Five Days

Disclaimer: I don't own any of Tolkien's creations, I just like to play in Middle Earth.

Summary: A lot can happen in five days. When Estel is ill and needs help that Legolas cannot give him, they seek aid in a hostile village. But safety for one means danger for the other, and Legolas will need Estel's assistance in the end. A story of friendship, prejudice, and mercy.

Author's note: I have started and abandoned several short stories over the last couple of months, feeling utterly uninspired. Then I wrote this in less than twenty-four hours. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. It is written in its entirety and will be updated at least once weekly. There are three chapters. Flashbacks are in italics to help distinguish them from present day.

Chapter 1

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * Present Day * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

Estel leaned forward in his chair, resting his aching head in his hands. He was exhausted, his body felt leaden and his eyes were heavy, but he could not sleep yet.

As he fought to stay awake, his friend fought to wake up.

Legolas lay on his stomach on the bed, and moved restlessly as he was caught between asleep and awake, conscious and unconscious. Occasionally, the elf opened his eyes, but he wasn't aware, too lost in the infection-induced fever that claimed him to recognize Estel or the healing wards in Imladris.

Estel reached out and placed his hand on the elf's shoulder, "Easy, Legolas, lay still."

Legolas' head turned toward his friend's voice and a grimace of pain and confusion marred his face.

"I know, Legolas, I know. Just be still." Estel picked up the small bowl of salve his father had left behind and gently applied it to the cruel welts that marred the elf's back. Deep grooves cut into his skin, several inflamed by the infection that had set in before the wounds could be treated. Estel resisted the pull of anger he felt when he looked closely at the marks. This never should have happened.

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * Five Days Ago * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

Estel was only still on the horse because of the firm arm Legolas had wrapped around his waist. He felt miserable. He knew his fever must be dangerously high by now, but there was nothing to be done for it. He didn't have the supplies to treat the illness that had taken hold of his body and stripped him of his control.

The human could feel the fear and, paradoxically, annoyance rolling off the elf behind him.

"It is alright, Legolas, I'll be fine," Estel murmured.

"Stop," Legolas said without hesitation.

"Stop what?"

The elf sighed, "Stop reassuring me. I should be reassuring you."

Estel smiled. He knew the elf's terseness came from his worry. Just days ago, Estel had told Legolas it was just a cold—and it had been true at the time, but it certainly wasn't anymore. But even then, even when it had been just a cold, Legolas had not been satisfied by Estel's explanation and dismissal.

The elf's confusion had been plainly evident on his face. A cold? As opposed to a hot? It meant nothing to an elf who had few dealings with humans and no notion of illness that wasn't caused by injury.

The elf sighed again, "I cannot help you."

"There is nothing anyone can do here," Estel told him, "I need rest, this will pass."

"Rest would be a start. But you need more than that."

Estel forced himself to focus taking in their surroundings and their direction. Confused, he looked around again, they were not going home, "Imladris—"

"—is too far away," Legolas cut him off.

Estel swallowed thickly, trying to concentrate around the pounding in his head. Then it clicked. They were near a human village. A human village that had a reputation for being leery of outsiders of any sort and hostile to those who disturbed them. And not at all welcoming of other races. "Legolas," he said, alarmed now, "Turn around! We cannot go there."

"But we must, and so we will. Perhaps they will be so angry about what I am that they will still help you." Legolas knew that he would not be wanted at this particular settlement. The humans who lived there did not have any direct conflicts with other humans, but they also rebuffed any dealings with them. The village did not trust anyone outside of their community. The elves of Imladris were known to them, but not welcome there. Legolas, with his blond hair, bright blue eyes, and green and brown garb, was clearly not an elf of Imladris, and would likely be viewed as even more of a potential threat. He had no idea how they would respond to him showing up without notice, with an ailing human, and in desperate need of their aid. He only hoped that they would help Estel.

For his part, Estel could not help but recognize the sick logic of Legolas' thinking. The town might be so outraged by the presence of an elf, that they would be willing to help him, a human. But Estel did not like this plan at all. These humans had threatened outsiders before. There was no way to ensure that either of them would be safe.

"Legolas," Estel tried again.

"Estel, I will not ride about the wilds hoping to stumble upon assistance. I will not let you suffer the ride back to Imladris in this state. And I will certainly not sit by and watch you die. I cannot help you, so I will get you help."

Legolas held Estel against his chest. He bit his lip in fear as he felt the heat emanating from the far too mortal body. Estel had said it was a cold, nothing more. Clearly that assessment had been wrong.

Estel fought to stay present and aware. He did not know how the village would react to him, but if the rumors that surrounded the village were true, he knew they would not want Legolas anywhere near them. If he could just focus, maybe he could help and explain why they were intruding. But he couldn't do it. The fever and illness won out over his will, and he felt himself losing consciousness. He could hear Legolas calling to him frantically, could feel the elf tighten his arm around him, but could not respond.

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * Present Day * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

Estel gently worked the salve into the welts. Legolas tensed and moaned. The salve would help to numb the pain and fight the infection, but even the light touch Estel used to apply it clearly hurt the ailing elf.

"Estel," Legolas mumbled, the first sign of lucidity Estel had seen in the elf since before they had returned to Imladris.

"I'm here, Legolas."

The elf's eyes focused on him. Even after years of friendship, Legolas' gaze, when fully focused on him, was still startling and arresting. Estel's movements stilled as he returned the inquisitive stare.

Legolas seemed to gather himself, "You are alright?" The elf spoke slowly, as though piecing his thoughts together.

Estel was not sure if Legolas meant it as a question or a statement, "I am alright," he gripped his friend's hand, "You saved me."

Legolas continued to gaze at the human for a few moments. Estel did not know if the elf was satisfied by what he saw or if he was overcome by exhaustion, but eventually Legolas turned his head back into his pillow and exhaled sharply through his nose.

"Legolas," Estel said, seeking to recapture his attention, "Stay awake another moment, you should drink something."

He helped the elf to take a few sips of water. It was difficult and awkward with the elf laying on his stomach, but he managed to get the elf to drink a few swallows without spilling much.

The harsh breaths of pain evened out as the elf was pulled toward sleep again. Estel thought he had fallen asleep until he heard the softly murmured words, "I am sorry."

Surprise colored Estel's features, "For what?"

"You are with me," Legolas paused long enough that Estel thought he might have drifted off in the middle of his thought, "but I was not with you."

Estel gently brushed Legolas' hair out of his face, tucking it behind his ear tenderly, "You have nothing to apologize for, Legolas, nothing at all." The human's voice was thick with emotion.

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * Four Days Ago * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

Estel knew he had lost time. He was no longer on a horse, but instead on a bed. And Legolas was gone. He tried to sit up, but lacked the strength.

Then, he wasn't alone. Someone was there pushing him perfunctorily back onto the bed. The gesture wasn't unkind, but neither was it comforting. Through bleary eyes he saw a woman standing above him. She was maybe fifty, her hair pulled back into a severe bun.

A cup was brought to his lips and Estel tensed—frightened by the unfamiliar surroundings.

"Drink, it is water."

Estel did, he was desperately thirsty and knew that dehydration was his enemy when ill. If it wasn't water and this woman wished him harm, he was in no condition to fight her off in any case. He drank and nearly choked as a bitter taste filled his mouth.

"That's the willow bark," the voice came again, "to help with the fever."

Estel knew what willow bark did, and recognized the taste now. So whoever this person was, she was trying to help him. But where was Legolas? The elf would never leave him. Or at least, the elf would never willingly leave him.

Gathering himself, Estel found his voice, "Legolas…" he murmured.

The woman frowned at him in confusion, "That your name?" she asked.

Estel felt himself rapidly losing strength. "The elf," he tried again, "Where is he?"

"Oh," the woman replied, the confusion melting away, "It's alright, you don't need to worry about him anymore. You're safe"

Estel's eyes widened in fear even as he felt himself beginning to drift again. He fought to stay anchored, to stay present, but it was a losing battle. "No," he whispered harshly even as his eyes fell shut.

A hand landed on his forehead, checking for fever, "Rest now, you're safe."

Estel lacked the strength to respond. As unconsciousness pulled at him again, he could not avoid the thought that something was terribly wrong.

That's all for now! Sorry this chapter is a little shorter than what I usually write, but it was the most natural place to break up the story. Please review—it's one way to stay connected in these strange times!