Hey everyone! Thanks so much for the fantastic reviews! Here's a longer-then-usual chapter 2! Enjoy! Oh by the way, Legolas' injury is very serious, (of course it is, I'm writing the story! LOL!) so forgive me if the medical treatment sounds gross, lol!
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Aragorn had no idea how long he lay half-conscious. He was suddenly aware of a floating sensation, and as he blinked up at the blue sky, he realized that the storm was gone. Turning his aching head, he was met with a sight that nearly made his heart stop.
Legolas was still in the same position that he'd been laid, eyes closed in unconsciousness. But the sight that made the human panic was the pool of blood spreading under the elf.
"Legolas!" he exclaimed, sitting up and reaching for his friend. Pain suddenly gripped his midsection and he gasped, nearly falling back down. He realized that a couple of his ribs were broken and took a breath, seeing how deeply he was able to inhale. It hurt—a lot—but he could tell that his lungs had not been punctured. Moving more slowly, he reached out to feel Legolas' pulse, finding it fast and weak.
Shaking with fear for his friend, Aragorn removed the bow that had thankfully remained around the elf's body, and unstrapped his quiver before carefully turning him over.
The elf was completely limp, deeply unconscious.
Aragorn cringed at Legolas' bloody clothes and found a hole on the right side of the elf's midsection. He ripped it wider and his mouth dropped open at what he found.
A piece of wood from the boat was lodged deeply in his friend's body. It was about two-by-three inches, and less than an inch of it protruded from the skin.
Aragorn quickly scanned their location, seeing they'd obviously passed Lake Town and were now floating down Long Lake. He could see land to either side, but he had no way of steering their raft towards it.
Looking back at Legolas' wound, he was relieved that the piece of wood was at least plugging the hole, somewhat, which is what had prevented the elf from already bleeding to death. Remembering laying the elf on his stomach, Aragorn wondered if he'd driven the wood further into his friend's body. He felt nauseous at the thought, and laid his head on the elf's chest to listen to his lungs. What he heard chilled his heart; there was the sound of fluid, but he was unsure if it was inhaled water or blood from a damaged lung. He prayed that it was the former; Legolas had probably lost consciousness before he'd been able to cough out all the water that he'd inhaled. The piece of wood protruded from the bottom of Legolas' ribs, and Aragorn desperately prayed that the elf's lung didn't extend that far down.
Removing his cloak, the human ripped it into strips and pressed it to the wound, careful not to push the wood in any further. Through the cloth he felt something odd and removed it, pressing lightly on the skin around the wood. To his shock, he found that the wood had gone straight through two of the elf's ribs. It testified to the power of the waterspout, and terrified Aragorn further. What if pieces of bone are now missing inside his body? he thought, with a shudder. They could cause damage to his organs…internal bleeding…He covered his face with a shaking hand. Not to mention that his ribs will not be able to knit if there is a gap!
Sighing heavily, he realized that nothing could be done until they reached land. The sigh caused his own ribs to flare with pain and he wrapped an arm around himself, not wanting to succumb to his own hurts with Legolas' condition so critical. His head was throbbing but his vision was untroubled, so he knew that if he had a concussion—from whatever had hit him—it was slight. His body felt bruised in several places, but his only serious injury appeared to be his broken ribs. Looking at Legolas, he wondered what other injuries the elf had obtained.
A quick examination of the elf showed no other broken bones, but the elf had a cut on the side of his head, hidden beneath his hair. It had bled only slightly, and Aragorn would've missed it if not for the lump beneath it. He opened his friend's eyelids and saw pupil dilation so slight that he wasn't even sure if it was truly there, so, like himself, Legolas probably didn't have a serious concussion.
Removing his hand from the elf's ghastly injury, Aragorn found that he'd succeeded in stopping the bleeding—for now, at least.
The human quickly picked up his ripped cloak and removed his shirt, tightly wrapping his ribs. He sat there for a minute, letting the pain die down a little before he put his shirt back on. Aragorn then grabbed the belt that still connected him to Legolas and loosened it, buckling it on the first hole to allow himself more movement. He then gingerly lowered himself into the water and tried to swim towards shore, ignoring the pain that it caused his ribs.
The raft floated behind Aragorn as he pulled it along with help from the belt. Aragorn looked behind himself frequently, ensuring that he wouldn't accidentally pull his friend off it. Legolas didn't weigh much, but he was also still wet, which obviously added more weight to his frame. His unconscious body didn't budge as Aragorn performed his tugboat duty, and they got halfway to shore before the human had to stop for a rest.
Aragorn held onto the raft with one hand, breathing heavily as he wrapped his other arm around himself. The pain made him dizzy and he couldn't stop himself from groaning.
Reopening his eyes, Aragorn found that they'd drifted away slightly, and he began to swim again, praying for the strength to quickly get to shore. When he finally made it, he stopped and grabbed the belt, untying it from himself and dragging the raft onto land.
His task completed, Aragorn sat beside his friend, legs shaking too much to remain standing.
Legolas still lay motionless, showing no sign of regaining consciousness.
Aragorn wrapped the elf's bow and quiver around his neck and knelt beside his friend, gathering him into his arms and standing slowly with a cry of pain that he couldn't hold back. His first few steps were more like stumbles, and he carried Legolas over to a tree, laying him under it. Grimacing from pain, Aragorn sat beside his friend, leaning against the tree for a minute before he was able to move again.
Unslinging his healing pack from around his neck, he found exactly what he feared; the river had carried away most of his herbs. The ones that remained were soggy and now useless, though he was relieved to see that he still had one of his small pots.
Sighing, he unslung the bow and quiver from around his body and placed them beside the elf before he painfully stood and walked into the woods, searching out new herbs. He didn't find everything that he wanted, but brought back firewood and all the medicinal herbs that he found, sorting them by their properties. He chewed a few painkillers for his screaming ribs and aching head, before going back to the river and pulling the raft further onto land, not wanting it to float off in case they needed it.
Dipping the pot into the water, Aragorn brought it back and sat it next to Legolas before building a fire. The heat felt wonderful on his wet body, and he sat the pot close to the flames before painfully maneuvering himself back to his friend. His hand shook as he reached out to check the elf's pulse, and he inwardly cursed the pain that his ribs were causing him.
Legolas' heartbeat was unchanged, and his face was extremely pale.
Aragorn sighed—carefully—and removed the elf's cloak and tunic, laying them out to dry. He suddenly realized with a jolt that he hadn't seen his needle and thread in his pack. Grabbing it, he found that the needles were there but the thread was not, and his heart dropped to his feet. He looked at Legolas, bemoaning the ill-timed waterspout. He seriously did not want to cauterize the wound, especially if there were complications with wooden splinters or bone chips, requiring him to open the injury up again.
Turning, he saw that the water was boiling, so he crushed the herbs and dropped them in as he brought the pot back to the river and added some water to cool it down. Taking it back to Legolas, he gently pulled him into his lap and slowly fed it to the elf, wincing at his ribs' protest.
Legolas made no movement, swallowing reflexively.
Laying his friend down again, Aragorn knew that he had to quickly figure out what to do about the wound; he couldn't leave the wood inside his friend's body much longer, for small pieces could break off inside the elf from the wetness of Legolas' blood.
The solution came to him suddenly; all he had to do was remove the stitching from his cloak. It was thinner than he liked, but he could remedy that by simply doubling the thread.
Immensely relieved, he grabbed his cloak and set to work, using one of Legolas' knives to carefully pull out the thread stitch by stitch. It was tedious work, made all the more annoying and uncomfortable by his painful ribs.
A short while later, the herbs that he'd taken finally took effect and the pain lessened closer to a bearable level. Once he had enough thread, he took Legolas' knife and sat closer beside the elf. "Legolas?" he said, tapping his friend's face to ensure that he wasn't close to consciousness.
Legolas remained unresponsive.
Aragorn tried to get a grip on the piece of wood, but it wasn't protruding enough. With a sigh, he carefully cut the wound wider, not bothering to wipe the blood away, knowing that he had to work quickly before Legolas lost much more blood. After the wound was wide enough, Aragorn pulled the skin apart and tried to see inside. The wood had indeed broken two ribs, but rather than break chunks through the bones, he found that the bones had both snapped and turned inward.
Relieved, the human slowly pulled the wood out of his friend's body, dropping it onto the grass. He then carefully took hold of each rib and pulled them back into their correct position. The rib that had taken the brunt of the damage was very unstable; not only broken where it had been struck, but the end that connected to the elf's breastbone had also snapped, but thankfully not all the way through. It was still hanging on, but wouldn't require much to break it the rest of the way. If that happened, Aragorn would need to remove it, and he did not want that.
Once sure that the ribs were as stable as he could get them, Aragorn slid his fingers under them to see where the elf's lung was. When he found it a mere inch above the broken ribs, relief swept over him so strongly that he felt lightheaded.
Shaking it off, aware that he had to hurry, he searched for pieces of wood and bone inside the wound, picking out whatever he found.
Withdrawing his blood-covered hands, he quickly wiped them on his mangled cloak before taking his needle and thread and quickly stitching the gaping wound closed. It had bled much after removing the wood, and Legolas' skin seemed nearly as white as the clouds.
Aragorn checked his friend's pulse, finding it beating faster as his heart tried to keep blood circulating within his body. Legolas' skin felt very cold and the human knew that he was likely in shock.
Reaching over to the elf's tunic and cloak, Aragorn found that they were dry enough. He carefully put the tunic on his friend and gently wrapped him in the cloak, shifting him—very slowly—closer to the fire.
Looking up at the sky, Aragorn knew that it would be dark in a few hours, and with Legolas' ribs unable to be bound because of the stitched wound, they would probably need to stay right where they were for a few days, at least.
Aragorn's own ribs felt better thanks to the herbs and he carefully stood up and took Legolas' bow, intent on finding something for their supper. He looked at Legolas with hesitation, not wanting to leave the defenseless elf alone. He knew that southern Mirkwood was much more dangerous than the northern area, and he prayed that his hunting would be successful quickly.
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The smell of roasting meat filled the woods, and Aragorn looked around warily, should any beasts be drawn to the scent. He had Legolas' head in the crook of his arm and was feeding him more herbs. The elf was still as cold as he'd been earlier and still showed no signs of waking—until now.
As the human slowly poured the tea down the elf's throat, Legolas suddenly gave a jerk and sputtered, choking on it.
Aragorn quickly pulled the cup away. "Legolas! Be still, do not move!"
Legolas gasped, his face screwing up in a grimace in reaction to the horrible pain that gripped his body.
Aragorn held him tightly, ignoring his own pain in order to give comfort to his friend. "Drink this, mellon-nin, it will ease the pain."
It took a minute for the human's words to get through to the elf, and he obeyed, swallowing the tea in between pained gasps.
Aragorn put down the empty cup and wrapped his other arm around his friend, trying to calm the elf's shaking.
Legolas couldn't believe the level of pain that he felt. His fast breathing was making it worse, but he couldn't slow his intake of air.
"Breathe slowly, Legolas," said Aragorn, seeing the problem.
Legolas tried to obey, but it was very difficult and took a few minutes before he succeeded. "W-what…h-happened?" he asked, weakly.
"The storm," Aragorn said. "A piece of wood from the boat stabbed you. It broke two of your ribs very badly; you cannot try to move, do you understand?"
Legolas said nothing, blinking dazedly. His body still shook.
Aragorn gently laid the elf back down and grabbed what remained of his cloak. He laid it over his friend's chest and tucked the edges under him. "Legolas?" he said, concerned at the elf's blank expression.
The Prince closed his eyes.
"No, my friend," said Aragorn, squeezing his shoulder. "Do not sleep, not yet; you must eat something."
Legolas reopened his eyes but closed them again with a groan.
Aragorn sighed, leaving his hand on his friend's shoulder, in support. The wince eventually faded somewhat from the elf's features, but he kept his eyes closed.
Aragorn reached for the rabbits that he had cooked, wincing himself from his own pain. The herbs that he'd taken were beginning to wear off. "Legolas?" he said, holding a piece of meat near the elf's face.
Legolas opened his eyes slightly.
"Here," Aragorn said, lifting his friend up slightly and placing the piece of meat between his lips.
Legolas chewed sluggishly, swallowing slowly.
Aragorn was ready with another piece, and he continued to feed his friend until Legolas weakly shook his head.
"Can you not eat a little more?" Aragorn asked, not satisfied with the amount that the elf had consumed.
Legolas' face showed distress. "No," he whispered, shakily.
Seeing that the elf felt nauseated, Aragorn grabbed his pack of herbs and took out one of the leaves. "Chew this, it will help."
Legolas obeyed, eyes closed. He laid there quietly for a minute, his breathing still labored and his body still shaking. He suddenly coughed, giving a gasp of pain as it jolted his ribs.
Aragorn suddenly remembered the water that he'd heard in his friend's lungs and he lowered his head to the elf's chest, still hearing it as Legolas' elven healing ability focused itself on his other injury. "Try not to cough, Legolas," he said, fearing that it would make his precarious rib give out.
Legolas had no intention of it, as it caused him great pain. He tried to hold it back, but wasn't able to completely succeed.
Aragorn looked through the herbs that he'd found; mixing a few together that commonly helped human's lungs dry up fluid caused by sickness. He hoped that they would help the elf's lungs disperse the water.
The grimace remained in Legolas' face and he shifted slightly, as if trying to escape his pain.
"Do not move," Aragorn told him again, raising the elf's head to help him drink the herbs.
Legolas gave a whimper as the human laid him back down. He squirmed again, apparently not hearing his friend's words.
Aragorn placed a hand on Legolas' chest, holding him still as the sleeping herb in the drink took effect, making the elf finally relax.
Sighing, Aragorn picked up some painkilling herbs and ate them, leaning his still-aching head in his hand as he prepared himself for a very long night.
TBC