not when I still have things to do here."

"Hmm." The young wizard hummed in reply, watching as the fortress' great walls loomed over them and the guards finally took notice of the two.

The gate opened with a loud creak, swinging inwards in order to give them entrance. Men, heavily armoured, were bustling around, hurriedly moving here and there in order to complete whatever task they had been set to. They looked tired, all of them, as if they hadn't seen a goodnight's sleep in days. And, Harry realized, they probably hadn't, in times such as this sleep was a luxury, one that most people couldn't afford much of. Not even children, he thought as he watched a young boy, no older than ten, carry a heavy bucket, filled to the brim with water, across what Harry assumed to be the courtyard. The child's light brown hair was plastered to his forehead, drenched in the sweat caused by his exercise, his skin, tanned by years of playing outside, was flushed an impressive red as the boy huffed and puffed, trying his best to keep his breath steady. It wasn't until the lad had turned the corner, disappearing from view that Harry looked away from him, though he still lingered for a moment, trying to catch sight of him once again to see if he would succeed in bringing all of the water to his destination.

A white marble wall blocked his vision.

He didn't know if it was an impulse of the moment or if it had to with the fact that the child reminded him strangely of himself at that age, but without thinking Harry jumped down from the horse, patting Aragorn on the leg before absently saying. "You go ahead; I have something I need to do."

He didn't wait for Aragorn to reply, instead he ran after the brunette, dodging the men that were in his way. It was clear that the boy was practically exhausted. The way he stumbled and paused every minute to adjust his grip on the bucket, his breath coming out in gasps made it all painfully obvious that the task he had been set with was too much for him. Memories of Harry's time spent with the Dursleys came to mind, and though the child looked well fed, clothed and healthy a twinge of pity welled up inside of the young wizard.

"Do you need some help with that?" He asked, making sure that his voice was soft before placing his hand on the boy's small shoulder. "It looks heavy."

Grey eyes widened as the young boy spun around, splashing water on the ground in his surprise as he took in the unusual sight that was before him. A small flash of amusement shone in Harry's green eyes as he watched as the child's expression turned from surprise to awe before settling on suspicion and indignation.

"I'm not weak, if that's what you're saying." He huffed, lifting the bucket from the ground and holding it steady as if wanting to prove what he had just said.

"I'm not," Harry assured, smiling at him as they fell into step with each other, taking their time. "I'm just displaying common courtesy."

"I'm Harry, by the way." He added as he drew his wand.

"I know." The young boy blurted out, looking at him from the corner of his eye. "I-I mean...I've seen you around before, with those elves."

"Ah, they're a hard lot not to notice, aren't they?" With a small movement of his hand, he cast a lightening charm on the bucket grinning at the astonished expression that erupted on the lad's face.

"How did you do that?!" He cried, experimentally lifting the bucket up and down, beaming as the weight stayed nearly non-existent.

"Magic." Harry answered, slipping his wand back into his pocket before turning back to his newfound companion. "Now if you wouldn't mind I would very much like to know your name."

"Dad says I'm not allowed to give out my name to strangers, says it's dangerous."

"He's right in that, but you know, because we've been talking for over five minutes I would say that we aren't strangers anymore, more like acquaintances."

"Really?" Excitement tinged the boy's voice. "Well then, I'm Marcus."

They stopped before a pool of water, Harry watching as Marcus emptied the bucket into it. It became obvious to him then that Marcus must have been doing this the whole day, filling a pool of such a size was no mean feat, especially for a child of his age.

"It's nice to meet you then Marcus." He said, following the boy as he turned to retrace his steps.

"You know, I've never met a wizard before," The brunette began, playfully swinging the bucket back and forth as he skipped from one foot to the other. "My mum used to tell me stories about them; I've always imagined them to be old though."

"They are, I'm just the exception." Harry replied.

"I think a young wizard is much better than an old one." Marcus reassured him, grabbing a hold of Harry's hand so he could swing that back and forth as well. "Much more fun."

"You think so?"

"Mhm, old people are always so boring, they never have much time for us kids."

"That's not true; they just have a lot on their minds, that's all."

"Then my dad has to have very much to think about."

He wasn't given much time to think about the young man's words, however, as Marcus suddenly threw a question into the air.

"Harry, would you mind terribly to go back to the well with me and do more of that magic thingy on the bucket? That way I'll be done sooner."

"Sure."

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