Everlasting

by Nili

When a short hunting trip near Rivendell takes a turn for the worst, Legolas and Aragorn are separated from their companions. While the two must make it back on their own, Elrond tries to save the life of a friend – who might not even want to be saved.

4. Where There's Smoke

Disclaimer: For full disclaimer, please see chapter 1.


A/N:

evil grin Yes, you're right, Glorfindel actually has a reason to be depressed now. I don't think he enjoys having a hole in him overly much... gives seething elf lord next to her a quick look Nope, doesn't look as if he's enjoying it at all. g I don't get it either. My alter ego thought it was hilarious... Then again, she IS kind of evil... g

Some of you guys wondered whether or not the twins would actually wait at home and not go looking for their accident-prone brother and their equally accident-prone friend. I think they would, actually, but that's a matter of interpretation, I think. I try to keep them a little bit more book-verse (not as if they'd been in the movies, eh? evil glare at PJ), and I think they would obey their father - who also is their lord, one shouldn't forget that - if he orders them to stay in Rivendell - at least for now and until the sun has risen. Then, however, it may be another matter. shrugs Hey, that's just my interpretation. It's up to how how you interpret their characters. g

One last thing: I'm going to go visit my friends in England for a few weeks, on Thursday. Yes, I know, AGAIN. I'm addicted to Bovril and mint sauce, I can't help myself. g Be that as it may, that shouldn't really be a problem, since I'm going to take my faithful laptop with me, and I even have a working adapter for the telephone socket, so I SHOULD be able to update on Friday or Saturday. Then again, we all know how much can go wrong, especially considering that the BT hates me, so please stay calm if I should be a bit late. I'll do my best to post the last chapter of this little story on Saturday though at the latest, I promise.


Alright, so here's the next bit of this little chaotic tale. This time Legolas finds out why you should listen to your elders when they tell you NOT to attack four trolls at once, Elrond and Erestor have a little talk while Glorfindel is rather uncooperative for a half-dead, unconscious elf and the reckless human wakes up and even talks to Legolas. That's a good sign, right? One would think so. g

Have fun and review, please!

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Chapter 4


He had to admit one thing: Trolls weren't quite as stupid as most people believed them to be. Most of the creatures were not even able to learn one of the main languages with which the rest of Arda communicated, but at least this lot possessed relatively quick reflexes, contrary to what Legolas might have hoped.

'And they are rather flexible; don't forget flexible,' a small, wry voice inside his head muttered while he threw himself to the side, nearly crashing into Aragorn in the process. The large boulder that the troll which had first seen him had chucked at him missed him by inches, and Legolas realised that he might have overestimated the effect the loss of the trolls' hammers would have on them.

On the other hand, the diversion was a complete success, that much was certain. The only reason why he hadn't been squashed already was that one of the trolls had moved over to the smouldering hammers and had tried to put out the fire. It hadn't been particularly successful; if anything, it had made matters only worse. The trolls' firewood was catching fire, too, and thick, grey smoke was beginning to fill the cave, too much for the small hole in the ceiling to handle, which was most likely why the trolls had trouble getting their hands on him.

Legolas was still thinking that this had been about the only thing that had actually worked the way it had been supposed to work when he felt more than saw one of the huge creatures move his way. He had just scrambled to his feet when he was nearly swept off the same by a fist that was as big as his entire torso. Instead of falling to the floor he was thrown backwards, and a moment later his back met with sharp stones and exceedingly hard earth.

For a moment, the elf was having trouble to decide whether he should try to breathe or simply drop to the floor in a graceless heap. In the end, the need for air won out and pushed the pain in his back and head back, and despite the feeling that his lungs had just been paralysed for good he began to gasp for air. The troll who had just nearly squashed him like a fly looked rather displeased that it had failed to kill him with its blow, but was apparently more than ready to try again.

The towering creature in front of him drew back to deliver another blow, its face creased in a rather funny expression of concentration as it took aim carefully, and Legolas had drawn just enough air into his lungs to realise that he really should move unless he wanted to become part of the wall at his back. A second later the troll's fist made contact with the exact spot where Legolas had been, but that the elf had dropped to the ground once more, just in time to avoid the troll's blow.

While Legolas had been busy with the troll who had wanted to pound him into the wall, however, one of its companions had managed to find its way over to them through the increasingly thick smoke that filled the cave. The elven prince might have managed to avoid the first troll, but he was by no means prepared to come face to face with a second one the moment he gained his feet.

In the split second before he was sent flying across the cave Legolas merely stared at the large, scaly creature that was wielding a makeshift club with a malicious, evil expression on its face. A heartbeat later the large piece of firewood connected with the elf's right side and threw him backward, sending him crashing into the wall right next to Aragorn with a bone-jarring thud.

For several moments, Legolas remained where he was, tried to force his rather uncooperative lungs to start working once again and asked himself why his plans never worked the way they had been supposed to. He still hadn't come to a conclusion when his attempts to draw as much oxygen into his lungs as possible were thwarted by a sudden, hacking cough, and only now Legolas realised that he was surrounded by thick, billowing smoke.

He could hear the trolls roar and curse in their bellowing language, and not for the first time Legolas blessed the smoke. If he hadn't lit that fire, the trolls would have squashed him like a beetle a long time ago. A huge, scaly foot interrupted his thoughts and would nearly have hit him fully in the chest, but he managed to ignore his side that was sending stabs of pain through his body and rolled out of the way at the last moment. The troll cursed, but before it could catch sight of its prey again, Legolas had disappeared in a large cloud of smoke.

This couldn't go on like this, Legolas decided while he was leaning against the wall a second later, panting for breath and desperately trying to hear where the four large creatures were at the moment. He had been lucky until now, but soon that wouldn't be enough anymore. The cave wasn't too big, and as soon as the trolls got over their fury and actually started searching the cavern instead of running around hoping to catch him by luck, he would be done for. They needed to get out of here before one of the large creatures squashed him – or Aragorn, for that matter – into a shapeless mass.

A few moments later Legolas was once again on his feet, listening to the trolls' curses and shouts and peering intently through the thick, wafting clouds of smoke that had saved his life more than once now. He pressed his left, unhurt side against the wall to avoid one of the furious trolls and finally decided that Aragorn had to be somewhere behind him, and so he turned around and began to make his way over to his friend as quickly as he could.

Explaining all this to Lord Elrond should be interesting, the elven prince thought wryly while he froze for a few seconds as another troll (it might, however, also have been the same) stomped by and he desperately suppressed a cough. The smoke was growing thicker and thicker, and while that was a good thing considering that it would hide him more effectively, it was also a not-so-good thing considering that elves (and more importantly, humans) needed air to survive.

'Yes, well, you see, my lord, there was this cave, and I thought it to be a really clever idea to light a fire. It worked too – for the most part, that is. Yes, Estel was squashed by a troll that was searching for me, and he also suffocated a little because the smoke got too thick, and there also was that small matter of the wound he received because he saved my life, but other than that, he's fine. Yes, I brought him with me. Yes, you can go and see to him now. Just leave this room, follow the trail of blood and pick up the pieces that are left of him. Don't forget one of his hands; it came loose some time ago.'

Legolas would almost have laughed aloud at that ridiculous thought – no one in their mind would say something like this to the Lord of Rivendell, at least no one who wanted to survive. The irrational giggle which he inwardly attributed to pain, lack of air and mounting worry for Aragorn turned into a cough, a cough that turned out to be a big mistake.

Almost immediately heavy footsteps shook the ground, and before Legolas could pump enough air into his lungs to be able to pay attention to anything but breathing two large, lumbering shapes entered his rather restricted field of vision, appearing out of the smoke like ugly, towering ghosts.

That image was quickly dispelled by the rather solid hand that shot out and made a grab for him, and Legolas once again dropped to the floor, wincing with pain as his injured right side hit the ground and at the same time deciding that he was really getting tired of this. The troll's fingers missed his head by inches, but he hadn't moved quickly enough to avoid the large creature's grasp completely. A rock-hard, greyish hand closed around his arm, clamping down hard and lifting him off his feet and up into the air.

Before he could even try to dislodge the hold the creature had on him, the second troll tried to reach for him, obviously unwilling to let its companion have all the fun alone. Legolas, however, was in no mood to be grabbed by a second troll, and even though the elf knew that it was most likely not going to be very effective he kicked out with both his legs.

From what he could see through the billowing smoke, he hit the troll somewhere at his shoulder, feeling as if he had just kicked a solid stone wall. The beast appeared to be surprised more than anything else and fell back a little, its beady eyes squinting to get a closer look at the elf who apparently refused to let himself be killed and eaten. Legolas, however, did not care at all if he had actually hurt the troll or not, since he was at the moment rather busy avoiding the hand of the other troll who tried to get a firmer hold of him.

The large creature missed him again and jerked at the elf's arm in frustration, bellowing a shout that was full of annoyance and anger. The elf in question was harbouring much the same feelings, and while the troll was still swinging him around like a doll, apparently hoping to smack its prey against a wall, Legolas reached up – or rather down, considering he was dangling from his left arm with his feet several inches above the ground – and managed to wrap his fingers around a knife hilt.

Another annoyed tug at his arm made him very nearly drop his knife a moment later, but Legolas ignored the pain as best as he could and thrust the blade upwards. The creature's fingers opened on reflex and the elf dropped hard to the ground, the troll's pain-filled shriek filling him with quite a bit of satisfaction.

Deciding that this was definitely enough now, the elf hugged his arm to his chest (which felt as if someone had just wrenched it out of its socket) and pushed himself to his feet, more than just a little bit annoyed now. Before either of the trolls could make an attempt to reach for him he had disappeared in the smoke again, finding that it had grown even thicker. He really needed to get out of here, the blond elf thought furiously, and soon at that, or…

His train of thought was interrupted by a great, booming sound, a sound so loud that Legolas was almost sure that the ceiling was coming down – which would have been just his kind of luck now that he thought about it. The ground and the wall which he was using for orientation shook violently, and even through the thick smoke he could see dust and small stones rain down from the cave's ceiling.

Legolas didn't stop to ponder this rather interesting occurrence (as far as he knew, caves very rarely behaved like this) but rather continued making his way over to where he thought Aragorn was lying. Quite a while before he had expected to reach his friend's side he all but stumbled over something soft, and only a quick grab for the wall saved him from a graceless fall. For a moment, Legolas' exhausted and pain-filled brain wondered if it was really Aragorn, but a soft moan that was almost inaudible over the roaring of the trolls quickly confirmed that he had indeed found the ranger.

He fell to his knees, so relieved that he didn't even feel the pain that movement brought, and in the moment he reached out to touch what he thought to be the man's shoulder the cave shook again, this time more strongly. Legolas felt a sharp pain as a fist-sized boulder hit his already hurting left arm, and that was the moment he realised that he might have miscalculated slightly.

The trolls wouldn't calm down, Legolas thought with a calmness that surprised even himself. That sound had been one of them hitting one of the walls of the cave in anger and frustration – that was what was causing the entire structure to shake. They wouldn't wait until their anger had subsided enough so they could search for them properly, nor would they leave the cave in order not to suffocate or burn. They would keep looking for them and hit anything that they could reach, and wouldn't care in the slightest if they brought the cave down upon all their heads in the process.

The elf swallowed thickly and strained his watering eyes to pierce the choking smoke to be able to see Aragorn properly. This was not good. This was not good at all.

The figure in front of him moaned again, this time more loudly, but Legolas saw quickly that it would take too long for Aragorn to regain his senses sufficiently to be of any help whatsoever. Not wasting his time trying to wake his semiconscious friend, Legolas seized the man's arm and pulled him to his feet, desperation and worry lending him new strength. They needed to get out, now, or they might very well not get out at all.

"Come, my friend. You will be out of here in a moment, don't worry," he muttered in Elvish, hoping that the softly spoken words would somehow get through to the ranger. He slowly began to drag Aragorn over to the cave's entrance. It truly felt as if the man weighed at least as much as one of the trolls that were still furiously searching for them. "Help me to get you out of here. Come now, Estel, help me! Move! Your father and brothers are waiting for you back at Rivendell; you would not want to keep them waiting, now would you?"

Legolas wasn't sure if Aragorn had truly understood his words, but it seemed to him as if he was now trying to carry as much of his own weight as possible. They were moving faster, but just as they had reached the tunnel that was leading out of the cave, a dark shadow appeared to their right. The elf was too surprised to move in time, and so a troll's fist hit him once again, this time in the chest.

He crumpled to the ground on top of the man he had carried until now, in too much pain to move or even think, but while he was still watching the troll's fist come closer once more, the cave shook again, and this time it didn't stop. It appeared that the remaining trolls had all hit the same wall at the same time, frustrated by their inability to find the elf or even the man they had caught for dinner, and that was more than the cave's structure was able to take.

The surprised shouts of the trolls were soon drowned out by the sound of falling stones and crumbling earth, and the look of pure astonishment on the face of the troll that had just been about to crush him was one that Legolas would remember for many years to come. A moment later the ground lurched to the side as the right part of the cave simply collapsed, and the troll towering over the two friends fell over onto its back, for a moment resembling an extremely ugly crab.

The amount of falling stones grew even louder, and in the moment a large stone missed Legolas' head by inches, the elf came out of his trance. Spurred on by the sound of falling stones, Legolas was back on his feet in a second, his hair hanging in his eyes that were staring widely at the chaos around him. It was happening, he thought dazedly while dark, claustrophobic memories were resurfacing inside of him, it was really happening, this accursed cave was collapsing and would bury them alive! He would never see the stars again or even a single tree; they would be crushed by countless rocks and would forever…

The short spell of panic was interrupted by a faint moan Aragorn uttered as a smaller rock hit him in the small of his back, and Legolas returned to the present instantaneously. Cursing himself for his own weakness and the power these memories still held over him Legolas bent down and grabbed the ranger's arm, pulling him to his feet as quickly as he could. Aragorn moaned again, this time most likely in protest against the pain that shot through his side at this rather abrupt movement, but Legolas didn't have the time to see if his friend was alright, because he had been right about one thing: The cave was collapsing.

Looking back later, Legolas was sure that he had never before moved so quickly. All he would be able to remember of these few minutes he needed to get himself and Aragorn out of the cave were dust and smoke, and falling stones and the horrible feeling of being trapped underground. He regained his senses fully only after they had reached the entrance to the tunnel and were skidding down the path leading further down the hill, a huge cloud of smoke and dust following them as the rest of the cave collapsed.

Legolas kept moving until he was absolutely certain that they were out of danger. At last he stopped and turned around slowly with one of his arms still slung around Aragorn's middle and his other gripping the man's left arm. Not even his elven eyes could pierce the thick cloud that had laid itself over the scene, but he couldn't hear anything but the almost inaudible sounds of settling stone and earth. The elf allowed himself a small sigh of relief. The trolls wouldn't be bothering anyone ever again.

He was still staring at the billowing cloud of dust and smoke when a weak, soft voice brought him out of his thoughts, followed by a small cough.
"S-s-smoke?"

Legolas blinked, needing a moment to understand what was going on, but when he did his head whipped around, his eyes fixing on Aragorn's dust-covered face.
"Aragorn!" he breathed while he lowered the man to the ground. "How do you feel? Aragorn!"

The man's eyes opened rather unwillingly and stared unblinkingly at the elf's face which was now adorned by a few interesting bruises and broad streaks of soot.
"Smoke?" he repeated, a little bit stronger. "Why … smoke?"

Legolas grinned weakly while he shrugged out of his torn and now also rather dirty shirt and began to wrap it around the soaked bandage that covered the man's lower abdomen. He wouldn't rest easy until they had put some distance between them and this place, but before they could go anywhere he would need to stop the bleeding completely. The wound to Aragorn's side had started bleeding again some time ago, and if he didn't get it under control soon, he might as well stay here and wait for the orcs and wolves that would undoubtedly appear on the scene soon, because the end result would be the same: Aragorn wouldn't live to see the coming dawn.

"Yes, smoke," he replied a little bit haughtily, trying to keep the worry and pain off his face that had awoken in his body. "There's nothing like a bit of smoke to divert someone's attention, wouldn't you agree?"

The ghost of a smile flittered over the man's grey face before it was replaced by pain when Legolas put pressure on the wound to stop the bleeding.
"I … feel .. like a … gammon."

"Oh?" Legolas raised a soot-covered eyebrow, looking up from where he was pressing his shirt onto the bloody bandage covering his friend's middle. "Wonderful. It's a long way back to Rivendell; if worst comes to worst, I'll eat you."

"Wood-elves … eat … smoked man-flesh?" Aragorn ground out, a mischievous twinkle in his pain-filled eyes.

"Oh yes," Legolas nodded earnestly, glaring at the bit of blood that had soaked through his makeshift bandage. "All the time. It's wonderful with a wine sauce."

"You … W-wood-elves … are … insane," the man shook his head slightly, obviously forcing himself not to push Legolas' hands away that were now wrapping the cloth around his wound.

"So are you Noldor," Legolas shrugged with a small grin that belied his true feelings. It would take a long time to get this bleeding under control completely.

"At least … we don't … take on … four t-trolls … alone. S-Stupid." Aragorn swallowed thickly and forced his eyes open once more. "Thank … you for … saving … me."

"Always, mellon nín, and as often as you need it," Legolas smiled and quickly brushed a strand of hair out of the man's closing eyes. "And now rest. We still need to get you back to Rivendell."

The young ranger didn't answer, even though Legolas could tell that he was still conscious, and the elf felt how the fear inside of him tightened its hold around his heart.

He would indeed need to get Aragorn back to Rivendell soon. Very soon, or all with which he would be returning to Lord Elrond would be his son's body and a broken promise.

A minute stiffening of the body lying in the bed next to him was the only warning he received, but since he had been expecting it with a sort of weary acceptance, it was more than enough.

With a speed that would have impressed anyone who knew that the elf lord hadn't slept this night at all and had spent hours trying to keep a friend from forsaking Arda once more, Elrond jumped forward and grabbed his golden haired friend's arm a split second before the flailing limb could hit him in the face. Even grievously wounded Glorfindel was strong, even for an elf, and Elrond had some trouble pressing the blond elf back onto the mattress and keeping him from harming himself – or him.

After a few moments, Glorfindel began to calm down again, and Elrond carefully released the elf's wrists he had grabbed firmly – which turned out to be just a few moments too early. Before he could take a hold of the golden haired elf lord's hands again, Glorfindel had lashed out and hit him on the nose.

Elrond cursed loudly, suddenly very thankful that he had dismissed the anxious healers and the other elves that had gathered just inside the room after the news of Glorfindel's injury had spread. After all, the Lord of Rivendell thought darkly while he once again tried to grab Glorfindel's left wrist, elf lords did not curse in public – not even when they were being mistreated by their feverish patients.

An eternity later, the other elf's body stilled once more, but this time Elrond didn't release his hold on him so quickly. He waited for several more moments until he was completely satisfied that his friend's mind had returned to the deeper, more peaceful regions of unconsciousness, and he finally released his wrists and sat back in his chair. For a heartbeat, he remained where he was, studying the once again peaceful face of his friend.

This was beginning to get tiresome, Elrond decided as he began to rub his temples in soothing circles, vainly trying to ignore the pounding headache that had manifested itself some hours ago. Even unconscious and weakened by blood loss Glorfindel was strong and apparently under the impression that it was more than acceptable to hit your lord and friend, and if it went on like this, he would be black and blue this time tomorrow.

With an inward sigh the half-elf removed his fingers from his temples and leaned forward again, finally spying the piece of cloth that had been lying on his patient's forehead. Now it it lay on the floor. Deciding that he was really too exhausted to get up and retrieve it, Elrond picked up a new one from the stack sitting next to him on the nightstand, wetted it and placed it on the other elf's still too warm forehead.

The fever should break soon, he told himself firmly while he was pushing the blankets to the side to see if Glorfindel's struggles had re-opened his wounds. Only very little fresh blood could be seen, and Elrond closed his eyes shortly and sent a quick prayer of thanks to the Valar for this small kindness.

Even though they had cleaned the wounds as best as possible, it had still not been enough. A fever had taken hold of the body of his best friend, only aided by his already weakened state. They had realised what was going on and had begun to counteract whatever poison was lurking in the wounded elf's body, but he was still battling with its last effects. Some hours ago Glorfindel had started to experience apparently rather vivid – and unpleasant – dreams, and was still not showing any sign of calming down completely, even though the peaceful episodes between each violent nightmare seemed to become longer.

Elrond placed his elbows on his knees and rested his chin on his folded hands, his eyes not leaving the blond elf's pale face. He had wanted to corner Glorfindel and force him to tell him what was wrong, but this was not exactly what he'd had in mind. A day ago he might have been delighted about a Glorfindel who couldn't assure him that everything was "just fine my lord, truly" and who was incapable of running away when he forced the issue, but now he was willing to take back every single word he might have said along these lines.

Elrond sighed softly, thanking Ilúvatar that at least the twins were safe. Elladan and Elrohir had left only a few minutes ago, after telling him everything that had happened after Glorfindel had realised they were walking into a trap. They had also informed him that two of Elvynd's men had arrived shortly after they had, one of them with a minor wound to his leg but otherwise relatively uninjured. The dark haired captain, his two remaining warriors and Aragorn and Legolas were still not back, however, something that had awoken guilt and fear not only in his sons' hearts, but also in his own.

The elf lord closed his eyes shortly, trying not to picture the wound Elrohir had described to him in detail over and over again, as if the painful recollection would in any way help him find or aid his younger brother. A wound to the left side – that was bad, even for an elf. For a man, it was worse, and if the weapon that had caused it was an orc scimitar, it was almost always a guarantee for an infection. Yes, Aragorn had Númenórean blood and was therefore less susceptible to illness and infection than most men, but he was also the single unluckiest person Elrond had ever seen. If there was a way his human son could possibly have developed an infection, he would have found it, that was one thing about which he was very sure.

Maybe he should have sent out guards after all, Elrond mused darkly. Maybe he should have sent more warriors north, no matter whether it was still pitch-black outside or not. They could have found a trail, they could have helped those that were still missing or might even have…

Elrond's guilty thoughts (for which he had earlier chastised his sons who had voiced much the same feelings) were interrupted by the sound of the opening door that swung almost soundlessly open, and the dark haired elf lord turned, a frown on his face that had to be attributed to equal parts to his worry and fear for Glorfindel, Aragorn and Legolas and the fact that he had given explicit orders that no one was allowed to visit Glorfindel until tomorrow evening at the very earliest. He had just opened his mouth to tell the unfortunate elf at the door what exactly he thought about disobeying your lord's orders when the elf in question simply stepped into the room without waiting to be invited, apparently rather unimpressed by the look on Elrond's face.

Elrond closed his mouth without saying anything, both because the elf who had just entered the healing chambers was – with the possible exception of the twins – the only person whose company he would actually tolerate and because he wouldn't care anyway if he glared at him. Erestor never did, after all, not when he thought he was right.

A moment later the other elf lord had reached the bed Glorfindel's still body was occupying and stopped next to it, his eyes fixed on the blond elf's white face. His costly robes looked as immaculate as always, but Elrond's keen eyes spied quite a few flower petals that clung to the cloth here and there which bespoke of the feast that was going on in the gardens.

Loëndë was a feast that went on throughout the night, until the sun had risen. The Elves of Rivendell would still be celebrating it for many hours to come, something that Elrond didn't begrudge them in the slightest. There were precious few things happening lately that called for merrymaking and feasts, and his people deserved every single ray of light in this swiftly darkening world.

"Erestor," he finally said with a small nod.

The dark haired elf shook his head, apparently for the first time noticing that there was someone else in the room as well.
"My lord," he gave Elrond a small bow. If he noticed the slowly darkening bruise on his lord's nose, he was too polite to comment on it. "I gave the speech as you instructed. The feast is going on as merrily as possible under these circumstances."

The half-elf smiled softly and nodded his head.
"I thank you, Erestor."

Erestor inclined his head minutely, his eyes once again straying to Glorfindel's motionless form.
"Your sons informed me that he was doing … well, everything considered?"

The worry and fear was plain to hear in the councillor's voice, and so Elrond was quick to reassure him.
"Yes," he nodded with far more confidence than he truly felt. "His fever should break any time now, and once that happens he will be just fine. You know how stubborn he is; he will be on his feet and annoying all of us in a matter of days."

Erestor closed his eyes for a moment and released a sigh, sinking down onto the empty chair next to the blond elf's bed without even seeming to notice.
"Thank the Valar," he breathed softly. "I feared for him, I really did. I cannot even remember all the times he has come back from patrolling the borders with one wound or another, but this time…"

"I know," Elrond nodded seriously. "It looked bad."

"No, my lord," Erestor shook his head, a dark, somewhat haunted expression in his eyes that reminded the other elf once again of the fact that he and Glorfindel were indeed good friends. "The wound did not simply look bad, it looked mortal. When I saw him with that arrow in his chest, I was sure that he would die."

"So was I," Elrond admitted softly. "He very nearly did die, both after we had pulled out the arrow and when the fever first set in. I very nearly couldn't stop the bleeding; a few more minutes, and he would have been beyond aid."

"Then I thank the Valar that your sons reached you when they did, my lord," Erestor replied with a faint smile. "Eru knows that I want to kill that annoying excuse for an elf on three days out of four, but I believe I would miss him and his infuriatingly merry nature."

"We would all miss him," Elrond agreed, "Even though he can be arrogant, vexing and completely insufferable." He fell silent for a moment while he reached out to check his patient's pulse, but then he raised his head and looked at Erestor, his eyes dark and worried. "Has there been any news?"

Erestor needn't be told what his lord was aiming at, and so he nodded his head swiftly.
"Yes, my lord, forgive me. That was the reason why I came in the first place. Captain Elvynd and the rest of his men arrived half an hour ago. They have a few cuts and bruises, but are otherwise just fine, only a little exhausted. The reinforcements that were sent north met with them a few miles outside the valley's border and supplied them with horses and an escort back here."

He hesitated a moment when he saw the anticipatory expression on Elrond's face.
"There has, however, been no news of Estel or the prince. Elvynd claims that they got away before the second troupe of orcs reached them and that they were heading north, but they had neither the time nor the opportunity to find out anything more specific before they had to retreat as well."

"I see," Elrond nodded emotionlessly. "It is good to hear that Elvynd and the others are safe."

"Estel and the prince will be fine, too," Erestor stated with quiet conviction. "Neither of the two would allow any harm to befall the other, you know that."

"No," the half-elf nodded darkly, "They would not. My sons would not have allowed any harm to befall Glorfindel either – if they had had any control over what was happening, which they did not. Aragorn is already wounded, and even though Thranduil's son may be many things, he is not a healer. That they aren't back yet can't be a good sign, and you know it."

"Then what should you have done?" Erestor asked pragmatically. "Send out search parties? Or more guards to join the northern patrols?"

"Yes," Elrond nodded quietly once more. "That is what I should have done."

"No, my lord, you shouldn't have, and that is something you know," Erestor smiled slightly, being very familiar with Elrond's habit (and his sons', for that matter) of blaming himself for things he couldn't have changed or influenced. "It would have availed nothing. To travel in the darkness anywhere near the Coldfells is folly or suicide. It would have served no purpose to risk the lives of good warriors in such a manner."

Elrond raised his gaze from the floor and narrowed his eyes at the other elf, but finally sighed and shook his head when his look failed to show any effect whatsoever.
"You are right, mellon nín. But to sit here and do nothing while they are out there, alone, surrounded by orcs and the Valar know what other hostile creatures is…"

Before he could finish his sentence, the part of him that was still closely supervising his unconscious friend noticed the subtle signs that preceded another especially violent dream, and he had just enough time to realise that this had been the longest period of time between two such seizure-like states before the dreaming elf started to move violently once more. Elrond managed to grab the blond elf's wrist in time, but Erestor seemed to be rather surprised by Glorfindel's sudden movement, and he managed to restrain the golden haired elf's left arm only after a rather hard blow had connected with his midsection.

"My lord?" he asked, a terrified sparkle in his eyes as he pressed his friend back onto the mattress. "Elrond? What is happening?!"

"It is alright," Elrond tried to reassure the elf who was looking from Glorfindel to him with wide, frightened eyes. "He is simply dreaming. He will calm down soon."

"This is alright?" Erestor repeated with a slightly trembling voice, reminding Elrond of the fact that he had close to no training in the healing arts. "By Elbereth's stars, it certainly does not look alright!"

"It is just a nightmare, because of the fever," Elrond shook his head, using his free hand to push sweaty strands of gold hair out of the dreaming elf's tightly closed eyes. "Stop fighting, Glorfindel," he added softly, not really knowing whether or not his friend would be able to hear him. "You are safe. Stop fighting. Nothing will hurt you."

It appeared that the blond elf had heard the softly spoken Sindarin words, for he shook his head from side to side, still caught in feverish dreams.
"Lá … aranya … lá … Turucáno … Ecthelion … lá…"

Elrond blinked, surprised as he had rarely been in his long life as he recognised the name of the High King Turgon, the king his friend had served before his city, everything he had known and he himself had died. The other name the blond elf had uttered with such a tortured expression on his face was familiar to him as well, as it would have been to most elves: Ecthelion of the Fountain had been the elf lord who had battled Gothmog, the Lord of the Balrogs, in the very square of the king in a vain attempt to save his king's life.

The elf and Morgoth's fire-demon had slain each other, but Turgon's tower had been overthrown nonetheless and the king and what had been left of his household had been killed in its fall. The golden haired elf never spoke of it, but even so Elrond knew that Ecthelion had been Glorfindel's friend in Gondolin. He had, however, never fully imagined that Glorfindel must have watched his friend die that horrible day his entire world had been destroyed.

Glorfindel was speaking Quenya, the old language the Noldor had brought with them from Valinor, but with a peculiar cadence that marked Elrond's earliest childhood memories. When his father had been talking to Elros and him in the old tongue, he had spoken with exactly the same accent.

"Glorfindel," he gripped the arm he held a little bit more tightly, mindful of the other's injuries. "Glorfindel, listen to me. Gondolin is fallen. There is no need to fight anymore. It is over, my friend. It is over; it has been over so long that not even the place where it once stood exists anymore. Let it go."

Glorfindel shook his head again, appearing amazingly firm and determined for a dreaming person.
"Lá, Itarillë … á etelehta yondolya ar nossëlva, herinya … á hehta…"

Elrond traded a quick look with Erestor, who, for once, appeared to be just as clueless as he himself felt. To hear his friend plead with someone who had passed into the West a long time ago was difficult to say the least, and the fact that that someone had been his own grandmother somehow only served to make everything even more difficult.

The half-elf ground his teeth and let go of Glorfindel's arm, not at all caring if he got hit again because of it. He cupped his friend's face and looked at him intently, willing him to leave his dark dreams behind.

"Hear me, my friend. You did it. You saved them. Your people reached the Eagle's Cleft. They escaped, because you stayed and fought for them. Idril, Tuor and their son are safe. Come back to us now, Glorfindel. It is over. Please, my friend. Wake up."

After a breathless moment, the blond elf's body collapsed back onto the bed, and Elrond was already reaching out with a slightly shaking hand to check his friend's pulse when Glorfindel slowly opened his eyes, the feverish look in his glazed blue eyes being slowly replaced by bone-deep exhaustion.
"My lord?" he whispered quietly, confusion on his pale face. "My Lord Turgon?"

Elrond blinked away the tears that were gathering in his eyes when he heard Glorfindel speak his great-grandfather's name in such a manner, as if he were hoping that his memories had been nothing but a dream.
"Almost," he smiled softly and gently reached out and covered his friend's eyes with his hand, forcing him to close them. "Sleep, Glorfindel. You need rest. Sleep…"

The other elf's breathing evened out a moment later as exhaustion finally caught up with him, and Elrond let his hand wander up to his friend's forehead. He sighed in relief as he realised that the fever had fallen slightly. Elrond allowed himself to fall back into his chair, feeling at least as exhausted as Erestor looked.

The dark haired advisor was leaning back in his chair as well, looking a little overwhelmed.
"I never thought about it," Erestor said after a few moments of silence. "Not really, anyway. What it must have been like for him; to lose everything and everyone on a single day."

"Many would not have survived it," Elrond nodded, only to add darkly, "Then again, neither did he."

"Do you think this is why he was acting so peculiarly, my lord?" the other elf asked, gingerly reaching out and placing a long, slender hand on Glorfindel's forehead, as if not really being sure whether this was the right thing to do or not.

"A part of it surely is," Elrond nodded again. "But it still doesn't explain why he has been avoiding me these past weeks."

Unless Glorfindel blamed him for his death, he added inwardly. It was a horrible thought, and one he did not entertain gladly, but it was a possibility. Glorfindel had died to save Turgon's daughter Idril, her husband Tuor and their son – Eärendil, his father. Perhaps he was indeed blaming him in their stead. The mere idea that his best friend could feel like that made nausea rise inside of him in an instant.

"Then," Erestor smiled as he withdrew his hand slowly, "You should ask him when he awakes. He will awake, won't he?" he added anxiously.

"Yes, of course he will," Elrond smiled reassuringly. "His fever has broken. He will sleep for many hours now, but he should wake this evening at the latest. I am very confident that he will recover soon."

"The Valar be praised," the dark haired advisor said, looking as if he meant every word of it. He gave the dark sky that was visible through the large window behind them a quick look and frowned slightly, looking from Elrond and Glorfindel to the window and back again. "I am afraid I have to return to the feast now, at least for a little while. I promised Lindir that I would be there when he begins his new ballad, and there are about a thousand elves who want to be informed if Glorfindel's condition changes at all and…"

"Go then, my friend," Elrond's smile widened. "One of us has to be at the festival after all. I am in your debt."

"No, my lord," Erestor shook his head seriously while he looked down at Glorfindel's sleeping form. "You are not." A moment later he returned his eyes to his lord and gave him a brief nod. "May I return in a few hours, my lord?"

"Of course you may," Elrond returned the nod. "Once again, thank you."

Erestor merely nodded again and turned around, and within seconds he was gone. The next few minutes went by quickly while Elrond made sure that Glorfindel's frantic movements hadn't resulted in fresh bleeding and that he was truly sleeping this time.

The Lord of Rivendell finally returned to his seat, and frowned heavily while his hands idly smoothed the blankets that covered his friend's still body, Glorfindel's feverish words still ringing inside his head.

It truly seemed that they had a lot to talk about.

It was truly most peculiar, Legolas thought while he avoided the sixth near-collision this hour, this time with a tree that seemed to have sprung out of the ground without any warning whatsoever. Just when you thought that it couldn't get any worse or that the worst was in fact over, fate delighted in showing you – as unambiguously and painfully as possible – how very wrong you had been.

In their case, Legolas went on darkly, they had got lost almost as soon as they had left the collapsed troll-cave behind, something that did not really surprise him all that much now that he thought about it. He was carrying Aragorn who was barely conscious by now, and had to make sure that the man didn't fall or stumble, and had therefore had little time or strength to pay their surroundings the required attention.

There was, of course, also the fact that he felt as if a horde of trolls had bashed him against a stone wall, which just happened to be the truth. His left arm was surely cracked, judging by the throbbing pain that did not even abate much when he kept it still – which was more than could be said about his ribs. His entire right side hurt in a way with which he was very familiar, and the stabs of pain that went through his chest every time he took a deep breath told him in an unambiguous way that at least a few ribs weren't only cracked, but rather broken.

His thoughts were redirected to his companion when he pulled him up a little to prevent him from sliding out of his grasp, eliciting a soft moan of pain from him.
"Forgive me, my friend," Legolas said automatically, surprised how weary and exhausted his voice sounded. "Not much further now, I promise…"

He trailed off, realising that he was talking nonsense. He had no idea where they were, and the only thing of which he was certain at the moment was that they were still going in the right direction, namely south. Legolas pressed his lips together and trudged on, vainly trying to increase his speed. He was having no problems piercing the blackness that was still lying heavily on the lands, but since he had to both carry Aragorn and make sure they didn't fall, he couldn't risk going any faster – not that his own hurting body would have allowed that course of action in the first place.

For a few more minutes, he merely concentrated on steering both of them down the rather steep, stony path that circumvented a large, wooded area that would have cost them at least two hours – two hours they didn't have. Aragorn was becoming more and more listless, and even though the bleeding might not have become much worse, it also hadn't become less. Blood was still seeping through the makeshift bandage, and Legolas was only too painfully aware of the fact that he had nothing more he could use to staunch the blood flow.

His over shirt and shirt were already wrapped around Aragorn's waist, both garments now soaked with blood. Their packs containing the healing herbs and bandages (for which he would given his right arm at the moment) were with their horses, which had either been eaten by the orcs or were already back at Rivendell.

The elf was praying silently that their mounts had escaped the foul creatures when a part of the path beneath their feet crumbled sideward under their combined weight, nearly throwing them to the ground. Aragorn's weight would nearly have pulled Legolas down with him, but the elven prince managed to grab his friend more firmly just in time and pulled him back, therefore avoiding a potentially very uncomfortable fall.

Legolas breathed a sigh of relief, his heart pounding inside his chest, but that feeling turned quickly into worry when he realised that his friend hadn't reacted at all to this little near-tumble down the path, not even when he had grabbed him tightly. The worry was quickly replaced by something that could only be described as panic when the elf turned to the side and tipped his friend's head up.

The faint moonlight that trickled through the thick canopies of the trees left and right of the path served to make the young ranger's face appear only paler, and what was visible of his half-closed eyes was dark and glazed. His lips were bloodless and pressed together tightly so that they looked like a thin, white line, and if he was aware of what was going on around him, he certainly did not show it.

Fear so bright that it physically hurt him stabbed through Legolas' heart, and he realised with sudden clarity that Aragorn would never make it to Rivendell if he didn't do something. Now. The fair haired elf tore his eyes away from the man's face and looked about him wildly, as if expecting a tent with healing utensils to fall out of the dark sky. None did, of course, and Legolas turned back to his companion with a heavy heart. He didn't know where they were exactly, but he was sure that Aragorn did.

"Aragorn," he called softly and shook him, harder than he would have liked. "Aragorn, awake! You must help me, my friend. Where are we? Is there a shelter somewhere close by, something that you use in cases of emergency or during a hunt? Something where you keep blankets and firewood, things like that?"

Aragorn showed no sign that he had heard the elf's words, and so Legolas reached out and forced him to look at him, panic beginning to shoot through him when he saw the ranger's listless eyes.
"Estel!" he said sharply. "Look about you! I know there is a shelter close by; your father is too wise an elf not to have set up such hideouts around here. Help me, mellon nín! Tell me where we are and I promise you that you can rest as soon as we get there! Do it not, and I will not stop annoying you!"

For a few moments, Legolas thought that Aragorn had not heard him, but then the man blinked and forced his eyes fully open. A second later he raised his chin and gave their surroundings a glazed look.
"North … of … Rivendell…" he finally mumbled softly.

Even despite the seriousness of the situation, Legolas smiled and nodded his head.
"Yes," he replied wryly. "I had already gathered as much. Where are we, Aragorn? Think! You know the answer!"

"Sound … like … Erestor," the man muttered, his voice a little bit stronger now that he had become more aware of his surroundings.

"If you say so, mellon nín." Legolas forced himself to remain patient even despite the growing worry and urgency in his heart. "Where is the next shelter, Estel? Answer me or I will have you write 'Bleeding on your companion is not acceptable behaviour', using both Cirth and Tengwar and at least a thousand times each."

"Just … like Erestor," Aragorn nodded to himself, but he raised his head a little more and scrutinised the path. "Down the path … t-then … left. A … cave, hidden behind … a curtain of … ivy."

"How far away is that cave?" Legolas asked, already beginning to move again. "Is it far? Estel? Answer me, is it far away?"

The man shook his head, his eyes closing once more.
"No … not far."

He fell silent again, leaving Legolas to ponder what exactly the young man considered to be "far" or "near". He had the nagging suspicion that Aragorn measured distances in the way his brothers did, and if that was the truth, "not far" could mean anything from a hundred yards to a hundred miles, depending on the circumstances and to whom they were talking.

In the end, neither was the case, something for which the elf was intensely grateful. After about six hundred yards the path ended, sloping to the right and disappearing abruptly behind a large, towering oak. Legolas wondered if Aragorn had perhaps been mistaken, not seeing a way how he should be able to go left here, but then he saw an almost invisible path leading over to the left, nothing more than a small space between a row of trees and the hillside.

The path was narrow and almost invisible even to Legolas' sharp eyes, and when they finally reached the cave entrance, the elf felt ready to drop. He shook his head, hoping that it would help to push back the exhaustion that was once again spreading inside of him – it only made him feel dizzy, though – and quickly pushed the ivy to the side. He bent down as far as he could with his arm wrapped around Aragorn's waist and peered warily into the small space behind the green curtain of leaves.

There was nothing even remotely dangerous in the small cave, which could in fact only be called tiny. Right now Legolas wouldn't even have cared if there had been a colony of spiders, a troupe of orcs or a couple of dragons, and so he began to manoeuvre his friend through the small entrance after giving the cave's interior only the most cursory glance.

After lowering the man to the floor as gently as possible, Legolas straightened back up and gave the cave a closer look. It was truly tiny, no more than perhaps thirty square feet, and the ceiling was so low that Legolas' head almost touched it. There was, however, a stack of firewood to his left with a few thick blankets sitting right next to it, a sight that awoke the very vivid urge to sing in the elf's heart.

For a few moments, Legolas contemplated lighting a fire, but then he decided against it; he was not really sure how safe they were here. He would need light, however, at least if he wanted to truly see what he was doing, and so he finally contented himself with lighting a small torch that lit the cave well enough but would – hopefully – not be seen from outside.

The elven prince forced the burning piece of wood into a small fissure in the stone to his left and returned to the pile of blankets on the other side of the cave. After a brief moment of hesitation, he took all of them and brought them back to where he had left Aragorn. Giving the pale, apparently unconscious man a quick look, he began to rip the first blanket into long strips, and then also the second.

As soon as a large, orderly pile of makeshift bandages was lying next to him, Legolas returned his attention to the motionless man in front of him, his hard-won composure threatening to abandon him once more when he saw the blood-soaked piece of cloth that had once been his shirt. He was already reaching out to remove it when he remembered what the healers at his father's palace had always said when talking about the treatment of a patient with high blood loss, namely that removing an already soaked bandage was generally a stupid idea. Not cleaning the wound wouldn't immediately kill someone, not even one of the Second People, but not stopping the blood flow would.

Legolas took a deep breath and nodded to himself while he was folding a few of the strips into a thick pad. He only had to stop the bleeding completely, nothing more. Rivendell was only a few hours away, and if Aragorn really developed an infection, they would already be there. Lord Elrond would be able to help him then, but for that he would need to get the man there alive. If he didn't get the wound to close, infection would be the least of Aragorn's problems.

With a quick prayer that this was indeed the right thing to do, Legolas took the pad and pressed it onto the wound, putting as much pressure on it as he dared. Blood began to seep through the material, quickly turning the grey strips a murky red colour, and Legolas reached for more strips, still pressing down hard onto the wound.

A groan of pain alerted him to the fact that Aragorn was returning to consciousness – the man was choosing the worst possible time for it, as always, Legolas thought darkly. The young ranger slowly opened his eyes while Legolas was adding more strips to the pad he was pressing onto the wound, the grey orbs dark and glazed with pain.

"What…?"

"Don't move," Legolas commanded sternly, watching the bandages beneath his hands with the eyes of a hawk. It was taking more time to soak through this time, he decided firmly. It was, really. At least he thought so.

Aragorn blinked, his hands automatically reaching down to touch the wound that was sending waves of pain through his entire body, but one of Legolas' blood-covered hands caught his wrists and pushed them back up.
"Don't move," the elf repeated, his other hand still pressing down hard onto the wound. "Please, Aragorn, lie still. I need to stop the bleeding, or you will…"

"Die," the man finished the elf's sentence faintly. "Yes … I know."

"You are not going to die," Legolas shook his head firmly, adding even more strips to the bundle he was pressing against his friend's lower abdomen. "I won't let you."

"All men … die, Legolas," Aragorn ground out past gritted teeth. "Sooner … or … later."

"But not with twenty-one," the elf replied curtly, his eyes returning to the wound. "You will not die, Aragorn. Don't even try it; I will not allow it."

"Well, it would … have a … c-c-certain symmetry," the man retorted, suppressing a groan of pain as the elf increased the pressure even more.

"Symmetry?" Legolas repeated, eager to keep the man talking. As much as he hated seeing him in this much pain he thought it better if he didn't return to sleep under these circumstances. "What do you mean?"

"Oh, my grandfather died … close to here," Aragorn retorted lightly, his eyes staring at the ceiling. "Slain by … hill-trolls, in the Coldfells."

"What was his name?" the elf asked, diverting his attention between the wound and his friend.

"A-Arador," the young ranger gasped as another stab of pain went through him. "Arador, son of Argonui. He died young too, at … at least for one of … the Dúnedain. Almost as … young as … my human father."

Legolas looked up from the bandage he was pressing on his friend's wound, the worry and fear in his heart even multiplying. Aragorn's injury was serious indeed, and all this talk about dying would most certainly not help matters.
"Just because Arathorn and his father died young, it does not mean that you will, Aragorn," he told the man firmly, staring intently at him. "My grandfather died in War of the Last Alliance, but that doesn't mean that my father or I will die before the Dark Tower."

"It's not … the same, Legolas," Aragorn shook his head weakly.

"Yes, it is," the elf claimed stubbornly. "Now lie still and let me work, and don't even think about joining your ancestors."

"No, we wouldn't want … that to happen, now … would we?" Aragorn asked wryly, pain etched into every single line of his face.

Legolas didn't answer immediately, for his eyes were fixed firmly on the pieces of cloth beneath his hands. He had added this last strip more than half a minute ago, and the blood hadn't soaked through yet. The elf increased the pressure he was putting on the wound a little more, not allowing himself to feel relieved in the slightest. He would wait a minute or two to make sure, and then he would try and strap the pad tightly in place. After that Aragorn would need a few more hours of rest before they could set out for Rivendell once more, and only when they had crossed the Last Homely House's gates he would allow himself to feel relief.

"Your ancestry is nothing of which you would have to be ashamed, my friend," he finally said, his eyes straying from the still grey bandage to Aragorn's equally grey face.

Something that, under different and less painful circumstances, would most probably have been a laugh could be heard from the man in front of him, and a moment later a dark silver eye was opened, contempt and sadness visible in it.
"Of course not," Aragorn said darkly. "My …. ancestors were … weak and greedy … and hungry for power. Through their … folly this world is darkening once more, and," he paused for a moment, "I will end … just like them."

Legolas did not react at all, and only his eyes grew a little wider. Even though they had known each other for only a year, he had always thought he knew Aragorn's heart – or most of it. After their memorable first meeting, though, they had rarely spoken about the man's heritage and ancestry, and even though he had been suspecting it, it shocked the elven prince to hear such words from his friend now.

The fair haired elf looked down on the human whose eyes had closed once again. His entire being screamed at him to set this right, to tell the man that what he was saying was not the truth, but he really didn't think that a simple "No, you will not, now stop talking nonsense" would solve the problem.

Deciding on another course of action, he finally narrowed his eyes and stared at the ranger.
"I thought you respected Lord Elrond and his family more than this, dúnadan. To insult the one who has taken you in is nothing more than ungratefulness."

Aragorn's eyes flew open just as he had thought, indignation and anger pushing the pain aside for the moment.
"Just what are you implying?" he asked, his voice firm and hard.

"You said your forefathers were weak and power-hungry," Legolas returned nonchalantly, trying not to wince when Aragorn speared him with something that looked suspiciously like Lord Elrond's look. "How could it not be an insult to the Lord of Rivendell when you speak about his ancestors like this? You and he share the same ancestry, Aragorn. Personally I think that that calling Elu Thingol or Lúthien Tinúviel or Beren One-handed, or Finwë, Fingolfin his son, Eärendil son of Tuor or any other of your ancestors weak or power-hungry is rather hilarious. Most, however, would simply call it insulting."

"That is not what … I meant," Aragorn glared darkly at the elf, his injury forgotten for the moment. "You … know that."

"Maybe," Legolas nodded. "But it is what you said."

"I meant my human forefathers," Aragorn clarified darkly, too angry to even notice that Legolas was beginning to wrap the rest of the bandages around his side and hip. "They…"

"The last time I heard the Lay of Leithian, Beren was very much human," Legolas interrupted the man sharply. "So was Tuor, now that you mention it."

Aragorn opened his mouth to say something, from the looks of it something rather uncomplimentary that would most likely have ended in a Dwarvish curse, but a sudden stab of pain took his breath away. His face turned an interesting shade of greyish-white as Legolas pulled the bandage a little tighter and he clamped his eyes shut, biting down on his lower lip to prevent the scream from escaping that was rising inside of him.

Legolas' sharp ears had no trouble hearing the man's muffled sounds of pain, but he only pressed his lips together and continued with his work. A few moments later he tied off the end of the last bandage, giving his blood-covered hands and arms only a cursory look before he returned his eyes to his human friend.
"Estel? I am sorry, but I had to do it as tightly as possible. Just lie still and the pain will diminish soon. I promise."

An almost imperceptible nod was the only sign that the man was conscious and had heard his words, and Legolas allowed himself a tiny sigh of relief while his hands were idly brushing strands of dark hair out of the younger being's face.
"This is what has been bothering you lately, isn't it?" he asked softly, thinking back to the small incident with the Númenórean carving when the man had behaved so peculiarly. "You fear to become like your forefathers. You fear to make the same mistakes they have."

For a moment, he thought that Aragorn had lost consciousness again, but then he struggled to open his eyes and nodded once more.
"Yes," he said softly. "Their … blood is in … my v-veins. How could I be … different?"

"So is the blood of Elros Tar-Minyatur or Idril Celebrindal. There is no difference." Legolas shook his head slowly. "I mean it, reckless human. It's just the same."

Aragorn didn't answer, and so Legolas sighed softly, his eyes travelling quickly to the bandage to ascertain that it was still blood-free.
"Listen to me closely for once, Aragorn, son of Arathorn," he began insistently, seeing to his satisfaction that Aragorn's eyes were open and alert. "I don't care who your ancestors were. I think your heritage is a proud and noble one, but what I think is of no consequence. Answer me one question: Have you changed so much his past year?"

The man frowned and finally shook his head, clearly not being able to see what Legolas was trying to tell him.
"I … don't think so."

"Nor do I," Legolas confirmed. "You are still as reckless and thick-headed as you were when we first met. Don't you see it, reckless human? You are the same as you were when you were simply Estel, son of Elrond. Being Aragorn, son of Arathorn doesn't change anything, least of all who you are."

The elf leaned forward a little, his eyes dark and serious.
"Your forefathers were for the most part good and noble people, Aragorn. Without them the Valar would never have arisen against Morgoth Bauglir, and your father's and brothers' people would still be prohibited to sail to Valinor if they wish it. And I may not know as much about the Men of Westernesse as you do, but even in my home the tale is told how, when all hope had already seemed lost, the Men of Númenor came to Middle-earth in their tall ships and drove the armies of Sauron before them like cattle! If they hadn't come, not even the might of your father and the High King Gil-galad would have been enough to keep Sauron at bay for much longer and all of Eriador and Lindon would have been conquered ."

Aragorn still didn't say anything, which Legolas decided to take as a good sign. Seeing the still somewhat dubious look on the man's face, the elf couldn't help but smile. It was sometimes really amazing how much like the twins this young one looked from time to time.

"But even if your ancestors hadn't been what they were, it would make no difference for you. You are not bound by their deeds, Aragorn. You decide your own fate; it doesn't matter who your ancestors were, mellon nín. Not to me, and not to anyone else that matters. And," he added softly, "it also shouldn't matter to you."

"Maybe it shouldn't," the man nodded softy. "But … but it does."

"And that is one of the reasons why, one day in the future, you will be a great leader," Legolas' smile widened a little. "Not right now, though. Now you need to rest. I want to leave in an hour or so – if you can restrain yourself from starting to bleed again, that is."

"I will … try," Aragorn nodded once more, something on his lips that – with a bit of imagination – could have been called a smile, even despite the pain on his face.

"That is all I ask," Legolas inclined his head. "Now sleep."

It was obvious that there was something sarcastic or even cynical on the tip of the man's tongue, but before he could articulate it the pain and exhaustion caught up with him, and even despite all his struggles to keep them open his eyes were beginning to slide shut. Within half a minute Aragorn had lost the fight to stay awake, and Legolas leaned forward again, once again checking the bandage.

There was no fresh blood, something that caused the elf's smile to grow to even more improbable proportions, and so he sat back again, gazing at the pale, sleeping human next to him. Aragorn didn't appear to be quite as pale anymore, but Legolas knew that was most likely only his imagination that was trying to reassure him that his friend would be alright.

His first instinct was to leave now, to get the man back to Rivendell as soon as possible, but the more reasonable part of him was telling him insistently what a stupid idea that would be. It was far safer to stay here for an hour or two to see if there would be any more bleeding and to give Aragorn the chance to rest a little. As long as the bleeding stayed under control, he should be alright until he could get him back to his foster father. An hour or two wouldn't matter; besides, the chances that they would meet with a patrol would be greater if they stayed here a little longer.

There were an awful lot of words involved in this which he didn't like, Legolas thought darkly as he leaned back against a stone wall, cradling his throbbing ribs with his uninjured arm. Words like "should", "would" and "maybe"; words that brought to his attention how little he knew about how to tend humans who had suffered such wounds and how much could still go wrong.

At least Aragorn's heart and mind rested a little easier now, or so he hoped. Every word he had told him had been meant exactly the way he had said it, and he hoped that even if Aragorn didn't accept his words as the truth immediately, he would at least understand that he had meant them sincerely.

And that, Legolas told himself while his eyes watched the shadows that the crackling torch cast over the form of his sleeping companion, could make all the difference. No, he corrected himself firmly, it would make all the difference. Aragorn would live; there was simply no way he would allow that infuriating human to die on him after all this.

With this strangely encouraging thought Legolas leaned back against the rough stone at his back and tried his best to relax, a smile once again growing on his face.

Maybe he wouldn't return to Lord Elrond with a broken oath, after all.

TBC...

mellon nín (S.) - my friend
Lá … aranya (Q.) - No … my king
Lá, Itarillë (Q.) - No, Idril
Á etelehta yondolya ar nossëlva, herinya … á hehta (Q.) - Save your son and our people, my lady … go
dúnadan (S.) - 'Man of the West', ranger

Another small A/N: No, I don't know for sure if Turgon was indeed dark haired and would therefore have resembled Elrond at all. I do know that Turgon - as the son of Fingolfin and grandson of Indis - had some Vanyarin blood, but that doesn't necessary mean that he was blond, too. Besides, there is one little passage in The Silmarillion which might indicate that he was indeed dark haired, namely in Chapter 16, Of Maeglin: "Yet to none were his [Maeglin's] eyes more often drawn than to Idril the King's daughter, who sat beside him; for she was golden as the Vanyar, her mother's kindred, and she seemed to him as the sun from which all the King's halldrew its light." That seems to indicate that Idril was golden hairedlike her mother - unlike her father. g Yeah, I know, I'm grasping at straws here. If anyone else can think of a passage where Turgon's hair colour is expressly described, please let me know. I've been thinking about this for quite a long time. Yes, I am a freak. g



So, only one chapter left! It's always hard to believe with these short stories - it feels as if I haven't even started yet... Very strange. frowns As I said, I'll try to update on Friday or Saturday, if I can persuade everything to work as it's supposed to. Yeah, I know, the chances of me actually succeeding are slim tonone. g Anyway, stay tuned for the last chapter in which we'll at last find out what's bothering Glorfindel! I know, I know: About bloody time! g As always, reviews are greatly appreciated. Thanks!

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Additional A/N:

Aromene - Well, having an arrow stick out of your chest is already bad enough if you ask me. There was no need to heap any more problems on our dear twins and elf lord... g But it would have been fun, you're right. LOL, yes, four trolls at once IS rather stupid, even for Legolas. Let's just pretend it's all because of that blow to the head. g
Lindahoyland - Hmm, no, I don't think Aragorn's fate will be to end as the trolls' dinner. Would be rather unbefitting the future King of Gondor, don't you think? g But it would have been interesting - and mildly cruel. evil grin
Kitsune Kida - There is only one more chapter left, unfortunately. grimaces It's hard to believe, really. And I know what you mean. I love and hate cliffies as well - it's a little Gollumnesque, isn't it? g I think it is, which is rather scary now that I think about it...
Zinnith - LOL, you didn't really check every fifteen minutes, did you? I mean, I never update before 10 pm my time, so you really needn't have bothered... And to misplace a ranger is rather easy, I think, ESPECIALLY when that ranger is Aragorn. That guy needs a cowbell, he really does. g I'm sure that braiding a bat into your hair is unbecoming an elf lord, too. Glorfindel would most certainly have a fit. g And I noticed the statue's dread locks too. It gave me a while set of disconcerting ideas about elven hairstyles... g You really sound as if you would get along just great with Aragorn and Legolas, btw - just as accident-prone. Mabe you really do need a support group... LOL, actually Shmul doesn't mean anything. It's short for Samuel, from "The Life of Brian". Brian's father is called Shmul Cohen, and in the German version they pronounce it so hilariously that we couldn't stop laughing for days. Besides, the cat looked like a Shmul. g You can say "Soll ich lachen oder weinen"? Interesting. And highly useful, too. g Anyway, thanks for the long and funny review!
CSI3 - Hmm, yes, I guess you could call it obvious. Then again, their plans NEVER work, so it's not really that hard to guess, right? g Great you liked the chapter - and its title - thanks a lot for the review!
LOTRFaith - You really think I have any influence whatsoever over their actions? Well, let me tell you one thing: I never wanted to harm Glorfindel this seriously. I never wanted them to split up, and I most certainly didn't intend to let them all nearly suffocate. And I didn't plan the cave, or Glorfindel's dreams, or... takes a deep breath You see what I mean? Things just ... happen. I can't control them. g I'm sure you know how it is.
Lynn-G - Ha, I have already forgotten the plot bunny. No, I have no idea what it was. I haven't written it down somewhere. No, definitely not. g It's very nice to hear that you appreciate my rather ... strange sense of humour. I am always trying to keep these kinds of comments out of the serious scenes, but until now I've never succeeded. They just appear. grimaces They mock me, I swear they do. g Your late-night review is much appreciated, thanks a lot!
TrinityTheSheDevil - Oh, my hair hates me too. That's why I cut it, but that somehow has made everything even worse... shrugs It's just as insolent as Elrond's, really. g LOL, no, you don't like Glorfindel pain at all. I know you don't, you're a nice person after all, aren't you? And innocent. g Definitely innocent. And I guess Námo would have a fit if Glorfindel showed up yet again! I still believe that Glorfindel got reincarnated because he had annoyed everybody else so much, so... g LOL, and I was thinking just the same when I saw Spiderman for the first time. I'm weird, I know. g
Marbienl - Believe it or not, at the moment I have barely the time to edit the chapters. I never knew that the Teutonic Knights could be so much work... I hope that changes in a few days though, when I've finished my story. grimaces I REALLY hope so... LOL, Aragorn on a platter with an apple in his mouth - that's most certainly an interesting idea... g Hmm, Celylith and a pet bat - that's a rather funny idea. I could put something like that in at some point ... maybe when ... yes, that might work... Okay, I'll think about it. Thanks a lot for yet another plot bunny! Or rather, a plot bat! mock glare About the twins: All it says in the main works is that the twins "dwelt for a long time yet in the House of Elrond" or something like that. Some say there's something in the Unfinished Tales (I think), but I haven't come across it yet. If I do, I'll let you know. I like to think that they followed Elrond in the end. LOL, yes, Glorfindel is in the perfect "nightmare position". He's not overly pleased about that, really... g Glad to see that someone caught my little green leaf wordplay. I was grinning quite openly when I wrote that... g I don't think that the different kinds of trolls look all that differently, so I guess picturing a cave troll isn't all that wrong either. LOL, I knew you would find a way to make Aragorn's search for Gollum horrible and pain-filled! But no, I don't think I'll write something like that in the future. I really, REALLY don't like Gollum. Yeah, you're only one small country away. You know what? I'm even going to BE in your country in September. Near Groningen, I think, for a week. Perhaps I should wear a bag over my head in case I meet you on the street one day... g Would be rather obvious, though. g As always, thanks for the long review!
Lirenel - Well, you won't find out what's bothering Glorfindel until next chapter, so you'll have to have a little patience yet. I hope it's not TOO long to wait... g Thanks a lot for the review!
CrazyLOTRfan - LOL, why did it have to be trolls? I think because Marbienl wanted them. They never stood a chance, poor babies... g Your guesses as to why Glorfindel avoids Elrond are very good. Truly, they are, except for the Maeglin-part. I never liked him myself - I guess he was his father's son. And considering that Eöl was as mad as a hatter... g Your offer sounds good, but I don't think this counts as a cliffy. There aren't any more cliffies coming up as far as I know. Sorry about that. sheepish grin
Cosmic Castaway - I am very sorry that you're going to New York. No, I'm not, but I'm sorry that you are apparently not here on Monday, at least not when I update. Then again, since I tend to update in the evening, it should be online around midday-afternoon in the US. I even thought about posting sooner so you could read it, but I really couldn't make it since I had to spend the better part of the day in the library - again. Sorry. But I'm sure you'll survive. g And I do the same while driving, btw. Everybody but me drives like idiots, did you know that? g Have fun in New York! I'm sure you will. g
Gwyn - LOL, yes, I am indeed. We live by the canon, we die by the canon! grimaces Sorry, too much B5... g There will be, however, some Legolas pain in this chapter, but not TOO much since this is Marbienl's birthday story. And she adores Aragorn pain and H/C and all that, so... shrugs Sorry, there's nothing I can do about that. But there will be some, don't worry. g
HarryEstel - Yeah, I guess you're right. They're ALL having an exceedingly bad day. g And this update IS soon, isn't it? For me it is, mind you. Great you liked it though, thanks a lot for reviewing!
Someone Reading - I guess you're right, Elrond should get a valet. Maybe he even has one, as the Lord of Rivendell and all that... Hmm, maybe. I have to think about that. You really have to stop saying the things you do - I am really beginning to get delusions of grandeur. It's very nice of you though. g Thanks very much for all your wonderful reviews!
Maranwe1 - Yup, they look creepy. Very much so, actually. g I don't like "got" very much either, but sometimes I really just don't know what else to use. Dictionaries stop being helpful right about then... About the "gotten": My favourite dictionary (which is rather old, I'll admit that) says that the Past Participle of "to get" is, and I quote, "got (Amer.: gotten)". Since it's old it might very well be that that changed between 1965 (Jeez, I didn't know it was THAT old! g) and now. I don't know. Thanks for that word-order thing, I'll try to remember that, but there's nothing I can do about the awkwardness. It's simply because my English really isn't THAT good. It happens rather often that I know what I want to say but I don't know how, especially in scenes with little or no dialogue, just as you said. I can't really change that, I'm afraid, I can only hope that it diminishes with time. Unless I spend another year or so in the UK though, chances are that my awkwardness will never disappear entirely. shrugs Sorry about that. Thanks a lot for pointing all that out, though!
SeventhSpanishAngel12 - Nice to see that you're amused. g And no, I don't really LIVE for cliffhangers. I like them quite a lot, but I don't live for them. Alright, I LOVE them, but that's another story. g Has your hair never looked smug? Mine does that all the time... I am indeed updating a little faster at the moment, since this story is already finished. Hmm, the "rhythm"? I'll try not to lose it, don't worry. If I can ever really figure out what it really is... g
Noldo - Oh yeah, it appears I did. Thanks. I'll change that along with all the other mistakes I've made once I have the time. g Thanks a lot for pointing that out. It's nice to hear that you like the story so far, even depite the cliffy. g Oh, and I love your name. Very nice. g
Grumpy - LOL, you're right of course. It's not Glorfindel's fault that he can't tell Elrond what's wrong. Then again, it's not mine either. It's my alter ego's. g I love the term rangernapped. It's very accurate of course; besides, I'm sure Aragorn would be scandalised if he heard that someone said "kidnapped". g
Snow-Glory - I think he wasn't thinking at all. That's his problem after all, he isn't THINKING, stupid wood-elf that he is. You're quite evil if you thought Legolas' reaction to be funny! Then again, I guess we're all evil. No, now that I think about it, I don't. I'm SURE we're all evil. g
LegolasGreenleafGil-Estel - wide-eyed How did you get your father to do that for you? It's really nice of him, especially considering how long most of my chapters are... Very nice indeed. I'm afraid I don't know any other good fanfic sites. I don't have much time at the moment, so I haven't had the opportunity to search for any lately. Sorry. g LOL, yes, poor wee Glorfindel indeed. I hope to post the last chapter Friday, but I really don't know if that's soon enough? Most likely not. I'm afraid I really don't have the time to post sooner, and, knowing the BT, I most likely won't get the chance to either. shrugs They hate me. g
Celebdil-Galad and Tinlaure - Thanks a lot. I simply forgot about the email, along with about a thousand other to which I'd have to reply. grimaces Most of my friends should hate me now. g Hmm, let me see, why does Glorfindel always have to get hurt ... I think it's because he's adorable and slightly idiotic. Yes, I think that's it. evil grin Nope, I really don't know who Michelle Branch is. What kind of music does she make? If it's pop or something like that it's logical that I wouldn't know her. I don't really like that kind of music. shrugs But the lyrics did fit - kind of, at least. g
Nikara - I like trolls too. They don't get enough attention, poor things. They may be ugly and malicious, but they still have a heart, don't they? watches as trolls very nearly kill both our heroes Hmm, maybe not now that I think about it... g
Vampy2k - Yup, they DO have bad luck. Lots of it, too, I think. g It's a miracle they're all still alive if you ask me ... a MAJOR miracle... g
Crippled Raven - Yes, there's some elf pain coming up. Not THAT much, but there's at least some in here, I promise. It's quite hard to explain, actually. I hate movie-Boromir, but I like book-Boromir. I adore book-Faramir, but positively LOATHE movie-Faramir. I HATE Sean Bean, whom I only call "The Bean", but the guy that plays Faramir is not important enough to hate in my opinion. I 'nothing' him. g And the familiy thing makes everything even worse in my opinion: They're all nutters if you ask me. How their forefathers ever managed to rule Gondor is beyond me. g But I agree: Orlando Bloom is horrible. He's a terrible actor (at least in my opinion), and I spent PotC cursing him and his character. I wanted more Johnny Depp, who both looks wonderful and is a great actor. nods Yes, he is. I guess orcs don't have anything better to do, though. It's their job to be uncaring and evil, after all. g
Tychen - shrugs I have no idea where it went. I checked right after I'd posted, and it was there. Maybe is once again trying to drive me mad, which wouldn't surprise me in the slightest. g LOL, I expect Legolas didn't REALLY expect everything to go to plan, at least not really deep down. What can I say, he's a very positive elf. g The "blood stained rags" are "wonderfully wicked"? Well, thank you! I laughed about that for about a minute, please don't ask me why... I guess Isál and Elvynd won't be so happy to be in my stories, but they'll change their minds. Eventually, I guess... g
Elvendancer - Yes, I'm very cautious. I never leave the house without two bodyguards and a balrog. That should be enough for a while, don't you think? I just hope Glorfindel doesn't slay Stan too - I really like him by now... g
Aratfeniel - Yes, one would expect Elrond to have learnt by now. I really don't know why they call him "The Wise" anyway... evil gri It's not really fair, I know. It's not really his fault. You might be right of course, I guess that most elves don't argue with their hair. Then again, Elrond is only ... counts on her fingers 9/16 Elf (the rest of him being 6/16 Man and 1/16 Maia), I guess it's at least possible. g Sorry for the cliffy though. This ending's better, at least I think so.
Radbooks - LOL, yes, being a nurse wouldn't be all that bad, now would it? I know quite a few people who would actually volunteer for that job... g Even though you would have to work round the clock... You don't have to thank me for writing this - I can't help myself. I've tried not writing something for a few weeks, and it was horrible. But I thank YOU for updating! Thanks! g
Enigma Jade - I heard it! Don't even try to hide your evil, sadistic laughter! Not that I had expected anything else from you, mind you... evil grin I hope you'll enjoy this chapter. You should, actually. g Thanks for the review!
Templa Otmena - You're right of course. Sometimes, about once every two yéni or something, Legolas' plans actually work. g Now not being one of these times, of course. evil grin As I said, I couldn't write an entirely serious scene to save my life. Little things like that just pop up out of thin air, I don't know how they do it either. g And you actually enjoyed Medieval History? Really? I loathe it with all my heart, and they tricked me into taking this class. I swear they did. I never chose to do anything involving the Teutonic Knights, nu-uh. I didn't. shakes head vigorously If I ever meet one of them, he's dead. g The Renaissance is MUCH better, I agree. Great you still like it, and thanks a lot for your very funny and long reviews!
Smile Neumann - You don't have to be ashamed, really. I have been wishing for that to happen, too - and I am writing this story, so I guess that means something. g And how do you know that I wouldn't kill Glorfindel? Let's just say that I had a little chat with PJ (who really seemed to want to get rid of him) and he made me an offer I couldn't refuse... grin evilly
Chip - Oh, poor you! You really had surgery? I never went through that myself (thank God!), but I'm sure it's rather unpleasant. I hope you're more sensible than Aragorn and Legolas and actually try to get some rest! g Don't worry, there'll be plenty of Glorfindel when I'm finished with him. He might be a little worse for wear, but that's all. g I promise! crosses fingers behind back and hopes no one notices
Mornflower - You sanity is indeed rather unnoticable. You hide it rather well, congratulations! g You go and have fun with Legolas, just remember to give him back in one piece. I still need him to rescue Aragorn, after all. g
Kathleen LaCorneille - LOL, yes, Legolas' doesn't have a shining star, he has a black hole! I love that... g And yes, everything will be just fine of course. It all depends on how you define "fine" though... evil grin Don't worry about Aragorn, he will indeed wake up this chapter. I know how boring it is when they just sleep all the time... g Well, if it would really be a crime, then I'm poting this one now. I really wouldn't want to go for jail for not posting on time... g
Lina - LINA! You're back! huggles I really, really missed you! I was beginning to get seriously worried, honestly! How exactly did Zam manage to make you disappear? Is she alright? I hope so! So I guess the soft-ball season is over? It was soft ball, wasn't it? I am really getting old... g I don't have the time for a longer reply, sorry - I still have to write a conclusion for my paper - but I wanted to let you know how happy I was about your reviews! It's great to have you back (and Éomer, if course)! huggles again

Alright, that's that. Now I have to run off to finish my paper which is almost finished. Yay Nili! Once again a huge thank-you to all my reviewers! Your reviews are very much appreciated!