Author's note; … I'm so sorry. I have good reasons but I wont bore you to death by writing them down. And I know it's short but I promise I will try and get another up soon.

Please review and please enjoy.

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Aragorn stared, his breath caught in his throat. The room lost it's focus and everything seemed blurred to his eye. Only the face of his friend stayed clear and real.

Dazedly he moved forward, his eyes never leaving his face, until he stood next to the bed, next to him.

Nerves swam around his stomach as he reached out a tentative, shaking hand and lowered it, ever so slowly, to touch his middle finger to his cold skin.

He let out his breath, a relieved feeling, tinged with confusion, ran over him and he allowed his eyes to close and his head to drop as he clenched his friend's hand firmly in his own.

He stood for several minutes like that, breathing deeply, his eyes closed and with Legolas' hand tightly gripped in his own.

Suddenly his eyes flew open and hot panic flooded through his body. What would Legolas think if he woke to find them like this?

Aragorn had rejected his help and left him to the orcs and now he was just standing here, holding his hand, while his friend lay, unconscious and hurt, all because of him.

Estel stared down at his friend. He knew Legolas wouldn't want his help.

But he was getting it anyway.

Outside in the corridor, the twins and their father were still waiting for something to happen.

Elladan and Elrohir shared a concerned look."Maybe we should go in there?" Elladan asked to the air, his voice soft and unsure.

Elrond didn't look at his sons, merely frowned slightly at the door that concealed his youngest son and his friend.

"No." He said, "I will."

Elladan and Elrohir blinked in surprise but then nodded and stepped to the side to allow Lord Elrond to pass them and enter the room.

"I hope he realises what he's getting himself into." Elladan said.

Elrohir placed a comforting hand on his brother's shoulder.

"He raised us Elladan. He can cope with anything."

Elrond strode to the door, the picture of confidence on the outside, but secretly he felt very uneasy. He had heard nothing from inside the room and was worried for the two friends but he also couldn't help but be a little curious. Why hadn't he heard anything? What had been happening?

He knocked twice on the door.

Estel dimly heard the drum of the door, it's sound reiterating through his head like the beating of a heart, spurring him on. He felt more than saw the door open, paying far too much attention to his work to care about the newcomer. To him, right here and right now, all that mattered was Legolas.

No response came to him, nor did Aragorn open the door to him, and so he decided just to enter.

Elrond swung open the heavy door and smiled at the sight that came to him.

Aragorn was bent over his friend, open bottles littered the floor and bed along with three bowls that sat within easy reach of the Man. A look of pained concentration on his face and sweat on his brow, Elrond suspected his son couldn't afford to pay attention to anything else.

Aragorn reached for a different bowl, his face contracting in pain as he twisted his back to reach, but he scooped it up and brought it over, a small smile of triumph on his face from his slight accomplishment.

He knew what he was doing, he knew how he was going to do it, he was completely comfortable doing it. He had healed many people of many races before and had never lost a patient yet.

He knew he could do it.

Aware of his father's presence he asked him a question, not turning to face him nor giving him his full attention, only enough to be sure he would hear the answer.

"Has he woken?"

Elrond's head dropped and smile disappeared, the lack of which could be heard prominently in his answer.

"No."

He remained impassive on the outside, firmly set on his goal, but on the inside his hope took a beating. If he hadn't' woken in all the time he had been here it meant there was definitely something bigger wrong with him.

"Have you checked for internal injuries?"

"Yes. We found none."

Aragorn frowned. Then what could be wrong?

When he voiced his question Elrond couldn't keep the glimmer of defeat out of his answer.

"We don't know."

Aragorn closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

"Then all we can do is heal the injuries we can first."

Elrond nodded, his chest feeling as if it would explode in pride for his son, and set about gathering additional equipment and ingredients to use on the archer's hands.

Aragorn had been trying not to look at his friend's distorted hands but now his father had set to work on them he felt his eyes well with tears at the sight.

"He'll still be able to shoot, won't he?" He asked.

He didn't know if he could bear the thought of Legolas being unable to use his bow. It just wasn't right.

Elrond heard the anxiety and upset in Aragorn's voice and knew that now was not the time to tell the complete truth. He needed Aragorn to be strong, to be the confident healer he had seen when he entered the room.

"He will," He said, "If we do a good enough job."

With renewed strength Aragorn faced his friend, ready to tackle the task in front of him.

Father and son, united in their efforts, worked long and hard, oblivious to anything else.