A/N: You're all beautiful, beautiful people, and I adore you all. Lol.
You're so great when it comes reviews, though I did get the feeling that a
lot of you want this story to end... can this possibly be true? Let me
know!
I reckon this'll be the last post before Christmas - this coming week is jam-festively-packed for me thanks to a number of parties, do's, gigs going on... Yeah, so even though I am barely at home at all during the first part of the crimbo hols, after that I shall be most deftly avoiding coursework and revision, and so will hopeful and most likely post the week after Christmas.
Now, a couple of you have requested my family tree for Legolas, or at least *MY* family tree for Legolas, and here it is, obviously no details about brothers and sisters are put on, but this is their order...
[(1st) Tusinduil Grownoak - Crown Prince] = [(2nd) Niandias Whiteblossom - First Princess] = [(3rd) Fienngil Morningstar - Second or Star Prince] = [(4th) Arianduil Youngoak - Third Prince (though twin)] = [(5th) Andariun Deepstream - Fourth Prince (though twin)] = [(6th) Esladiya Sunbeam - Second or Sun Princess] = [(7th) Ithilmir Moonjewel - Fifth Prince] = [(8th) Aricesla Evensun - Last Princess] = [(9th) Legolas Greenleaf - Last or Green Prince]
Phew, am glad that's over!
Also, there's a fair bit in this chapter that you really have to use your imagination with, but I have tried to very hard to write the event *exactly* how I saw it when I though about it... so you are not to mock, reet? Give comments sure, but please don;t skip it as I did have great trouble trying to become eloquent enough to put it into words, kay? *I think* I pulled it off... response to reviewers with next chapter as there's been a bit of a rush on my part to write and post this.
[PS. I SAW THE RETURN OF THE KING!!!! *OH MY GIDDY AUNT WAS IT GOOD!* Genius. Pure and simple. From start to finish it was an utter masterpiece... all those who have seen it will know exactly what I am talking about. I have never cried or felt my heart break more times in any other film... EVRYONE - even a few lads I know - stumbled out of the cinema trying to pull themselves together. And for me, speaking not (for once) as the obsesive LotR fan that I am, but more as the rather-critical and cynical viewer of lots and *LOTS* of films, I could possibly say that it was the best film I have ever had the pleasure of viewing. Anyway, sorry, I just had to let it all out!]
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"Estel? Did you say you wanted some of this toast?"
Aragorn was dragged out of his thoughts reluctantly as he looked up to find a large pair of warm hazel eyes gazing deeply into his own across the sick- bed they presided over. He was sitting, bundled in the cushioned bench beside Legolas' bed, swaddled against his will in many blankets, and Evylenn sat in the chair she always sat in across from him. It was unfortunate that time did not simply stand still in certain circumstances, and through a lot of bad noise, the King and his eldest son had been forced to go back to ruling the kingdom once more, for a short while in any case: all knew where their hearts truly lay. And Legolas' brothers and sisters were all getting rest, exhausted from worry, or had to return to their work.
He smiled softly at her typical - if not familiarly annoying - concern, "No thanks," he said, clearing his sore throat a little, "I'm not all that hungry." Aragorn, as a consequence of his recent adventure, had developed the irksome human affliction of the common cold: therefore he was not very hungry as he could not taste anything, his nose was sore, his chest heavy and his ears in need of a good pop.
But the fair elf-maiden was having none of that, "Come on, you really must eat something," she insisted, holding said piece of food out to the stubborn ranger - Aricesla, on her way to her studies in the palace's main, vast library, had dropped off some toast and tea for those keeping the vigil, and it was welcome in one quarter at least. Evylenn brought a piece of her own toast to her mouth, and spoke most un-ladylike whilst eating it, "You know as well as I that it is simply impossible for you humans to not eat for more than a few hours."
The young man chuckled, at her actions as well as her words, shifting his limbs under the warm weights of the blankets, and his eyes drifted back towards Legolas' still deathly-still form. "Nay... seriously, I'm fine."
Evylenn stared at him for a moment longer, chewing thoughtfully, and put the toast back down on the plate, shifting it to one side, "Well, if you're sure," she mumbled and, swallowing her mouthful, picked up her steaming honey-tea.
But Aragorn didn't hear her: his grey eyes were fixed and his mind wholly focused upon his best friend. Legolas had not moved an inch since the day they had been found... he had stopped breathing more often than Aragorn thought was *completely* necessary, but he showed no sign of even being alive, his chest barely moving with each slow breath he took in. The waiting was what was driving the ranger insane... that, and the feeling of total helplessness... oh, and the guilt that was threatening to crush him with it's enormous weight... and the nerves which were steadily shredding his heart apart. The sooner his father came and pulled his best friend away from the brink of death, and the sooner they found out whether there'd be any lasting damage done to the elf-prince, the better... he didn't think he could wait all that long though.
The two were left to their own thoughts for a time, sinking further into themselves as the comfortable silence went on. The large, stunningy- decorated windows about the room let the winter sun stream in glorious, filling the chamber with lightand making the figure lying in the bed seem to glow with an unearthly golden aura, yet when clouds shifted periodically in front of the sun, Legolas was revealed as he was in reality at that time, pale and ill-looking, battered and frail beyond belief.
Suddenly, something seemed wrong, and Aragorn's dark head snapped up quickly. He couldn't figure out what it was, but something was missing in the room. Then it hit him - Legolas had stopped breathing *again*.
Aragorn immediately threw himself into the routine he had mastered over the past night and day, as Evylenn quickly set aside her tea and joined him. Their hands moved in unison as they bent over the completely still body of their best friend, their calm exteriors showing nothing of the terror they felt within themselves. The amount of times that this had happened did absolutely nothing to soften the sharp knife of anxiety that sliced into their hearts everytime it happened. As Aragorn's breath was still a little thready from his own recent ordeal, it was Evylenn he pinched her best friend's nose and breathed into his mouth while the young ranger pumped strongly upon the thin chest. After a while, Evylenn finally felt some resistance, and stopped forcing her own breath into the struggling being: thankfully Legolas' brain seemed to have regained control of his unresponsive body once more.
They sagged again, tired from the endless resuscitations they were forced to practice on a now-regular basis. Though Felrofin and the other healers had managed to stablise Legolas' condition, they were unable to keep his lungs functioning adequately for some reason, and the organs seemed to forget what they were supposed to be doing once every while... that was Aragorn's rather childlike view on the whole situation, anyway.
Aragorn looked up, catching Evylenn's eye. He noticed the elf-maiden seemed to be shaking quite a bit, and she did not roll her eyes or make a reassuring comment as she had been doing upon such occassions. Rather, she looked more as though she had been punched in the stomach, and trembled like a leaf in a strong breeze, battered by her own emotions. "Oh, Evy..." he murmured, deep voice sympathetic as he moved towards her. She ran to him, and buried her face in his chest as he wrapped his arms comfortingly about her. Up until then, Evylenn had been the one to make him feel better: she looked out for him and practically force-fed him tea and the such, but he saw now that she needed just as much support as he did, as they all did.
As he held her, something seemed to flare in the ranger's heart: it was anger. He knew not who or what it was directed at, but he knew the sensation. All his frustrated, pent-up feelings about the whole situation were triggered at the sight of seeing Evylenn even mildly upset. He broke from her, throwing an arm wildly about, voice raised, "I refuse to wait any longer!"
Evylenn looked dully at him, and exhaled, "Whatever do you mean, Estel? All we can do is wait."
"Nay! We do not know how long it will take my adar to reach here, and what if- " He broke off, chest tight all of a sudden for reasons not connected with his cold, then continued quietly, looking down at his bare feet, "... what if he is too late?"
The elf-maiden gasped slightly, and her soft hazel eyes hardened noticeably, "Do not say such a thing!" she cried, her wish not to think about such a statement making her voice angry. Then, her expression melted as she realised the harshness of her tone, and lifted up a hand to brush away a straggly dark lock from the ranger's flushed face, "I am sorry... but, Estel, this is not like you... tell me what is wrong," she pleaded with him to open up to her, to release the pressure steadily building in him from within.
Aragorn refused to look her in the eye, and he spoke more to the floor than to her. "Well... it's just that this is all my fault, and... and I can't just stand and wait for something worse to happen all because of me... I *can't*."
"Estel," Evy said softly, a small, fond smile seeping through into her words, "None of this is your fault... circumstances merely- "
The ranger cut her off, "It was not circumstances, Evy... *I* was the one- " He halted, frustrated by his lack of eloquence to express his feelings. Then his frustration flared once more, and he cried, angry at himself, "Legolas *told* me that I could not go to sleep... he said over and over again - and I ignored him. When he faltered, I gave him Dragrod root to try and ease his pain... I honestly thought it was for the best but... but I found my own weakness and fell asleep, despite his persistant warnings." Aragorn paused, sighing deeply, unable to look at Legolas' best friend, "And, because he was so worried for me, he pushed himself well past his few limitations... and... and has ended up where he is now." He looked again at his best friend, so still and pale, and his eyes burned and stung with bitter tears, "... He might never wake, Evy, and all because I wanted to show off my tracking skills... I cannot bear to think what life would mean without him." And he stopped, voice breaking, lost in a world of his own making, distraught.
He expected Evylenn to be angered with him now she had learnt fully of what had put her best friend in the sick-bed where he now lay, or at least to confront him. But instead, he felt a light hand upon his shoulder blade and turned to find an open face and understanding eyes. She paused before she said anything, then spoke softly in earnest. "Estel," she repeated, trying to make him realise that neither she, nor any of the Royal family, placed any blame upon his shoulders, "you are *not* to blame."
Aragorn felt a little pressure leave his heart, but only a little. Yet even so he nodded in thanks. "In any case," he said, voice strong now and grey eyes glinting with determination rather than regret, "I will not wait."
"What do you propose to do?" Evylenn's dark brows drew down in confusion.
"My father has taught me a little of drawing spirits from places in the mind, and I thought maybe I could try to... to bring him out of it," now Aragorn said the plan aloud, he realised he sounded a little foolish.
Evylenn smiled a little, though she tried not to look like she was making fun of her friend. "Estel," she began to protest, "... only *extremely* skilled healers can reverse this Elvish condition, and-" here she placed a slender hand upon her own chest, over her heart " -not that I don't have full, unwavering faith in your abilities - but..."
Aragorn grinned slightly, amused despite himself. "You don't think I can do it?" he asked, one dark brow raised in mock-question.
"I never said that! I- " Evylenn's pale cheeks flushed pink for a mere second, then faded again.
"*You don't think I can do it*!" the young ranger accused, as though offended, crossing his arms across his chest in an expression of extreme stubborness. At Evylenn's uncharacteristic loss of words, he dropped his arms, and moved towards the bed with determination, "Well, we'll see about that..." he muttered as though indignant, chest puffing out of it's own accord.
Evylenn's pleasing mirthful laugh at the ranger's actions seemed to make the room grow brighter in answer to her amusement, as she also moved towards the bed. She watched as Aragorn seated himself next to his best friend, looked at him for a moment, smile fading slightly from his rugged face, cleared his throat, centred himself - squaring his shoulders and breathing in deeply - and placed a hand upon the warrior's pale forehead. She fought to hide her smile, but could not quite let the intense moment last, however anxious she was to have Legolas back, "Don't we need some candles and incense-sticks or something?"
Aragorn opened his eyes and pinned her with a devastatingly-dirty glare, "You know, this could be so much easier for me if I had your full support- "
"Oh, and you *do*, Estel," she assured him wickedly, throwing him a look of mock-concern, hazel eyes wide.
" -and if you could refrain from mocking me for a mere moment or so," the ranger finished with a raised brow and smile, baiting her.
She sighed and made a clicking noise with her tongue, shrugging her slim shoulders, "Ah... well then, no can do, I'm afraid - that's a deal- breaker."
He snorted, then went back to being serious, placing his hand again upon his best friend's still forehead and closing his eyes once more. Aragorn let himself drift in the peaceful lull that overcame him, almost as though he were upon the brink of sleep. He sought mentally for the strong connection he held with Legolas, and for a while he was unable to find it, but then in his mind he thought he saw a dim beacon, a little keyhole of golden light in the darkness. Concentrating strongly, he made it widen a little, until he was able to send soothing, healing thoughts through it, hoping to reach the mind and spirit beyond with the warm red intentions. Slowly, Aragorn managed to gently force his own way through the gap, mentally of course, and he was met, not with the amazing, unequalled brightness and light of a healthy elf mind - not to mention Legolas' stunning spirit - but rather with another dimmed space, where he could see that the blazing light of his best friend must have been blocked from view, and all that could be seen were little cracks where a few faint rays of gold managed to slip out through the thick ebony plates that defended it and exist, though barely.
The only indication Evylenn had, watching this process from the outside, that her friend wasn't asleep, was the frown that took over the ranger's handsome features. She wondered what in Valar could be happening between the two minds, for she herself had no knowledge of the healing art of drawing spirits.
Aragorn meanwhile, was mentally working on easing apart the cracks, where shells of protectiveness had enclosed the precious elven spirit within. The black protective plates completely blocked out everything on both sides, and it was hard work, taking up all of the ranger's strength to pull them apart. But he was managing it, his red-hued mental healing thoughts acting like a balm that soothed and eased, making it slowly easier and easier for him to mentally enter the slightly widened cracks. He tried not to force his way through the barriers: it was a common mistake inexperienced healers made when trying to draw an elven spirit, his father had told him one day, and it could end up breaking the patient's mind... and that was completely *not* what Aragorn wished to do to Legolas, he had already done enough.
But, bit by bit, he got through the cracks between the barriers, red healing waves seeking and finding ways of seeping through all the gaps available. And he was finally faced with a recognisable, if extremely dimmed, golden Elven spirit he knew to be Legolas'. The spirit was very far away from him, and it seemed to be wrapped a little in protective plates of it's own and yet Aragorn could see the darkness of illness and injury had crept up on it anyways, binding and choking the weak golden light - he had been right, had they waited for Lord Elrond, it *would* have been too late, he just hoped not enough damage had been done to permenantly affect his best friend.
Using strength that was beginning to slip through his fingers and ebb away from him with his tiring effort, Aragorn mentally flared with the red healing spirit he had been born with, and sent tendrils and waves of this gift to the struggling golden light, bolstering it and beginning to draw it mentally towards him, regardless of the darkness that still clung to it. The golden spirit seemed to hesitate, and was pulled back slightly by the dark bindings that kept it in place, but then, as if finding new strength, Legolas' spirit sparked dimly and came forward, though the darkness would not relent. Aragorn aided the spirit readily by encouraging and urging, until finally, gold met with red, desperately clasped and became one, and Aragorn used all his might to pull them both from the shielded enclosure of Legolas' mind.
He snapped back to the moment suddenly, and only Evylenn's steadying hand helped him to stay upright as he blinked, head pounding dully. "Did it work?" she asked, her voice tight and desperately hopeful, hazel eyes wide and imploring, not really daring to believe.
Aragorn did not know, he looked down fearfully at his best friend, and found that Legolas was no longer deathly-still: his chest actually seemed to move, he twitched, and his eyes roamed sluggishly beneath their heavy lids. And as Aragorn kept watching, the prince's jewelled-green eyes opened to slight cracks, and he breathed in deeply, as though waking from a mere sleep, and not a coma. Tears of relief and joy filled Aragorn's eyes, and a wide grin split his face as he fought not to hug his weak friend, instead he turned to hug Evylenn, who was not holding back her tears and instead let them fall freely down her smooth cheeks as she let out a giddy laugh of relief.
Legolas, struggling to keep his eyes open at all, saw his two best friends, and tried to smile. It came out sort of weak and twisted, and it suddenly hit Aragorn that more damage might have been done to his best friend than was previously thought, and perhaps he had broken Legolas' mind? "Mellon nin, can you hear me? Speak, say anything..."
"-this fuss... over little old me...?" Legolas managed to speak faintly between stubbornly-unresponsive lips. The words were slurred, and the voice heart-wrenchingly weak, but it was clear that Legolas had not lost his mind.
Aragorn could not express how happy he was, how he felt his chest was fit to burst with joy, and he exchanged a mirthful glance with Evylenn, who was grinning widely, cheeks rosy and shiny. He was not about to go all sloppy and heart-felt on his best friend when he'd just woken up - there would be plenty of time for that later - and so instead he jested, "Well, you're the dainty little princeling who needs to be the centre of attention and *have* fuss made over him..."
The elf grinned weakly again, but his eyes refused to stay fully open, and sank so that Aragorn could only see small slivers of bright green beneath dark lashes. "Four words," he said, voice quiet and amused, but harsh and unused, "*a ranger getting lost*..."
The ranger in question chose to ignore Evylenn's undignified snort from behind him, and instead felt a little dip in his happy spirits as he watched Legolas. A frown had begun to marr Legolas' proud brow, and he breathed in sharply as though he'd been struck, assaulted all of a sudden with horrible pain which began to twist his injured body as he fought weakly to evade it. Aragorn chided himself: he should have known that not all things would be well immediately. "Legolas?" he asked, concern growing once more and smile slipping slightly from his face.
"It is well... I-I am fine," said Legolas, eyes closed fully now, even screwed up slightly. He was trying to reassure his best friend, but Aragorn detected the hidden strain in the quiet voice which very nearly faltered on it's words, and the heaviness of the breathing that followed them. Legolas was trying to keep his pain at bay and stay awake for Aragorn and Evylenn's sake.
"Legolas, mellon nin, we shall be here when you wake back up," Aragorn said quietly, and moved to clasp the prince's uninjured hand gently as Evylenn sat back down in her chair by the bed and reached out to stroke a lock of golden hair that had fallen loose from the single plait on Legolas' shoulder, back behind his pointed ear with tenderness. "We shall all be here, waiting for you."
A faint, fleeting shadow of a smile graced Legolas' fair features for a mere second, and lifted the darkness and pain that had fallen there for a while. The limp hand held in Aragorn's large, warm one returned a friendly, greatful squeeze weakly, and Legolas fought to open his eyes just a little bit more. The green cresents visible to Aragorn beneath his lashes twinkled as the prince said, "Hannon-le cin devie nistras, mellon nin haedul [Thankyou for bringing me back, my truest friend]." And then the pain of his body beginning to re-start itself became too much for him to bear, and he fell away from reality once more, but into a hopefully more wholesome world than he had previously been in, the hand Aragorn was holding falling limp again.
Aragorn felt thoroughly and wretchedly undeserving of the title Legolas bestowed so gladly upon him just then, so unworthy to have this elven prince call him a friend, let alone his best one. He had nearly killed Legolas with his stupidity, and yet the warrior still thanked him? His heart held all the more regrets and guilt than it had done before he had drawn Legolas' spirit, and he no longer felt his soul eased.
But nevertheless he sat with Evylenn as Legolas slept, weak body trying in vain to repair itself and begin starting again all the systems it had shut down on itself, and neither pair of eyes left the prince's still form till Aricesla wandered in and learnt of the happy time and fled to tell her King.
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I was gonna have another bit on the end of here, but time is a limiter, y'know! Let me know what you're thinking. And a merry christmas to you all!
I reckon this'll be the last post before Christmas - this coming week is jam-festively-packed for me thanks to a number of parties, do's, gigs going on... Yeah, so even though I am barely at home at all during the first part of the crimbo hols, after that I shall be most deftly avoiding coursework and revision, and so will hopeful and most likely post the week after Christmas.
Now, a couple of you have requested my family tree for Legolas, or at least *MY* family tree for Legolas, and here it is, obviously no details about brothers and sisters are put on, but this is their order...
[(1st) Tusinduil Grownoak - Crown Prince] = [(2nd) Niandias Whiteblossom - First Princess] = [(3rd) Fienngil Morningstar - Second or Star Prince] = [(4th) Arianduil Youngoak - Third Prince (though twin)] = [(5th) Andariun Deepstream - Fourth Prince (though twin)] = [(6th) Esladiya Sunbeam - Second or Sun Princess] = [(7th) Ithilmir Moonjewel - Fifth Prince] = [(8th) Aricesla Evensun - Last Princess] = [(9th) Legolas Greenleaf - Last or Green Prince]
Phew, am glad that's over!
Also, there's a fair bit in this chapter that you really have to use your imagination with, but I have tried to very hard to write the event *exactly* how I saw it when I though about it... so you are not to mock, reet? Give comments sure, but please don;t skip it as I did have great trouble trying to become eloquent enough to put it into words, kay? *I think* I pulled it off... response to reviewers with next chapter as there's been a bit of a rush on my part to write and post this.
[PS. I SAW THE RETURN OF THE KING!!!! *OH MY GIDDY AUNT WAS IT GOOD!* Genius. Pure and simple. From start to finish it was an utter masterpiece... all those who have seen it will know exactly what I am talking about. I have never cried or felt my heart break more times in any other film... EVRYONE - even a few lads I know - stumbled out of the cinema trying to pull themselves together. And for me, speaking not (for once) as the obsesive LotR fan that I am, but more as the rather-critical and cynical viewer of lots and *LOTS* of films, I could possibly say that it was the best film I have ever had the pleasure of viewing. Anyway, sorry, I just had to let it all out!]
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"Estel? Did you say you wanted some of this toast?"
Aragorn was dragged out of his thoughts reluctantly as he looked up to find a large pair of warm hazel eyes gazing deeply into his own across the sick- bed they presided over. He was sitting, bundled in the cushioned bench beside Legolas' bed, swaddled against his will in many blankets, and Evylenn sat in the chair she always sat in across from him. It was unfortunate that time did not simply stand still in certain circumstances, and through a lot of bad noise, the King and his eldest son had been forced to go back to ruling the kingdom once more, for a short while in any case: all knew where their hearts truly lay. And Legolas' brothers and sisters were all getting rest, exhausted from worry, or had to return to their work.
He smiled softly at her typical - if not familiarly annoying - concern, "No thanks," he said, clearing his sore throat a little, "I'm not all that hungry." Aragorn, as a consequence of his recent adventure, had developed the irksome human affliction of the common cold: therefore he was not very hungry as he could not taste anything, his nose was sore, his chest heavy and his ears in need of a good pop.
But the fair elf-maiden was having none of that, "Come on, you really must eat something," she insisted, holding said piece of food out to the stubborn ranger - Aricesla, on her way to her studies in the palace's main, vast library, had dropped off some toast and tea for those keeping the vigil, and it was welcome in one quarter at least. Evylenn brought a piece of her own toast to her mouth, and spoke most un-ladylike whilst eating it, "You know as well as I that it is simply impossible for you humans to not eat for more than a few hours."
The young man chuckled, at her actions as well as her words, shifting his limbs under the warm weights of the blankets, and his eyes drifted back towards Legolas' still deathly-still form. "Nay... seriously, I'm fine."
Evylenn stared at him for a moment longer, chewing thoughtfully, and put the toast back down on the plate, shifting it to one side, "Well, if you're sure," she mumbled and, swallowing her mouthful, picked up her steaming honey-tea.
But Aragorn didn't hear her: his grey eyes were fixed and his mind wholly focused upon his best friend. Legolas had not moved an inch since the day they had been found... he had stopped breathing more often than Aragorn thought was *completely* necessary, but he showed no sign of even being alive, his chest barely moving with each slow breath he took in. The waiting was what was driving the ranger insane... that, and the feeling of total helplessness... oh, and the guilt that was threatening to crush him with it's enormous weight... and the nerves which were steadily shredding his heart apart. The sooner his father came and pulled his best friend away from the brink of death, and the sooner they found out whether there'd be any lasting damage done to the elf-prince, the better... he didn't think he could wait all that long though.
The two were left to their own thoughts for a time, sinking further into themselves as the comfortable silence went on. The large, stunningy- decorated windows about the room let the winter sun stream in glorious, filling the chamber with lightand making the figure lying in the bed seem to glow with an unearthly golden aura, yet when clouds shifted periodically in front of the sun, Legolas was revealed as he was in reality at that time, pale and ill-looking, battered and frail beyond belief.
Suddenly, something seemed wrong, and Aragorn's dark head snapped up quickly. He couldn't figure out what it was, but something was missing in the room. Then it hit him - Legolas had stopped breathing *again*.
Aragorn immediately threw himself into the routine he had mastered over the past night and day, as Evylenn quickly set aside her tea and joined him. Their hands moved in unison as they bent over the completely still body of their best friend, their calm exteriors showing nothing of the terror they felt within themselves. The amount of times that this had happened did absolutely nothing to soften the sharp knife of anxiety that sliced into their hearts everytime it happened. As Aragorn's breath was still a little thready from his own recent ordeal, it was Evylenn he pinched her best friend's nose and breathed into his mouth while the young ranger pumped strongly upon the thin chest. After a while, Evylenn finally felt some resistance, and stopped forcing her own breath into the struggling being: thankfully Legolas' brain seemed to have regained control of his unresponsive body once more.
They sagged again, tired from the endless resuscitations they were forced to practice on a now-regular basis. Though Felrofin and the other healers had managed to stablise Legolas' condition, they were unable to keep his lungs functioning adequately for some reason, and the organs seemed to forget what they were supposed to be doing once every while... that was Aragorn's rather childlike view on the whole situation, anyway.
Aragorn looked up, catching Evylenn's eye. He noticed the elf-maiden seemed to be shaking quite a bit, and she did not roll her eyes or make a reassuring comment as she had been doing upon such occassions. Rather, she looked more as though she had been punched in the stomach, and trembled like a leaf in a strong breeze, battered by her own emotions. "Oh, Evy..." he murmured, deep voice sympathetic as he moved towards her. She ran to him, and buried her face in his chest as he wrapped his arms comfortingly about her. Up until then, Evylenn had been the one to make him feel better: she looked out for him and practically force-fed him tea and the such, but he saw now that she needed just as much support as he did, as they all did.
As he held her, something seemed to flare in the ranger's heart: it was anger. He knew not who or what it was directed at, but he knew the sensation. All his frustrated, pent-up feelings about the whole situation were triggered at the sight of seeing Evylenn even mildly upset. He broke from her, throwing an arm wildly about, voice raised, "I refuse to wait any longer!"
Evylenn looked dully at him, and exhaled, "Whatever do you mean, Estel? All we can do is wait."
"Nay! We do not know how long it will take my adar to reach here, and what if- " He broke off, chest tight all of a sudden for reasons not connected with his cold, then continued quietly, looking down at his bare feet, "... what if he is too late?"
The elf-maiden gasped slightly, and her soft hazel eyes hardened noticeably, "Do not say such a thing!" she cried, her wish not to think about such a statement making her voice angry. Then, her expression melted as she realised the harshness of her tone, and lifted up a hand to brush away a straggly dark lock from the ranger's flushed face, "I am sorry... but, Estel, this is not like you... tell me what is wrong," she pleaded with him to open up to her, to release the pressure steadily building in him from within.
Aragorn refused to look her in the eye, and he spoke more to the floor than to her. "Well... it's just that this is all my fault, and... and I can't just stand and wait for something worse to happen all because of me... I *can't*."
"Estel," Evy said softly, a small, fond smile seeping through into her words, "None of this is your fault... circumstances merely- "
The ranger cut her off, "It was not circumstances, Evy... *I* was the one- " He halted, frustrated by his lack of eloquence to express his feelings. Then his frustration flared once more, and he cried, angry at himself, "Legolas *told* me that I could not go to sleep... he said over and over again - and I ignored him. When he faltered, I gave him Dragrod root to try and ease his pain... I honestly thought it was for the best but... but I found my own weakness and fell asleep, despite his persistant warnings." Aragorn paused, sighing deeply, unable to look at Legolas' best friend, "And, because he was so worried for me, he pushed himself well past his few limitations... and... and has ended up where he is now." He looked again at his best friend, so still and pale, and his eyes burned and stung with bitter tears, "... He might never wake, Evy, and all because I wanted to show off my tracking skills... I cannot bear to think what life would mean without him." And he stopped, voice breaking, lost in a world of his own making, distraught.
He expected Evylenn to be angered with him now she had learnt fully of what had put her best friend in the sick-bed where he now lay, or at least to confront him. But instead, he felt a light hand upon his shoulder blade and turned to find an open face and understanding eyes. She paused before she said anything, then spoke softly in earnest. "Estel," she repeated, trying to make him realise that neither she, nor any of the Royal family, placed any blame upon his shoulders, "you are *not* to blame."
Aragorn felt a little pressure leave his heart, but only a little. Yet even so he nodded in thanks. "In any case," he said, voice strong now and grey eyes glinting with determination rather than regret, "I will not wait."
"What do you propose to do?" Evylenn's dark brows drew down in confusion.
"My father has taught me a little of drawing spirits from places in the mind, and I thought maybe I could try to... to bring him out of it," now Aragorn said the plan aloud, he realised he sounded a little foolish.
Evylenn smiled a little, though she tried not to look like she was making fun of her friend. "Estel," she began to protest, "... only *extremely* skilled healers can reverse this Elvish condition, and-" here she placed a slender hand upon her own chest, over her heart " -not that I don't have full, unwavering faith in your abilities - but..."
Aragorn grinned slightly, amused despite himself. "You don't think I can do it?" he asked, one dark brow raised in mock-question.
"I never said that! I- " Evylenn's pale cheeks flushed pink for a mere second, then faded again.
"*You don't think I can do it*!" the young ranger accused, as though offended, crossing his arms across his chest in an expression of extreme stubborness. At Evylenn's uncharacteristic loss of words, he dropped his arms, and moved towards the bed with determination, "Well, we'll see about that..." he muttered as though indignant, chest puffing out of it's own accord.
Evylenn's pleasing mirthful laugh at the ranger's actions seemed to make the room grow brighter in answer to her amusement, as she also moved towards the bed. She watched as Aragorn seated himself next to his best friend, looked at him for a moment, smile fading slightly from his rugged face, cleared his throat, centred himself - squaring his shoulders and breathing in deeply - and placed a hand upon the warrior's pale forehead. She fought to hide her smile, but could not quite let the intense moment last, however anxious she was to have Legolas back, "Don't we need some candles and incense-sticks or something?"
Aragorn opened his eyes and pinned her with a devastatingly-dirty glare, "You know, this could be so much easier for me if I had your full support- "
"Oh, and you *do*, Estel," she assured him wickedly, throwing him a look of mock-concern, hazel eyes wide.
" -and if you could refrain from mocking me for a mere moment or so," the ranger finished with a raised brow and smile, baiting her.
She sighed and made a clicking noise with her tongue, shrugging her slim shoulders, "Ah... well then, no can do, I'm afraid - that's a deal- breaker."
He snorted, then went back to being serious, placing his hand again upon his best friend's still forehead and closing his eyes once more. Aragorn let himself drift in the peaceful lull that overcame him, almost as though he were upon the brink of sleep. He sought mentally for the strong connection he held with Legolas, and for a while he was unable to find it, but then in his mind he thought he saw a dim beacon, a little keyhole of golden light in the darkness. Concentrating strongly, he made it widen a little, until he was able to send soothing, healing thoughts through it, hoping to reach the mind and spirit beyond with the warm red intentions. Slowly, Aragorn managed to gently force his own way through the gap, mentally of course, and he was met, not with the amazing, unequalled brightness and light of a healthy elf mind - not to mention Legolas' stunning spirit - but rather with another dimmed space, where he could see that the blazing light of his best friend must have been blocked from view, and all that could be seen were little cracks where a few faint rays of gold managed to slip out through the thick ebony plates that defended it and exist, though barely.
The only indication Evylenn had, watching this process from the outside, that her friend wasn't asleep, was the frown that took over the ranger's handsome features. She wondered what in Valar could be happening between the two minds, for she herself had no knowledge of the healing art of drawing spirits.
Aragorn meanwhile, was mentally working on easing apart the cracks, where shells of protectiveness had enclosed the precious elven spirit within. The black protective plates completely blocked out everything on both sides, and it was hard work, taking up all of the ranger's strength to pull them apart. But he was managing it, his red-hued mental healing thoughts acting like a balm that soothed and eased, making it slowly easier and easier for him to mentally enter the slightly widened cracks. He tried not to force his way through the barriers: it was a common mistake inexperienced healers made when trying to draw an elven spirit, his father had told him one day, and it could end up breaking the patient's mind... and that was completely *not* what Aragorn wished to do to Legolas, he had already done enough.
But, bit by bit, he got through the cracks between the barriers, red healing waves seeking and finding ways of seeping through all the gaps available. And he was finally faced with a recognisable, if extremely dimmed, golden Elven spirit he knew to be Legolas'. The spirit was very far away from him, and it seemed to be wrapped a little in protective plates of it's own and yet Aragorn could see the darkness of illness and injury had crept up on it anyways, binding and choking the weak golden light - he had been right, had they waited for Lord Elrond, it *would* have been too late, he just hoped not enough damage had been done to permenantly affect his best friend.
Using strength that was beginning to slip through his fingers and ebb away from him with his tiring effort, Aragorn mentally flared with the red healing spirit he had been born with, and sent tendrils and waves of this gift to the struggling golden light, bolstering it and beginning to draw it mentally towards him, regardless of the darkness that still clung to it. The golden spirit seemed to hesitate, and was pulled back slightly by the dark bindings that kept it in place, but then, as if finding new strength, Legolas' spirit sparked dimly and came forward, though the darkness would not relent. Aragorn aided the spirit readily by encouraging and urging, until finally, gold met with red, desperately clasped and became one, and Aragorn used all his might to pull them both from the shielded enclosure of Legolas' mind.
He snapped back to the moment suddenly, and only Evylenn's steadying hand helped him to stay upright as he blinked, head pounding dully. "Did it work?" she asked, her voice tight and desperately hopeful, hazel eyes wide and imploring, not really daring to believe.
Aragorn did not know, he looked down fearfully at his best friend, and found that Legolas was no longer deathly-still: his chest actually seemed to move, he twitched, and his eyes roamed sluggishly beneath their heavy lids. And as Aragorn kept watching, the prince's jewelled-green eyes opened to slight cracks, and he breathed in deeply, as though waking from a mere sleep, and not a coma. Tears of relief and joy filled Aragorn's eyes, and a wide grin split his face as he fought not to hug his weak friend, instead he turned to hug Evylenn, who was not holding back her tears and instead let them fall freely down her smooth cheeks as she let out a giddy laugh of relief.
Legolas, struggling to keep his eyes open at all, saw his two best friends, and tried to smile. It came out sort of weak and twisted, and it suddenly hit Aragorn that more damage might have been done to his best friend than was previously thought, and perhaps he had broken Legolas' mind? "Mellon nin, can you hear me? Speak, say anything..."
"-this fuss... over little old me...?" Legolas managed to speak faintly between stubbornly-unresponsive lips. The words were slurred, and the voice heart-wrenchingly weak, but it was clear that Legolas had not lost his mind.
Aragorn could not express how happy he was, how he felt his chest was fit to burst with joy, and he exchanged a mirthful glance with Evylenn, who was grinning widely, cheeks rosy and shiny. He was not about to go all sloppy and heart-felt on his best friend when he'd just woken up - there would be plenty of time for that later - and so instead he jested, "Well, you're the dainty little princeling who needs to be the centre of attention and *have* fuss made over him..."
The elf grinned weakly again, but his eyes refused to stay fully open, and sank so that Aragorn could only see small slivers of bright green beneath dark lashes. "Four words," he said, voice quiet and amused, but harsh and unused, "*a ranger getting lost*..."
The ranger in question chose to ignore Evylenn's undignified snort from behind him, and instead felt a little dip in his happy spirits as he watched Legolas. A frown had begun to marr Legolas' proud brow, and he breathed in sharply as though he'd been struck, assaulted all of a sudden with horrible pain which began to twist his injured body as he fought weakly to evade it. Aragorn chided himself: he should have known that not all things would be well immediately. "Legolas?" he asked, concern growing once more and smile slipping slightly from his face.
"It is well... I-I am fine," said Legolas, eyes closed fully now, even screwed up slightly. He was trying to reassure his best friend, but Aragorn detected the hidden strain in the quiet voice which very nearly faltered on it's words, and the heaviness of the breathing that followed them. Legolas was trying to keep his pain at bay and stay awake for Aragorn and Evylenn's sake.
"Legolas, mellon nin, we shall be here when you wake back up," Aragorn said quietly, and moved to clasp the prince's uninjured hand gently as Evylenn sat back down in her chair by the bed and reached out to stroke a lock of golden hair that had fallen loose from the single plait on Legolas' shoulder, back behind his pointed ear with tenderness. "We shall all be here, waiting for you."
A faint, fleeting shadow of a smile graced Legolas' fair features for a mere second, and lifted the darkness and pain that had fallen there for a while. The limp hand held in Aragorn's large, warm one returned a friendly, greatful squeeze weakly, and Legolas fought to open his eyes just a little bit more. The green cresents visible to Aragorn beneath his lashes twinkled as the prince said, "Hannon-le cin devie nistras, mellon nin haedul [Thankyou for bringing me back, my truest friend]." And then the pain of his body beginning to re-start itself became too much for him to bear, and he fell away from reality once more, but into a hopefully more wholesome world than he had previously been in, the hand Aragorn was holding falling limp again.
Aragorn felt thoroughly and wretchedly undeserving of the title Legolas bestowed so gladly upon him just then, so unworthy to have this elven prince call him a friend, let alone his best one. He had nearly killed Legolas with his stupidity, and yet the warrior still thanked him? His heart held all the more regrets and guilt than it had done before he had drawn Legolas' spirit, and he no longer felt his soul eased.
But nevertheless he sat with Evylenn as Legolas slept, weak body trying in vain to repair itself and begin starting again all the systems it had shut down on itself, and neither pair of eyes left the prince's still form till Aricesla wandered in and learnt of the happy time and fled to tell her King.
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I was gonna have another bit on the end of here, but time is a limiter, y'know! Let me know what you're thinking. And a merry christmas to you all!