A/N: Thankyou so much for your responses - both abusive and not!
Mwhahahaha, I think I got the reaction I deserved. Well done to all of you
who picked up on the bear thinking Aragorn and Legolas were the same being,
and Legolas protecting Aragorn by drawing him closer etc etc. There's some
bright sparks out there! Anyway, in this chapter you are introduced to
Legolas' family. And if you like what you read, then you might want to skip
over and read this other story of mine called 'Bathtime' (kudos for those
who already have done) in which you learn more about all the siblings etc.
and Thranduil's relationship with all his children. It's a big family, btw!
If you get bored, just bear with it, because they're gonna be a part of the
story later on... plus I really like the characters! Now, don;t be
offended or feel neglected if I don't mention you name here - I am very
thankful for all of your reviews, but if I responded to all of them, we'd
never get to the story, so...
Templa Otmena: I like this little niche I've found for pleasant Thranduil - I think he's just misunderstood, you know? Like, he's fairly stern as a King and masks his feelings in order to be a Royal, but then when he's with his family, he relaxes a little bit, and shows that he loves them all deeply. That's my take on it anyway! Lots more to come with that, as well!
marbienl: You seriously have to stop predicting things! Pretty much bang on! Nevermind, you give me some very good ideas. I like the way you pick out a sentance or so and say that was your favourite! You'll see Thranduil as 2nd father to Estel later on, I reckon. And you'll see about Evylenn (not gonna be a romance story though, don't worry... Well, maybe... I don't know!)
Nikki1: I *think* (not entirely sure, though) that 'stud' might be part of elven language... 'cause isn;t a stud a male horse or bull or something, who impregnates... *ahem*, yes well... I wasn't sure, but I stuck it in anyways because it made me laugh when I thought about it!
drew'sgirl: To be honest, I had forgotten a little bit! But I reckon he'd have put his own pack etc on over the top of Legolas' clothes. I've made it clearer in this chapter, in any case.
Gwyn and Shauna: Your reviews made me laugh out loud, seriously. But I'm not sure Aragorn would be happy with all the anger you've directed towards him!
Anyway, story time now. Don;t forget to let me know what you think. And smile: England just beat France in Rugby World Cup semi! Well, I'm happy...
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King Thranduil, ruler of Eryn Lasgalen, deftly disguised a yawn behind his hand as he strode down the corridor leading to the breakfasting room.
One of the guards standing at a junction in the corridors, however, spotted him, and had to quickly wipe the smile from his fair face as his King, seeing his smirk and catching his eye, halted and looked sternly upon the guard as though in challenge, one dark eyebrow arched. The guard seemed to pale a little at this unexpected turn of events, but kept his oak-brown eyes fixed firmly ahead in determination, though knowing he had been caught out. After a moment, however, Thranduil merely laughed aloud and, shaking his dark head, carried onwards down the corridor with his original intent, not saying a word. The guard sagged against the stone wall behind him in relief as his ruler left him. It was widely known that almost all Mirkwood elves had a queer sense of humour, but it took a particular frame of mind to understand that dry wit of the fairly-eccentric Royal family, most especially their King and youngest prince.
Selmanias, Head Guard and best friend to Thranduil, rolled his silver eyes and leaned forward to whisper in Thranduil's pointed ear, "My King, I advise you to really *stop* doing that - you're going to give one of them a heart-attack if you carry on."
But Thranduil merely shrugged in a rather un-Kingly fashion - considering it to be far too early in the morning time for such protocol between family and close companions - and replied lightly, turning his head in answer, "Then I advise *you* to advise *them* to get used to it... they have to learn one way or another that I am merely jesting - they should know it by now in any case."
"As you wish, my lord," was all the white-haired elven warrior could say to that, as usual.
Thranduil nodded as though with assertiveness, knowing he had not won the argument and that Selmanias would do no such thing, yet not really minding. He pushed open the oaken-doors to the breakfasting room himself when they reached them, believing it to be arrogant to have aides carry out actions which one could do oneself... it was his idea that if at all possible, independancy should be kept as the one of the highest morals, regardless if you were prince or pauper. This is how his children had been raised, and how his realm worked.
His children - or at least, those present - rose and bowed to him when he walked into the room, but he waved them down, as he always did, before seating himself at the head of the table. He did a quick scan, dark blue- grey eyes jumping from one member of the household to another, and came up short. "I count only five pretty heads - prey tell, have I misplaced some of my offspring? Namely my first daughter and my fifth and sixth sons?"
The Crown Prince, Tusinduil Grownoak, grinned as he seated himself back down again and pulled himself up to the table, "Nay, Niandias and Ithilmir have merely gone to see if they can drag Legolas and Estel from their pits... they drew the short straw."
"Ah," replied the King, for that answered everything, "a formidable task if any. What was the prize for the longest straw and who won it?" he was vastly interested in the workings of the minds of his children - they came to conclusions and had ideas and settled internal arguments in a manner completely foreign to him, and it amused him immensly.
"Me," smiled Aricesla, holding up her hand and grinning. "And I won first dibs on food," she indicated her full plate proudly, perfect with the best egg and unusually fine and well-shaped bread roll.
"I see," Thranduil nodded at his princess, then smiled as his gaze caught the figures of his twins, Arianduil and Andariun, who both sat with their arms folded, glaring at their empty plates, obviously having been ordered not to talk or complain by Tusinduil. A new rule had been placed by Fienngil, the second prince, only last week that the twins were to fill their plates up last at mealtimes - it was a definate scramble to find food when there are nine hungry princes and princesses around the table, and the pair of princes could be counted on for being less polite than others and grabbing the largest amount of food in the least amount of time - and Fienngil was tired of getting mishappen leftovers, and no one argued with Fienngil when he made a declaration. The warrior himself glanced to his father, and grinned widely, his deep blue eyes flashing merrily, happy that his threat was being abided.
And so the family started to eat, trusting that the others would join them when they were able. A heated discussion over whether Fienngil should let Arianduil and Andariun begin eating had just broken out - for the twins had been waiting a long time and no one could stand it when they used their puppy-dog eyes and Esladiya, who had their mother's heart, felt they may have learnt their lessons - when the oaken doors opened once more. Thranduil looked up to see his eldest princess grace the room, accompanied by her younger sibling who strode at her side. He raised a brow in question, unable to read his children's expressions which was unusual.
"Adar," began Niandias, smiling at the oddity of it all, "We were unable to find either Legolas or Estel; they weren't in their rooms."
The King put down his fork and watched as the two seated themselves at the table, and began helping themselves to breakfast. "Well, where else could they be? Surely to Valar they haven't gone out hunting or causing trouble already: it's far too early, especially for the pair of them."
"Have you checked the courtyard?" asked Andariun with a sly grin, "That's where we found them last time... granted, they'd had a lot of wine, but still..." He chuckled as, breaking the rules and ignoring the sharp glare directed his way by Fienngil, he reached for a bread roll, "You know what they're like, I shouldn't worry."
"Having said that," added Esladiya softly, looking at her father, a touch of anxiousness colouring her light grey gaze, "I didn't see nor hear of them at all for the whole of last night."
"Which is vaugely impossible under normal circumstances," finished Arianduil helpfully, nabbing the last sausage rebeliously.
Aricesla looked from one sibling to another as they spoke, then found her own voice, "I think it nothing, but if it will ease you, we can go and look for them... they're bound to be about somewhere."
"Wait," said Fienngil, pulling his feet down from his chair and sitting up straight, piercing his family with a dark look. "Didn't Estel say something about taking a walk yesterday morn? He was going to show Legolas how well he was coming along in developing his skills as a ranger... you don't think anything might have... caught them up, and they haven't returned yet?"
Tusinduil exchanged a glance with his father and closest brother, and an uneasy silence fell about the table as they thought on. It was a definate possibility, and Mirkwood was a dangerous place, especially at this time of year Even Selmanias and other guards shifted nervously about the room. This silence was only broken by Ithilmir, who had not yet said anything, speaking up quietly.
"It snowed last night," he said.
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Legolas woke up with a start, feeling as though someone was trying to smother him. Something was pulling at him, twisting his body and obscuring his vision, there were hands wrapping themselves about his neck. He began to panic, and fought to free himself from these unknown bonds, only to find that it was merely Aragorn's long coat which he was still wearing - the wayward piece of clothing had become twisted about his neck and face, and the clothes several sizes too big for him underneath were wrapped in a most odd and uncomfortable manner about his body.
Feeling slightly floolish, he struggled to untangle himself, and at last sat up, triumphant with Aragorn's clothes in order. He was overcome with dizziness for a moment, and reached out a hand to keep himself upright. For a moment, he was confused and couldn't figure out where he was or why he was there, but then it all came rushing back to him, along with the pain in his right arm. The prince didn't even look at the gruesome wound, though, as he wished to push it as far as possible from his mind. Also, something didn't feel right, he knew there was something else to all this, but for the life of him he couldn't figure out what. Then his heart leapt up against his windpipe.
Aragorn. Where was Aragorn?
He looked around wildly and found his friend to be lying right beside him, asleep. Asleep! Legolas quickly pulled Aragorn onto his back, not knowing what to expect but wishing it was not what he believed it to be. But it was, Aragorn was not moving.
Legolas swiftly bent over the young ranger, holding his own breath, and put his pointed ear to Aragorn's mouth - he was utterly relieved to find a small amount of warm, shallow breath tickling him. The man was still breathing, thank the Valar. But he was asleep, and Legolas couldn't believe he'd let him sink into a slumber. He shook Aragorn by the shoulders, hoping with all his heart that he woke up... but Aragorn's dark eyelashes didn't even flutter, and Legolas called out to him. "Tirven me [wake up], Estel!" But it was no use, for Legolas knew it was no mere deep sleep that Aragorn had drifted into - it was a coma. As he knew the ranger would had he been allowed to sleep. And Legolas had allowed it.
A horrid wave of guilt came over the Mirkwood royal and he dropped his hands from the still shoulders; he'd allowed it. This was *his* fault, he'd been overcome with his own injury, and now his best friend was paying the price for his selfishness. He couldn't believe he had fallen asleep, enabling the northerner to do so! It made him feel utterly wretched. Legolas knew if he didn't get Aragorn warm soon, the ranger might never wake up, and he couldn't bear to even think about such a thing, but he knew it would break his heart.
So he got to his feet, his annoyance spreading when he found he was unable to push the baggy sleeves of Aragorn's coat up to his elbows and stop them from flapping and getting in his way, his right arm was useless, and too painful. So instead he thought about what he might do: it seemed as though they'd been snowed in during the night, for the snow had piled up at the entrance to the cave, making a thick door. Legolas realised that first he would have to shift this obstruction, and the only way he was going to be able to do so would be to barge a pathway through it. So he squared up, his left shoulder lying against the wall of snow, and he pushed with all his might, the snow making satisfying creaking noises as he compressed it. But, other than covering himself with snow and flattening his side of the pile up, he didn't even make a dint in the snow. Sighing gustily, and pushing a stray golden bang from out of his eyes, he began to claw at the compacted snow, smiling a little as he thought of what Aragorn might say about 'weak, dainty elves' had he been watching Legolas' pathetic attempt at barging.
He worked hard, until his forehead was hot and his fingers ice cold, and finally succeeded in making a little window in the wall. When Legolas looked at this window, he realised why he had been unable to shift the obstruction easily; the snow had been piled up to the length of a forearm in width! When it snowed in Mirkwood, it *really* snowed.
He thrust his left arm through this hole, and waved it about, easing more and more into the hole, till his shoulder was widening the gap. Then he shifted position, and began clawing at the snow a little below his previous window. It was extremely tedious work, but it was the only way he was going to get them both out of there. Soon, there was a line of these little holes, distanced in a regular pattern down the wall. Legolas concluded that it would be a lot of fun (despite his and Aragorn's current situation) and fairly effective if he just kicked himself out. So he laid back, aiming at the centre of the line of holes, and booted it with his foot. It worked, and there was a minor explosion of snow, a creak, and then a mini-avalanche in which Legolas himself got absolutely covered with coldness, and suddenly he was faced with blissful sunshine, streaming into the cave and illuminating them both.
He sighed, proud of this at least, and carefully dragged Aragorn out into the open. He was faced with a veritable winter-wonderland, the snow-clad trees glittering with the bright sunshine, the icicles looking beautiful as they frosted over in the still-cold weather. Even the evil lake which Aragorn had fallen into looked gorgeous, the ice seeming to have captured the shift in the waters beneath in it's icy covering. Legolas sighed, his breath smoking in the sharp air, and almost seemed to find peace within himself: there were sometimes when Mirkwood was almost-recognisable as Greenwood the Great. But then he looked down at Aragorn, and his heart chilled, and a cold slab of guilt formed in the back of his throat.
He tried his hardest to ignore the awful feeling that threatened to overwhelm him, and pulled Aragorn's inert form up and onto his good shoulder, and began staggering into the wilderness. The snow began to fall once more as he set off, intent on getting his best friend to safety.
He walked and walked, the change in the landscape and trees around him being an indication of just how far. Only when his legs began to shake violently, and his breath began to wheeze in his chest did Legolas realise he could not go on any further. It sickened him to think so, but he just knew he was going to give up soon. Even so, he felt disgusted with himself when he stumbled and fell to the snow-covered ground, once more jarring his agonising right side. His head was swimming, and he had difficulty stringing thoughts together. He pulled Aragorn into a comfortable position on his back, and bent over him unsteadily. "Estel, I'm so sorry... s-sorry I didn't stay awake... Estel..." he found he did not have the breath to say anything further, and so let his head fall onto Aragorn's chest as he knelt over him, believing that that way he would be able to give heat to the unconscious ranger.
He slipped away from the world as his best friend had.
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Was going to make this a really long chapter... but seeing as you're all desperate, I'm leaving it on a mini-cliff. Mwahaha! Please review... what do you think of Legolas' family?
Templa Otmena: I like this little niche I've found for pleasant Thranduil - I think he's just misunderstood, you know? Like, he's fairly stern as a King and masks his feelings in order to be a Royal, but then when he's with his family, he relaxes a little bit, and shows that he loves them all deeply. That's my take on it anyway! Lots more to come with that, as well!
marbienl: You seriously have to stop predicting things! Pretty much bang on! Nevermind, you give me some very good ideas. I like the way you pick out a sentance or so and say that was your favourite! You'll see Thranduil as 2nd father to Estel later on, I reckon. And you'll see about Evylenn (not gonna be a romance story though, don't worry... Well, maybe... I don't know!)
Nikki1: I *think* (not entirely sure, though) that 'stud' might be part of elven language... 'cause isn;t a stud a male horse or bull or something, who impregnates... *ahem*, yes well... I wasn't sure, but I stuck it in anyways because it made me laugh when I thought about it!
drew'sgirl: To be honest, I had forgotten a little bit! But I reckon he'd have put his own pack etc on over the top of Legolas' clothes. I've made it clearer in this chapter, in any case.
Gwyn and Shauna: Your reviews made me laugh out loud, seriously. But I'm not sure Aragorn would be happy with all the anger you've directed towards him!
Anyway, story time now. Don;t forget to let me know what you think. And smile: England just beat France in Rugby World Cup semi! Well, I'm happy...
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King Thranduil, ruler of Eryn Lasgalen, deftly disguised a yawn behind his hand as he strode down the corridor leading to the breakfasting room.
One of the guards standing at a junction in the corridors, however, spotted him, and had to quickly wipe the smile from his fair face as his King, seeing his smirk and catching his eye, halted and looked sternly upon the guard as though in challenge, one dark eyebrow arched. The guard seemed to pale a little at this unexpected turn of events, but kept his oak-brown eyes fixed firmly ahead in determination, though knowing he had been caught out. After a moment, however, Thranduil merely laughed aloud and, shaking his dark head, carried onwards down the corridor with his original intent, not saying a word. The guard sagged against the stone wall behind him in relief as his ruler left him. It was widely known that almost all Mirkwood elves had a queer sense of humour, but it took a particular frame of mind to understand that dry wit of the fairly-eccentric Royal family, most especially their King and youngest prince.
Selmanias, Head Guard and best friend to Thranduil, rolled his silver eyes and leaned forward to whisper in Thranduil's pointed ear, "My King, I advise you to really *stop* doing that - you're going to give one of them a heart-attack if you carry on."
But Thranduil merely shrugged in a rather un-Kingly fashion - considering it to be far too early in the morning time for such protocol between family and close companions - and replied lightly, turning his head in answer, "Then I advise *you* to advise *them* to get used to it... they have to learn one way or another that I am merely jesting - they should know it by now in any case."
"As you wish, my lord," was all the white-haired elven warrior could say to that, as usual.
Thranduil nodded as though with assertiveness, knowing he had not won the argument and that Selmanias would do no such thing, yet not really minding. He pushed open the oaken-doors to the breakfasting room himself when they reached them, believing it to be arrogant to have aides carry out actions which one could do oneself... it was his idea that if at all possible, independancy should be kept as the one of the highest morals, regardless if you were prince or pauper. This is how his children had been raised, and how his realm worked.
His children - or at least, those present - rose and bowed to him when he walked into the room, but he waved them down, as he always did, before seating himself at the head of the table. He did a quick scan, dark blue- grey eyes jumping from one member of the household to another, and came up short. "I count only five pretty heads - prey tell, have I misplaced some of my offspring? Namely my first daughter and my fifth and sixth sons?"
The Crown Prince, Tusinduil Grownoak, grinned as he seated himself back down again and pulled himself up to the table, "Nay, Niandias and Ithilmir have merely gone to see if they can drag Legolas and Estel from their pits... they drew the short straw."
"Ah," replied the King, for that answered everything, "a formidable task if any. What was the prize for the longest straw and who won it?" he was vastly interested in the workings of the minds of his children - they came to conclusions and had ideas and settled internal arguments in a manner completely foreign to him, and it amused him immensly.
"Me," smiled Aricesla, holding up her hand and grinning. "And I won first dibs on food," she indicated her full plate proudly, perfect with the best egg and unusually fine and well-shaped bread roll.
"I see," Thranduil nodded at his princess, then smiled as his gaze caught the figures of his twins, Arianduil and Andariun, who both sat with their arms folded, glaring at their empty plates, obviously having been ordered not to talk or complain by Tusinduil. A new rule had been placed by Fienngil, the second prince, only last week that the twins were to fill their plates up last at mealtimes - it was a definate scramble to find food when there are nine hungry princes and princesses around the table, and the pair of princes could be counted on for being less polite than others and grabbing the largest amount of food in the least amount of time - and Fienngil was tired of getting mishappen leftovers, and no one argued with Fienngil when he made a declaration. The warrior himself glanced to his father, and grinned widely, his deep blue eyes flashing merrily, happy that his threat was being abided.
And so the family started to eat, trusting that the others would join them when they were able. A heated discussion over whether Fienngil should let Arianduil and Andariun begin eating had just broken out - for the twins had been waiting a long time and no one could stand it when they used their puppy-dog eyes and Esladiya, who had their mother's heart, felt they may have learnt their lessons - when the oaken doors opened once more. Thranduil looked up to see his eldest princess grace the room, accompanied by her younger sibling who strode at her side. He raised a brow in question, unable to read his children's expressions which was unusual.
"Adar," began Niandias, smiling at the oddity of it all, "We were unable to find either Legolas or Estel; they weren't in their rooms."
The King put down his fork and watched as the two seated themselves at the table, and began helping themselves to breakfast. "Well, where else could they be? Surely to Valar they haven't gone out hunting or causing trouble already: it's far too early, especially for the pair of them."
"Have you checked the courtyard?" asked Andariun with a sly grin, "That's where we found them last time... granted, they'd had a lot of wine, but still..." He chuckled as, breaking the rules and ignoring the sharp glare directed his way by Fienngil, he reached for a bread roll, "You know what they're like, I shouldn't worry."
"Having said that," added Esladiya softly, looking at her father, a touch of anxiousness colouring her light grey gaze, "I didn't see nor hear of them at all for the whole of last night."
"Which is vaugely impossible under normal circumstances," finished Arianduil helpfully, nabbing the last sausage rebeliously.
Aricesla looked from one sibling to another as they spoke, then found her own voice, "I think it nothing, but if it will ease you, we can go and look for them... they're bound to be about somewhere."
"Wait," said Fienngil, pulling his feet down from his chair and sitting up straight, piercing his family with a dark look. "Didn't Estel say something about taking a walk yesterday morn? He was going to show Legolas how well he was coming along in developing his skills as a ranger... you don't think anything might have... caught them up, and they haven't returned yet?"
Tusinduil exchanged a glance with his father and closest brother, and an uneasy silence fell about the table as they thought on. It was a definate possibility, and Mirkwood was a dangerous place, especially at this time of year Even Selmanias and other guards shifted nervously about the room. This silence was only broken by Ithilmir, who had not yet said anything, speaking up quietly.
"It snowed last night," he said.
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Legolas woke up with a start, feeling as though someone was trying to smother him. Something was pulling at him, twisting his body and obscuring his vision, there were hands wrapping themselves about his neck. He began to panic, and fought to free himself from these unknown bonds, only to find that it was merely Aragorn's long coat which he was still wearing - the wayward piece of clothing had become twisted about his neck and face, and the clothes several sizes too big for him underneath were wrapped in a most odd and uncomfortable manner about his body.
Feeling slightly floolish, he struggled to untangle himself, and at last sat up, triumphant with Aragorn's clothes in order. He was overcome with dizziness for a moment, and reached out a hand to keep himself upright. For a moment, he was confused and couldn't figure out where he was or why he was there, but then it all came rushing back to him, along with the pain in his right arm. The prince didn't even look at the gruesome wound, though, as he wished to push it as far as possible from his mind. Also, something didn't feel right, he knew there was something else to all this, but for the life of him he couldn't figure out what. Then his heart leapt up against his windpipe.
Aragorn. Where was Aragorn?
He looked around wildly and found his friend to be lying right beside him, asleep. Asleep! Legolas quickly pulled Aragorn onto his back, not knowing what to expect but wishing it was not what he believed it to be. But it was, Aragorn was not moving.
Legolas swiftly bent over the young ranger, holding his own breath, and put his pointed ear to Aragorn's mouth - he was utterly relieved to find a small amount of warm, shallow breath tickling him. The man was still breathing, thank the Valar. But he was asleep, and Legolas couldn't believe he'd let him sink into a slumber. He shook Aragorn by the shoulders, hoping with all his heart that he woke up... but Aragorn's dark eyelashes didn't even flutter, and Legolas called out to him. "Tirven me [wake up], Estel!" But it was no use, for Legolas knew it was no mere deep sleep that Aragorn had drifted into - it was a coma. As he knew the ranger would had he been allowed to sleep. And Legolas had allowed it.
A horrid wave of guilt came over the Mirkwood royal and he dropped his hands from the still shoulders; he'd allowed it. This was *his* fault, he'd been overcome with his own injury, and now his best friend was paying the price for his selfishness. He couldn't believe he had fallen asleep, enabling the northerner to do so! It made him feel utterly wretched. Legolas knew if he didn't get Aragorn warm soon, the ranger might never wake up, and he couldn't bear to even think about such a thing, but he knew it would break his heart.
So he got to his feet, his annoyance spreading when he found he was unable to push the baggy sleeves of Aragorn's coat up to his elbows and stop them from flapping and getting in his way, his right arm was useless, and too painful. So instead he thought about what he might do: it seemed as though they'd been snowed in during the night, for the snow had piled up at the entrance to the cave, making a thick door. Legolas realised that first he would have to shift this obstruction, and the only way he was going to be able to do so would be to barge a pathway through it. So he squared up, his left shoulder lying against the wall of snow, and he pushed with all his might, the snow making satisfying creaking noises as he compressed it. But, other than covering himself with snow and flattening his side of the pile up, he didn't even make a dint in the snow. Sighing gustily, and pushing a stray golden bang from out of his eyes, he began to claw at the compacted snow, smiling a little as he thought of what Aragorn might say about 'weak, dainty elves' had he been watching Legolas' pathetic attempt at barging.
He worked hard, until his forehead was hot and his fingers ice cold, and finally succeeded in making a little window in the wall. When Legolas looked at this window, he realised why he had been unable to shift the obstruction easily; the snow had been piled up to the length of a forearm in width! When it snowed in Mirkwood, it *really* snowed.
He thrust his left arm through this hole, and waved it about, easing more and more into the hole, till his shoulder was widening the gap. Then he shifted position, and began clawing at the snow a little below his previous window. It was extremely tedious work, but it was the only way he was going to get them both out of there. Soon, there was a line of these little holes, distanced in a regular pattern down the wall. Legolas concluded that it would be a lot of fun (despite his and Aragorn's current situation) and fairly effective if he just kicked himself out. So he laid back, aiming at the centre of the line of holes, and booted it with his foot. It worked, and there was a minor explosion of snow, a creak, and then a mini-avalanche in which Legolas himself got absolutely covered with coldness, and suddenly he was faced with blissful sunshine, streaming into the cave and illuminating them both.
He sighed, proud of this at least, and carefully dragged Aragorn out into the open. He was faced with a veritable winter-wonderland, the snow-clad trees glittering with the bright sunshine, the icicles looking beautiful as they frosted over in the still-cold weather. Even the evil lake which Aragorn had fallen into looked gorgeous, the ice seeming to have captured the shift in the waters beneath in it's icy covering. Legolas sighed, his breath smoking in the sharp air, and almost seemed to find peace within himself: there were sometimes when Mirkwood was almost-recognisable as Greenwood the Great. But then he looked down at Aragorn, and his heart chilled, and a cold slab of guilt formed in the back of his throat.
He tried his hardest to ignore the awful feeling that threatened to overwhelm him, and pulled Aragorn's inert form up and onto his good shoulder, and began staggering into the wilderness. The snow began to fall once more as he set off, intent on getting his best friend to safety.
He walked and walked, the change in the landscape and trees around him being an indication of just how far. Only when his legs began to shake violently, and his breath began to wheeze in his chest did Legolas realise he could not go on any further. It sickened him to think so, but he just knew he was going to give up soon. Even so, he felt disgusted with himself when he stumbled and fell to the snow-covered ground, once more jarring his agonising right side. His head was swimming, and he had difficulty stringing thoughts together. He pulled Aragorn into a comfortable position on his back, and bent over him unsteadily. "Estel, I'm so sorry... s-sorry I didn't stay awake... Estel..." he found he did not have the breath to say anything further, and so let his head fall onto Aragorn's chest as he knelt over him, believing that that way he would be able to give heat to the unconscious ranger.
He slipped away from the world as his best friend had.
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Was going to make this a really long chapter... but seeing as you're all desperate, I'm leaving it on a mini-cliff. Mwahaha! Please review... what do you think of Legolas' family?