Hello there!
Here´s chapter 2 - hope you all enjoy.
Thanks to my beta Morwen for her support.
Please review, I appreciate any comment or hint you may have - thanks!!
Review response:
Nefcairiel: Thank you so much!! I´m glad you like the story - more is to come regularly, please keep up your comments!
Rating: PG 13
Disclaimer: sigh Still not mine...
Hidden Truths
Chapter 2
Aragorn all but fell forward, carried on both by his despair and his frantic tries to somehow balance Legolas´ delirious thrashing in his arms.
Just as he felt both his grip on his friend and he balance fail, a sudden light encircled him, blinding him even through his tightly shut eyelids. His head felt light, as if severed from his body, and he never felt himself hit the ground.
A light breeze touched Aragorn´s face, and he grimaced, expecting it to be sickly wet. But it wasn´t. As he drew a tentative breath, he realized that the air was cool and fresh. Water jumped over rocks nearby and created a strangely merry sound. His ranger´s senses suddenly kicked in, telling him that is was night in a forest. Afraid to open his eyes, Aragorn relished in the thought. He allowed his other senses to picture the scene around him.
He lay on long, slightly wet grass. Trees softly moved their branches, rustling their leaves as if in silent greeting. The slight noises of night animals could be heard in the underbrush.
Encouraged, Aragorn slowly opened his eyes. A brilliant night sky greeted him. The stars outshone each other against the velvety black they rested upon. The moon twinkled out from among the branches of some tress.
A dream. It had only be a dream! He was not sure what the dream had been about. The familiar feeling of a dream slipping beyond the grasp of the mind settled over the ranger, and he did not fight it. He knew, somehow, that this was a dream worth forgetting. "Look at those stars, Legolas" he said softly, sure that his friend had been on watch as he had been sleeping, "you should have awoken me earlier to enjoy this night." No answer came. Too lost in the sight, Aragorn thought, but doubt was already nagging at the back of his mind. And dread.
Why was he lying on grass rather than his bedroll? Why did his leg feel strange... He slowly turned his head. His senses had served him well. He was indeed in a forest, or rather, a small clearing surrounded by tall, gnarled trees. A peaceful brook gurgled only a few paces away. Close to it, however, lay a still form sprawled on the grass, one hand trailing in the water. Clear as it was elsewhere, the ranger could make out, close to the hand, a tinge of red in the water which quickly turned to pink and disappeared as the current moved on.
Legolas lay with his back turned to him, his blond hair a mess and at the back of his skull clearly clotted with blood. His clothes were covered in mud. Aragorn groaned. He wished himself back to the peaceful moment just after waking, but there was no turning back now . Now turning back...just like in the tunnel...in the fog... Fleeting images crossed his vision, too quick to grasp, and he pushed them away for the moment. There were more pressing matters at hand.
Quite painfully, he sat up, then stood, groaning at the pain in his left knee. It was bearable, though, and without giving it any more consideration he slowly made his way to his friend. As he had expected, the elf´s eyes were closed, probably in pain as well as exhaustion. To his relief, though, he quickly found a pulse. After a light but thorough examination of the elf´s back, Aragorn found it save to move his friend to the side a bit, taking his hand out of the water.
Checking him over, Aragorn found the wound at the back of his head. He gently ran his fingers along it and was glad to see that it was non too deep and already partially closed, although the lump that accompanied it could hint at a more serious injury, a concussion at the very least. The blood still lightly running down Legolas´ left arm came from a deep stab wound in his shoulder. The ranger carefully cut the muddy tunic away from the shoulder to give it a closer look. The wound would need stitches, and it was only now that Aragorn realized that he did not have his pack with him. Neither had Legolas.
The ranger cursed under his breath. At least he still had the pouch on his belt, which held some of bandages and healing herbs, but he would sorely miss other items. Aragorn was quickly able to staunch the bleeding, using a relatively clean strip of cloth he had ripped from his tunic. He frowned in concern when the pressure he put on the injury in the process didn´t even cause his friend to flinch. Sure that this injury held no more immediate danger, Aragorn continued to search for more injuries and was dismayed to find one.
There was a bite that covered almost half of one side of the elf´s chest. It looked as if a huge animal had sunk its teeth in, ready to drag off its prey, but had then let him go again. The marks showed no sign of ripping or tearing and had already stopped bleeding on their own - but they were circled in angry red. Some sort of infection had set in, and even tough the elf´s temperature did not seem too high at the moment, Aragorn was deeply worried. He cleaned the wounds as best as he could. Taking some athelas from his pouch, he chewed the healing plant and gently massaged it into the small wounds. He then bound Legolas´ side as well as the shoulder wound with some of his few real bandages.
Having done all he could for now, the ranger stood up with a groan as his own injury gave him a reminder that it had not been taken care of yet. Aragorn ignored it again, letting his eyes travel around the clearing and down the brook. Somehow, it was a relief to be able to see so clearly. Strange. He did not ponder this little mystery, though, when he made out a small group of larger rocks that formed a half circle only a short way down, near the brook. Satisfied that this would make a good campsite, Aragorn picked the elf up (again?, his mind wondered) and limped stoically on until he had reached it.
Gently laying the elf down, who had still not stirred, the ranger got a fire going and settled next his friend. Without a pot to boil water in, all he could do now was rest and wait. He felt strangely tired and his knee throbbed badly now. With a sigh, he cut away his torn leggins and found the knee swollen and bruised. Badly twisted, from the sight of it. But when, where? Suspiciously, he felt his own head for injuries that might explain his obvious loss of memory, but there was nothing. Slightly frustrated, he tightly bound his knee and settled to wait for dawn.
A dark groan pulled the ranger from a troubled sleep he had not even known he had fallen into. The sun was up now, indicating that it was late morning. Legolas´s fever had climbed dangerously, and he was restless, mumbling words Aragorn could not understand. As quickly as his now stiff knee would allow, the ranger limped to the brook. His back felt sore, too, and when he felt the spot he found a second pouch on his belt, one he didn´t usually carry. He had no idea what could be in it and checked quickly, hoping for some healing herbs.
He was disappointed when he saw a roll of parchment, along with a small bag that seemed to hold coins. He shrugged impatiently at his lack of supplies and turned back to his task.
He soaked several rags in the cool water and then carefully pulled the elf into his lap. As he put the first cloth on his friend´s fevered forehead, the elf jerked and tried to move his head away, but the ranger held him gently, whispering soothing words. It took Legolas a few moments to quiet down, and when he finally stopped moving, he continued to mutter under his breath. He seemed agitated by whatever he saw in his dreams, and nothing Aragorn said or did could bring him peace.
After a while, the ranger was able to make out a few words that appeared again and again "ulund" //monster// and "ego!" //be gone// being the most frequent ones. Even while holding his friend, replacing cloth after cloth to bring down the fever, Aragorn tried to bring back the few pictures that crossed his own mind now and then. He hoped that they may be memories that would help him to find out what had happened to them, but he could never grasp anything for more than a fleeting second. Frustrated, he gave up and concentrated on his friend.
After a few hours, the fever went down a bit and the elf rested more easily. Aragorn carefully laid him back onto the ground and moved to explore their surroundings. He never went out of hearing distance, naturally, and checked back nervously every few minutes. What he found was not of much help. A peaceful forest that held no sign of anybody who might be of assistance.
Returning to their little camp, Aragorn suddenly froze. There was a man bent over Legolas, lightly touching his cheek. The elf flinched and moaned and the man drew his hand away. From behind him, Aragorn could tell that it was an elderly man, his long grey hair spilling over the simple brown coat he wore. Aragorn could not see any weapons, but he still drew his dagger, the only means of defence he had left, as he silently crept closer.
"You won´t need that, young friend", a deep voice pointed out gently from behind the ranger. He whirled around, only to find no-one there. Turning back in a flash, he saw that the old man had moved away from the elf and now stood to the side, his hands raised in a gesture of peace. Angry to have been bested by some kind of trick, Aragorn covered the short distance between himself and Legolas in a few strides, completely ignoring his protesting knee. After a glance at his friend, who seemed to be resting again, he stood protectively in front of the elf and faced the stranger.
The old man had not moved, nor had he lowered his hands. "I do not mean harm to you or your friend", he spoke at last, "and if it is your wish, I can offer help." - "My name is Daramus", he added after a short silence.
Aragorn was torn. He could sense no evil from this man and was, plainly speaking, in dire need of help. He was very aware, though, that what he had just experienced had been some kind of magic. His senses were not easily fooled, and even though the old man had obviously meant to ease a potentially dangerous situation, the ranger knew that any kind of magic held power. And any kind of power could mean danger. Staring at the stranger, whose gentle brown eyes look back at his without any kind of fear, Aragorn tried to come to a decision.
TBC
Here´s chapter 2 - hope you all enjoy.
Thanks to my beta Morwen for her support.
Please review, I appreciate any comment or hint you may have - thanks!!
Review response:
Nefcairiel: Thank you so much!! I´m glad you like the story - more is to come regularly, please keep up your comments!
Rating: PG 13
Disclaimer: sigh Still not mine...
Hidden Truths
Chapter 2
Aragorn all but fell forward, carried on both by his despair and his frantic tries to somehow balance Legolas´ delirious thrashing in his arms.
Just as he felt both his grip on his friend and he balance fail, a sudden light encircled him, blinding him even through his tightly shut eyelids. His head felt light, as if severed from his body, and he never felt himself hit the ground.
A light breeze touched Aragorn´s face, and he grimaced, expecting it to be sickly wet. But it wasn´t. As he drew a tentative breath, he realized that the air was cool and fresh. Water jumped over rocks nearby and created a strangely merry sound. His ranger´s senses suddenly kicked in, telling him that is was night in a forest. Afraid to open his eyes, Aragorn relished in the thought. He allowed his other senses to picture the scene around him.
He lay on long, slightly wet grass. Trees softly moved their branches, rustling their leaves as if in silent greeting. The slight noises of night animals could be heard in the underbrush.
Encouraged, Aragorn slowly opened his eyes. A brilliant night sky greeted him. The stars outshone each other against the velvety black they rested upon. The moon twinkled out from among the branches of some tress.
A dream. It had only be a dream! He was not sure what the dream had been about. The familiar feeling of a dream slipping beyond the grasp of the mind settled over the ranger, and he did not fight it. He knew, somehow, that this was a dream worth forgetting. "Look at those stars, Legolas" he said softly, sure that his friend had been on watch as he had been sleeping, "you should have awoken me earlier to enjoy this night." No answer came. Too lost in the sight, Aragorn thought, but doubt was already nagging at the back of his mind. And dread.
Why was he lying on grass rather than his bedroll? Why did his leg feel strange... He slowly turned his head. His senses had served him well. He was indeed in a forest, or rather, a small clearing surrounded by tall, gnarled trees. A peaceful brook gurgled only a few paces away. Close to it, however, lay a still form sprawled on the grass, one hand trailing in the water. Clear as it was elsewhere, the ranger could make out, close to the hand, a tinge of red in the water which quickly turned to pink and disappeared as the current moved on.
Legolas lay with his back turned to him, his blond hair a mess and at the back of his skull clearly clotted with blood. His clothes were covered in mud. Aragorn groaned. He wished himself back to the peaceful moment just after waking, but there was no turning back now . Now turning back...just like in the tunnel...in the fog... Fleeting images crossed his vision, too quick to grasp, and he pushed them away for the moment. There were more pressing matters at hand.
Quite painfully, he sat up, then stood, groaning at the pain in his left knee. It was bearable, though, and without giving it any more consideration he slowly made his way to his friend. As he had expected, the elf´s eyes were closed, probably in pain as well as exhaustion. To his relief, though, he quickly found a pulse. After a light but thorough examination of the elf´s back, Aragorn found it save to move his friend to the side a bit, taking his hand out of the water.
Checking him over, Aragorn found the wound at the back of his head. He gently ran his fingers along it and was glad to see that it was non too deep and already partially closed, although the lump that accompanied it could hint at a more serious injury, a concussion at the very least. The blood still lightly running down Legolas´ left arm came from a deep stab wound in his shoulder. The ranger carefully cut the muddy tunic away from the shoulder to give it a closer look. The wound would need stitches, and it was only now that Aragorn realized that he did not have his pack with him. Neither had Legolas.
The ranger cursed under his breath. At least he still had the pouch on his belt, which held some of bandages and healing herbs, but he would sorely miss other items. Aragorn was quickly able to staunch the bleeding, using a relatively clean strip of cloth he had ripped from his tunic. He frowned in concern when the pressure he put on the injury in the process didn´t even cause his friend to flinch. Sure that this injury held no more immediate danger, Aragorn continued to search for more injuries and was dismayed to find one.
There was a bite that covered almost half of one side of the elf´s chest. It looked as if a huge animal had sunk its teeth in, ready to drag off its prey, but had then let him go again. The marks showed no sign of ripping or tearing and had already stopped bleeding on their own - but they were circled in angry red. Some sort of infection had set in, and even tough the elf´s temperature did not seem too high at the moment, Aragorn was deeply worried. He cleaned the wounds as best as he could. Taking some athelas from his pouch, he chewed the healing plant and gently massaged it into the small wounds. He then bound Legolas´ side as well as the shoulder wound with some of his few real bandages.
Having done all he could for now, the ranger stood up with a groan as his own injury gave him a reminder that it had not been taken care of yet. Aragorn ignored it again, letting his eyes travel around the clearing and down the brook. Somehow, it was a relief to be able to see so clearly. Strange. He did not ponder this little mystery, though, when he made out a small group of larger rocks that formed a half circle only a short way down, near the brook. Satisfied that this would make a good campsite, Aragorn picked the elf up (again?, his mind wondered) and limped stoically on until he had reached it.
Gently laying the elf down, who had still not stirred, the ranger got a fire going and settled next his friend. Without a pot to boil water in, all he could do now was rest and wait. He felt strangely tired and his knee throbbed badly now. With a sigh, he cut away his torn leggins and found the knee swollen and bruised. Badly twisted, from the sight of it. But when, where? Suspiciously, he felt his own head for injuries that might explain his obvious loss of memory, but there was nothing. Slightly frustrated, he tightly bound his knee and settled to wait for dawn.
A dark groan pulled the ranger from a troubled sleep he had not even known he had fallen into. The sun was up now, indicating that it was late morning. Legolas´s fever had climbed dangerously, and he was restless, mumbling words Aragorn could not understand. As quickly as his now stiff knee would allow, the ranger limped to the brook. His back felt sore, too, and when he felt the spot he found a second pouch on his belt, one he didn´t usually carry. He had no idea what could be in it and checked quickly, hoping for some healing herbs.
He was disappointed when he saw a roll of parchment, along with a small bag that seemed to hold coins. He shrugged impatiently at his lack of supplies and turned back to his task.
He soaked several rags in the cool water and then carefully pulled the elf into his lap. As he put the first cloth on his friend´s fevered forehead, the elf jerked and tried to move his head away, but the ranger held him gently, whispering soothing words. It took Legolas a few moments to quiet down, and when he finally stopped moving, he continued to mutter under his breath. He seemed agitated by whatever he saw in his dreams, and nothing Aragorn said or did could bring him peace.
After a while, the ranger was able to make out a few words that appeared again and again "ulund" //monster// and "ego!" //be gone// being the most frequent ones. Even while holding his friend, replacing cloth after cloth to bring down the fever, Aragorn tried to bring back the few pictures that crossed his own mind now and then. He hoped that they may be memories that would help him to find out what had happened to them, but he could never grasp anything for more than a fleeting second. Frustrated, he gave up and concentrated on his friend.
After a few hours, the fever went down a bit and the elf rested more easily. Aragorn carefully laid him back onto the ground and moved to explore their surroundings. He never went out of hearing distance, naturally, and checked back nervously every few minutes. What he found was not of much help. A peaceful forest that held no sign of anybody who might be of assistance.
Returning to their little camp, Aragorn suddenly froze. There was a man bent over Legolas, lightly touching his cheek. The elf flinched and moaned and the man drew his hand away. From behind him, Aragorn could tell that it was an elderly man, his long grey hair spilling over the simple brown coat he wore. Aragorn could not see any weapons, but he still drew his dagger, the only means of defence he had left, as he silently crept closer.
"You won´t need that, young friend", a deep voice pointed out gently from behind the ranger. He whirled around, only to find no-one there. Turning back in a flash, he saw that the old man had moved away from the elf and now stood to the side, his hands raised in a gesture of peace. Angry to have been bested by some kind of trick, Aragorn covered the short distance between himself and Legolas in a few strides, completely ignoring his protesting knee. After a glance at his friend, who seemed to be resting again, he stood protectively in front of the elf and faced the stranger.
The old man had not moved, nor had he lowered his hands. "I do not mean harm to you or your friend", he spoke at last, "and if it is your wish, I can offer help." - "My name is Daramus", he added after a short silence.
Aragorn was torn. He could sense no evil from this man and was, plainly speaking, in dire need of help. He was very aware, though, that what he had just experienced had been some kind of magic. His senses were not easily fooled, and even though the old man had obviously meant to ease a potentially dangerous situation, the ranger knew that any kind of magic held power. And any kind of power could mean danger. Staring at the stranger, whose gentle brown eyes look back at his without any kind of fear, Aragorn tried to come to a decision.
TBC
