A/N: Yes, finally the next chapter. Hope u like. Unfortunately, Brothers in
Heart won't come until tomorrow at least. Please review! And thank u to all
my reviewers! Ties of Friendship has been updated as well..
Chapter 9
They rode under cover of darkness, following Eomer without fear. Every last Orc had been slaughtered and burned. They would not encounter anymore of them this night. Each Hobbit had been give to a rider, as well as Gimli. The Dwarf had wanted to be with Legolas, and not some stranger who was not particularly congenial toward him. But he understood that the Elf's back was in no condition for him to ride behind. So off with one of the Rohirrim he went. Another one of the riders carried Boromir in front of him. Eomer had given Aragorn and Legolas each their own horse, which had lost their riders in the raid. Aragorn clutched to Hasufel's mane with his free hand, the other pressed to his wound in attempts to staunch the blood. He wore a grimace of pain that clearly worried Legolas. The Elf rode Arod with ease, with only an annoyingly uncomfortable throbbing in his back. He knew the real pain would come when it was tended to, but for now he put it out of his mind.
The fellowship was in the center of the pack of riders, the Rohirrim riding all around them with the purpose of shielding them from harm. The Elf and ranger marveled at the great host of banished Rohirrim, estimated to be about 300. Legolas rode beside Aragorn, and both stayed close to Eomer. The Hobbits, Boromir, and the Dwarf were behind. Aragorn worried for Boromir most of all, accompanied by Legolas, whose own pain was in the ranger's mind. Legolas looked past the riders who surrounded him to the seemingly endless plains that they rode across. The Gap of Rohan. So this was where Boromir had wanted to go all those ages ago when the fellowship were stuck on Caradhras. Definitely bettered Moria..
Suddenly, a bone-chilling shriek pierced the air, sending a collective groan through the band of men when it pained their ears. Legolas' head snapped up with eyes wide.
" Nazgul," Eomer cried out to his men. " Ride fast, Rohirrim. Do not break."
The beast of Mordor, bearing a wraith, loomed over head, with it's sweeping tail and great, jagged wings. The wraith had come for Frodo and the Ring. The little Hobbit could be seen in this darkness, in the mass of Rohirrim, but the wraith knew he was here somewhere. Frodo quivered in fear and gasped when he looked up to see it. His hood was drawn up, and he was small in the arms of the Rohirrim soldier who carried him. Yet he was terrified that he would be found. Legolas immediately drew his bow, knocked an arrow, and released it. He winced as the action sent a burning through his back and shoulders. The arrow hissed as it flew through the air and lodged itself into the hard flesh of the beast. Aragorn stared at him but said nothing. That was most likely not the best thing to do..The dragon-like creature swerved it's head and it's eyes glimmered at the Elf. Legolas had made himself known.
Another screech rang through the air, and Legolas swerved to his right, breaking through the wall of Rohirrim and riding alongside them with a distance between them. He was on his own now, staying mounted upon Arod only by the fact that his legs squeezed around it to keep him from falling off. His arms were then free to fire at the beast.
" Legolas," Aragorn screamed.
" Are you mad? " Gimli yelled right after.
Legolas only peered back at them for a moment, before turning his attention back to the Nazgul. The earth rumbled beneath them all with the stampeding of the horses' hooves. Legolas' golden hair whipped up behind him in the wind of his speed, along with his cloak and Arod's tail. Eomer looked to the Elf in disbelief, yet continued to lead his men onward. The beast still flew above them, yet it's attentions had been diverted from the Rohirrim to Legolas. Again, the archer released on of his Lothlorien arrows to wound the foul beast of Mordor. It cried out again in irritation, yet was too persistent to retreat. Much to Legolas' dismay, it descended upon him, literally only a few feet above his head. Not far enough for him to shoot at. Damn.
Aragorn's eyes widened along with Gimli's as they witnessed the Nazgul hover above their friend. They held their breath, waiting for what would happen next. Clearly, Legolas was now trying to flee from it, but to no avail. And what happened next was both unexpected and ghastly. The wraith furtively drew a knife from it's cloak, raised it above it's hooded head, and threw at the Elf as Aragorn screamed his name. Somehow, it ended up lodging itself in Legolas' lower back instead of in the middle of the mess of whip wounds. Nonetheless, the Elf arched back with a cry of pain. However, he quickly reached behind himself and pulled the damned blade from his own flesh with his fair face contorted in pain. He felt the poison of Mordor burn in his flesh and begin to spread. Yet Legolas knew it was not the same poison as the wraith swords were coated with, thank the Valar. By luck, it had missed his spine by a few inches.
" Rohirrim," Eomer cried out finally. The host of riders needed nothing more. They all simultaneously drew their own bows, aimed in unison at the Nazgul, and fired after a moment. A volley of arrows arched up through the air and buried into the flesh of the beast, sending a great cry out into the night before the beast retreated. Legolas looked to Aragorn and Gimli with a grimace, before seeing with relief that Edoras was in view beneath the starry sky.
The horses quickened despite the fact that Legolas had doubted they could go any faster than they had been. Yet he supposed the site and smell of their home gave them a motivation that enabled them to do so. Their powerful muscles contracted visibly beneath their coats that shone in the moonlight, and the Elf marveled at the beauty of creation and the of the horses themselves. Arod, his own mount, traveled just as fast. The stallion had a new found inner freedom and joy that had been brought to him in having an Elven rider. This horse would not answer to or bear anyone else, unless Legolas asked him to do so.
And truly, it was a magnificent and exhilarating sight. Legolas, wounded though he was, ignored the immense pain and poison and bleeding. Nay, instead he breathed in the speed and the wind and the joy of Arod at returning to Edoras. He lifted his arms up, trusting his legs to keep him mounted with their tight hold, and outstretched them with his fingertips turned up toward the sky. His head tipped back, as his hair of silver-gold fluttered behind him. His eyes closed in the elation he always felt when he connected with nature and lived in the moment. Arod whinnied excitedly as he sensed his rider's own felicity. The white horse glimmered in the moonlight, racing across the open plains with nothing to stop it. The grass rolled beneath it's hooves that barely touched the ground in it's dance. It's mane and tail rippled in the wind like white banners of victory. Aragorn smiled and almost laughed to see it all. Gimli marveled both at the site and the complete lunacy of Elves. It brought the Hobbits comfort. Ah, if only Boromir could see it. Eomer shook his head as he watched, having never truly encountered an Elf before. Strange and splendid beings, they were.
Yet the grin disappeared from Aragorn's face when he noticed the stain of red on Arod's flanks. And it was not the horses' blood. Damn. The ranger was reminded of his own wound, still bleeding freely. He was weary now and cold. The wound throbbed annoyingly beneath his fingers. He was only glad they had finally reached Edoras. Aragorn peered over his shoulder at Boromir, who was still very much unconscious in one of the Rohirrim's arms. Eru, he must be on the very brink of death. Edoras had better have some damn good healers.
Eomer burst through the gates of Edoras at the head of his Rohirrim host without warning. It was the dead of night, and surely all the people wondered at the noise as they were woken from sleep. Though the guards had orders not to allow Eomer or the banished pass into the city, no one could stop Eomer. The fellowship was not noticed in the midst of all the riders. Up the steep hills of Edoras, they went and did not stop until they had reached the king's home. Eomer dismounted and took only a few of his men to help with the Fellowship. The rest waited for him outside.
When Eomer thundered into the Golden Hall, a cunning and distasteful looking man attempted to stop him. Yet the great horse lord was no match for the creature.
" Don't dispute me in my own home, Grima," he roared as he swept past toward the healing ward. His men followed with the little Hobbits gathered up around them. Gimli plodded quickly alongside them. Two men helped with Boromir, who were just behind Eomer. Aragorn and Legolas were intertwined using each other for support. The one that Eomer had called Grima did not try to stop them again, rather cowered against the wall. It was clear that Eomer had some serious business to take care of and only a fool would get in his way.
They were led through dark hallways, trusting that Eomer would not lead them astray despite their lack of light. They made haste, and it almost made Legolas wonder why the horse lord was doing all of this for strangers. When finally they did come to the healing ward, it was empty for but a few healers. Eomer instructed them to make ready for their new patients, for his men to lay Boromir on one of the beds and for Aragorn and Legolas to sit. No one argued with him. The Hobbits and Dwarf lingered with their own Rohirrim caretakers and watched to see what would become of their wounded friends.
At that moment, the door opened and closed again quietly. None of them noticed until the visitor had neared them enough to draw their attention. A woman with ripples of long, golden hair and a face as a fair, pale, and cold as winter stood near with questioning eyes. Her blue eyes were full of surprise, settling on Eomer, and joy glimmered in them. A gown of deep burgundy, the color of Mirkwood wine in Legolas' opinion, hung on her slim frame airily.
" Eomer," she said with joy in her voice. Was this perhaps the horse lord's bride?
He looked up at her from where he stood at Boromir's bedside, the healers scurrying about behind him. He did not smile back at her, and his dark eyes were stern.
" Eowyn," he called her. " Take the Hobbits," he began, indicating the small creatures that Eowyn had never before seen. " Find them a room and get them something warm to eat. And the Dwarf too."
" What's happened? " she questioned. " How could you have returned and who are they all? "
" I only returned because it was necessary I provide them with proper care. Three of them do not bode well. They were Orc captives."
" You caught the band? " she persisted eagerly, taking another step toward him.
" Aye," he confirmed with a nod, and she nearly wept. " Slaughtered and burned," he clarified with satisfaction.
" And they were captives? " she echoed in disbelief as her eyes moved to each of the fellowship."
Eomer nodded again. " For three days. "
Eowyn's eyes widened. " Tis a marvel they yet live," she exclaimed. " And are whole, " she added in a murmur.
" Go, sister. Tend to the Hobbits and Dwarf," Eomer urged. Eowyn nodded and gathered the Hobbits about her like a mother hen, with the Gimli following out of the ward, giving a last look to Aragorn and Legolas. The fellowship had been surprised to hear that Eowyn was Eomer's sister.
" This is own needs to be moved to a private room," said the head healer as he bent over Boromir and looked into the dying man's face. Eomer nodded before Aragorn and Legolas could protest. They both hated the idea of not being with Boromir as the man was tended to, for then they could not know how he fared. Yet they watched without a word as the head healer took Boromir away with the help of 2 of his assistants to carry the cot. Boromir disappeared into one of the back rooms, Aragorn and Legolas both hearing him murmur the name //Faramir// in his fevered sleep.
" Now, " began one of the other healers as he turned to the Elf and ranger. " Master Elf, I'll need you to move to the next bed, please." Legolas nodded and got to his feet with a wince. The next moment, he was seated on the bed next to Aragorn's.
" You look like your in bad shape, Sir," the healer said to Aragorn. " Where have you been wounded? "
" My left side with an Uruk knife," the ranger said, arm still drawn across his abdomen with his hand pressed mildly at the wound.
" Lie down one your back," the healer instructed, and Aragorn obeyed, very much relieved in his exhaustion to be lying down much to his surprise. He did not look down or at the healer, but straight up instead. Legolas stared at his beloved brother as the healer ripped open Aragorn's tunic, cleansed the wound with a damp cloth, and began to stitch it closed. The Elf also noticed each time the man grimaced in pain and stifled a groan.
" 'Twas a deep wound," the healer muttered as he finished. " You've lost allot of blood." He wrapped Aragorn's abdomen in bandages carefully afterwards.
" I'll be fine," Aragorn insisted. " Now see to Legolas."
They Elf's eyes remained upon Aragorn as he lay down on his belly. He had the impulse to reach out for the human, yet he resisted and settled for the connection between their eyes. The two held each other's gaze as the healer cleansed Legolas' back wounds, sending expressions of pain through his fair face. The healer had shook his head and frowned at the sight of the Elf's back. Legolas sucked in a breath, pressed his eyes shut, and clutched at the corners of the bed when the healer began to tend to the stab wound. The pain only grew with a stinging and burning as the healer administered herbs for the deadly poison. Aragorn was visibly sympathetic and concerned as he watched his best friend suffer to be tended to. There were blood everywhere, staining the healer's hands as he stitched up the wound. Beads of sweat clung to the Elf's brow, and he breathed in heavy, shallow, pants. Finally, he released a breath when the last stitch was made. The healer wrapped his midsection tightly and pulled the blanket up over the Elf's shivering form. Both Legolas and Aragorn's eyes shone at each other as they listened to the healer's fading footsteps. They had finally been left alone.
A moment went past before Aragorn pulled himself out of bed, despite the fact that it was the last thing he should have done in his condition. Legolas almost protested, yet held his peace. He knew verbal pestering would get him nowhere with that man, and he was in no condition to get up to make him. He nibbled on his lip as Aragorn slowly bent over and looked on in wonder as Aragorn used what little strength was left to him to push his bed over until there was not a breath of space in between his and the Elf's. The ranger gasped as he eased himself back into bed, settling quietly after a moment. He turned to look at Legolas, whose eyes were bright as they looked softly upon his brother. Legolas moved close, his arm reaching up across Aragorn's chest to rest on the ranger's broad shoulder. Aragorn, in turn, lay his own arm over his abdomen for his hand to cup the Elf's waist gently. The Elf lay his weary head upon his brother's shoulder and let himself fall asleep, followed into slumber's sweet cradle by Aragorn himself.
Chapter 9
They rode under cover of darkness, following Eomer without fear. Every last Orc had been slaughtered and burned. They would not encounter anymore of them this night. Each Hobbit had been give to a rider, as well as Gimli. The Dwarf had wanted to be with Legolas, and not some stranger who was not particularly congenial toward him. But he understood that the Elf's back was in no condition for him to ride behind. So off with one of the Rohirrim he went. Another one of the riders carried Boromir in front of him. Eomer had given Aragorn and Legolas each their own horse, which had lost their riders in the raid. Aragorn clutched to Hasufel's mane with his free hand, the other pressed to his wound in attempts to staunch the blood. He wore a grimace of pain that clearly worried Legolas. The Elf rode Arod with ease, with only an annoyingly uncomfortable throbbing in his back. He knew the real pain would come when it was tended to, but for now he put it out of his mind.
The fellowship was in the center of the pack of riders, the Rohirrim riding all around them with the purpose of shielding them from harm. The Elf and ranger marveled at the great host of banished Rohirrim, estimated to be about 300. Legolas rode beside Aragorn, and both stayed close to Eomer. The Hobbits, Boromir, and the Dwarf were behind. Aragorn worried for Boromir most of all, accompanied by Legolas, whose own pain was in the ranger's mind. Legolas looked past the riders who surrounded him to the seemingly endless plains that they rode across. The Gap of Rohan. So this was where Boromir had wanted to go all those ages ago when the fellowship were stuck on Caradhras. Definitely bettered Moria..
Suddenly, a bone-chilling shriek pierced the air, sending a collective groan through the band of men when it pained their ears. Legolas' head snapped up with eyes wide.
" Nazgul," Eomer cried out to his men. " Ride fast, Rohirrim. Do not break."
The beast of Mordor, bearing a wraith, loomed over head, with it's sweeping tail and great, jagged wings. The wraith had come for Frodo and the Ring. The little Hobbit could be seen in this darkness, in the mass of Rohirrim, but the wraith knew he was here somewhere. Frodo quivered in fear and gasped when he looked up to see it. His hood was drawn up, and he was small in the arms of the Rohirrim soldier who carried him. Yet he was terrified that he would be found. Legolas immediately drew his bow, knocked an arrow, and released it. He winced as the action sent a burning through his back and shoulders. The arrow hissed as it flew through the air and lodged itself into the hard flesh of the beast. Aragorn stared at him but said nothing. That was most likely not the best thing to do..The dragon-like creature swerved it's head and it's eyes glimmered at the Elf. Legolas had made himself known.
Another screech rang through the air, and Legolas swerved to his right, breaking through the wall of Rohirrim and riding alongside them with a distance between them. He was on his own now, staying mounted upon Arod only by the fact that his legs squeezed around it to keep him from falling off. His arms were then free to fire at the beast.
" Legolas," Aragorn screamed.
" Are you mad? " Gimli yelled right after.
Legolas only peered back at them for a moment, before turning his attention back to the Nazgul. The earth rumbled beneath them all with the stampeding of the horses' hooves. Legolas' golden hair whipped up behind him in the wind of his speed, along with his cloak and Arod's tail. Eomer looked to the Elf in disbelief, yet continued to lead his men onward. The beast still flew above them, yet it's attentions had been diverted from the Rohirrim to Legolas. Again, the archer released on of his Lothlorien arrows to wound the foul beast of Mordor. It cried out again in irritation, yet was too persistent to retreat. Much to Legolas' dismay, it descended upon him, literally only a few feet above his head. Not far enough for him to shoot at. Damn.
Aragorn's eyes widened along with Gimli's as they witnessed the Nazgul hover above their friend. They held their breath, waiting for what would happen next. Clearly, Legolas was now trying to flee from it, but to no avail. And what happened next was both unexpected and ghastly. The wraith furtively drew a knife from it's cloak, raised it above it's hooded head, and threw at the Elf as Aragorn screamed his name. Somehow, it ended up lodging itself in Legolas' lower back instead of in the middle of the mess of whip wounds. Nonetheless, the Elf arched back with a cry of pain. However, he quickly reached behind himself and pulled the damned blade from his own flesh with his fair face contorted in pain. He felt the poison of Mordor burn in his flesh and begin to spread. Yet Legolas knew it was not the same poison as the wraith swords were coated with, thank the Valar. By luck, it had missed his spine by a few inches.
" Rohirrim," Eomer cried out finally. The host of riders needed nothing more. They all simultaneously drew their own bows, aimed in unison at the Nazgul, and fired after a moment. A volley of arrows arched up through the air and buried into the flesh of the beast, sending a great cry out into the night before the beast retreated. Legolas looked to Aragorn and Gimli with a grimace, before seeing with relief that Edoras was in view beneath the starry sky.
The horses quickened despite the fact that Legolas had doubted they could go any faster than they had been. Yet he supposed the site and smell of their home gave them a motivation that enabled them to do so. Their powerful muscles contracted visibly beneath their coats that shone in the moonlight, and the Elf marveled at the beauty of creation and the of the horses themselves. Arod, his own mount, traveled just as fast. The stallion had a new found inner freedom and joy that had been brought to him in having an Elven rider. This horse would not answer to or bear anyone else, unless Legolas asked him to do so.
And truly, it was a magnificent and exhilarating sight. Legolas, wounded though he was, ignored the immense pain and poison and bleeding. Nay, instead he breathed in the speed and the wind and the joy of Arod at returning to Edoras. He lifted his arms up, trusting his legs to keep him mounted with their tight hold, and outstretched them with his fingertips turned up toward the sky. His head tipped back, as his hair of silver-gold fluttered behind him. His eyes closed in the elation he always felt when he connected with nature and lived in the moment. Arod whinnied excitedly as he sensed his rider's own felicity. The white horse glimmered in the moonlight, racing across the open plains with nothing to stop it. The grass rolled beneath it's hooves that barely touched the ground in it's dance. It's mane and tail rippled in the wind like white banners of victory. Aragorn smiled and almost laughed to see it all. Gimli marveled both at the site and the complete lunacy of Elves. It brought the Hobbits comfort. Ah, if only Boromir could see it. Eomer shook his head as he watched, having never truly encountered an Elf before. Strange and splendid beings, they were.
Yet the grin disappeared from Aragorn's face when he noticed the stain of red on Arod's flanks. And it was not the horses' blood. Damn. The ranger was reminded of his own wound, still bleeding freely. He was weary now and cold. The wound throbbed annoyingly beneath his fingers. He was only glad they had finally reached Edoras. Aragorn peered over his shoulder at Boromir, who was still very much unconscious in one of the Rohirrim's arms. Eru, he must be on the very brink of death. Edoras had better have some damn good healers.
Eomer burst through the gates of Edoras at the head of his Rohirrim host without warning. It was the dead of night, and surely all the people wondered at the noise as they were woken from sleep. Though the guards had orders not to allow Eomer or the banished pass into the city, no one could stop Eomer. The fellowship was not noticed in the midst of all the riders. Up the steep hills of Edoras, they went and did not stop until they had reached the king's home. Eomer dismounted and took only a few of his men to help with the Fellowship. The rest waited for him outside.
When Eomer thundered into the Golden Hall, a cunning and distasteful looking man attempted to stop him. Yet the great horse lord was no match for the creature.
" Don't dispute me in my own home, Grima," he roared as he swept past toward the healing ward. His men followed with the little Hobbits gathered up around them. Gimli plodded quickly alongside them. Two men helped with Boromir, who were just behind Eomer. Aragorn and Legolas were intertwined using each other for support. The one that Eomer had called Grima did not try to stop them again, rather cowered against the wall. It was clear that Eomer had some serious business to take care of and only a fool would get in his way.
They were led through dark hallways, trusting that Eomer would not lead them astray despite their lack of light. They made haste, and it almost made Legolas wonder why the horse lord was doing all of this for strangers. When finally they did come to the healing ward, it was empty for but a few healers. Eomer instructed them to make ready for their new patients, for his men to lay Boromir on one of the beds and for Aragorn and Legolas to sit. No one argued with him. The Hobbits and Dwarf lingered with their own Rohirrim caretakers and watched to see what would become of their wounded friends.
At that moment, the door opened and closed again quietly. None of them noticed until the visitor had neared them enough to draw their attention. A woman with ripples of long, golden hair and a face as a fair, pale, and cold as winter stood near with questioning eyes. Her blue eyes were full of surprise, settling on Eomer, and joy glimmered in them. A gown of deep burgundy, the color of Mirkwood wine in Legolas' opinion, hung on her slim frame airily.
" Eomer," she said with joy in her voice. Was this perhaps the horse lord's bride?
He looked up at her from where he stood at Boromir's bedside, the healers scurrying about behind him. He did not smile back at her, and his dark eyes were stern.
" Eowyn," he called her. " Take the Hobbits," he began, indicating the small creatures that Eowyn had never before seen. " Find them a room and get them something warm to eat. And the Dwarf too."
" What's happened? " she questioned. " How could you have returned and who are they all? "
" I only returned because it was necessary I provide them with proper care. Three of them do not bode well. They were Orc captives."
" You caught the band? " she persisted eagerly, taking another step toward him.
" Aye," he confirmed with a nod, and she nearly wept. " Slaughtered and burned," he clarified with satisfaction.
" And they were captives? " she echoed in disbelief as her eyes moved to each of the fellowship."
Eomer nodded again. " For three days. "
Eowyn's eyes widened. " Tis a marvel they yet live," she exclaimed. " And are whole, " she added in a murmur.
" Go, sister. Tend to the Hobbits and Dwarf," Eomer urged. Eowyn nodded and gathered the Hobbits about her like a mother hen, with the Gimli following out of the ward, giving a last look to Aragorn and Legolas. The fellowship had been surprised to hear that Eowyn was Eomer's sister.
" This is own needs to be moved to a private room," said the head healer as he bent over Boromir and looked into the dying man's face. Eomer nodded before Aragorn and Legolas could protest. They both hated the idea of not being with Boromir as the man was tended to, for then they could not know how he fared. Yet they watched without a word as the head healer took Boromir away with the help of 2 of his assistants to carry the cot. Boromir disappeared into one of the back rooms, Aragorn and Legolas both hearing him murmur the name //Faramir// in his fevered sleep.
" Now, " began one of the other healers as he turned to the Elf and ranger. " Master Elf, I'll need you to move to the next bed, please." Legolas nodded and got to his feet with a wince. The next moment, he was seated on the bed next to Aragorn's.
" You look like your in bad shape, Sir," the healer said to Aragorn. " Where have you been wounded? "
" My left side with an Uruk knife," the ranger said, arm still drawn across his abdomen with his hand pressed mildly at the wound.
" Lie down one your back," the healer instructed, and Aragorn obeyed, very much relieved in his exhaustion to be lying down much to his surprise. He did not look down or at the healer, but straight up instead. Legolas stared at his beloved brother as the healer ripped open Aragorn's tunic, cleansed the wound with a damp cloth, and began to stitch it closed. The Elf also noticed each time the man grimaced in pain and stifled a groan.
" 'Twas a deep wound," the healer muttered as he finished. " You've lost allot of blood." He wrapped Aragorn's abdomen in bandages carefully afterwards.
" I'll be fine," Aragorn insisted. " Now see to Legolas."
They Elf's eyes remained upon Aragorn as he lay down on his belly. He had the impulse to reach out for the human, yet he resisted and settled for the connection between their eyes. The two held each other's gaze as the healer cleansed Legolas' back wounds, sending expressions of pain through his fair face. The healer had shook his head and frowned at the sight of the Elf's back. Legolas sucked in a breath, pressed his eyes shut, and clutched at the corners of the bed when the healer began to tend to the stab wound. The pain only grew with a stinging and burning as the healer administered herbs for the deadly poison. Aragorn was visibly sympathetic and concerned as he watched his best friend suffer to be tended to. There were blood everywhere, staining the healer's hands as he stitched up the wound. Beads of sweat clung to the Elf's brow, and he breathed in heavy, shallow, pants. Finally, he released a breath when the last stitch was made. The healer wrapped his midsection tightly and pulled the blanket up over the Elf's shivering form. Both Legolas and Aragorn's eyes shone at each other as they listened to the healer's fading footsteps. They had finally been left alone.
A moment went past before Aragorn pulled himself out of bed, despite the fact that it was the last thing he should have done in his condition. Legolas almost protested, yet held his peace. He knew verbal pestering would get him nowhere with that man, and he was in no condition to get up to make him. He nibbled on his lip as Aragorn slowly bent over and looked on in wonder as Aragorn used what little strength was left to him to push his bed over until there was not a breath of space in between his and the Elf's. The ranger gasped as he eased himself back into bed, settling quietly after a moment. He turned to look at Legolas, whose eyes were bright as they looked softly upon his brother. Legolas moved close, his arm reaching up across Aragorn's chest to rest on the ranger's broad shoulder. Aragorn, in turn, lay his own arm over his abdomen for his hand to cup the Elf's waist gently. The Elf lay his weary head upon his brother's shoulder and let himself fall asleep, followed into slumber's sweet cradle by Aragorn himself.
