Author's Note: yeah, it's been about 3 months or more. It's just.well, I seem to have written myself into a hole. I'll finish this chapter, and maybe one more. But as this is an AU, and I'm definitely not up to writing a novel length fic, I don't know how to end it. Maybe it could just tie back into the original plot..well, whatever. Sorry to keep everyone waiting so long. =( I suck, and I know it.

Also, I don't really know anything about the practice of medicine. I'll go back and try to correct any mistakes in the 1st chapter, and there will probably be some in this chapter too. Thanks for pointing them out to me.

~*~

Legolas slumped into the side of the tent. He was exhausted, in pain, and his hair was a mess-which is saying something for an elf. He and a soldier of Rohan, who had some knowledge in the arts of healing, had tended to Aragorn as best they could. With their minimal knowledge and sparse supplies, they had managed to stop the flow of blood from his wound and bandage it. Unfortunately, there was little else they could do for it at the moment. He hated to admit it to himself, but he really didn't know anything about healing. And unless Aragorn woke soon, within the next day, they would have to do without his help in removing the arrow and cleaning the wound. For even Legolas knew about the deadly infections that could happen when an arrow was not removed.

But now the man was resting, and hopefully recovering, in one of the tents Eomer and his men had pitched near where they had fought the orcs. Moving the injured human had been a difficult task. Even in his unconsciousness, the man had softly cried out at the pain of being moved. And now Legolas was feeling his own injuries, but suddenly he was too tired to care.

"Master Elf!"

He was jolted out of his trance by a small, yet surprisingly loud creature for his size. "Master Elf! Now it is time for us to see to your injuries."

"Yes, Gimli, it seems that I was wounded more seriously that I thought"

"Well then, I guess I shall have to treat you," the dwarf harrumphed.

As serious as the circumstances were, Legolas could not help but grin at the dwarfs expression, who it seemed couldn't decide between being nervous at the prospect of doing something he had never attempted, or excited.

"I thank you graciously, friend. But I think I'd rather have a more experienced person treat me."

The dwarf harrumphed again. "Fine then. I will go fetch the man who helped with Aragorn."

The elf was relieved. He was definitely feeling the effects of his wounds, though they were not very serious. The man, who's name was Thengal, led him to another tent, where he was instructed to take off his shirt and sit down.

Thengal, taking a bowl of clean water and a piece of cloth, gently cleaned out the two cuts that Legolas had received. The one on his back was little more than a long scratch. The cut on his torso was deeper, but it hadn't pierced anything vital, and bled only a little. As an elf, his system was already countering the wound. But it still needed to be cleaned and stitched up.

All in all it was not too bad. The slash on his stomach required ten stitches, which were painful. But in his lifetime of a couple thousand years, he had experienced far worse. He even managed to stay awake through the process.

After he was all set, he was led by Gimli back to their tent, and finally succumbed to his exhaustion, resolving to see to Aragorn in the morning.

*~*

Ah, the bliss of unconsciousness, thought Aragorn as he hovered in the realm between sleep and wakefulness. He slowly became aware of some one shaking him, calling his name. He opened his eyes slowly and saw the face of Legolas above him.

"Aragorn," he said urgently. "Aragorn wake up!"

He mumbled groggily.

"Aragorn, you must tell us what to do. We have to remove the arrow in your leg. You have to concentrate so you can tell us what to do."

He looked around and saw white walls of linen around him; he must be in a tent. He tried to sit up so he could have a good look at his leg, but as he tried to raise himself with his arm he felt the shooting pain and remembered the wrist had been broken. "Prop my head up so I can see," he said. Legolas did as he was told and Aragorn sat up, examining his leg. The trousers had been cut away from the wound, and it was bandaged tightly to stop the bleeding, but not completely cut off circulation to his leg. The space around the shaft where it entered the flesh was a nasty shade of dark purple and slightly inflamed. Aragorn could feel himself burning with fever; the arrow had stayed in his body too long and was becoming infected. He quickly gave commands for one of the men to collect certain herbs to use to counter the infection, as well as others to slow the bleeding if it started up again. He felt more dizziness, but was quickly drawn back into reality by Legolas. He was cutting off the end of the arrow and breaking off the barbs so it would be easier to pull out when the time came. He was being as gentle as he could but he was still disturbing the arrow a little. The Dunedan gritted his teeth in pain.

After the preparations were done, Aragorn instructed that Gimli was to hold down his leg while Legolas pulled the arrow out in one quick motion. "Are you sure about this, Aragorn?" Eomer asked by his side.

"Yes," he said through clenched teeth. "Just get it over with."

Legolas started to cout to three, but pulled when he had only reached two. Aragorn cried out, the pain was so much. His muscles tensed and he thrashed out, kicking Gimli who had been trying to hold down his leg. But Legolas could not pull the arrow out, the barbs were digging into bone and muscle.

Aragorn was hyperventilating, his eyes closed tightly. His leg had started bleeding again and his face was covered in sweat. Eomer gently washed his forehead with cool water. Slowley, his breathing returned to normal and he unclenched. After a few minutes, he opened his grey eyes again. Eomer couldn't help but notice the once-bright eyes were now glazed with hurt.

"I could not get it out, Aragorn," Legolas said, shaking his head sadly.

"It's alright, my dear friend..barbs go deep. Find a knife, an elven blade perhaps, and used it to.open the wound, make it..bigger." He said with great effort. "You must also hold me down, don't want..to injure myself further."

Eomer kneeled by Aragorn's head to hold down his shoulders and Gimli and another man held down his arms and legs, being careful not to touch near the wound. Legolas succeeded in stopping the flow of blood again, and was inspecting the wound. He had a slim dagger held out in front of him, and he was preparing to start the insicion. He didn't know how deep the arrow went, or if it was imbedded in the bone.

He took a few deep, steady breaths, and prepared himself to help his friend. Using the knife, he slowly sliced it into the flesh on the side of the arrow. Aragorn let out a small grunt of pain, but Legolas ignored it as he continued. He did this to the other side near the arrow Aragorn had squeezed his eyes shut, his mouth clamping on a stick someone had mercifully given him. Sweat was trickling down his forehead. "Aragorn, listen to me." His friend opened his eyes slowly. "I'm going to remover the arrow now. It will be painful, I know, but after this you can rest, it will be over."

Legolas gripped the arrow and pulled with all his might. For a moment, it seemed that it would not come out. And then, it budged a little, for the arrow head had lodged itself in the bone, and now had come loose. Aragorn uttered a muffled scream of anguish and he thrashed out. Though he was injured the pain was so great he almost succeeded in overpowering all three men who held him down. Legolas pulled the arrow the rest of the way out, grimacing at the inch long barbs which had torn at the muscle and were now shiny with blood. It was an evil thing, this arrow.

Aragorn had finally lost consciousness, and was overcome with a painless sleep. Legolas, exhausted, stitched up the wound as well as he could, and bandaged it as tightly as he could. The man had lost so much blood, but now it looked like he would survive.

*~*

Author's Note:

Once again, I'm really sorry this took so long. Especially to all who reviewed. I've kinda lost interest in where this is going too, because honestly, all this fic is, is pain and injuries and torture. And while I don't mind that, I don't like writing solely about it. My point is, is that if there is anyone out there who would like to continue this fanfiction for me, I'd be agreed to give them pretty much complete liberties of doing so. Just email me, and I'll give you permission. I know this is probably not considered orthodox by all those who follow the fanfiction religion, but whatever. If not, I might write one or two more chapters, but I don't think it would ever come to an end. Which I know SUCKS because I HATE reading fics that just stop. So I'm sorry. But..I should probably stop rambling now.

Once again, if there is ANYONE out there who would like to take over the fic, email me, and I will give you permission and liberties to do whatever you want. If there is more than one person who wants to, the Valar knows why, I guess it would have to be a first-come-first-serve deal. Or there'd be more than one of these forsaken stories floating around the net.