Hi!!

And chapter 7...

Don´t forget to review, please :)

Alinah

Rating: PG 13

Disclaimer: Still not mine

Dark Waters

Aragorn remained sitting behind the elf, keeping him in a protective embrace, as he awaited Daramus´ return. The storm continued to rattle the wooden walls around him, screaching past the window and over the roof. In the occasional flash of lightning, he found the stark splatters of dark liquid highlighted around of him.

Frowning at them, he strove to find a pattern, make sense of it all. Had Legolas wandered off by himself and fallen into some kind of hidden swamp? He inwardly shook his head. Although he would not put it beyond his friend to try and go for a stroll, most likely in search of a tree, he was positive that there were no swamps nearby.

But what then? Had this been an attack of some evil creature who had tried to kill the elf in his sleep? Thunder rolled through Aragorn´s musings, closely followed by yet another white-hot stroke of lightning. The ranger´s eyes had been turned towards the door, warily expecting the old man any minute now and unwilling to be caught off guard by him. What was revealed by the storm made Aragorn start. The floor at the entrance of the room was unmarred. Legolas could not have come in drenched as he was, nor could any foul entity covered in black water have attacked him this way. Where had the danger come from then, and more importantly, where had it disappeared to?

A creak of wood drew the ranger´s attention back into the present, and he tensed as Daramus walked in with an armful of fresh bed covers, balancing a pot of steaming water in one hand and a candlestick in the other. He laid the covers on Aragorn´s bed and placed candle and water on the windowsill. "I will be back in a moment with more", he said softly, righting the fallen chair without even looking at it, "you shall both be comfortable tonight." Aragorn bit back a comment and simply nodded. When the old man had finally left a second time, having provided more light, water and cloths along with some clothes for Legolas to change into, Aragorn finally took on the task of cleaning and re-bandaging his friend.

He carefully shifted him to a clean part of the floor, using the old blanket as a pillow, and then took out his knife. He had decided to simply cut the soiled clothes off the elf. Leaving them on was not an option, for even now they reeked of evil and danger, and taking them off would involved far too much jostling, especially because dried blood and black water had plastered the fabric to the skin in many places.

The ranger worked slowly and carefully, fearful of new injuries he would find. As he had expected, the stab wound in the shoulder had reopened and was still bleeding, albeit slowly, and Aragorn took special care to clean and bind it thoroughly. Thankfully, the smaller bite-marks had been healed enough to withstand whatever had been done to the elf.

The more of the black substance he cleaned off the light skin, the more bruises emerged on Legolas´ chest and arms. Aragorn winced in sympathy when the elf cringed at his touch. Despite the pain he inflicted in the process, the ranger carefully examined each bruise to make sure no bones had been broken by the force of the blows. He was relieved not to find any signs of more serious injuries, but also more and more puzzled at what he saw. He had treated more than one victim of serious beatings, not to mention being subjected to some himself, and the bruises had certainly not been inflicted by fists of any kind. They were too big for that, but also failed to have the form that hinted at a branch or a similar object. Aragorn was at a total loss as to what had caused these injuries, but that in no way eased his mounting need for revenge, as much as he tried to subdue it.

Finally satisfied that no internal damage seemed to have been done, he gently rolled his friend over and failed to swallow a gasp. There was a huge bruise on the elf´s back, easily the size of four hands placed next to each other, and two more, though smaller ones on his shoulder-blades. Storing this information for later, the ranger continued to work as swiftly as care allowed. When he had removed the black water best as he could, he clad his friend in the lose clothes Daramus had provided.

The process had taken the ranger the better part of an hour, and in that time Legolas` fever had as steadily worsened as the raging cries of the storm outside. Sweat was beginning to bead on his brow and his still uneven breathing caught and stopped now and again, sending waves of panic through Aragorn´s veins until the next shuddering breath finally released him. Aragorn longed more than anything to get to work and use the herbs he had obtained to ease his friend´s suffering, but he refused himself to be rushed.

Very slowly, he lifted the elf and carried him to the bed he himself had occupied last night, using the fresh blankets to securely tug him in despite of the fever. He would have to work on some medicine now, and it would not do for his friend to turn over and fall when unobserved.

Aragorn sighed as he emptied his healing pouch on the chair and began to hunt through his new supplies. He loathed to turn his attention away from Legolas for more than a heartbeat, his fierce protectiveness, as he every well knew, firmly rooted in the guilt he felt. Still, he could not allow himself to be distracted, letting his friend down yet again in the process. With all the concentration he could muster, he blocked out Legolas´ increasingly fitful movements and the shrieks of the storm and stoically prepared a paste that would aid the elven body in healing both the open shoulder wound and the bruises. He set this aside and chose a number of other herbs that would battle the fever and were good to purge the body of possible infections, adding water to create a broth.

Aragorn did not doubt for a moment that the foul water his friend had swallowed was cause for his fever, and the knowledge that he had no idea what other ill effects it might have worried him immensely. He knew better than to experiment with his herbs, though. It was better to aid the elf´s natural healing as much as possible and then trust Legolas to do the rest. The elf was so stubborn that even the worst poison would find him a formidable opponent. He would not give in easily, and Aragorn drew comfort from that thought.

Careful not to upset his charge too much, the ranger gently worked the paste he had prepared into the wound before applying a clean bandage and spreading more of it over his friends beaten body. Legolas moaned in protest and repeatedly tried to push Aragorn´s hands away.

Whispered elven word of comfort momentarily calmed him, but after the ranger had propped the elf up against his chest and tried to trickle the broth into him, he began to fight back in earnest.

With surprising strength he twisted in Aargorn´s grasp, sweat-covered chest heaving, and forced the ranger to quickly put the broth aside to keep from spilling it. "Ego!" //Be gone!// Legolas ground out, his voice full of defiance, "Ego, nen-dur. Sin alcin! Sin alcin. Ego!" //Away, dark water. It is not yours.// "Dinen, mellon-nin", //Quiet, my friend.// Aragorn urgently pleaded, wrapping both arms around his friends as tenderly as he could, "im Estel, sidh, sidh, lasto-nin." //[It is] I, Estel, peace, peace, hear me.//

To his immense relief the elf relaxed a bit, and after a moment he tried to reach for the broth again, sure that Legolas was unconscious.

"Estel?" The voice was so weak now it was barely audible for human ears. Aragorn halted his movement. "I am here, my friend. Be at peace. Nothing will happen to you now." Legolas turned his head towards the window. "Can´t you hear ... them? They only await his... command ... we... have... aided..." He trailed off, going limp in the rangers arms. With a sigh that contained both frustration and sadness, Aragorn retrieved the healing broth and managed to get it into Legolas without further incident.

He did not move away from the bed, though, but leaned against the wall with the elf held to his chest, carefully registering every shaking breath he took. After a while, relative calm settled over the ranger as he could not detect any worsening in his friend´s condition.

His eyes roamed the room again, settling on the traces of black water. There was a pool of it on the floor, where he had found his friend drowned on dry ground, and splattered drops both on the bed and the walls behind and next to it. The wall behind the bed seemed to have received the most of it, broad streaks had left dark marks on the wood - in front of this wall the elf had lain...An idea began to form in Aragorn´s keen mind as he pieced together what the room told him and what the elf´s injuries had indicated. Although he did not even begin to understand how, it seemed that some sort of force had thrown Legolas back with enough strength to severely bruise him - and fill his lungs with water in the process...A wave...?

In search for more clues he scanned the chamber yet again, taking in the ruined clothes on the floor, the now empty basket Telias had brought a lifetime ago, candles, blankets - something was missing, he was sure. Realisation hit him in the same moment that Legolas chose to stir again, repeating under his breath what Aragorn had failed to completely understand before. "Sin alcin, sin alcin..." //It is not yours...// "No, it was indeed not his", Aragorn agreed between clenched teeth, "and I had no idea he wanted it..."

His second pouch, given to Legolas to keep him occupied, was gone. There was no doubt in his mind who had taken it. "Im tirio mellon-nin, sin alcin..."//I protect my friend, it is not yours...// The words tore Aragorn´s heart. Of course the elf would not give up anything entrusted to him easily, not even when he was too weak to stand, let alone fight.

"He made a truly valiant attempt." The soft voice from the doorway made Aragorn jump. "Sadly, that was not beneficial for his health." Daramus stood in the doorway framed in a light whose source was hidden. All pretence had fallen away from him, dark eyes hard and cold as they fixed on the ranger. The roar of the storm seemed to increase in greeting, and Daramus smiled, spreading a wave of icy air around him.

"It was most unfriendly of you to choose an elf as your travelling companion", the old man continued almost lazily, "or so I thought at first. But now I´m not so sure. He could be a most welcome bonus."

TBC