Author's Note:

Hello again! I am sorry for the long delay in posting- I have been bombarded with exams and assignments. It was bound to happen- the perils of grad school I guess. So a kind of a warning on this next chapter- it is very angsty and a bit violent, so please just be aware.

Thank you SO much to viggomaniac for being such a helpful beta reader (I think that is the correct term ;) ). Itwas much appreciated!

Please let me know what you think. The story is just getting started!

-Athena

Six

"It seems he is coming around..."

"Quickly, call for the healer and-..."

So distant, so far were the voices that seemed to drift in and out of his awareness. Every now and then they would grow louder, then softer, and sometimes there would be singing. That was his favorite, a sweet, light melody which reminded him of something that he could not quite place, could not quite imagine. Another time, another place...and he longed to be there again, but it was so difficult. If only it were simply a matter of desire. So strange that even the simplest tasks, the most minute operation of the body, can so quickly become painstaking ordeals of sheer will. But in all fairness, the desire to drift farther into darkness, embracing the peace it would promise, was strong indeed. Had it not been for the persistent voices, roughly nagging his mind to sharpen, he would have been content to stay in the oblivion that had come to be the only home he could remember.

"Please gwador, please come back to the light, come back to me-"

"I am sorry my Lady, it seems he is not yet strong enough-"

Was that true? Was it a matter of strength? It was different now than it had been before. He was less detached and growing more and more united by the moment, soul and body colliding into one. So, it was to be strength that would save him. So be it. He would not have it said a son of Elrond was lacking in strength. With renewed effort he reached for the voices, the music, growing louder which each ray of light that warmed his pale features-

"My Lady! My Lady! Come quickly- "

The woods of Lamias were momentarily silent, the air stagnant and humid.

"Again!"- CRACK

Coarse rope chafed his bloodied wrists. But the pain in his wrists was meaningless. Though his body hung firmly fixed to the tree, and his eyes remained fixed blankly on the dark shadows of the forest before him, he was very far away.

"Again!"- CRACK

From afar he heard a grunt of pain and dimly recognized it as his own.

"Again!" – CRRAACK

He was beyond the point of acknowledging the blood that dripped down his back, or the pain that possessed every nerve ending. They were too distant, too corporeal. Instead, he allowed himself to drift…

"Come along, Estel! We are going to be late and it will be on your head!" Elladan scowled, stomping through the woods surrounding the fair city of Imladris.

"Nice try, brother, but Estel is hardly as gullible as Legolas!" Elrohir smirked, following close behind.

Legolas growled, arching an eyebrow. "One of these days, Elladan, you will swear that the sky itself is falling and I will be the last to come to your aid!"

Elladan could not stifle the laugh that escaped his lips, the mirth playing brightly in his eyes. "Come now, my dear Prince, how could you have truly believed that the wood was on fire if you smelled no smoke and saw no flame!"

Elrohir laughed loudly. "He has a point, Legolas. It was fairly obvious!"

Legolas narrowed his eyes. "It was a coward's tactic. You are just tired of losing at this game all the time, so you have resorted to trickery. Tired of being the seeker, are we Elladan?"

Elladan smiled wryly before uttering a witty retort. "I rather enjoy seeking, Legolas. There is no fun in hiding," he added, in a nonchalant manner that only annoyed Legolas more.

Through the bantering, Elrohir only laughed harder. "Nowchildren, enough is enough. It is only a game, and a good one at that. Let us not spoil it with childish rivalry. The sun is setting and dinner shall be served soon. Let's find Estel and get back."

Both Elladan and Legolas exchanged stony glances, then nodded in unison. "Agreed."

"And by the way, eldest son of Lord Elrond, Elrohir is at least partially right. There is no way you will lure Estel into the open, he will think your calls to dinner are merely tricks to lure him from his hiding place. It will require a much more- sophisticated- plan..." Legolas whispered, a mischievous smile playing across his youthful features. He would find Estel, he was always the one to find the young edan...

"What did you have in mind?" Elrohir ventured.

"..find me now, Legolas..." his mind pleaded, the words not fully vocalized. "...please..."

They walked for an hour, down the bank to the place where Aragorn and Legolas had decided to continue on foot. The horses were there, tied securely in among the shrubs as were the supplies, hidden expertly amidst the leaves and greenery. They had hidden the horses the previous night, before their search for Elrohir. To Legolas' relief, the site was yet undiscovered and it appeared that the patrols did not extend this far, although he was certain that in the coming hours that would change as Elimerel's need increased. The reunion was bittersweet. The horses neighed softly in happiness as the two approached, Elrohir leaning again heavily on Legolas for support. Even the slightest movement cause lancing pain to flare through his leg, but the elf in his stubbornness would not let on, insisting that they not stop to rest until they reached the site. The forest felt cleaner at this distance, untainted by the looming darkness behind them. For the first time Legolas felt as though he breathed clean air. It was dusk now, and as the light began to fade they took some rest.

The silence was short lived. " Legolas, we must go after him. If he had managed to escape, he would have been here by now. I will not surrender him to that demon's insanity. I have seen - I cannot allow it to happen to Estel."

"Peace, hear me. Elrohir, you cannot go where I must go," his tone softened, "Your leg is badly wounded, despite what you are willing to admit. If we are to rescue Aragorn, we must be quick and able."

Elrohir listened to the logic in his words. In his condition storming the gates was impossibility. "I understand your point, my friend. But I will not wait here. It is only a matter of time before the patrols are extended. Besides, I can ride and I can fight. We will need a swift means of escape."

Legolas nodded in agreement. "Yes, you are right. That shall be your task, Elrohir." He was silent for a moment. "Our best advantage is surprise. They will not expect us to come after Aragorn so soon, or to have the horses we have. There is a gate on the Northern border of this strange wood. Do you know it?"

Elrohir nodded solemnly. "Yes, it is the place where I entered." It seemed so long ago now, like an eternity.

"Aragorn spoke to me of a secret entrance, one that he discovered in the night. Wait for me there, with the horses. I will go in and get Estel." Legolas concluded.

"I will be ready."

Dusk had come upon them swiftly. It was not overly difficult to get back into the traitorous wood. He had waited for the sun to descend, had watched as throngs of patrols were released to the surrounding wood. They would not suspect such a daring attempt, especially with Elrohir's grievous injury. What Elimerel did not anticipate was the tight bond shared between the sons of Elrond and the Prince of Mirkwood. Legolas knew full well that Elrohir would not fail- though this confidence did not prevent the small utterance which escaped his lips as he left the Elf alone with the horses... Iluvatar, guide him...

Suddenly, Legolas felt his world spin, and a splitting pain raged through his head. He knelt close to the ground, willing the feeling to depart. The poison was only getting worse. He knew this, could feel it in his system. But it could not be helped now, he only prayed he had the strength to find his friend and leave this place of evil. Legolas opened his eyes, which he had not remembered closing, with a start. It took him a moment to realized that the labored breaths he had heard nearby were really his own. A moment later the world stilled enough for him to rise and find his footing. They would need an act of divine mercy to get out of this one...

Without further hesitation, he returned to the place where they had found Elrohir and hid behind one of the tall trees, obscured from view by the shadows cast from the numerous torches hanging from the many branches. Legolas listened, barely breathing.

"Do you really think you can resist me for much longer, you pathetic mortal. Mankind does not deserve to inherit middle earth; you will destroy it as you destroy yourselves."

Legolas knew the voice; it was the King Elimerel himself.

"…you will not succeed…"

Legolas' heart stopped-

"Finally, you speak. I see I have not broken you yet, but I will. You see, my dear ranger, not all of us share the idealistic views of your beloved lord Elrond. Elrond is a fool and he may pass to the mists if he wishes, but my people will not do the same. We are a superior race, we will reign once again. As it was in the beginning it will be in the end," the anger in the King's voice was apparent, despite his attempts to stifle it. In truth, Aragorn infuriated him, and hatred for the obstinate man welled within him, spewing forth in the form of words.

A space of silence ensued. Legolas ventured a bit further, inching his way around, with the tree bark at his back. He leaned his head back and craned his neck in time to see Aragorn barely lift his head from his shoulder. He was tied, face forward, to a strong and thick oak tree that looked to be as ancient as the forest. Elimerel stood before the unfortunate ranger, his back turned to Legolas.

From his view behind the tree, Aragorn seemed to be in decent shape. The arrows had been removed and Legolas quickly noted the clean bandages wrapping the numerous wounds. But his shirt hung in shreds down around his shoulders and back. The elf could not surmise exactly what had been done to his friend during the interrogation. He hoped for the best. They want him alive- but why and for what purpose? To Legolas' amazement, Aragorn seemed cognizant enough to insult his captor. The stupidity of men- he mused, his mood quickly turning from concerned to anger as he heard the ranger's rough voice, weakened by the suffering he had been enduring. "…it is…you…who are the fool…Sauron does not make alliances …"

"It is not Sauron I am allied with. It is Saruman who is my ally and while he believes he has tricked me, it is I who will betray him." Legolas shivered. Saruman must not have Aragorn. Elimerel does not realize Aragorn's value, this is an advantage… "As we speak, a band of orcs and Uruk-hai wait on my borders to deliver a great prize to the white wizard. It is you that Saruman wants. He wants you broken but breathing and I am more than happy to comply." With that, the king took a step closer to the bound ranger. "He would have the ring for himself. But if you give me what I want, I will spare you from the horrors of Isengard. "

King Elimerel, in fact, was no fool. There was some truth to his words. He was supposedly allied with Saruman and did not trust Sauron. This ranger was to be delivered to Isengard and though Saruman did not make this known, Elimerel knew it was because Saruman believed that this ranger possessed knowledge of the location of a very valuable weapon, Sauron's One Ring to rule them all. But what Sauruman did not anticipate was Elimerel's resourcefulness. Despite the white wizard's scheming, Elimerel learned of the Ring, and his desire for it was great.

But more than that, he had allied himself with a power far greater than the white wizard, an ancient power that he believed could rival Sauron's, a power that demanded this ranger for a purpose far greater than mere interrogation. It was the same power that informed him of the ranger's identity, not that he much cared for these matters of men. It was this being that gave him the power to raise his army, and to once again build his city. The same power that told him of this pitiful would-be king of men, that paid for the delivery of this ranger with a prize more valuable to the hateful king than any amount of riches- the promise of the utter and painful destruction of mankind and the restoration of the supreme rule of elves to this middle earth. This oath was almost incentive enough -- almost. There was one thing that King Elimerel would have for himself, the one thing that Saruman wanted, the information this ranger could give him before being delivered to his death.

The snarling elf reach forward and roughly grabbed the ranger by his torn garments, slamming his chest into the rough, gnarled tree trunk to which he was bound. Aragorn grimaced, but remained silent.

"I want the Ring."

Aragorn met his gaze unflinching, all pain forgotten in this moment of defiance.

"You…you shall not have it…" came the bold response, heavy with conviction.

"I am no fool, Aragorn son of Arathorn."

Legolas gasped, then slid back behind the tree, fearful that the sound had been detectable. How could Elimerel know of Aragorn's existence let alone identity? Did Saruman know? Sauron?

Elimerel paused to enjoy the look of surprise and despair on his prisoner's face. "Yes, I know of your pathetic lineage and I care not. I know that Elrond has taken it, hidden it. You will tell me who bears it, or I will resume with the "persuasion". You are strong, young king, but none of your race can endure forever. You will be broken, now or later, it matters not to me. Time is only measured in your suffering, and in the suffering of your friends."

Elimerel did not miss the flash of fear evident in Aragorn's silver eyes.

Do not believe him, Estel. I am right here-

"You speak nothing but lies…Go and persuade the sea wave not to break. You will persuade me no more easily…"

Legolas winced as he heard Elimerel's hand connect with Aragorn's cheek.

"While I am many things, I am no liar heir of Isildur, make no mistake. The Prince of Mirkwood, along with Elrohir of Rivendell, have been overtaken. Elrond's son is far too valuable a bargaining chip to be lost so recklessly. While your Elven brother is alive, for the moment at least, I cannot say the same for the young prince. Legolas is dead-"

Silence.

"…no…" came the murmured response, substantially weaker. "…lies.."

With that, Legolas heard something fall to the floor. "Here," the king snarled. "How would I have this then-" Aragorn remained silent.

Valar! It must be my bow! Aragorn, you must not believe what he says, you mustn't give in…-

"You leave me little choice, Rathim! Summon Captain Dalinor and a platoon to me at once!"

Legolas started as he heard footsteps approaching not long after the command was given. Many elves were headed this way. Without another thought, he swiftly climbed into the tree that had been serving as his cover. From his new position, he gained a better perspective of the overall area. He was on the perimeter of a ring of trees, outlining a small space in the center of the ring where one large tree stood. The shadows danced from the flickering flames. Legolas could see the torches, one bound to each ring in the tree, illuminating the circle with a dark, shadowy light. Aragorn had been secured to the trunk of the central tree, his hands tied cruelly above him. Legolas cursed, his view of his friend obscured by the copious amounts of lush, green leaves. He would have to listen, and wait.

Aragorn did not have the strength to lift his head. He could hear the leaves crackling. Even in his exhausted state his keen ranger senses, though dulled, could not be stifled, but he had not the strength to respond to it, to process it. His world was laced with torment and darkness as the pain tore through his back, his arms, his chest.. He could feel the blood flowing from the wounds, unstaunched. Having endured hours of torture at the hands of the wicked king, he found it more than difficult to battle the weariness he now felt. They had not held back, had given him their entire effort, yet he would not give them the satisfaction of pleading or crying out. It took all of his will to stifle the inner cries of sheer agony that threatened to tear from his throat. But he had managed it and now the temporary victory of honor was made bittersweet by the nearly intolerable pain that consumed him and the despair that threatened to suffocate him. He could not guess the hours he had hung there, the hours spent in attempts to break him.

Dalinor arrived with a small patrol, eager to do his lord's bidding. His gaze lingered for a moment on the dazed ranger.

"Cut him from the tree and bind him to the stone at once." The King commanded.

"Yes, my King," Dalinor replied, advancing towards the prisoner. "You two, take the other side." As Dalinor approached, his eyes widened in horror as he drew nearer and the full extent of Aragorn's ordeal was revealed. The bound wrists were a pitiful sight, supporting the weight of his body as his boots barely grazed the base of the tree. Aragorn was still, his head resting against the rough bark, his face hidden in shadow. His breaths came in shallow, even gasps. Dalinor approached, cautiously.

He reached forward, placing one hand on the ranger's shoulder to grab him when the ropes were cut. This contact elicited an agonized groan from Aragorn as the ranger closed his eyes tightly against the searing sensation, too exhausted to recoil. Dalinor pulled his hand away quickly in surprise. The color drained from his face as he stared down at his own hand, stained crimson with Aragorn's blood. He instinctively moved forward, stepping around to stand behind the injured man. Aragorn's back was a maze of deep red slashes and crimson lines of blood, networking to almost every region. His tunic was shredded, stained. The flesh was raw and wounded, more so than Dalinor had ever seen as a result of a typical interrogation.

The elf stepped back in disgust. Elves were not meant to be a violent people. It was not in their nature. The brutality- he was not accustomed to it. What kind of power could the ring possibly possess to merit such silence on the part of the ranger? Was it important enough to merit such horrid cruelty on the part of his king? Was it worth this seemingly senseless and dishonorable display of carnage? Surely he had not seemed a threat- in fact he was a messenger of Imladris- an ally. All these thoughts spun through the younger elf's mind as he hesitated, dagger in hand.

His subordinates waited for the command to cut the ropes. Dalinor did not see them.

"Is there a problem Captain?"

Dalinor's gaze snapped back towards his King. He had known Elimerel, trusted him and trusted in his judgment. He had known the ranger not a week! It was true that at times the king's methods could be perceived as extreme- but Dalinor trusted that there was some reason. He had to. "Apologies, my lord." Without further delay he nodded to the other elves to proceed and he, himself, stepped forward to cut the ropes.

The elves caught the ranger roughly by the shoulders, none wanting to place hands on his mangled back. It was a merciful gesture.

Aragorn, for his part, felt nauseous. He could not suppress a load groan as the full weight of his body came down upon his knees, and the blood in his arms rushed with full force into his severely deprived hands. The color drained further from his face, if that were possible. His limbs and body trembled uncontrollably. Yet despite his physical discomfort, his mind grew sharp with clarity born of necessity as he sensed the lingering doubt in Captain Dalinor's hesitant movement. "We are sworn allies, Captain. How is it that you betray the lord of Imladris by interrogating his messenger unprovoked?" he ground out, careful to keep his tone just loud enough for Dalinor's hearing.

Dalinor glared at him, trying very hard to see the monster of a mortal his king obviously perceived. He wanted to feel the threat, to know that this was an enemy, but the feeling did not come. Aragorn held his glare and returned it with full force, his spirit yet unbroken and his will to survive stronger than his fear of more suffering. But Dalinor did not answer. Instead, Aragorn felt strong hands pull him back from the tree, felt his ribs protest after their own abuse again the painful bark. His world tilted dangerously and he thought for a moment that darkness would finally take him.

"There, to the stone." Elimerel pointed to a large boulder towards the center of the ring of trees, a few yards from the tree where Aragorn had been hung. He watched, unmoved, as the ranger was dragged and bound, apparently too exhausted to protest. His two orders had been clear. The first was accomplished: broken yet breathing. There was one task remaining, one final request made by the greater power he had pledged to serve. And now that the time had come for its fulfillment, Elimerel was not sure even he could stomach it. It was true that he had resigned himself to evil, but he was still an elf. If I am to regain my kingdom, if I am to save Middle Earth, it must be done as he wills. What mattered now was that this ranger be prepared for delivery, which suited Elimerel just fine. As far as he was concerned, if Aragorn could withstand what was to come and not give the Ring's location, he never would and thus would be of no further use to him.

Legolas could hear every word. He fought very hard to remain in the tree wanting more than anything to be able to see what was happening. The feeling in his heart told him that it was not good.

Finally, Aragorn was bound to the boulder, his chest pressed firmly to its face, his arms pulled and secured around its great circumference. He slumped forward, his breaths labored and shallow.

"Dalinor," The elven captain rushed to his king's side, leaving his patrol to finish the task. "Yes majesty," he bowed in supplication

King Elimerel reached within his flowing robes and pulled forth two objects. The first, an ancient silver dagger with elvish writings on the hilt and blade. The second, a small sheet of manuscript paper. He held them out to Dalinor, who took the articles in his hands, openly bewildered.

Elimerel's face was as cold as ice. "You will take this dagger and carve between the shoulders, across his back."

Dalinor's eyes narrowed in confusion and disbelief. "Excuse me?" He exclaimed, before the words could be filtered. He slowly, with trembling hands, opened the folded sheet of paper. His eyes widened in horror. "But…but my lord, surely-"

"THAT IS YOUR ORDER, DALINOR SON OF DAMINOOR. Must I remind you that you have sworn your allegiance to me as your father had before you and his father had to my own? Have you so little faith in your king that you would question his commands so openly and boldly? Must I remind you that the punishment for treason is DEATH!" The explosion of words and emotion struck Dalinor with full force. He was not evil, but he was weak and very loyal to the memory and honor of his ancestors. If this was his path, then so be it. He would do as the King commanded, though he did not suspect that he would ever be allowed to enter the Grey Havens once this offense was committed. Maybe he could eventually find peace in the Halls of Mandos? Or maybe Elimerel was right after all, maybe this was their chance to reclaim middle earth…

He swallowed thickly and straightened. Turning his back to the king and walking towards the semi-conscious ranger. Aragorn's half lidded eyes did his best to follow the elf's movements until the elf disappeared behind him. There was silence for a moment, and nothing stirred. His breaths quickened in anticipation, his heart rate increased from anxiety and blood loss. And then he felt it-

The dagger sliced deeply into his skin, just beneath the base of his neck. It seemed the only space spared by the whipping and beating he had received. The dagger slid easily into the skin as Dalinor, with trembling hands, drew the flowing characters with expert skill.

Aragorn gasped and shut his eyes tightly, steeling himself against the pain. He gasped again, his hands grasping desperately to the ropes as he struggled to evade the intruding blade. "…please…"

Dalinor did not stop. His hand kept moving, the blood flowing freely now. His other hand flew to the ranger's shoulder and clamped down tightly to prevent the ranger from moving.

"…Valar…" Aragorn moaned as the blade continued. The pain was excruciating, not just the wound but there was something unnatural about its nature, about the dagger and the carving itself. It burned like molten rock being poured onto his skin. "..stop…" he gasped, unable to bear it. But the pain did not relent, it continued as the pattern became more intricate. It hurt far more than it should have, there was something definitely wrong. And finally, for the first time Aragorn screamed as the agony overcame him. He cried out, hot tears involuntarily spilling from his eyes as his forehead pressed forcefully against the rocky face of the boulder.

Legolas felt tears stream down his face at the sound of his friend's utter torment. What was happening? He couldn't see! He wanted to jump from the tree and stop them-but it would do them no good. He could feel the poison in his system and knew that he could not win against such odds in a weakened state. He knew this-he had to wait.

The scream sent shivers through Dalinor and he paused for only a moment. This went against every grain in his body, in his being. To cause such suffering- he worked faster now, almost unable to stop and knowing that soon it would be complete.

The screams became hoarse and soon they were reduced to occasional gasping noises as Aragorn's body slackened against the rock, trembling. After what seemed like hours but in fact amounted to minutes, Dalinor removed the dagger, his hands stained crimson with Aragorn's blood. He stepped back, dropping the dagger to the floor as his artistry was revealed in all its gruesome glory. What have I done?

Legolas did not breathe, could not as he waited in those tense moments of silence, interrupted only by the sounds of irregular gasping. No one dared speak. Please, by the Valar, leave him alone- just leave him…

Finally, Elimerel's voice rang out in the stillness. "Listen to me, ranger, listen to my words carefully. I will leave you for a time to ponder your circumstance. I must deliver you by the morrow, and I will not jeopardize my alliance because of your stubbornness. If you will not answer to me, you will answer to Saruman," and powers far more terrible than that pathetic Istar…

Many footsteps, angry footsteps.

Silence.

Legolas carefully rose and leapt silently to the forest floor, peering around the tree that had shielded him from discovery.

Still silence.

"Estel, what have they done-" Legolas whispered, his legs weak beneath him as he cautiously approached. He knew the capability of his people, shuddered to imagine the dark machinations of such power corrupted. The ability to heal, and the ability to destroy.

The man was bound to the large boulder, his chest pressed tightly to the rock as though he were to hug it. His body sagged, unmoving, as his knees barely touched the ground, resting more on the base of the boulder than on the dirt. The face was turned away. From the distance, Legolas could see the tattered and torn tunic, stained crimson with blood. Legolas shivered involuntarily.

Thankful for the green and brown garment he wore, he made his way through the brush and closer to the boulder. Now he could see the bright red slashes marring the man's back. They had bound him hastily. The jagged rock cut deeply into his arms which were pulled taut over the stone and tied by a thick, coarse rope, to each other at the back of the large boulder. His face remained hidden in shadow, but closer now the elf could see the deep slashes in his back. The fair haired elf's gut lurched at the sight. Between the shoulder blades there was an abnormal wound, the carving-

Legolas stopped. Shock and horror claiming his emotions. There- carved into Aragorn's back- was a word, in the black tongue, the language of Mordor. Legolas did not know what it meant and could barely stand to look at it. This could not be good.

Finally, taking the chance, he managed to kneel beside the ranger. Legolas reached out to touch the man's face, gently lifting it to the light. "Estel-"

The right side of his face was pressed against the cool stone. His lower lip was cut and bleeding, a dark bruise adorned the left cheek. Legolas' heart quickened with amazement and despair as he realized that the ranger was conscious…Either conscious or …the half lidded eye stared into empty nothingness, seeming not to even notice the elf now as he knelt within view. The gentle silver eyes were dilated and distant, glazed with fever and pain. Legolas felt pity stir within him, and anger. This man was so drastically different than the self assured man he knew to be his best friend. Aragorn trembled slightly, his breathing was ragged and shallow.

Unsure of what to do, Legolas knelt closer still and whispered to him. " Estel- it is I Legolas."

The ranger blinked, his gaze fixed to nothingness, which continued to captivate his attention. How is he still conscious? "Estel," Legolas instinctively extended his hand in a comforting manner, laying it to rest on his friend's shoulder, noting the unnatural heat that radiated from his body. He was desperate to rouse the man from his stupor.

This elicited a small reaction as the ranger reflexively recoiled. The trembling worsened. He blinked again, this time moaning very softly. Legolas watched intently as some of the hazy confusion cleared, giving way to recognition. He swallowed, parched lips parting ever so slightly.

Legolas took in a breath of surprise as a small smile played on Aragorn's grave features. He spoke slowly, the glaze in his eyes saying more than the mumbled words forced from parched lips. "...a shadow…to haunt me…I have failed you…." He whispered, brokenly, delirium seizing him.

" Please Estel, it is I, Legolas, I am here now," His voice was slightly louder, as if to add validity to his claim. He gently tucked a few strands of matted dark hair behind the ranger's ear.

"Aragorn, listen to me. I am alive, Elimerel speaks lies, Elrohir and I are safe. It is time to get you out of here-" Legolas assured, lifting the man's face to the light once again. Estel let out a small breath and opened his eyes slowly, recognition partially replacing confusion. He stared back at Legolas, his eyes half glazed, but the fresh pain had sobered him and he was brought out of the delirium temporarily.

"…Legolas…?"

The hoarse whisper was barely audible, even to the elf. The elf nodded in reassurance, smiling despite himself. "Aye, it is me. I have come to free you," he whispered, speaking in the high tongue.

Aragorn moved his head fractionally. He seemed to be trying to speak, but he could not find a voice to express the words. Legolas somehow understood, reading the uncanny intensity in his silver eyes which seemed almost to change color before him as the ranger's focus increased.

"Your gwador is safe, on his way to the Northern Gate as we speak. Now we must leave this place," The prince replied, resolutely.

The man shook his head fractionally. With a great effort he spoke once again, his voice a harsh whisper, the words broken betraying the fractionalized turmoil his mind grappled with. "..Legolas…I cannot…they will find you…"

"Peace Estel," the Prince soothed. "they have forgotten you for the moment. We can use this time to our advantage. Elrohir is waiting!"

Aragorn's eyes fluttered, as his strength wavered. He made no further protest, which worried the elf given his observations of Aragorn's extreme stubbornness. Without further discussion, Legolas gently wrapped one arm around the ranger's shoulders while easily slicing through the binding rope with his dagger.

The release of the rope resulted in the sudden loss of his support, and Aragorn could not stifle the pain-filled groan, which escaped him.

Aragorn fell back heavily against the elf's chest. The tremors which wracked his body only increased as the man crumpled to the ground, prevented from collapsing solely by Legolas' strong arms. Aragorn could not suppress a sharp intake in breath as his raw back touched the elf's coarse tunic.

Legolas was confounded for the space of a moment. The ranger's chest was a myriad of colors, darkly bruised. There were numerous slashes, fresh wounds painfully drawn across exposed skin. He felt overwhelming sorrow overcome him, as well as a pang of guilt. The ranger had sacrificed himself for them.

Legolas gently pulled the limp body closer, removing his cloak and wrapping it around the trembling shoulders. The crimson blood seeped through quickly, but that could not be helped now. They had to escape first and foremost.

Aragorn, for his part, was lost in a whirlwind of pain and delirium.

"Estel-" Legolas was whispering.

Aragorn forced himself to focus on Legolas, blinking slowly as if to maintain the fragility of his consciousness. He felt as though he were on the very edge of a dark abyss, teetering between a painful consciousness and an oblivious peace. One step more…

" Please, stay with me …" Legolas pleaded. He frowned, the man was a mess. Thankfully, the arrow wounds had been cleaned and bound. They did not seem to have been mortal wounds and the arrows themselves were markedly thinner than a standard elven arrow. What worried Legolas most was the shock, from the blood loss, and the strange carving across Aragorn's back. Without further words, the elf gently lifted the ranger into his arms with ease, cradling him protectively. The human's eyes fluttered for a moment and it appeared as though he held his breath- overwhelmed with pain that the movement inspired. Holding him firmly to his chest, Legolas rose to his feet and soundlessly slipped into the protective foliage of the surrounding brush and trees.

Aragorn's increasing unresponsiveness worried the elf. They had been through much together, many adventures, many injuries. He had never seen the ranger, his friend, in such a terrible state, had never imagined it possible. From his youth Aragorn had a natural skill with the sword, he was strong and confident, keen, the highest caliber of the Dunedain. His abilities rivaled the most dangerous elven warriors and in some skills far surpassed. He was a man that was born to be a King. And now, he lay bleeding and broken.

Legolas began to work quickly. He draped his elven cloak around the ranger and eased him gently back against a tree, wincing as his back made contact with the rough bark, praying that cloak offered sufficient cushioning. Having done this, he moved to examine the arrow wounds to ensure that they were well dressed.

The appeal of the abyss could not be denied…he was there again, climbing the tree, climbing towards an open night sky splattered with thousands of beautiful stars…She was reaching down towards him, his beloved, whispering for him to come to her, to climb. He wanted to reach her, to lose himself in her arms, to forget about all of the troubles of the dark times which have fallen…

Aragorn moaned softly, "… I am coming…"

"Estel?" Legolas called in surprise and premature relief. He received no verbal response. The ranger stirred slightly. Legolas worked quickly, leaning the ranger forward to deal with the gruesome wounds on his back.

Calling his name, screaming his name…they laid their hands on him, on his legs, pulling him from the tree, angry faces of evil purpose and familiar ...Elrond, Gandalf…eyes full of sorrow and apology and also determination…he lost his grip, slid a ways closer, a glance downward at the abyss still dangerously tempting, dangerously close…

"…please…" He thrashed weakly against Legolas' hold, as Legolas poured water from his skin over the wounds.

If he fell, he would not reach the ground, it was too narrow, he would fall into oblivion…

"…stop… "

Still pulling, still grabbing…he reached up for her, straining to see beyond her radiant, blinding beauty, she was so beautiful…he could almost reach her now, the fingers, the palm, intertwined and he was pulled upward, above. He ascended, to the space beyond, standing beside her, the moon beams illuminating her hair, the soft touch of her cheek against his own and her melodic whisper…" I will wait for you, my King. I will wait an eternity…Detholalle-"

He gazed into the intensity of her eyes, the dark mystery, the deep and enduring love, passion and he understood what he had always known. He began to climb down, to the earth, the hands were gone, the voices the faces, he was alone in his task and he would see it through…staring boldly down into a darkness more terrible than he had ever known...

His eyes fluttered open, and he blinked drowsily, at first completely numb, then suddenly overwhelmingly sensitive to the many injuries he had sustained. Though he tried, he could not find the strength to move or even speak.

"Hodo, Dina mellonin..." Legolas soothed, slipping into his native tongue.

The melodic voice seemed to trigger calm in Aragorn as he settled, too exhausted to really continue in his protests. He gazed upwards, grey eyes glazed and distant. He was confused, his mind clouded and drowsy, a feeling he was not accustomed to. It must be fever... the thought was fleeting. And then it was gone.