Thank you to my reviewers, especially IceFire, who taught me how to get italics working! Hopefully it will be easier to read, now. As for why Legolas left Gimli behind, I don't think he had much choice, seeing as how he passed out. But maybe I didn't make that clear enough. Like I said before, please tell me if bits of my story aren't making sense. It's hard to see from my perspective, because I know what I mean to say, even if no-one else does! And the Wargs only wanted Legolas, anyway. *g* You'll see what I mean…later. I don't know where the Havens are, so I don't know where Gondor is in relation to them. Oh, well. Poetic license.

Oh! Disclaimer: I always forget to put this part in. Would you believe me if I said that I owned Legolas and Aragorn? As much as I'd like to, they belong to JRRTolkein. Unknown characters mine. No profits, etc etc.

False Dawn

Aragorn was alone once more in the royal chambers. Heavy blinds had been drawn over the windows, muting the brightness of the full moon. He lay very still on the bed, with his head cradled in his arms. The headache would not abate. Its fury grew in his skull until he didn't dare move, for fear of further aggravating the pain. The herbs he had taken at first for a mild headache had not helped. Now, the sheer effort of moving to prepare a stronger decoction was too great, even if Aragorn could think of a mixture potent enough to deal with this level of agony.

Hammers and chisels pounded mercilessly in his brain. It felt as if something made of fire and shards of steel was being crammed into his head, until Aragorn thought it would split open.

He had never experienced pain like this before.

Not even on the morning of his wedding, after having emptied nearly all the brandy casks in the palace the night before, out of sheer nerves. A strong infusion of rosemary and peppermint had done the trick, then.

Now all he could do was hold his pounding head, and breathe through the pain. All that long night, he had not uttered a sound. Aragorn did not know how to voice his pain. To scream, or whimper would have been to acknowledge defeat. Aragorn had never done that in his life.

His eyes were made more light sensitive by the headache, and even closed, they caught the faint change in light which meant the false dawn had arrived.

Voices sounded in the hallway outside. Aragorn head the sounds of an argument, before a fist hammered urgently on his door.

*****

Arod was not an Elven steed, but the time he had spent in the gentle company of Legolas had resulted in a firm bond between horse and rider. He headed unerringly to toward the palace of Gondor, taking care not to throw his unconscious rider.

*****

Gimli woke with a start at dawn. He cursed as he realised he had missed his watch. Legolas must have taken it for him, he thought sourly, yet fondness was in his heart.

"Legolas!" he bellowed. "I am not yet so old and infirm that I need an Elf to stand my watch for me!"

There was no reply. Puzzled, Gimli searched around the campsite. Legolas' bow and quiver still lay where the Elf had left them. He would not willingly leave those far behind, Gimli knew. He didn't know if it meant good or bad news, though. The dwarf's heart grew cold as he saw the scene of the battle. Black blood soaked the earth, and a body lay prostrate. Fear gripped Gimli as he hurried over and bent to stare into the face of the deceased.

It was not Legolas. It was a Man – a stranger. There was no sign of the Elf, nor Arod. Gimli frowned.

The blood belonged to Wargs, that much he could tell. He scowled darkly at the thought of their return into the world. The puzzle lay before him. The Man's throat had been torn by the Wargs. He had two empty scabbards. An ancient sword which lay nearby accounted for one of them, but search though he might. Gimli could find no trace of the other sword.

Friend or foe? Friend, Gimli decided, or the Man would have died from Legolas' knife or arrow ere he had come this close to the camp.

Glancing keenly at the disturbed earth, Gimli read the tracks. A horse –Arod, he thought– had been galloping fast to the south. These tracks were followed by the trail of many large paw prints. He thought he could make out some light footprints, where someone had mounted the horse, in the middle of battle. Legolas, then. Arod would allow no-one but Legolas and himself to ride him.

Gimli muttered a few obscene words. Something had driven the Elf away, then. It must have been urgent, or desperate, to have caused Legolas to leave without warning him. Gimli was a Dwarf, and his kind were staunch, and practical almost to the point of pragmatism. He did not brood over Legolas' hasty departure. H did not agonize over why Legolas had not given him notice. He simply intended to find him again, and discover what had happened. Then, if the Elf was okay, Gimli would shake him hard.

First, Legolas had to be found. The dead Man looked familiar, though Gimli did not think he had seen him before. There was something in his features, and his clothing, that reminded him of Aragorn. And of Boromir, Gimli realized, his thoughts turning to his long-dead companion. The Man was from Gondor, Gimli decided. Arod had been heading south, also toward Gondor. And Gimli knew that now the Elven forests were empty, Aragorn's lands offered the most sanctuary to Legolas.

To Gondor then. But first, there was the matter of the dead Man. Gimli gathered the driftwood from the beach, and lit a pyre around the fallen Man. He had decided that the stranger was not a foe, and Gimli would not let a friend – even one he had not met – lie to be ravaged by the elements, and worse.

After the fire had burnt out, Gimli strapped his pack to his back. He was loath to leave Legolas' pack, but he could not carry both. He did take the Elf's bow and quiver though.

Then Gimli scowled so fiercely that even the Wargs would have given pause. Arod was the only horse they had, as Gimli still refused to ride alone. And now that Legolas had ridden him away, Gimli knew it would take a week before he would reach Aragorn. Still scowling, Gimli set off, on foot.

*****

Legolas found that the world was behaving most strangely, when his eyes flickered open. For one thing, it was moving roughly at a great rate. For another, he was feeling…pain. Quite a lot of pain, actually, radiating from his right leg.

As his senses cleared, Legolas realized that he was on the back of Arod, which would account for the bumpy ride. Memory of how he was injured came back, and Legolas felt something stronger than the pain flood him. Guilt.

Caruon, messenger and friend of Aragorn, was dead. People died in battle all the time, Legolas knew. People had even died in battle because he had been not fast enough with bow and arrow. But Caruon was dead because Legolas' childish temper leading to their duel, had pushed the exhausted Man beyond his endurance before the Wargs attacked. A part of his mind knew that some of the anger he had directed at the Man had sprung from despair and jealousy, that this Man might have held Aragorn's affections. Childish, and certainly unworthy of an Elf. He refused to admit it to himself, but it added further to his guilt and shame.

Over-whelmed as he was by these emotions, his Elven ability to heal was not working. Subconciously, Legolas did not want his wounds to heal. Caruon was dead because of his childishness. Legolas felt that he more than deserved to hurt, in return.

His mind fogged by guilt, pain and fever, Legolas soon slipped back onto unconsciousness.

*****

"Your Majesty! King Elessar!"

Aragorn forced himself to sit up, then stand.

"You may enter," he said, hoping they would take the hoarseness of his voice to be sleepiness.

His men entered his chamber with a crash of the door and a clang of armour. Aragorn winced, and swallowed hard.

"He rode in here hard, and demanded to see you – won't even get that leg of his fixed up first!" one guard offered by way of introduction. He looked apologetic.

Aragorn blinked in confusion, before his eyes fell on the form of Legolas.

"Legolas," he breathed, eyes devouring the Elf. His clothes were torn and stained with blood. A raw and bloody would stretched from his thigh to his calf. The guard was right – the would had not been tended to at all, and infection had set in. His gaze travelled up to the Elf's face, pale with hurt and fatigue. Legolas' eyes, grey and huge, looked… tormented. He stood unsteadily, favouring his injured right leg. One of Aragorn's men had discretely put an arm around the wavering Elf's shoulders. Aragorn suspected it was all that was keeping the Elf upright.

Legolas opened his mouth to speak, but all that came out was a small cry as he crumpled to the floor.

*****

Author's note: As I said, I don't know where the Havens (the beach where Legolas and Gimli started off) are in relation to Gondor. I am making it to be a couple of days, by horseback. It took Caruon so long to reach Legolas not because it's particularly far, or hard to reach, but because he was searching for Legolas; he didn't know exactly where the Elf was. For Gimli it will take about a week, because he will have to do it on foot.