Roheryn skidded violently to a halt as Aragorn reined him in, just before the smoldering campfire. There was no sign of the Peredhil twins, but at first, Aragorn didn't notice. Sliding Legolas' limp form out of the saddle, he checked the elf's vitals once again; his pulse was strong and he was breathing normally. But the bright eyes remained closed and Aragorn's words of comfort could not break into his consciousness, a sure sign to the ranger that something was dreadfully wrong. What had Saruman done to him? The question had no answer.
Aragorn continued to speak in hushed tones in the elf's ear, praying that the soft elvish would spark something from his friend. He settled him down a few feet away from the fire-pit as comfortably as possible, then undid his own overcoat to make a rough pillow for the elf's head. He sat there for a moment, hunched over Legolas' prostrate form, only looking at his pale face. He didn't know what to do; he didn't even know where to start in an attempt to heal the elf.
The Ranger sighed and rubbed his eyes. He felt light-headed himself, and slightly nauseated. He eased himself to the ground, crossed his legs and clapped his face in his hands, his temples throbbing. All he could think to do was sit and wait for his brothers to return from their venture, in search of Radagast the Brown Wizard. He sighed again, and stretched himself out, covering his eyes with the crook of his arm; he suddenly couldn't think straight, and the events of the past few hours became blurry and muddled, as if someone had poured his memories into a bowl and stirred them vigorously, until he could not tell one thought from the next. The memories of Saruman, the bolt of flame, everything was becoming confused and tangled, warped in a way he could not begin to comprehend.
The next thing he knew, Elrohir was kneeling over him. "Awake, Estel. You've been asleep long enough!"
"What?" Aragorn sat up groggily, running the palm of his hand over his eyes to clear his vision. "Have I been asleep?"
"Aye, muindor dithen, you and Legolas both!" Elladan chided from behind him. "How could you possibly still be sleeping when we're trying to save Middle-Earth from a potential disaster!"
Aragorn looked at the ground, still unsure of his surroundings. "Forgive me, muindor. I...we...we didn't mean to fall asleep...I know Gandalf needs us..." He suddenly stopped.
"Yes, Estel, Saruman's aggression could mean many things, but we have to be sure—"
"Legolas!" Fear leaped into the ranger's chest, though why or how he knew Legolas was injured he could not remember; he only relied on the tight feeling in the pit of his stomach, the clamminess of his hands, the pounding of his heart.
In a flash, he was at his friend's side, worry etched deeply on his face as he felt the elf's neck for a pulse. "He's alright...his pulse is strong..." His voice shook.
"Estel, what is the matter?" Elrohir was at his side, Elladan above him. "Has something happened?"
Aragorn did not reply, almost frantic as he pulled Legolas into his arms.
Elrohir glanced up at Elladan, mounting concern in his eyes. Elladan met his gaze with equal apprehension, then knelt down beside his brothers. "Aragorn, Legolas is fine—Legolas, waken. Ernil!" he shook the elf's shoulder playfully, imagining the humiliated look on the prince's face when he awoke in his friend's arms.
His brow furrowed when Legolas did not respond.
"Legolas?" With deepening concern, the elder twin noticed the closed eyes and the abnormally pale skin, pale even for his Mirkwood kin. "Aragorn? What has happened? We've only been gone a few hours..."
"Legolas cannot be sick...neither of you have arisen since we left this morning," Elrohir added, knowing that their companion had not been ill the night before. His voice deepened in sudden warning. "Aragorn, did you and Legolas leave the camp this morning? That is not what we agreed upon."
Aragorn shook his head numbly, holding Legolas closer. "I...I don't know...there's nothing there...I don't remember anything...Nothing since last night..."
The Peredhil twins gaped, alarm apparent in their manner. "Aragorn, think!" Elladan urged him. "I do not understand...You don't...remember? What do you mean?"
"I don't remember anything!" Had Aragorn been a child then, he would have been wailing with confusion and fright; now, he could only hold his friend close and scream at himself to dig through his thoughts. "I...I remember sitting here last night...you said you would search for Radagast and return when you had found him...and Legolas and I..." he paused, sifting through his tangled mind. "...We were supposed to wait and search the surrounding area for any unusual signs of activity."
"And did you?" Elrohir's voice held warning. Elladan touched Aragorn's shoulder and searched for his eyes, the dark brown penetrating the silver-blue, seeking to assist the man in anyway he could.
Aragorn gazed into Legolas' almost white face, his mind in anguish, his consciousness screaming at him to remember the truth. But it would not come. There was nothing past falling asleep the previous night; as far as he knew, he had just awakened to find the twins by his side...and Legolas ill. He closed his eyes in exhaustion and hung his head, the weight of helplessness bearing down on him. "I don't know! Elladan...we didn't do anything! Legolas must have become ill through the night, I swear it!"
Aragorn was becoming increasingly panicked. Elladan tightened his grip on his shoulder, and Elrohir draped his arm over him. "All right Aragorn, all right, we believe you." Aragorn's erratic behavior was beginning to worry them. "Let us go," said Elladan. "The sooner we return, the sooner Adar and Gandalf will cease worrying for us. We are already a few hours behind, and...I do not know what to do for Legolas. He does not even have any fever or sweating; he lacks symptoms of any disease that I know of. Adar will know what to do. He must know."
The twins quickly broke camp, explaining to a still dazed Aragorn that they could not find Radagast, though they had searched everywhere. They knew the Wizard's hermit-like ways, and knew that if he did not want to be found, there was nothing anyone, not even Gandalf, could do to find him. They could not waste much time; Lord Elrond had given them specific instruction to hurry back as soon as possible, only staying long enough to find the wandering Wizard, and scout out the surroundings of Orthanc, without being seen. If Saruman was truly in league with the Dark One, there would be evident signs, and Mithrandir had told them to return as soon as they had any information or suspicions.
"Well, so much for evidence," Elrohir muttered into his pack. "All this way and nothing!"
"Nothing!" Elladan was taken aback. "Do you mean that you want Saruman to be our enemy, Elrohir? I cannot believe that you would desire such a thing, just so that your travels and inconveniences would be worthwhile?"
Elrohir looked up, a shocked thoughtfulness on his face. There was silence for a moment. "I...I did not mean..." he hung his head. "Forgive me, Pere, I did not think before I said that. It's not what I meant at all."
Elladan retightened the saddle strap. He patted the horse's neck, a sudden sadness in his posture. "I know, Dhil, I know. I can only pray that the evidence we could not find is enough to proof that Saruman is...still our friend."
The Peredhil twins dropped silent for a moment, each realizing what the consequences could be if Saruman was truly their new enemy. It would shatter many things for their family, and for the world they lived in.
In a few moments, the foursome set out, hoping now to return faster than they had left, with fear for Legolas, and with their tidings, whether good or evil they did not know. Aragorn seemed better: his head had cleared and his limbs strengthened. Whatever the reason for his panic, it seemed to be wearing off, thank the Valar. He still clung to the prince in his saddle, but the twins could see that he was returning to his normal self. It gave some encouragement to their wilting hearts, the apprehension of facing Mithrandir without Radagast continuously in their minds.
They rode with all haste, but they could not forget about Legolas. Every few hours they paused and let him rest, hoping that he would soon awaken. But to no avail, the archer remained unconscious and unresponsive, even to Aragorn's incessant pleas. The further they went without sign from him, the more the three brothers began to fear that it was more serious than even they had first thought. Every hour began to make a difference; Aragorn began to fight for pushing onward, insisting that it was better to arrive sooner and be wearied than rested and in worse condition. Finally, the twins agreed. After that, they pushed on with all the speed of a storm, knowing that time was of the essence.
After what seemed endless hours to Aragorn, he saw familiar sights, flooding him with hope that they were not too late for Thranduilon. The forests were tinted with gold and red, a sure sign that all was well in Imladris. The mountains to the left were still covered with a mist, but the sun broke through, filling the valley with an amber light. As they rode, the Ranger could feel his body being soothed, as if the very air he breathed was an emollient for his soul. He felt himself calming, his quick breath slowing, and he knew all would be well; they were coming home, where all was safe for a time. He did not know how short a time it would be.