"Aragorn!" shouted Legolas. "What are you doing?"
Aragorn did not answer, but Anduril flicked out past Legolas' guard to open a line of red on his cheek.
"Have you gone completely insane?" he snapped at his friend. Elven reflexes stopped the blade from slitting his throat.
Hard blue eyes glittered with determination. Aragorn's attack increased in ferocity and speed. Legolas found that he was hard pressed to defend himself. His leg was nearly healed, but he was still tired. And Aragorn had never been easy to defeat.
"What has gotten into you?" Legolas panted, sweat beginning to slip through his hair and run down his face.
Aragorn did not answer – that was the unnerving thing, Legolas thought. He was distressed, but not desperate. Calming his thoughts, he opened up the part of his mind which was connected to the Elven Dreams. Like all Elves, he could walk these paths whether he was asleep or awake. Being here when awake gave him access to greater powers, but was more draining on the body.
Legolas felt as if he had truly opened his eyes when he stepped into the dream world. The singing of the sea was still there, haunting and painfully sad. He ignored it as best he could, as he focused his renewed energies on keeping Anduril from marking him again.
This was why Elves were such highly skilled warriors – immersed in the Dream, they possessed sharper senses, and sensations such as pain or emotion could be pushed aside.
Legolas' enhanced eyes picked up a shadow lurking behind Aragorn's form, and he shifted to the left, wanting to avoid another attacker.
If the shadow had wielded a blade, the move would have saved Legolas' life. But even as he moved out of its way, Legolas realised that the blur existed only in the Dream. Caught off-balance by the anticipation of a foe that was not there to meet him, Legolas stumbled, and Anduril slid smoothly into his side.
Warm blood spilled down, soaking through the shirt that he wore. Legolas gasped, and instinctively pressed a hand to his right side. He sank to one knee, and saw the gleam of triumph appear in his opponent's cold blue eyes. But in the Elven Dream as he was, Legolas did not feel the pain of his wound. As Aragorn moved in to make the killing move, Legolas spun on his knee, using the other leg in a powerful kick to the stomach which brought Aragorn groaning to the ground.
Legolas' Elven training of the Dream world kicked in. He did not know what the shadow was that did not exist in the physical world, but he knew it should not be in the dream, either. And he knew how to stop it.
He sent a blast of Elven energy at the darkness, which shuddered as the force impacted. Breathing hard now, Legolas summoned up all his will and sent another explosion of light.
Legolas felt as though he had double vision. With his dream senses, he saw the shadow waver, flickering like a candle caught in strong wind. And in the physical world, he saw Aragorn convulse as the darkness faded.
Aragorn staggered to his feet, and screamed, a gut-wrenching scream that made the hairs on Legolas' neck stand on end. Without a second glance at the Elf, Aragorn turned and ran back toward the palace.
Slowly and carefully, Legolas closed the gateway in his mind between the Dream and the physical world. A slight wave of dizziness washed over him – he had not used these powers in too long. Just those two blasts of energy had exhausted him to the point where he did not want to move. But the blood was still running unchecked down his side, and Aragorn in his present state was a danger both to himself and to others.
Placing one hand on a tree trunk for support, Legolas dragged himself to his feet. His mind was whirling. What was the shadow in the Dream? He did not know of anything that could reach that plane, unless it was directly connected to the Elves. The longing of the Sea, although intrusive, Legolas accepted as the calling of his race. But this….Legolas frowned, troubled. The shadow had the feeling of evil.
He, and the rest of Middle Earth, had believed that Sauron had perished with the destruction of the One Ring. What then, was this presence? Sauron returned, or a new evil plaguing the land?
Fear clawed at Legolas in a way he had never experienced before, as he half ran, half staggered towards the palace. What did this force want with Aragorn? For Legolas could not believe that Aragorn had chosen this path for himself.
The palace was in complete turmoil when Legolas arrived. Bodies and blood littered the entrance. Sounds of a battle rang from within one of the chamber, and people were flocking towards it.
Someone screamed as the clashing of swords ceased, then again, in a long, harsh breath that would not end. Legolas' heart froze. It was Aragorn.
He pushed his way through the crowd, ignoring the angry and concerned stares he was receiving.
"Aragorn!" he called. His friend was being restrained by eight Guards, and thrashing against their firm hold. His blue eyes were open wide with fury, he snarled as Legolas approached.
"What's wrong with him?" cried a second voice, and Arwen ran to comfort her husband. As she came close, Aragorn threw his strength against the guards, and almost lashed out at Arwen with Anduril.
"He's gone crazy!" the captain of the Guards exclaimed. "He ran in here and suddenly started attacking us with Anduril!"
Legolas saw that Aragorn's hand still grasped his sword very firmly. Muscle and cord stood out on his arm, and his knuckles were white. The Guards hadn't been able to take it from him, even though they had managed to restrain him.
"Call a healer!" he said, voice choking slightly from blood loss and from the sight of Aragorn like that. "Tell him to bring the power of poppy seeds."
A young acolyte arrived breathlessly, running with a paper package of white powder. Taking care not to inhale any himself, Legolas blew the white dust over Aragorn. The man's surprised intake of breath caused him to inhale a large amount of the powder. Even as Aragorn glared at Legolas, his eyes clouded over, and he slipped to the ground, unconscious.
"Get him to his room," Legolas ordered. He followed more slowly as the unconscious king was carried up the stairs. The blood on his side was sticky now, and less was trickling from the wound. His Elven healing seemed to work faster in Gondor, Legolas thought. For the moment, he was grateful that he had a dark coloured shirt on. The blood was still noticeable, but less so, and he did not want to be distracted by concerned people until he was sure that Aragorn was safe, for the moment at least.
Even unconscious, Aragorn's grip on Anduril remained firm. The Guards were trying to pry it from his hand, fearful that he would hurt himself. But Aragorn would not relax his hand. Legolas placed his own hand on his friend's feeling the rock hard flexing of the muscles. Aragorn's hand had cramped around the hilt, so that even though he was not awake, he could not let go.
Legolas opened the gateway to the Dream once more, reaching into the vast sea of Elven light. He focused some of this light onto Aragorn, calming his mind and relaxing the muscles of his hand. Legolas was surprised to see how well this technique worked – Aragorn seemed to soak up the light. Usually Elven healing did not work as quickly on humans, as they were removed from the Dream and the power of the Elves.
With a sigh, Aragorn released Anduril, and a Guard gently and quickly slipped it from the king's now-limp hand. Legolas used just a little more of the light to ensure that Aragorn would rest well, and not be bothered by the shadow for a day or two at least, then tiredly closed the gateway.
"He will sleep easily now," he told the worried guards. Arwen nodded. She had been an expert in the Elven Dream before she had given up her immortality. She knew what it was that Legolas had done for Aragorn.
"Legolas and I will watch over him, for now," she said in her gentle, quiet voice. True to the stoic Elrond, she betrayed no further hint of anxiousness or fear. "I will send for you if I need you. Have a maid bring some food and drink for two." Her eyes looked sharply at Legolas for a moment. "And some healing herbs, and bandages. You are dismissed."
The Guards and servants bowed low, and left.
"Let me see that gash," Arwen said. Legolas took his shirt off with some difficulty.
"What is wrong with him?" she asked a little fearfully, as she cleaned it the wound gently.
"There was…a shadow in the Dream, Arwen."
"A shadow?" Her voice was worried, and she paused from the poultice she was making from comfery, hops and elderflower. "There is nothing in the Dream that is not Elven! That is impossible."
"I know. I thought so too. But it was there. Behind Aragorn, when he went insane and began attacking me. I called the Elven light on it, and he ran from me, into the palace." He shook his head, laughing unsteadily. "I admit now, you were always better at navigating the Dream than I was. Just that effort took.…" Legolas looked down. "Nearly more strength than I had within me."
Arwen was. It had been long since she had walked the path of the Elven Dream. "But you will be strong enough," she said at last, and it was not a question.
Legolas nodded. "For Aragorn, always." Then for some reason, he flushed. Arwen didn't notice, as she tied white linen bandages around his side.
"There," she said at last. "You will mend fast."
"I know," he said. "I'm an Elf."
She smiled a small, sad smile at him.
*****
Thank you as always to the people who reviewed! This story is turning out different to what I thought it would when I started, but I do know where it's heading. And it's so much fun to write! Please keep reviewing, because your reviews do mean a lot to me! I'm not going to say "I'm not writing any more unless I get XXX reviews!" because firstly, I doubt that many people would seriously care *l* and secondly, I like writing this just for writing this. So as long as I have time and motivation I want to keep writing. I just want to know that someone out there is reading my stuff. One word in a review will be fine…just let me know that readers are out there!