A/N: A very subdued hello to you all - I have the flu and am currently
miserable... I managed to time it somehow that I started feeling ill on the
LAST DAY OF SCHOOL!!!! Grrrrr, stupid immune system - now, one of the first
times I actually *want* to do some work and catch up in the hopes of
getting ahead during the week-long holiday, I'm so ill I can barely hold a
pen, let alone do any of my vast pile of two sets of art coursework.
Writing this cheers me up, though, despite the fact I keep coughing over
the keyboard... yuck.
Anyway, thankyou so much for you belting reviews, you're a very passionate bunch, aren't you? Or at least, very involved in the storyline already... which can only be a good thing!
marbienl: That is a very interesting point - would the elves know what to do about Aragorn's teenage years? I reckon they would, Elrond especially as he is one of the wisest beings on Middle-earth... plus, I don't think that Estel would be all *that* bad, Aragorn seems far too serious to have had temper tantrums, yelling fits, cranky periods etc. in his past - he was raised by Elves after all. I've always thought of Wargs as big wolves, even when TT was released - and that's why I've described them as such! And there's no use threatening me with you pet spider neither, I'm afraid that our pair are in for a tough time, and no amount of intimidation can change it!
elfmage: You are quite possibly the kindest reviewer I have ever had! I am so glad you are enjoying this story and thankyou so much for your reviews. Keep writing them! They give me a lift!
Star-Stallion: You just wait, my friend. Don't worry about you SAT's, seriously everyone always gets really worked up about them, and they really mean pish - they don't mean anything at all. After you've got them over with, though, do everything *THE MOMENT* you get it, or you'll end up like me, scrabbling around in the last year trying to do all
the stuff I should done the year before *as well* as revising. Can you tell I'm not the most organised of people?
Rose: I'm sorry about the fairly graphic description, I was just trying to get across how nasty it was... looks like I succeeded!
Thankyou to everyone who took the time to review, there isn't enough space on here to acknowledge you all, but you are greatly appreciated! I read and keep every one of your reviews. But what's this thing ya'll have with Estel having his skull fractured or concussion? No no, I'm afraid I've gone for a far less predictable approach - in fact, a completely unpredictable one as I only had the idea this morning, a lightening bolt of potential flashing it's way through my hazy, highly-temperatured mind. I had to re-write a whole section of this, though. Hmmmm....
Hope you like, tell me what you think! And btw, the elvish I use in all my stories is a collection of actual elvish words, words taken from other stories and authors, and ones I have made up simply because I need to... there are no genuine sentance structures etc. to be found within a mile of me - apologies to all you purists out there, but I'm just not clever enough to decipher or write elvish! It's not gonna be a large part of the story, though, so...
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Legolas and Aragorn kept going on into the early night - they had been walking for some time now, but still hadn't found anywhere they could call a shelter. The snow was falling thick and fast in the darkness about them, it shortened their vision and it clung to their hair and made their breath smoke in the sharply-cold air around them. They were cold, weak and miserable.
"Well, despite being as much fun as it has been, Estel, I doubt I'll be letting you talk me into any more walks for quite some time," Legolas called out weakly, trying to keep both of their spirits up with and ignore the huge, angry pain swiftly taking over his whole right side, making him gasp for breath. Aragorn's promise of numbing herbs once they reached a place of shelter was looking increasingly inviting.
Aragorn, his faintness having left him but still contending with a rather formidable headache, was walking further ahead - peering valiantly into the sheeting snow to try and spot some sort of hole or cave they could crawl into, if just for a short time. Anything to get them out of the snow storm. He turned his dark head and shot his best friend a rougish grin, ever amused despite their unfortunate situation, "But what would light up your dull life then, I ask you?" he shouted.
"I doubt this is the sort of 'light' my life needs, mellon nin," Legolas grumbled half-heartedly, more to himself than Aragorn, shifting the right hand that he clutched to his chest ever so slightly, trying to keep the weight of his arm from pulling down on his wound, but still wincing a bit as he did so.
The ranger heard this and, though it made him smile, he felt a twinge of guilt affect his heart: the prince was in a lot of pain - he was too proud to say ought of his suffering, and tried bravely to carry on as though normal, but Aragorn knew through long years of experience when Greenleaf was hiding something. Not only that but Aragorn thought it to be largely his own fault. *He* had been the one to be knocked out during the first minute or so of battle, rendering him useless to his best friend, who had consequently been forced to fight two Wargs on his own - the only reason Legolas had gotten the injury at all, Aragorn believed, was that his concentration had broken in order for him to save Aragorn. This was a terrible guilt that the seventeen-year old carried around with him, but he was quite determined to carry it until Legolas was safe... and probably for a while longer after that.
His slate-grey eyes nearly popped straight out of his head when he thought he saw something in the distance... It was a cave! Finally, some shelter! He cried out with glee, shooting a typically-triumphant smile back at Legolas who merely rolled his eyes with mock-vexation, and the ranger began to run to the gap between a pile of vast boulders, covering the short distance fairly swiftly.... without warning he landed with a *THUD* flat on his arse.
Aragorn quickly scrambled up once more and pulled his clothing straight, picking up his weapons from the previously-hidden ice he had slipped upon, rugged face immediately flushing a bright, unbecoming scarlet - his embarrassment was made all the worse by Legolas' hysterical laughter... the elf had seen everything, every flailing limb and every surprised curse- word. The ranger appeared to be trying to figure out the sequence of events that had led him to be gazing up at the snow as it came down and met his upturned face. "It's not funny, elf," Aragorn muttered, rubbing at his sore behind and glaring darkly at the prince, who was hunched over in his helplessness.
"Oh, Estel! I beg to differ...!" gasped Legolas between howls, golden head thrown back in amusement, laughing into the downpouring snow. Legolas' laughter was not a rare thing, especially in comparison to the large majority of typical Mirkwood Elves, but it was still a joy to hear and it made Aragorn grin despite his smarting bum. "You should have seen your face, mellon nin... when we get back to the palace I am going to ask Niandias to paint a portrait of such a scene - it shall hang in the corridor outside my room forever! It will brighten my every morning!" The elven prince's eyes twinkled with mirth as he watched Aragorn attempt to move across the ice again.
"This is a lot harder than it looks, Legolas," Aragorn groused half- heartedly as he gingerly placed a foot softly onto the ice to his right and wobbled a bit when his usual sense of balance left him. It was a very disorientating feeling to have all of one's infamous talents leave you suddenly, which Aragorn wasn't sure he liked all that much. Eventually he got the hang of walking upon the slippery silver surface, and even began to skate a little, showing off in his confidence - granted there were a few tumbles...
"You have all the grace of your race, Estel," Legolas called out merrily as the young northerner began picking himself up once more, after a particularly spectacular fall, from the cold ice. The elf himself had now begun to venture forth across the formidable terrain, a lot more elegantly than Aragorn had even thought was possible - despite a broken arm, the archer's balance remained impeccable. Which was distinctly unfair in the ranger's eyes.
Aragorn swiveled on his heels, arms flapping a little as he tried successfully to stay upright, "In this case, I shall take that as a compliment." And with that, he skated forwards once more, balancing his weight on one foot temporarily as the worn leather skidded across the frozen water, arms stuck out at each side, as if he could really catch something if he fell again.
This is how Legolas saw his best friend disappear under the surface of the ice.
The ice broke beneath the pressure of Aragorn's foot as he skated over a hidden thin patch, and he was plunged into the freezing lake beneath the ice, barely having time to call out or even register what was happening before he was submerged completely. "*ESTEL*!" Legolas yelled, and ran to the sudden-hole as though his feet were not touching the icy ground, desperate to reach his friend. His heart was pounding in terror - a human could not survive such formidable temperatures. He threw himself onto his left side on the fragmented bit of ice where he had last seen the ranger, the ice did not break or even crack under his weight, but he cried out as the hard jolt to his body jarred the two parts of the bone in his arm together agonisingly. Ignoring this, he thrust his good arm up to the shoulder into the icy water, searching anxiously for the body of his best friend. His heart leapt into his throat when his fingers just brushed against something sinking downwards, and without any thought, pulled himself up to the hole and plunged his head and good arm into the winter lake.
The cold was like a million horses kicking him in the chest, and it almost made him black out with the sheer shock, but he ignored both that unpleasant feeling, and the fire that burned in right shoulder above the ice as the wound was ripped just that little bit more - he *had* to find Aragorn. He opened his eyes despite the feeling that there was a thousand pins sticking repeatedly into them, and saw the sinking shape. The cold had knocked the mortal unconscious, as it had nearly done with the elf himself, and his head was lolling sickeningly, but Legolas pushed himself and strained that little bit further, the bubbles from his screams as his wound was torn and knocked breaking the surface of the water just beneath the level of the ice. He finally managed to snag the back of the ranger's tunic, and used all his strength to haul the dead weight back up to the surface.
Legolas' mind was full of dark thoughts, and he found himself wondering what temperatures Men could stand, and how long they could go without air. Still with his head and arm underwater, he edged himself backwards onto more secure ice before he pulled them both up, if the ice broke again it would be even more of a nightmare. Slowly, using all of his ebbing strength, he managed to pull them both up out of the water and onto solid ice. Aragorn's eyes were still closed, and his lips had turned a foreboding blue colour - Legolas could see no sign of life in his features. The man was still breathing, though, his worryingly shallow outbreaths clouding in the air, and when the elf checked for his pulse, he found it easily, though it was more than a little slow.
Deciding that the best thing to do was to get his best friend warm as soon as possible, Legolas hauled the unconscious ranger up, and hefted him onto his good left shoulder single-handedly, and staggered across the ice to the hole between the boulders, heart jumping at every crack and popping sound made beneath his feet. He got them to the cave with, thankfully, no further incidents, and struggled to get them both inside of it. He pulled Aragorn way back into the fairly narrow recess, as far away as possible from the icy wind and snow and, one handed, proceeded to strip the sodden clothes from the ranger, knowing prolonged exposure to be almost as dangerous as shock in instances such as these.
"Come on, Estel... I need for you to wake up for me, mellon nin... tirven me [wake up]..." he murmured anxiously as, finished with Aragorn, he began to pull off his own, relatively dry clothes and instead put them on his best friend, replacing them with the wet ones. Elves were not sensitive to their climate, unless it were in it's extreme, but even Legolas felt the chill as he pulled on the freezing items, but Aragorn needed dry clothes more than he was bothered by cold, wet ones, so he did not think of it further. He pleaded with his best friend's inert form as he finished pulling on the clothing that was too big for him, "I *need* you to wake up: I need for you to come back to me, Estel..."
But Aragorn was still not waking up.
"Estel! Come on, come back to me!" Legolas, suddenly quite near hysterics, cried and, ignoring his injured arm completely, began rubbing the rangers body with his one good hand to try and heat it with friction, even if only a little. "Come on, Estel! Wake up! Tirven me!" he yelled in desperation, angry at himself for not being able to help more, chaffing the man's torso and legs - if he lost Aragorn... He worked and worked all the way up and down Estel's body, almost in a frenzy, till sweat even started to drip from his furrowed brow and the air around him became warm, but he did not even think about resting until the blue colour had begun to receede from his best friend's lips and nails. The ranger's unconscious form had begun shivering, but Legolas couldn't tell if that was a good thing or not - he hoped it was good, that the man had come away from death's door. Then he knelt, utterly fatigued, and patted the ranger on the cheek, triumphant to find it at almost body temperature again, instead of like frost. His labours seemed to have worked! "Estel? Are you able to wake? *Valu* tirven [*please* wake]..." he called gently, watching the still face like a hawk for any sign of consciousness.
The man's eyelids fluttered slightly in answer, and he breathed in deeply, beginning to wake. Legolas felt like crying in his relief, and he thanked Iluvatar repeatedly under his breath as he sank back onto his heels, head angled up at the stone ceiling above him and chest heaving.
Aragorn's spirit emerged tentatively from the dark recesses of his mind for the second time that night, and he opened his eyes slowly. He didn't feel hurt or anything, just very cold. He was confused and surprised to find his best friend sitting over him, his small frame swamped in Aragorn's own clothes, made for a larger and broader person... and they were wet. Why was Legolas wearing his clothes? Why were they wet? He wondered what must have happened... and also whether he, himself, was wearing any clothes, and if he was, who's were they... and were they wet? Unable to make his mind process this confusing train of thought, he sat up, shaking limbs groggy and unwilling to be commanded by his mind for some unknown reason. He felt very, very cold.
"Wh-What happened?" he stuttered weakly, teeth chattering of their own accord. He was rewarded with Legolas looking at him with golden brows raised and mouth hanging slightly open, brilliant green eyes wide and shining... the elf looked more than a little unhinged - it was really quite alarming. This notion was compounded in Aragorn's mind when the elven prince suddenly barrelled into him, embracing him with one arm so tightly that Aragorn thought his eyes might pop from their sockets. "Whatever is the matter with you, Legolas?" he wondered outloud, laying a shaking hand weakly upon the prince's narrow, wet back, still utterly bemused by the sequence of events, and utterly perplexed by his eccentric elven friend.
"I almost lost you, Estel... you were so close," came Greenleaf's soft, muffled voice from where he spoke into Aragorn's soaked, dark hair. Both bodies shook, one through coldness and the other due to an enormous sense of relief and exhaustion. Legolas drew away, wide eyes still fixed as though unbelieving upon his best friend's face, and he laughed suddenly, heart gladdened and flying to giddy heights to find his best friend back with him and, apparently, uninjured. He clasped the ranger's face, much to Aragorn's continued confusion, but then after a moment seemed to collect himself and withdrew, though not uncomfortably. "You are all right, are you not?" he asked, worried suddenly that in his joy he might have missed something.
"Of course," came Aragorn's ever self-confident answer. He chuckled but shivered, then flexed his arms stiffly, the green fabric of Legolas' tunic very tight on them and pulling heavily. "You know," he said as though thoughtful, "I reckon that if I tried hard enough, I could easily bust all the stitches in these," he indicated the attire he was clothed in which was not his own.
Legolas laughed again, "You fell into the freezing waters, I wasn't about to try and warm you back up with you in soaked clothing, was I? Try not to break them, though - I've already lost a bow today... arda won't be best pleased with me anyway..." he trailed off, thinking.
Aragorn chuckled to himself at the elf's mildly worried expression; he knew the only thing Thranduil would be when they got back was greatful they had returned at all... for all his sterness and royally-gruff manners, the King of Eryn Lasgalen was extremely protective over all of his nine children, and even their friends and extended families held shares in his large heart. Aragorn himself was the proud owner of one of those portions, and had been ever since he had been fourteen summers old - Thranduil was a second father to him now, and would be positively distraught at the state in which he and Legolas would return in. One bloodied and broken, and the other frozen and in too-small clothes.
The ranger shivered again, body reminding him once more that he was chilled to the bone... a great drowsiness overtook him all of a sudden and he longed to simply slip back into his previous oblivion. He leaned back again against the cave floor and fought not to close his eyes. Legolas noticed this, and leapt to his feet, heart panicking again - he sometimes reminded Aragorn of a flapping bird or a flighty young foal in the way he went about things, especially when he was anxious, as he was now. "No! Estel, no!" he cried, waving his left hand in front of him repeatedly.
"What? Stop fretting, you fool, and tell me what!" Aragorn frowned, needlessly annoyed by the elf's actions - the cold was getting to him.
"You cannot go back to sleep, you mustn't!" At his best friend's still- confused expression, dark brows knitted together at the elf's non- explanatory explanation. "You could easily slip into a coma; you're still very cold and I cannot allow you to do that! I can't!"
"Well, how do you suggest I stay warm *and* stay up, oh mighty healer - I *knew* I shouldn't go back to sleep already, dimwit." Aragorn felt his pride stung more than a little - he had known it, through all his training and practice as a healer of course he had known it - but it hadn't come to him just then, his freezing body temperature having driven it momentarily from his mind, and so when Legolas knew this so surely, it made him feel a bit foolish... as if *he* should have known also, which he should have.
Legolas looked a little hurt at Aragorn's rough tones, but did not let it bother him and carried on, his mind lighting upon more amusing things. "Well, *I* shall just have to be the remedy on both accounts," he grinned. "I could have lots of fun with this - repay you for this ridiculous escapade of a walk you dragged me on."
"Bloody marvelous," muttered Aragorn darkly.
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So, it seems as though we have come to a natural pause... what do you reckon? Review please! And, if your wondering, the whole falling into the icy lake thing was the idea I had this morning! For the best? Let me know!
Anyway, thankyou so much for you belting reviews, you're a very passionate bunch, aren't you? Or at least, very involved in the storyline already... which can only be a good thing!
marbienl: That is a very interesting point - would the elves know what to do about Aragorn's teenage years? I reckon they would, Elrond especially as he is one of the wisest beings on Middle-earth... plus, I don't think that Estel would be all *that* bad, Aragorn seems far too serious to have had temper tantrums, yelling fits, cranky periods etc. in his past - he was raised by Elves after all. I've always thought of Wargs as big wolves, even when TT was released - and that's why I've described them as such! And there's no use threatening me with you pet spider neither, I'm afraid that our pair are in for a tough time, and no amount of intimidation can change it!
elfmage: You are quite possibly the kindest reviewer I have ever had! I am so glad you are enjoying this story and thankyou so much for your reviews. Keep writing them! They give me a lift!
Star-Stallion: You just wait, my friend. Don't worry about you SAT's, seriously everyone always gets really worked up about them, and they really mean pish - they don't mean anything at all. After you've got them over with, though, do everything *THE MOMENT* you get it, or you'll end up like me, scrabbling around in the last year trying to do all
the stuff I should done the year before *as well* as revising. Can you tell I'm not the most organised of people?
Rose: I'm sorry about the fairly graphic description, I was just trying to get across how nasty it was... looks like I succeeded!
Thankyou to everyone who took the time to review, there isn't enough space on here to acknowledge you all, but you are greatly appreciated! I read and keep every one of your reviews. But what's this thing ya'll have with Estel having his skull fractured or concussion? No no, I'm afraid I've gone for a far less predictable approach - in fact, a completely unpredictable one as I only had the idea this morning, a lightening bolt of potential flashing it's way through my hazy, highly-temperatured mind. I had to re-write a whole section of this, though. Hmmmm....
Hope you like, tell me what you think! And btw, the elvish I use in all my stories is a collection of actual elvish words, words taken from other stories and authors, and ones I have made up simply because I need to... there are no genuine sentance structures etc. to be found within a mile of me - apologies to all you purists out there, but I'm just not clever enough to decipher or write elvish! It's not gonna be a large part of the story, though, so...
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Legolas and Aragorn kept going on into the early night - they had been walking for some time now, but still hadn't found anywhere they could call a shelter. The snow was falling thick and fast in the darkness about them, it shortened their vision and it clung to their hair and made their breath smoke in the sharply-cold air around them. They were cold, weak and miserable.
"Well, despite being as much fun as it has been, Estel, I doubt I'll be letting you talk me into any more walks for quite some time," Legolas called out weakly, trying to keep both of their spirits up with and ignore the huge, angry pain swiftly taking over his whole right side, making him gasp for breath. Aragorn's promise of numbing herbs once they reached a place of shelter was looking increasingly inviting.
Aragorn, his faintness having left him but still contending with a rather formidable headache, was walking further ahead - peering valiantly into the sheeting snow to try and spot some sort of hole or cave they could crawl into, if just for a short time. Anything to get them out of the snow storm. He turned his dark head and shot his best friend a rougish grin, ever amused despite their unfortunate situation, "But what would light up your dull life then, I ask you?" he shouted.
"I doubt this is the sort of 'light' my life needs, mellon nin," Legolas grumbled half-heartedly, more to himself than Aragorn, shifting the right hand that he clutched to his chest ever so slightly, trying to keep the weight of his arm from pulling down on his wound, but still wincing a bit as he did so.
The ranger heard this and, though it made him smile, he felt a twinge of guilt affect his heart: the prince was in a lot of pain - he was too proud to say ought of his suffering, and tried bravely to carry on as though normal, but Aragorn knew through long years of experience when Greenleaf was hiding something. Not only that but Aragorn thought it to be largely his own fault. *He* had been the one to be knocked out during the first minute or so of battle, rendering him useless to his best friend, who had consequently been forced to fight two Wargs on his own - the only reason Legolas had gotten the injury at all, Aragorn believed, was that his concentration had broken in order for him to save Aragorn. This was a terrible guilt that the seventeen-year old carried around with him, but he was quite determined to carry it until Legolas was safe... and probably for a while longer after that.
His slate-grey eyes nearly popped straight out of his head when he thought he saw something in the distance... It was a cave! Finally, some shelter! He cried out with glee, shooting a typically-triumphant smile back at Legolas who merely rolled his eyes with mock-vexation, and the ranger began to run to the gap between a pile of vast boulders, covering the short distance fairly swiftly.... without warning he landed with a *THUD* flat on his arse.
Aragorn quickly scrambled up once more and pulled his clothing straight, picking up his weapons from the previously-hidden ice he had slipped upon, rugged face immediately flushing a bright, unbecoming scarlet - his embarrassment was made all the worse by Legolas' hysterical laughter... the elf had seen everything, every flailing limb and every surprised curse- word. The ranger appeared to be trying to figure out the sequence of events that had led him to be gazing up at the snow as it came down and met his upturned face. "It's not funny, elf," Aragorn muttered, rubbing at his sore behind and glaring darkly at the prince, who was hunched over in his helplessness.
"Oh, Estel! I beg to differ...!" gasped Legolas between howls, golden head thrown back in amusement, laughing into the downpouring snow. Legolas' laughter was not a rare thing, especially in comparison to the large majority of typical Mirkwood Elves, but it was still a joy to hear and it made Aragorn grin despite his smarting bum. "You should have seen your face, mellon nin... when we get back to the palace I am going to ask Niandias to paint a portrait of such a scene - it shall hang in the corridor outside my room forever! It will brighten my every morning!" The elven prince's eyes twinkled with mirth as he watched Aragorn attempt to move across the ice again.
"This is a lot harder than it looks, Legolas," Aragorn groused half- heartedly as he gingerly placed a foot softly onto the ice to his right and wobbled a bit when his usual sense of balance left him. It was a very disorientating feeling to have all of one's infamous talents leave you suddenly, which Aragorn wasn't sure he liked all that much. Eventually he got the hang of walking upon the slippery silver surface, and even began to skate a little, showing off in his confidence - granted there were a few tumbles...
"You have all the grace of your race, Estel," Legolas called out merrily as the young northerner began picking himself up once more, after a particularly spectacular fall, from the cold ice. The elf himself had now begun to venture forth across the formidable terrain, a lot more elegantly than Aragorn had even thought was possible - despite a broken arm, the archer's balance remained impeccable. Which was distinctly unfair in the ranger's eyes.
Aragorn swiveled on his heels, arms flapping a little as he tried successfully to stay upright, "In this case, I shall take that as a compliment." And with that, he skated forwards once more, balancing his weight on one foot temporarily as the worn leather skidded across the frozen water, arms stuck out at each side, as if he could really catch something if he fell again.
This is how Legolas saw his best friend disappear under the surface of the ice.
The ice broke beneath the pressure of Aragorn's foot as he skated over a hidden thin patch, and he was plunged into the freezing lake beneath the ice, barely having time to call out or even register what was happening before he was submerged completely. "*ESTEL*!" Legolas yelled, and ran to the sudden-hole as though his feet were not touching the icy ground, desperate to reach his friend. His heart was pounding in terror - a human could not survive such formidable temperatures. He threw himself onto his left side on the fragmented bit of ice where he had last seen the ranger, the ice did not break or even crack under his weight, but he cried out as the hard jolt to his body jarred the two parts of the bone in his arm together agonisingly. Ignoring this, he thrust his good arm up to the shoulder into the icy water, searching anxiously for the body of his best friend. His heart leapt into his throat when his fingers just brushed against something sinking downwards, and without any thought, pulled himself up to the hole and plunged his head and good arm into the winter lake.
The cold was like a million horses kicking him in the chest, and it almost made him black out with the sheer shock, but he ignored both that unpleasant feeling, and the fire that burned in right shoulder above the ice as the wound was ripped just that little bit more - he *had* to find Aragorn. He opened his eyes despite the feeling that there was a thousand pins sticking repeatedly into them, and saw the sinking shape. The cold had knocked the mortal unconscious, as it had nearly done with the elf himself, and his head was lolling sickeningly, but Legolas pushed himself and strained that little bit further, the bubbles from his screams as his wound was torn and knocked breaking the surface of the water just beneath the level of the ice. He finally managed to snag the back of the ranger's tunic, and used all his strength to haul the dead weight back up to the surface.
Legolas' mind was full of dark thoughts, and he found himself wondering what temperatures Men could stand, and how long they could go without air. Still with his head and arm underwater, he edged himself backwards onto more secure ice before he pulled them both up, if the ice broke again it would be even more of a nightmare. Slowly, using all of his ebbing strength, he managed to pull them both up out of the water and onto solid ice. Aragorn's eyes were still closed, and his lips had turned a foreboding blue colour - Legolas could see no sign of life in his features. The man was still breathing, though, his worryingly shallow outbreaths clouding in the air, and when the elf checked for his pulse, he found it easily, though it was more than a little slow.
Deciding that the best thing to do was to get his best friend warm as soon as possible, Legolas hauled the unconscious ranger up, and hefted him onto his good left shoulder single-handedly, and staggered across the ice to the hole between the boulders, heart jumping at every crack and popping sound made beneath his feet. He got them to the cave with, thankfully, no further incidents, and struggled to get them both inside of it. He pulled Aragorn way back into the fairly narrow recess, as far away as possible from the icy wind and snow and, one handed, proceeded to strip the sodden clothes from the ranger, knowing prolonged exposure to be almost as dangerous as shock in instances such as these.
"Come on, Estel... I need for you to wake up for me, mellon nin... tirven me [wake up]..." he murmured anxiously as, finished with Aragorn, he began to pull off his own, relatively dry clothes and instead put them on his best friend, replacing them with the wet ones. Elves were not sensitive to their climate, unless it were in it's extreme, but even Legolas felt the chill as he pulled on the freezing items, but Aragorn needed dry clothes more than he was bothered by cold, wet ones, so he did not think of it further. He pleaded with his best friend's inert form as he finished pulling on the clothing that was too big for him, "I *need* you to wake up: I need for you to come back to me, Estel..."
But Aragorn was still not waking up.
"Estel! Come on, come back to me!" Legolas, suddenly quite near hysterics, cried and, ignoring his injured arm completely, began rubbing the rangers body with his one good hand to try and heat it with friction, even if only a little. "Come on, Estel! Wake up! Tirven me!" he yelled in desperation, angry at himself for not being able to help more, chaffing the man's torso and legs - if he lost Aragorn... He worked and worked all the way up and down Estel's body, almost in a frenzy, till sweat even started to drip from his furrowed brow and the air around him became warm, but he did not even think about resting until the blue colour had begun to receede from his best friend's lips and nails. The ranger's unconscious form had begun shivering, but Legolas couldn't tell if that was a good thing or not - he hoped it was good, that the man had come away from death's door. Then he knelt, utterly fatigued, and patted the ranger on the cheek, triumphant to find it at almost body temperature again, instead of like frost. His labours seemed to have worked! "Estel? Are you able to wake? *Valu* tirven [*please* wake]..." he called gently, watching the still face like a hawk for any sign of consciousness.
The man's eyelids fluttered slightly in answer, and he breathed in deeply, beginning to wake. Legolas felt like crying in his relief, and he thanked Iluvatar repeatedly under his breath as he sank back onto his heels, head angled up at the stone ceiling above him and chest heaving.
Aragorn's spirit emerged tentatively from the dark recesses of his mind for the second time that night, and he opened his eyes slowly. He didn't feel hurt or anything, just very cold. He was confused and surprised to find his best friend sitting over him, his small frame swamped in Aragorn's own clothes, made for a larger and broader person... and they were wet. Why was Legolas wearing his clothes? Why were they wet? He wondered what must have happened... and also whether he, himself, was wearing any clothes, and if he was, who's were they... and were they wet? Unable to make his mind process this confusing train of thought, he sat up, shaking limbs groggy and unwilling to be commanded by his mind for some unknown reason. He felt very, very cold.
"Wh-What happened?" he stuttered weakly, teeth chattering of their own accord. He was rewarded with Legolas looking at him with golden brows raised and mouth hanging slightly open, brilliant green eyes wide and shining... the elf looked more than a little unhinged - it was really quite alarming. This notion was compounded in Aragorn's mind when the elven prince suddenly barrelled into him, embracing him with one arm so tightly that Aragorn thought his eyes might pop from their sockets. "Whatever is the matter with you, Legolas?" he wondered outloud, laying a shaking hand weakly upon the prince's narrow, wet back, still utterly bemused by the sequence of events, and utterly perplexed by his eccentric elven friend.
"I almost lost you, Estel... you were so close," came Greenleaf's soft, muffled voice from where he spoke into Aragorn's soaked, dark hair. Both bodies shook, one through coldness and the other due to an enormous sense of relief and exhaustion. Legolas drew away, wide eyes still fixed as though unbelieving upon his best friend's face, and he laughed suddenly, heart gladdened and flying to giddy heights to find his best friend back with him and, apparently, uninjured. He clasped the ranger's face, much to Aragorn's continued confusion, but then after a moment seemed to collect himself and withdrew, though not uncomfortably. "You are all right, are you not?" he asked, worried suddenly that in his joy he might have missed something.
"Of course," came Aragorn's ever self-confident answer. He chuckled but shivered, then flexed his arms stiffly, the green fabric of Legolas' tunic very tight on them and pulling heavily. "You know," he said as though thoughtful, "I reckon that if I tried hard enough, I could easily bust all the stitches in these," he indicated the attire he was clothed in which was not his own.
Legolas laughed again, "You fell into the freezing waters, I wasn't about to try and warm you back up with you in soaked clothing, was I? Try not to break them, though - I've already lost a bow today... arda won't be best pleased with me anyway..." he trailed off, thinking.
Aragorn chuckled to himself at the elf's mildly worried expression; he knew the only thing Thranduil would be when they got back was greatful they had returned at all... for all his sterness and royally-gruff manners, the King of Eryn Lasgalen was extremely protective over all of his nine children, and even their friends and extended families held shares in his large heart. Aragorn himself was the proud owner of one of those portions, and had been ever since he had been fourteen summers old - Thranduil was a second father to him now, and would be positively distraught at the state in which he and Legolas would return in. One bloodied and broken, and the other frozen and in too-small clothes.
The ranger shivered again, body reminding him once more that he was chilled to the bone... a great drowsiness overtook him all of a sudden and he longed to simply slip back into his previous oblivion. He leaned back again against the cave floor and fought not to close his eyes. Legolas noticed this, and leapt to his feet, heart panicking again - he sometimes reminded Aragorn of a flapping bird or a flighty young foal in the way he went about things, especially when he was anxious, as he was now. "No! Estel, no!" he cried, waving his left hand in front of him repeatedly.
"What? Stop fretting, you fool, and tell me what!" Aragorn frowned, needlessly annoyed by the elf's actions - the cold was getting to him.
"You cannot go back to sleep, you mustn't!" At his best friend's still- confused expression, dark brows knitted together at the elf's non- explanatory explanation. "You could easily slip into a coma; you're still very cold and I cannot allow you to do that! I can't!"
"Well, how do you suggest I stay warm *and* stay up, oh mighty healer - I *knew* I shouldn't go back to sleep already, dimwit." Aragorn felt his pride stung more than a little - he had known it, through all his training and practice as a healer of course he had known it - but it hadn't come to him just then, his freezing body temperature having driven it momentarily from his mind, and so when Legolas knew this so surely, it made him feel a bit foolish... as if *he* should have known also, which he should have.
Legolas looked a little hurt at Aragorn's rough tones, but did not let it bother him and carried on, his mind lighting upon more amusing things. "Well, *I* shall just have to be the remedy on both accounts," he grinned. "I could have lots of fun with this - repay you for this ridiculous escapade of a walk you dragged me on."
"Bloody marvelous," muttered Aragorn darkly.
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So, it seems as though we have come to a natural pause... what do you reckon? Review please! And, if your wondering, the whole falling into the icy lake thing was the idea I had this morning! For the best? Let me know!