Authors Note: Once again, thank you for all of the feedback, I am excited
to keep writing. I just wanted to let ya'll know that there will be no
slash in this story. I am strictly staying far away from that, and
hopefully you will see why in this chapter! I have a ton of ideas for this
story and plan to keep going as much as possible.I'd love to keep hearing
from all of you.so tell me what you think! Thanks!
~Gen
Aragorn had awoken to a burning in his chest. His head pounded unmercifully and as he opened his eyes, he thought he was going to be sick. The world spun around him and everything was a black haze. His whole body felt as if it was broken. He tried to move, but was stopped by a cruel stab of pure pain up and down the muscles in his back. Deciding that moving was not such a good idea, he focussed his thoughts on his beloved, for she was far away, where he wished he was, away from the pain and in her loving arms.
Slowly, his vision stopped spinning and cleared. He was then able to discern where he was. Still someplace in the woods, he noted, a fire burned in front of him and a lone figure stood, his back to Aragorn, staring at the fire intently. Aragorn was sure he recognized him, besides the fact that he assumed this was the elf he had cut loose from those strange black riders. What happened? Aragorn tried to remember. There was the sword fight.he'd been very tired and let his guard down. The sword striking him.no wonder he felt as if he couldn't breath. I fell. I know I fell. Then what happened? One of them hit me again.and then I don't remember anything. Apparently I'm not dead. Aragorn reflected silently, realizing he was probably very lucky. His vision was still hazy and his body screamed for help, but for some reason, he was conscious.
Aragorn was stirred out of his reverie by the soft mumbling of the elf that stood by the fire. Once he spoke, Aragorn knew exactly who he was. This was Legolas Greenleaf, Prince of Mirkwood. Aragorn had met him on several occasions, though they had never been introduced. Aragorn had always been with a group of Rangers, passing through Mirkwood or carrying messages to Legolas' father. Legolas was considered handsome for an elf, slender from head to foot with a fair face and long golden hair. Aragorn hardly noticed his appearance, but he had heard told of how the Prince used a bow and how good he was at that skill.
"Why, my friend, would you risk any sort of altercation with the Nazgul? Do you have a death wish for Sauron to notice? Why attempt to save me if you had no idea who I was? How did you fight the nine by yourself for that long and still live? Surely they must have believed you were dead. So you must be lucky. But who are you? Where were you going? Whom do you serve?" The elf said these words quietly and Aragorn was amused, even through his pain.
"Many questions my dear prince, but I too have one for you. Why did you chose to save me?" Aragorn was pleased when the elf jumped, startled, for Aragorn knew how difficult it was to startle an elf, he had tried to do it all through his youth, often driving Elladan and Elrohir to nearly kill him. "And then perhaps," Aragorn continued as he stared at the elf, before being interrupted by a cough, which caused him to taste the metallic taste of blood in his mouth, "I can answer your questions."
By this time, Legolas' eyes were wide. "Strange that you seem to know who I am, yet I have no recollection of you. I saved you because you, sir, saved me. Does that answer your question?" Legolas' voice was intense, as if Aragorn made him nervous, though Aragorn doubted that the elf was nervous at all. More likely inexplicably confused.
"Yes, I suppose it does. Perhaps you would tell me what a 'Nazgul' is, and I can then answer your first question," Aragorn responded, alarmed at how weak his own voice sounded. "And no, I don't have a death wish. I have much to live for."
"Perhaps you should rest, you are hurt very badly. I am not sure why you are alive, let alone talking to me."
"No.the talking distracts me from the.pain," Aragorn's reply was stubborn. I will not yield.
"As you wish. Fist however, you must tell me who you are, because I feel I am at a loss."
"If I could bow, I would. I am a Ranger of the North and am known by many names. You may call me Strider, and I am at your service, or I would be if I could stand."
"Will you not tell me your true name, Strider? For I am sure I have seen you before."
"My prince, I have traveled through Mirkwood many a time, doing many a job for your father. I have seen you as you have seen me. We have never been introduced." Except as children, well, I was but a child. Surely you would not remember that Legolas Greenleaf. I was enamored with your bow.
"I see you will not be more forth coming. I am indebted to you, Strider. Thank you for saving my life."
"And thank you for saving mine."
"Do not thank me yet, you are severely wounded. I am not sure you will recover. I am making all haste to Rivendell, we should be there sometime tomorrow, but I was forced to stop and rest."
Aragorn nodded absently, looking extremely tired. "Tell me of the Nazgul." The pain was still raking through his body and his speech slurred, causing him to slip into his own tongue. Legolas' eyes grew huge again as he realized that he had just had the entire conversation with Strider in elvish, not in the man's language.
"You speak Elvish!"
"I do."
"And you carry an elven sword, ride an elvish horse, and shoot an elven bow. You even wear a cloak made by the elves of Rivendell. Who are you and why do you act so much like what you are not?"
"Don't be alarmed, you have nothing to fear from me," Aragorn's voice had grown even unsteadier than before. The pain was overwhelming and his vision was growing weary once again. "Legolas.I.I think I've been poisoned. I need.you know what kingsfoil is? I need some. You will have to boil it and wash my wounds. I am sorry if this is an inconvenience. When you reach Rivendell.." His voice was slurring again as he fought for consciousness.
"Yes? Strider, when we reach there."
"A message. I have a message. Tell Father.tell Elrond that Evaria has it." Aragorn fought with himself to stay awake, but the pain was far too overwhelming. Finally he closed his eyes, oblivious to the confusion on the elf's youthful face.
"A message? Father? Did you just call Elrond father? Who is Evaria?" But the man had slipped back into unconsciousness. "A riddle. You are nothing more than a riddle."
Aragorn had awoken to a burning in his chest. His head pounded unmercifully and as he opened his eyes, he thought he was going to be sick. The world spun around him and everything was a black haze. His whole body felt as if it was broken. He tried to move, but was stopped by a cruel stab of pure pain up and down the muscles in his back. Deciding that moving was not such a good idea, he focussed his thoughts on his beloved, for she was far away, where he wished he was, away from the pain and in her loving arms.
Slowly, his vision stopped spinning and cleared. He was then able to discern where he was. Still someplace in the woods, he noted, a fire burned in front of him and a lone figure stood, his back to Aragorn, staring at the fire intently. Aragorn was sure he recognized him, besides the fact that he assumed this was the elf he had cut loose from those strange black riders. What happened? Aragorn tried to remember. There was the sword fight.he'd been very tired and let his guard down. The sword striking him.no wonder he felt as if he couldn't breath. I fell. I know I fell. Then what happened? One of them hit me again.and then I don't remember anything. Apparently I'm not dead. Aragorn reflected silently, realizing he was probably very lucky. His vision was still hazy and his body screamed for help, but for some reason, he was conscious.
Aragorn was stirred out of his reverie by the soft mumbling of the elf that stood by the fire. Once he spoke, Aragorn knew exactly who he was. This was Legolas Greenleaf, Prince of Mirkwood. Aragorn had met him on several occasions, though they had never been introduced. Aragorn had always been with a group of Rangers, passing through Mirkwood or carrying messages to Legolas' father. Legolas was considered handsome for an elf, slender from head to foot with a fair face and long golden hair. Aragorn hardly noticed his appearance, but he had heard told of how the Prince used a bow and how good he was at that skill.
"Why, my friend, would you risk any sort of altercation with the Nazgul? Do you have a death wish for Sauron to notice? Why attempt to save me if you had no idea who I was? How did you fight the nine by yourself for that long and still live? Surely they must have believed you were dead. So you must be lucky. But who are you? Where were you going? Whom do you serve?" The elf said these words quietly and Aragorn was amused, even through his pain.
"Many questions my dear prince, but I too have one for you. Why did you chose to save me?" Aragorn was pleased when the elf jumped, startled, for Aragorn knew how difficult it was to startle an elf, he had tried to do it all through his youth, often driving Elladan and Elrohir to nearly kill him. "And then perhaps," Aragorn continued as he stared at the elf, before being interrupted by a cough, which caused him to taste the metallic taste of blood in his mouth, "I can answer your questions."
By this time, Legolas' eyes were wide. "Strange that you seem to know who I am, yet I have no recollection of you. I saved you because you, sir, saved me. Does that answer your question?" Legolas' voice was intense, as if Aragorn made him nervous, though Aragorn doubted that the elf was nervous at all. More likely inexplicably confused.
"Yes, I suppose it does. Perhaps you would tell me what a 'Nazgul' is, and I can then answer your first question," Aragorn responded, alarmed at how weak his own voice sounded. "And no, I don't have a death wish. I have much to live for."
"Perhaps you should rest, you are hurt very badly. I am not sure why you are alive, let alone talking to me."
"No.the talking distracts me from the.pain," Aragorn's reply was stubborn. I will not yield.
"As you wish. Fist however, you must tell me who you are, because I feel I am at a loss."
"If I could bow, I would. I am a Ranger of the North and am known by many names. You may call me Strider, and I am at your service, or I would be if I could stand."
"Will you not tell me your true name, Strider? For I am sure I have seen you before."
"My prince, I have traveled through Mirkwood many a time, doing many a job for your father. I have seen you as you have seen me. We have never been introduced." Except as children, well, I was but a child. Surely you would not remember that Legolas Greenleaf. I was enamored with your bow.
"I see you will not be more forth coming. I am indebted to you, Strider. Thank you for saving my life."
"And thank you for saving mine."
"Do not thank me yet, you are severely wounded. I am not sure you will recover. I am making all haste to Rivendell, we should be there sometime tomorrow, but I was forced to stop and rest."
Aragorn nodded absently, looking extremely tired. "Tell me of the Nazgul." The pain was still raking through his body and his speech slurred, causing him to slip into his own tongue. Legolas' eyes grew huge again as he realized that he had just had the entire conversation with Strider in elvish, not in the man's language.
"You speak Elvish!"
"I do."
"And you carry an elven sword, ride an elvish horse, and shoot an elven bow. You even wear a cloak made by the elves of Rivendell. Who are you and why do you act so much like what you are not?"
"Don't be alarmed, you have nothing to fear from me," Aragorn's voice had grown even unsteadier than before. The pain was overwhelming and his vision was growing weary once again. "Legolas.I.I think I've been poisoned. I need.you know what kingsfoil is? I need some. You will have to boil it and wash my wounds. I am sorry if this is an inconvenience. When you reach Rivendell.." His voice was slurring again as he fought for consciousness.
"Yes? Strider, when we reach there."
"A message. I have a message. Tell Father.tell Elrond that Evaria has it." Aragorn fought with himself to stay awake, but the pain was far too overwhelming. Finally he closed his eyes, oblivious to the confusion on the elf's youthful face.
"A message? Father? Did you just call Elrond father? Who is Evaria?" But the man had slipped back into unconsciousness. "A riddle. You are nothing more than a riddle."