"Jerick, you and Resido go and get the horses in the next cave ready for departure.  Harrasim, get our own horses ready.  Make sure that Boromir does not try to escape," Aragorn gave instructions to his men.

"Yes sire."

"Faramir?" he asked, but the Steward of Gondor did not turn to him.  He was staring after his brother, grief and wonder taking over.  "Come now, Faramir," Aragorn said softly, putting a comforting hand on the man's shoulder.  "Let us leave this place."

Faramir could only nod.  Aragorn lifted Legolas into his arms and led the way out of the cell, coming just behind Boromir's escort.  Back up the steps and into the main room they went.  Here, Aragorn had one of the men take as large a cooking pot as they could find and easily transport.  Back out through the narrow passage they went.  The horses looked ready enough to travel, stamping at the ground and neighing softly.

Night had come whilst they were inside, but the moon was bright and low on the horizon, it still being quite early, and many stars were out.  The men mounted, the other horses tied behind or alongside their own.  On one of these, a great brown stallion, Boromir was sitting, with all of the men around him, save Faramir and Gimli's horse and Aragorn with Legolas upon Arod.  These two horses ran separate, Aragorn before the group and Faramir behind as a safety precaution.

For quite a few hours, they raced back to Gondor.  By Aragorn's reckoning, if they traveled in a straight line for most of the way in a southeastern direction, they would be back in Gondor by the following night.  But that meant that they'd have to camp for the night, for the horses would not last that long without a break, nor would his men. 

Aragorn sighed and looked at the figure before him.  Legolas was leaning limply into him, his head resting against Aragorn's chest.  His dirty, tangled hair flapped slightly in the wind.  Aragorn used a free hand to wrap his cloak around the elf, to cut the chill of the wind.

Onward they rode, past the previous night's camp.  Straight as an arrow was their course and before the moon had reached it's height, they had passed the border and back into Gondor.  Here Aragorn felt his heart lifted a little, for he was back in his own country and Legolas' cell lay far behind.  But still he led his men on, until the midnight hour was nearly spent.  Then he sensed the horse's fatigue, and knew that his men had to be exhausted.  He halted them and gave the word that camp should be made.

"I want half of us on at all times to guard over Boromir.  Two hour shifts.  It will be an unpleasant night, but it should be the only one that we should need to experience.  Tomorrow night we should be back in the city," he said, dismounting Arod.  "Faramir, I will release you from your duties tonight under the circumstances surrounding it."

"Thank you."  He bowed and turned to tether his horse to a low tree branch.

This night's camp was in a wide glen in the midst of a thick strand of trees.  A brook ran through it, not far from the campsite.  Aragorn ordered one of his men to fill the pot they had taken from the dwarven stronghold and set it to boil over a separate fire.  The rest of the men busied themselves with preparing the food and getting their bedrolls unpacked, as well as building the main campfire.

Aragorn took Legolas down from Arod's back and set him down upon the bedroll that Gimli had spread out for him.  Gently, he covered his friend with the soft deer fur, for the elf felt cold to the touch as his body struggled with the poison that was rushing through his veins.  Aragorn took a little food and drink as he waited for the water to come to a boil.  Gimli sat with him, the both of them detached from the rest of the group and near to Legolas.  Together they sat in silence.

When the water finally boiled, he crushed some athelas leaves and let them steep in the water.  Old habits died hard with the former ranger and he was forever found with a little of the plant on him.  Now they let off a scent like a clean, warm summer breeze, and the hearts of all the men in the camp were lightened.  The water cooled some.  Aragorn uncovered his friend and washed the dried blood and dirt from his body.  Some of the wounds bled anew at the touch, especially those on his back, and these Aragorn tended to as best he could, binding some of the worst ones with what he could. 

Underneath the layer of blood and dirt, the elf's body was covered in ugly purple bruises.  Here and there, an older, hidden wound was to be found.  Aragorn cleansed and tended to these also, all the while, his heart growing heavier in dismay.  Now and again he threw a glance over his shoulder at where his men stood guard over Boromir, but he dared not leave Legolas to question him, nor did he want the man anywhere near the elf.  Gimli instead went over, though the man was silent and would not suffer to answer any questions.  Faramir was usually off to one side, alone with his own thoughts, and the men respected his need to be alone.  No one approached him.

Now Aragorn washed Legolas' face and hair, getting rid of the tangles and finding the occasional scratch near his hairline.  His task accomplished, he discarded the water from the bowl that he'd been dipping the rag into.  He reached into his bag and took out a wafer of lembas and his water skin.  Behind him, the shift was changing.

"Aragorn, you need to take some sleep.  I will watch over him," Gimli said, coming up alongside of the king.

Aragorn smiled.  "I will rest, but first I will make sure that all of his wounds are cared for."  He crumbled an end of the lembas and fed it to the still form before him.  He continued this until the wafer was gone.  Then he lifted the water skin to Legolas' lips and helped him to drink.  "There is a virtue to lembas," he said to Gimli, "and I hope that it will be enough to help him until we get back to Gondor."

"Aragorn," Gimli said haltingly, "what do you think…I mean Boromir…how?"

Aragorn shook his head as he continued to tend to Legolas.  "I don't know," he said, leaning back a little.  "Gandalf might know, but he is away north.  Boromir would not answer your questions?"

"No, not at all."

Aragorn nodded thoughtfully.  "Well, we mustn't concern ourselves wholly with him just yet.  There will be plently of time in Gondor for that.  There are other concerns that take precedence."

"Aye," replied the dwarf, looking at the battered and frail figure before them.  "But you must sleep first.  You've done all you can for him."

"You might be right, Gimli.  For the first time throughout our hunt, I feel the exhaustion that our journey has rendered.  My men…I have driven them quite hard I guess."  There was pity in his voice for the Gondorians. 

But Gimli shook his head.  "No Aragorn, you have done the only thing you could do.  And that has proven well for us.  At least now, there is a chance to save him.  Get some sleep.  I will watch over him for a while."

The king smiled.  "Alright Gimli, but wake me at the next shift change, for you need sleep as well, and I do want to keep an eye on him at all times."

To this the dwarf agreed and Aragorn cast himself upon the ground and slept.  It was a rather unkingly sight, for he was too large to borrow Gimli's bedroll, and he did not feel the need to borrow one from an on-duty guard.  Now he lay with his cloak under his head for a pillow and slept upon the dying grasses.