It must have been deep in the night, and Aragorn was still sitting next to his motionless friend, holding his much too hot hand. The beautiful warrior lay motionless, no sign of life came from him and fear had long since taken over the ranger. He could hardly bear this image before him.
The otherwise so strong and self-confident prince was no longer there. What remained was a weak shell. What had been done to him? And above all, why?
Once again, the anger at these cruel humans spread through the man. If he were still near them, he probably would have killed them long ago. The ranger did not understand why they wanted to torture such a beautiful, innocent and pure being. Why one did everything to break it. Because the human was well aware that this had been the goal. If they had simply wanted to kill the blond elf, they would have done it immediately.
At these thoughts, a cold shiver ran down Aragorn's spine and he looked again into the motionless face. Sweat glistened on the pale skin in the stale light and the slender body trembled a little.
With an exasperated sigh, the human buried his face in his hands. How could it have come to this? Legolas had been injured many times, to be honest more than he had been healthy, but never in this way.
The ranger knew that the handsome Mirkwood prince had probably suffered more than just physically. It would probably be a long time before he was fully healthy. 'If he ever will,' whispered a small voice in his head, but the ranger ignored it. It was not yet the time to think about it. And the heir to the throne of Gondor knew that he would probably never be able to deal with it.
Trembling, he reached out a hand and gently placed it against the archer's cheek. He was glowing. The fever was high and another sign of how badly the beautiful warrior was feeling.
"You can't go, Legolas! Do you hear me?! Hold on to life, I beg you..." His voice broke and Aragorn had to fight the tears that formed in his eyes. All of this seemed to be an endless nightmare. A nightmare from which he could not awaken and yet wanted so much to. His heart broke at the thought of soon having to let go of Legolas forever.
"He's strong, Estel. He won't give up that easily," a familiar voice suddenly said, and the ranger jolted out of his thoughts. Standing in the doorway, Elrond looked confidently at the ranger.
"What if he doesn't?," the man whispered, and the older Elf entered the room to place his hands on his son's shoulders and look down at his young patient. "Don't think such a thing yet, Ion-nin. He is still alive." But that the healer used the small terrible word 'yet' so often made it clear once again how serious the situation was.
The human sighed in exasperation and Elrond lightly squeezed his shoulders. "Mani marte na din?" the Lord of Rivendell suddenly asked quietly. (What happened to him?) So far there had been no time to tell what had happened.
And at the thought of what had happened, anger but also pain spread again in Aragorn. Still he had the image of a motionless and bleeding Legolas before his eyes.
"Men have kidnapped him and brought him to a former castle. I don't know why but I guess simply because they hate Elves. They drank to his supposed death, Ada! They wanted him to die! They wanted to break him and let him perish from his agony!"
Towards the end, the ranger's voice became louder and louder, though also more and more shaky. Again tears came to his eyes and again he pushed them back.
Elrond looked at his son reassuringly, but at the same time something like anger and infinite sorrow flashed in his eyes. "That explains a lot. At least the many fractures, bruises, and wounds. Tell me, Ion-nin, what happened to the men?"
The ranger contorted his face angrily. "I killed half of them, the others were too drunk to be dangerous to me. But if I had known what they had done to him, I would have killed them too."