Disclaimer: This story was written for enjoyment only. I do not own any of Tolkien's characters.
Author's note: Thank you once again to my reviewers! Your kind words really make my day! :) I had a lot of difficulty with this next chapter, frequently stopping to question my intentions. I had intended it to be longer than it turned out to be, but when I reached its conclusion, I felt it best to end there. I hope you enjoy it. :)
The darkened hours of the night passed slowly for the elf as he kept a quiet vigil over his injured friend, but Legolas did not misuse the time that had been given to him. During these hours he began to devise the plan he would adopt to bring Aragorn back to Rivendell. He loathed wasting such precious hours with inaction, but taking route now during the covert shadows of the night was not advisable especially if orcs were still lurking in their vicinity. With a wounded man in his company, it would be best to travel by the light of day when such fell creatures would weaken and seek dark refuge against the radiant beams of the sun.
Traveling on foot, Legolas and Aragorn had set out from Rivendell three days prior. The Sylvan elf had intended on returning to his homeland in Mirkwood, while Aragorn's plan had to been to accompany his friend thus far before turning south to do some scouting of his own come morning. This night was to be their last together as traveling companions, and though they had spent many hours throughout the previous weeks at Imaldris in each other's company, they had made camp early to share still unspoken stories that had transpired since their last long visit. Laughter and teasing followed while they argued over who should do the cooking or better yet, who would be least likely to burn the meal. Perchance it was the merriment of the moment that had foreboded the devastating events that would soon follow, for in their pursuit of enjoyment, they had allowed their normally astute guard to lapse. Hindsight always proved keener than foresight now that one had many long hours to dwell upon the situation, but no amount of regret would change what had taken place, nor Aragorn's grave condition as a result.
Legolas shook his head in lament as he stared back at his friend. A whole slew of what if's would not affect the outcome that had prevailed, but the heaviness of doubt and misgivings still lingered upon him. With each passing hour that ticked by, Aragorn grew weaker Legolas surmised grimly as his friend's condition deteriorated before his eyes. The Man's coloring was waning while his intake of breath became shallower and more labored, but what haunted Legolas the most was the Dunadan's continued lack of consciousness. What if it he were to pass from this life not knowing of the elf's remorse over what had taken place?
'Stop it! Stop it!' The inner voice inside his head clamored. 'He will not die! You will not allow it! You will get him back to Rivendell, and Lord Elrond will see to his wounds...' "He will recover!" The elf bit out, not realizing that he had spoken these last few words aloud until the roughened timbre of his voice reached his ears.
Trying to dispel the futile thoughts that flooded his mind, Legolas resolved to turn them toward something more productive as he began to assess what supplies he would need to gather before starting off, then set about placing them within his pack. The tenuous cord that held his patience in check thus far had worn brittle until it finally snapped, and the elf could condone his measure of immobility no longer, not with Aragorn fading before him. Taking what few necessities he could manage along with his bow and quiver, he gathered Aragorn gently into his arms, lifting him upward, then started off on the path toward Rivendell in the early hours that preceded dawn. As he rambled onward, he grasped that he would not be able to bear the brunt of Aragorn's full weight without aid during their long course homeward, admitting to himself that doing such would greatly diminish the likelihood of his returning the Man to his father's home alive. The speed of their undertaking was of the essence, causing the elf to regret his need to meander in such a roundabout way, but first he must deal with the present danger that surrounded them before he could go further onward. Upon finding the comfort of relative safety in which to harbor his friend, he would allow himself the opportunity to seek out the materials he required to build a litter. He would then transport the ranger for the remainder of their journey through both by day and night, while easing the toll such travel would take upon his companion's worn body.
They had covered considerable ground before the sun began to break in the eastern skies, lending a small fraction of light to the surrounding thicket, but it provided little warmth to comfort the Man cradled within his arms as Aragorn's body shook with both cold and pain. Moving further onward into the shadowed hinterland, Legolas' keen eyes appraised the landscape around him looking for a safe haven before finally spying a copse of trees and shrubs that would lend a secure location to make temporary camp. The elf wished he had time to build a talan within the higher branches of the timberland, so he could veil his friend's presence from the scrutiny of any encroaching foe, but such an effort would prove too timely and in this case too dangerous in Aragorn's present state, so Legolas chose to lower his friend toward the ground. Without delay he began utilizing the region's indigenous fauna to conceal the ranger's vulnerable form from the sight of any unforseen interloper, who might chance to stray too close to their encampment. While doing thus, the Sylvan elf attempted to make his friend's resting place as comfortable as the landscape around them permitted, scraping together a bed of dry foliage while ignoring the stress their circumstance had placed upon his own fatigued body.
Lines of worry etched into the flesh around the immortal being's eyes and creased his usually smooth brow as he looked down upon the nearly disguised form of his friend. There had been no improvement in the ranger's condition since their departure only a steady decline during their journey afoot as the constant barrage of jarring and jostling from the rough terrain they crossed over these last few miles had proven costly to the ranger's fragile state. The grip of fever that had taken hold upon Aragorn in the hours preceding grew stronger in its intensity and the young Human's struggle to draw breath increased with it. Shakily the elf drew a hand forward to caress the sole facet of the Man's body still left to be camouflaged, and he cupped his friend's face within his palm as he issued a few quick words of comfort, "Rest nin mellon. I won't be long. The trip ahead of us is a lengthy one, and I must do something before we continue on."
Legolas hesitated briefly as he watched his friend's struggle, hoping that the ranger would somehow respond to his spoken words, but this heightened desire was once again to be thwarted as the Human remained oblivious to all that surrounded him. The elf strived to hold onto some semblance of the composure he had gathered over the long, weary miles he had covered with the Man, and he acknowledged to himself that overwrought emotion would only serve to menace them both. As he kept his focus toward the practical, he reached down to his side to withdraw the water skin he carried. Bringing it forth, he opened it and poured a small amount of its liquid into his palm and used it to bathe Aragorn's fever flushed face. Easing his other hand beneath his friend's head and neck, he lifted the Man toward him, away from the gathered bed of tender brush he had assembled, and attempted to part Aragorn's parched lips to drain what little moisture he had left within his cupped hand between them. A small amount of the liquid trickled through causing the ranger to choke and sputter with his body's natural reflex to swallow. This served to increase the tension that grew within the elf beside him, provoking it to gnaw all the more at him. Legolas did not allow this emotion to show through, and he continued to soothe the man with murmured words of comfort as he repeated the same ministration again and again in an attempt to replace the fluids that Aragorn was losing from both fever and blood loss. The elf's efforts, however, seemed in vain as the ranger managed to consume only a small amount of the replenishing fluid that he had bestowed upon him, and the frustration the immortal being felt mounted as he lowered the Man back toward the ground.
Each new torment proved more taxing for Legolas, both in body and spirit, and with increased difficulty he tried to refocus his thoughts toward the positive while the flames of regret burned vigorously within his breast. Yet pushing such weakness aside, he made to carry on and regained his footing before moving off to his right to draw closer to an adjacent clump of bracken. Crouching down toward the earth, he withdrew his dagger, using the weapon to crop off some of the lush fronds of vegetation that grew there. He continued his cutting until he had gathered a small bundle within his arms then headed back toward his friend. Using the swathes he had gathered, he furthered his concealment of Aragorn's existence beneath the blanket of greenery he had started, faltering only momentarily when he reached the last of the ranger's face before covering it as well, unable to quell the uneasiness that rose within him over of having to leave his prone friend again. He acknowledged to do so was necessary, but this did little to ease the restlessness that washed over him as his eyes swept the landscape. He would need a few strong limbs and many supple vines along with what little twine he carried in the pack upon his back to build the device necessary to carry Aragorn homeward. Hesitating briefly, he looked back toward the leafy blanket that now encompassed the ranger to assure himself of Aragorn's present security and spoke out lightly in reassurance before he departed. "Rest easy, Estel. I will not tarry long, for we make for Rivendell shortly, my friend. You will get better, nin mellon, for we still have many adventures left to share." Then delaying no further, the elf hastened off in search of the materials he needed to acquire.
It was during Legolas' brief recess that Aragorn inexorably began to regain awareness of the world surrounding him. It came back to the Man slowly in a swirl of pain and confusion only to be further hampered by the shroud of safety, his friend had covered him with. The man's head moved weakly from side to side, gently stirring the verdure above him, as his eyes began to flutter open taking some time to adjust then focus due to rampant illness of his body and the dimness of the cloud of flora entombing him. His bewilderment was quickly replaced with fear as his heart rate accelerated alarmingly while he attempted to move. He found his efforts stilted as excruciating pain swept through him, and he cried out in distress in response to it, but what emerged from his throat was little more than a weak gasp.
He managed to push his legs feebly against the ground beneath him, but when he tried the same with his upper torso, his body betrayed him as new agony washed over him afresh, cutting at his breath. Stilling these motions, his fevered brain tried to make sense of his situation. Focusing first on his body, he was unable to ignore the pain that radiated throughout him. Just breathing was a strain as a heavy weight seemed to bear down upon his chest, and he gulped desperately trying to draw more breath into his starving lungs. As his struggle increased, he desperately tried to clear away what he perceived as suffocating, the fauna above him, but found his left arm was barred from movement, and he surrendered the futile effort to that of his right making little leeway with the leafy covering. His mind tried to make sense of what is was that was assailing him as his body quickly began to weaken from the exertions he placed upon it. What little cognizance he still retained began to flee, and his last alert thought was that he must have fallen into some hole or trap as he listlessly tried to maintain his battle to free himself from its confine. His feeble efforts did little more than rustle the leaves surrounding him as what meager strength the man still possessed failed him completely, and he slid back toward unconsciousness. His recent activity, however, proved critical drawing attention as a twig snapped underfoot while the presence of another drew closer.
No more than a few furlongs away, Legolas was securing yet another limb for his use, when the sensation of alarm swept through his body, causing the hairs on the back of his neck to stand upright. His heart began hammering within his chest while his breathing sped up as anxiety flooded his body. His caution, now heightened, alerted him to an unwelcome presence, and without hesitation he raced back toward his friend as his arms and hands instinctively readied for combat, reaching toward bow and quiver.