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 all, who have taken time out to read and review my story! As always your words of encouragement are greatly appreciated! :) This current chapter proved very frustrating to write, though I had a general idea of where I wanted to go with it. I hope you enjoy what follows! :)
Relesen-Chapter17*
The first light of the breaking dawn filtered in to slowly illuminate the darkened room about him, while the fragrance of familiar herbs used for healing steeped in a simmering pot upon a nearby table to perfume the surrounding air. But it was the pain that accompanied his initial meager attempt at movement that brought Aragorn back to complete awareness, and his sudden gasp in reaction to it that served to rouse the others in his attendance.
"Estel?" The familiar voice of his father called out in concern as both Elrond and Elrohir quickly rose from the chairs they had occupied to approach the cot that held the injured Human.
Aragorn slowly reopened pain-filled eyes once more to stare up at the two anxious faces now hovering above him. "Father, Elrohir?" He rasped, his previous inactive voice offering up protest with his first renewed attempt at speech.
Smiles replaced the former apprehension that marked both of the elves' countenances at Aragorn's acknowledgment only to be quickly followed once again by looks of worry as another flash of pain crossed the young man's pale features.
Settling down beside his son, Elrond reached forth a comforting hand, allowing his touch to linger upon Aragorn's still flushed cheek, while he asked. "Do you suffer much, my son?"
Permitting himself a moment to recover, Aragorn did his best to reply, though the strength of his voice was barely more than a whisper. "Only when I need to breathe, Father." He answered. His son's attempt at a wry grin to accompany his droll response failed to reach his lips, though the hint of a mischievous sparkle momentarily replaced the pain that clouded his still bright eyes.
Elrond's weak smile of acknowledgment to Aragorn's effort at frippery did not reach the serious gray eyes that stared back at the Man. His hand reluctantly moved away from his youngest son's face to now join his other, as they worked together to draw aside Aragorn's bandages in an effort to once again check upon his still healing wounds. Though heedful and precise with his actions, Elrond only further added to the discomfort his son now felt, and the Man alerted those present to this fact by his sharp intake of breath.
"I am sorry, Estel." His father responded contritely, while making some final adjustments to his son's bindings, his regret over causing his son any additional agony clearly evident upon his face.
The span of time that it took Aragorn to recover sufficiently enough to speak once more proved longer in length, as he waited for the acute pain that burned within his chest to subside. 'What had happened to cause him to end up in such a state?' The Man wondered behind eyes now closed in a self protective stance to ward off any further threat of pain, which might come about to burden him. His sluggish attempt to make sense of his present condition revealed to be as faulty as the mobility of his injury laden body, and it was not until his father spoke his name once more that he finally endeavored to open his eyes yet again.
"Estel?" Elrond queried anxiously.
"I am fine, Father."
The resoluteness of Aragorn's words and the false bravado, which he tried to assume, did little to fool the elf lord, though they acted toward drawing the first genuine smile from the Eldar as he gazed back unconvincedly at his ailing son before replying. "That answer has never proven to be effective in the past, Estel, and I cannot help but wonder why you choose to persist to use it?" Elrond retorted dryly, before continuing on. "You are not fine, my son. The truth be told, you are far from it, though you have begun to make some initial steps upon the path toward recovery." The elf lord finished.
Weakly, Aragorn turned questioning eyes toward his father, and though the Man hesitated to speak, Elrond could not help but guess the troubled thoughts that played upon his youngest son's mind as he went on to explain. "You were seriously injured, Estel." Elrond stated, while motioning his hands toward his son's bandage-laden torso. He refrained from making any further contact with his son's body lest he should cause Aragorn additional discomfort, yielding instead to indicate in the air just above him the full extent of the wounds he had suffered. "You received a nasty gash here from an orc scimitar running the length from your breast bone down to your fourth rib. By the time you were returned to Rivendell, the laceration had become inflamed and the rampant infection from it brought about a dangerous fever, the lingering effects of which you are still suffering from." Elrond went on by moving his left hand to a location just above Aragorn's right shoulder. "And here, my son, you were struck down by an arrow." The elf lord hesitated involuntarily, as if to regain some composure before continuing on with his disclosure. "The damage to your body from it was extreme. The shaft proved to be deeply embedded within your flesh. In fact, the tip of the arrow made contact with bone, hindering any efforts in the field to remove it and thus causing the shaft to break while still within your body making your condition all the more perilous. Upon your return, I was forced to surgically remove its remaining length and repair the harm done to you. The added stress from undergoing such a procedure did little toward aiding your already compromised state, and as a result you fell into an unnatural sleep, the effects of which you have just recently awoken from."
Aragorn didn't need to question his father any further as to the grievous nature of his injuries, for the seriousness of any words of explanation the elf lord may have left out were clearly evident from the graveness that marked his father's features as he concluded his detailed account.
"Well I guess that begins to explain then my being a little under the weather." Aragorn murmured lightly, striving to maintain an air of levity, though it did not hinder his comprehension nor his appreciation over all that his father had just imparted.
"Aye." His father answered succinctly, while unsuccessfully trying to quell his recurring amusement at Aragorn's ongoing attempt toward flippancy.
"How do you feeling now, Estel?" Elrohir, who had yet to speak, anxiously interrupted.
"As if a two-ton oliphaunt just decided to find a resting place upon my chest, Elrohir." His brother joked spurring the younger elf toward laughter until Aragorn's accompanying mirth proved detrimental to his health, and his prior joviality suddenly turned into series of short gasps for breath as relentless pain set in once more.
"Estel?" Elrohir interjected fearfully, while Elrond did not hesitate to provide succor to his ailing son.
"Try to relax, Estel!" His father instructed as he drew comforting hands forward to soothe his son's drawn face and brow, smoothing back tangled damp hair in the process. "Yes, that's it, my son." Elrond continued. " Focus on my voice and relax, Estel, while taking deep, even breaths until the pain subsides once more."
"I am trying, Father!" Aragorn stammered between now clenched teeth, as he was unable to keep his apparent frustration over his weakened condition from his voice. His continuing efforts to slow his breathing and hence put a stop to his pain only served to increase the pallor of his already unnaturally pale complexion. Inevitably exhaustion, attributed by his heightened exertions, began to take its toll upon him, and Aragorn sank back into the cushioned softness of the bed below him, the only comfort he found himself immediately afforded, save for the soothing touch of his father's healing hands.
The drain of fatigue promptly claimed the recovering Man, and Aragorn found what little strength he still possessed was rapidly leaving him. Peering up beneath heavily lidded eyes, a burgeoning vortex acted toward separating him from his fellow occupants within the room, though he was still able to note the looks of apprehension that had returned to mark his father's and older brother's features. He tried his best to console them. "I am better, Father, Elrohir. Really! The pain is once again manageable." He concluded, though his answering voice was little more than a whimper. His eyelids finally began to falter, as they surrendered to their struggle with impending languor.
"That is good, my son." His father seemed to mouth, though his actual words were lost to the ever widening eddy now growing between them. Aragorn thought he felt Elrond's reassuring touch once more as his mind set adrift, and he let go of the pain surrounding him. His final thoughts in the moments before he submitted to the inviting claim that darkness now offered were centered upon if he had been alone in this pursuit that had caused him such ill, and if not, had others suffered as well?
While one mind succumbed to the comfort of sleep, another, a short distance away, was startled awake by an abrupt return to consciousness.
"Estel!" Legolas shrieked as his body bolted upright upon the bed beneath him. His heart hammered a heavy rhythm against the confines of his chest when he received no answer forthwith to his beckoning call. "Estel!" The Silvan elf exclaimed once more as fright began to take hold of him.
Faceless hands reached out to comfort him, gently guiding his shoulders back down toward the billowy softness of the cushions now below, as a voice quietly soothed. "He is better, nin mellon. He grows stronger and stronger with each passing minute."
"Then he is here with us ?" Legolas returned with mounting frustration.
"No, my friend. He is not. He has not yet the strength to leave his bed where he is currently resting." The voice answered.
"Resting?" Legolas questioned in disbelief before he asserted. "But, he saved me . . . He saved me from falling?"
"No, my hands stopped you from falling, Legolas." Elladan replied, while becoming increasingly alarmed by the growing turbulence that marked his friend's confused features.
"No!" Legolas shouted back in consternation. "It was Estel! He was there! It was he! I spoke with him! I saw him!"
"Nay, Legolas! It was not Estel, but myself, though you confused me for my brother." Elladan assured his fellow brethren.
Wearily the fair-haired elf shook his head to negate his companion's claim as he muttered distressfully. "It was he . . . It was Estel! He was there! I saw him, and I told him all that took place in the wilderness! I told him the truth!"
Lines of worry etched Elladan's usually smooth brow as he witnessed Legolas' torment once more, and he tried to offer further solace. "No, my friend. Estel is too weak to leave his bed. It was I. I know now the truth, Legolas. It was me that you confessed it to, and I am sorry! Sorry for all that I put you through. Sorry for my words said in anger! You must believe me, my friend. For it was I, who was there upon the terrace last night, Legolas! Me, Elladan!"
"No, no!" Legolas countered, while he continued to shake his head in response to raven-haired elf's words before repeating one closing coherent thought. "Resting?"
"Yes, Estel rests, nin mellon." Elladan answered, grateful that his explanation finally seemed to break through the emotional wall surrounding the now distraught elf. "And you must rest also." Elladan finished as he repositioned his restless friend once again upon the bed beneath him. "Rest, my friend." Elladan repeated quietly, as he watched Legolas' previous agitation begin to dissipate, hoping that his friend would ultimately let go and allow the replenishing peace of sleep to reclaim him. But though the Silvan elf lay motionless once more before him, countless thoughts continued to drift through his overtaxed mind.
*Edited 7/24/03