Disclaimer: I own nothing except the plot, Tirien, Miriel and Cellan, all recognizable characters belong to Tolkien and Co.
A/N: (peeks from behind trusty computer; sees flaming arrows and assorted torture devices being directed at self, hides once again) Finally emerges from the safety of her computer...
I am so, so sorry that it took me an eternity to update. I never meant for it to take this long, and I won't even begin to make excuses, I only hope that you can forgive me and give the story another try. For those who are curious as to why it took me forever, please read the a/n at the end of the chapter.
Okie dokie, now that I've groveled shamelessly, I'll get on with the a/n. This story is going to be longer then I anticipated, and Iblame the plot bunnies that invademy sleep at night. They've put such wonderful ideas into my head thatI can't resist and so, more chapters and more Legolas and Aragorn angst...YAY!
Alrighty, like always I mustsay this; this story is AU, meaning that it never happened in Tolkien's universe, but it does in mine. Celebrien never sailed, she is still around, Aragorn's parents were both killed in that orc attack and I've decided to make Aragorn a mere infant when that attack happened. If this bothers anyone, then I ask that you please keep flames to yourself, for I have warned you that this doesn't follow canon. Another thing is that I'm notTolkien and I will never begin to even remotely sound like him, and my writing will reflect this as it sounds abit too modern. Yes, I freely admit this.
Lastly, I do not have a beta, I usually rely on my best friend to give me her honest opinion when I finish writing a chapter,however, since she's being lazy and gets all cranky when I ask her, I'm afraid I'm foregoing any semblance of beta-ing. And so I take full responsibility for any spelling errors, and/or grammar mistakes. My major might be English, but I still make those occasional mistakes. I'm human and I'm not perfect.
And now I present Chapter 3...(FYI: the bold/italics portion is Legolas memory. I hope this helps lessen any confusion that may occur)
Chapter 3: Memories
Trees became blurs of greens and browns as Legolas urged his mount into a more fast paced gallop, the gentle one he had started out with disappearing as his friend's condition worsened.
Aragorn's fever grew and yet his face was pale and clammy, only the barest hint of pink tinged his cheeks. Even in Legolas firm and protective grasp Estel trembled and only when the sun sank further behind the peaks of the Misty Mountains and cast shadows no more, did Legolas finally rein in his tired mare.
The forest was a dangerous place at night and Legolas bearing such knowledge cast his elven eyes in every direction hoping to discover the safest place to rest for the night. With a gentle pat to Tirien's graceful neck and softly spoken words in elvish, Legolas bid his mare to kneel.
With soft and careful movements Tirien, though exhausted, did as her master asked and kneeled on the moss covered ground. Once Tirien had kneeled, Legolas jumped from her bare back, his hands still holding Estel in a firm grip. Once steadied, the elven prince wrapped his arms around his friends middle and gently, slowly lowered him to the ground.
With nimble fingers Legolas softly brushed away a stray lock of dark hair from his friends heavily perspiring brow, musing silently to himself how that one lock of hair never stays in place. Rising, Legolas scanned his surroundings, knowing that he had to find wood for a fire. Brushing a whisper of a kiss to Estel's temple, Legolas set out but not before commanding Tirien and Miriel who had followed, to stay alert and protect his dear friend. Both horses whinnied, an act that the elf took as a 'yes' and disappeared into the darkening woods, only glancing back once to see both mares standing guard near Aragorn.
'Oh, please keep him safe. Keep them all safe' he silently pleaded and set off on his appointed task. Twenty minutes later, the elven prince returned, dropping the pile of wood he had gathered rather carelessly and went straight to his friends side. Estel had begun to tremble either from cold or pain, Legolas wasn't sure. Cautiously, he held down the trembling man's shoulders, whispering words in elvish that would normally soothe the ill human. Once the man had calmed and Legolas had released his shoulders, the elf stood and hurried to begin a fire. He had to get some medicine into his friend, for Estel's fever had spiked since he had last checked.
Placing the wood in a circle of rocks, and using a flint to light the fire, Legolas made his way to the packs that both horses carried. Reaching for a water skin, he noticed that it was oddly soaked, as if it had been suddenly dunked into the river and then ripped out. Bringing both water skins and the various packs with him, Legolas hunched down by the fire and held up the wet skin. There was still sunlight, however, the tops of the trees prevented what little light there was to filter through and thus Legolas needed the extra light the fire would undoubtedly give.
Turning it every which way, Legolas breath hitched when he saw a tiny tear on the side of the water skin. Dropping his, he quickly reached for Estel's and instantly he felt moisture. Holding it to the light, he was disheartened to see that Estel's water skin also had a tear in the side. Dejectedly he lowered it to his side, his beautiful features were drawn into a sharp, crease of worry. Both water skins had tears in them, both lost quite a bit of water; water they couldn't afford to loose. He knew that both he and the horses could survive without water for a few days, such were the gifts bestowed upon them, however, he needed the water to prepare both the athleas and fever reducing tea for his injured friend.
Rubbing at his temples to soothe the headache that was beginning to form, he realized that he would have to ration the water. Knowing that the athleas worked better when boiled he made the choice to use the water for that sole purpose. The fever reducing herbs would also work if taken raw, yet he wasn't sure if the potency was the same. He knew he should've paid more attention to the lessons on healing, yet so anxious was he to become a warrior, that Legolas thought any lessons that pertained to outside material, such as healing was something trivial and not needed to kill the fell creatures that inhabited the woods of his home.
Pulling a small copper pot from Aragorn's pack, he quickly filled it with water from his own water skin. Reaching once again into the pack, Legolas pulled out the iron stand that was used to place pots over the fires, unfolding the thin metal and positioning the hook from which the pot hangs. Placing the water filled copper pot on the hook, Legolas decided to let the water boil first then add the athleas.
Returning his attention to the ill ranger, Legolas began to worry his bottom lip, a habit he had when he was nervous or worried. He was calling himself a hundred kinds of fool, though he knew that Aragorn was also blaming himself, such was their friendship. Soon the water was boiling and Legolas added a tentative amount of the athleas, not sure how much was too much and what was considered too little. Satisfied that he had added the correct or sufficient amount he allowed the athleas laced water to boil for a few minutes longer, stirring every so often.
Using his own tunic Legolas grasped the pots handle and removed it from the fire, setting it down on a flat rock that lay near Aragorn. Once again reaching for his friends healing pack, he pulled out a generous amount of bandages, noting to himself that the bag was near to overflowing with them. 'Does Lord Elrond truly believe his son is so accident prone that he needs more bandages then he knows what to do with...' Subconsciously Legolas knew that the over-abundance of healing supplies had more to with Aragorn's joining with the rangers, then his penchant for getting into the most absurd and dangerous of situations.
The sweet scent of the athleas brought his attention back to the present and he reached his hand for the small pot to test the temperature of its contents. Dipping one elegant finger into the water he was pleased to find it had cooled and was now luke warm. With swift flicks of his wrist Legolas had cut away the bandages he had quickly fastened around his friends wounds before gathering him into his arms and fleeing for the ill humans home. He checked the wound to his friends chest with shaking fingers, gently prodding it and noting with a grimace the swelling and angry red that surrounded the area of the wound. It was infected and Legolas was worried about orc poisoning, for the fever that ravaged his friends body could not only be caused by infection alone; it was too high to be so.
Dipping a select few bandages into the cooling water, he gently brushed it around the wound, remembering the small piece of the shaft that remained, sticking from his friends pale form like a sore thumb. He was grateful that Estel remained asleep, for he wasn't sure he could treat his friends hurts if he had been awake, and semi-lucid. Once he had finished cleansing the wound he dipped two more bandages into the now cold water and wrapped them as carefully as he could around Aragorn's battered chest. Once finished he proceeded to wrap dry bandages around the wet ones hoping that he was doing the right thing, adding so many bandages. With a sigh he completed his task and leaned back, looking at his friend and suddenly the guilt came rushing to fore once again, unbidden tears welled in his eyes as he fought his emotions, knowing that Estel needed him to be strong and not give into guilt, no matter how strong that guilt was. There was time for such thoughts later, once Aragorn had healed and the two had a long talk, knowing that somewhere in the many years of their friendship, trust had suddenly become elusive and he, Legolas was determined to regain that trust and hold onto it with all the strength he possessed.
Night had fallen completely as Legolas continued his vigil over his ill friend. With gentle fingers he softly brushed that one stray lock of dark hair that never seemed to stay in place and once again it fell defiantly across the perspiring brow of the ranger. Using a long stick that was unnaturally thick and heavy, Legolas began poking at the fire, staring into its bright flames as his thoughts became a whirlwind of memories.
A loud, pain filled moan tore through the silence and penetrated Legolas's almost trance like state. With movement that would have a man with pains in his neck, Legolas whipped his head in his friends direction. Afraid that Estel would strain his injuries and cause further bleeding, Legolas quickly pulled down the blanket he had covered his friend with and timidly and with cautious hands, lifted the loose fitting sleep shirt he had placed on his friend after tending to his wounds earlier. Whispering softly in elvish in hopes to soothe his friend he examined the bandages that he bound over the festering arrow wound.
Blood stained the pristine white of the multi-layered bandages and yet Legolas noted with a small measure of relief that the bleeding seemed to be coming under control. Only a moderate amount of his friends blood soaked through. With the ease born of familiarity and love, Legolas gently maneuvered Aragorn's head so it now rested comfortably on his lap, bending slightly to re-cover his friends wounded form.
Shaking fingers combed through dark curls as Legolas began to softly sing an elvish lullaby, his voice, though wavering brought a calmness over his troubled friend. Smiling stiffly as the tension slowly drained from Estel's weakened frame, the elvish prince continued his lullaby, his gaze staring intently at the flames before his mind drifted back to his first meeting with the human. For the first time since his friend had been injured, Legolas smiled, becoming lost in memories of a most adventurous toddler.
The day was warm and the fragrant, sweet scents of the various wild-flowers filled the air, giving hints that the harsh winter was grudgingly letting go and spring was there to wrap all of Arda in their warm embrace. Legolas breathed in the fresh, clean scent, greedily indulging in the calm and tranquil peace that shrouded the woods he rode through, so different from the hurried and dangerous woods of his own beloved woodland realm.
So engrossed was he that he hadn't noticed his eldest brother, Cellan moving his own mount beside his own.
"It's beautiful, isn't it?" Cellan's voice startled Legolas, a deep blush gracing his face as his other two brother's snickered from atop their own steeds. Cellan waited patiently for Legolas to recover from his embarrassment, his centuries of having to deal with mischievous younger brothers having taught him patience is indeed a virtue.
Cellan chanced a glance at his youngest brother and noted with a sense of glee how relaxed he seemed to be. The continual defenses of their home was a strain to all, yet more so to Legolas who had a stronger bond with the woods of their home.
"Yes, it is beautiful. It has been far too long since our last visit." Now it was Cellan's turn to be startled for he had not realized that Legolas was speaking until now. He had to wonder if this letting down of their guard was a good thing, for he couldn't allow himself to become too relaxed , Eru only knew what could possibly happen. Cellan returned his attention to his brother when a shout from the front of the guard turned his attention there.
They were entering Imladris borders and soon they would see the surprise that Lord Elrond spoke so fervently of in his most recent letters. Yes it would indeed be a surprise to remember...
A shift and painful groan from his friend brought Legolas' attention from the past and his tenuous smile fell from his fair face as reality set in. The lullaby he sang fell silent as well and he grabbed for a water skin, drenching spare bandages with the cool liquid and wiping gently at his friends fevered brow. It was too soon for more herbs and Legolas was at a loss as to what to do, so he resumed wiping his friends brow in a fervent attempt to drive down the raging fever. And so he continued his lullaby, loosing himself once more in memories, not knowing that someone else, not far off also prays that hope will not fade away...
As the sun began it's descent behind the tall peaks of the Misty Mountains, cool breezes blew through the tranquil valley, attempting to soothe the sting the sun had ravaged upon the poor souls who had had to endure it's blazing glory.
Swirls of blues and violets with the barest hint of pinks bathed the valley known as Imladris, as sunset wound its calming fingers through the elven haven. A lone figure stood gazing out at the waterfalls that surrounded their home, not seeing the beauty that envelopes him nor feeling the peacefulness that cloaks itself firmly around ones form as if to protect them from all the cares of the world.
No, this lone person, or more precisely this lone elf saw none of this, instead he saw blood, a dark crimson soaking through a tattered tunic, saw tears and the remnants of a fierce battle; he felt pain, a searing pain that was pure agony to feel, felt grief and sorrow but most disturbing of all was the feeling of hopelessness that grasped his very being leaving his heart racing and mind numb with an unknown feeling of loss.
As the vision faded and his senses returned, Elrond grasped the intricately carved railing of the balcony he now stood upon. He gasped for air, so intense were the emotions seeping through his mind and body. The figures he envisioned were hazy at best and despite his best efforts he could not distinguish one from the other. Running a shaky hand over his pale face and then through his disheveled hair, Elrond began to gather his wits about him once more, pushing himself from the balconies railing he retreated into the haven of his personal study.
Walking down the few steps that lead from the balcony into his spacious study Elrond's thoughts turned to the disturbing vision he had just experienced. Though most of his visions were left unclear he usually was able to decipher whom was involved, however, the murkiness of this latest vision left him concerned and wondering if his worry for his youngest son had somehow manifested itself into his minds eye, leaving him with nothing more than horrifying bouts of his accursed foresight.
Shaking his head, as if hoping to once again regain his renowned self-control, but failing miserably he held up a delicate, crystal decanter containing his favorite wine and proceeded to pour the liquid into a matching crystal goblet engraved with the image of the Last Homely House itself. Gently he lowered the decanter to its normal place on the mithril tray that sat on a small, oak table which stood near to the vast fireplace that took up more than a quarter of the studies wall.
With the same, gentle care he used with the decanter, Elrond wrapped his long, elegant fingers around the upper stem of the goblet, lifting it and bringing the wine closer to his waiting lips. However, as he brought the crystal closer the crimson color of the wine halted his movements, and he frowned, lowering the goblet with haste, nearly missing the mithril tray, and chipping the delicate crystal of the goblet.
He noticed nothing, however, except the dark, crimson of his favorite wine, the same color as the stain that soaked the tattered tunic. His vision came rushing to the fore in his mind once again and the feeling of hopelessness overwhelmed his every sense. Though the figures had been hazy, Elrond had the distinct impression that this was a vision concerning his youngest son and knowing his penchant for becoming involved in the most outrageous, dangerous and often times deadly situations he felt his convictions were justified.
With the heart and mind of a worried parent, Elrond wound his way to the over stuffed arm chair that sat directly in front of the large fireplace. There was no fire, and yet even if there had been one the elf lord would not have noticed, so focused was he on thoughts of his youngest child that nothing would have torn his attention away from the paths his mind had taken. He sent prayers to the whole of the Valar, hoping, promising anything that the vision he had seen did not involve his child and yet the feeling of hopelessness he had felt, the grief and guilt even gave little to calm his fears.
And so he sat, waiting for the inevitable cries that would alert him to wounded beings that needed his healing skills, and to the possibility that it would be his son that was in need of his healing touch.
He sat and waited, waited for his vision to be proved false but knowing that nothing he ever foresees is proved false.
He sat and waited for every parents worst fears...he sat and waited for his son to return...
Annnnnnnd, that concludes Chapter 3! I'm a bit nervous about this chapter and I hope that it's just as good as the previous two. I think that's my worst fear, that my writing, instead of getting better gets worse. Reviews are lovely, yet not necessary for me to continue. I write because itgives me an outlet for my emotions.
And for those who are curious about why it took me so long to get this chapter up here it is: I ended up getting really sick towards the end of Jan.I was literally bed-ridden for a week, and then the most distressingthing happened. I write in a notebook, that way I can write while I'm at work, urm, at lunch. However, I ended up loosing themiddle of chapter 3. Don't askhow, because for the life of me I don't know. It just vanished.I looked and looked and without success, and so I had to re-write the portion that went missing. I bet you anything, that now that I have this posted I'll find the missing portion. It never fails, I loose something and then, bam! I find it when I no longer need it...Well, I've babbled long enough, and now I must go and read all the stories that I'm behind on because I haven't been online in like forever...Until the next chapter...GrammarPRNcess