Here's part two!

The elf's heart leapt into his throat when his friend collapsed. "Aragorn?" he called, pushing himself up and shrugging his blankets aside. The human lay still on the floor of the cave, and from where he sat Legolas could see that Aragorn was paler than usual.

Legolas swung his legs over the side of the bed, instantly regretting it when the wound in his side gave a sharp twinge. He bit his lip, waiting for the dizzying pain to pass and fighting the shiver that wracked his body.

He stumbled to his feet, nearly falling back as he stood, and hobbled over to kneel beside his friend.

"Aragorn?" he called, reaching out a shaky hand to roll the human over. He felt for the ranger's pulse, nearly recoiling when he touched his neck. Aragorn was burning up. Whether it was due to a dangerously high fever or if he just felt that way because of the chill that had taken over the elf's body Legolas didn't know.

The ranger groaned, and Legolas nearly collapsed in relief. For a moment he'd had the irrational fear that the human had died. "Strider?" he asked again, placing his hand on his friend's chest and willing his eyes to open. He suddenly noticed, to his concern, that Aragorn was breathing a bit rapidly, as though he could not take deeper breaths. Then, the elf remembered, there were the coughs he'd tried to blame on the smoke...

Legolas sat back against the side of the bed, resting his head in his hands as a wave of lightheadedness made itself known. Aragorn was sick...and Legolas didn't know what to do. There had been other times when they had been away from home when Aragorn had fallen sick, but he had either been conscious enough to tell Legolas how to help him, or they had been only a short distance from someone who could treat him.

He glanced back down at the ranger, inwardly cursing the wound on his side. He had to lift Aragorn onto the bed, and while he could usually carry his human friend it would be a bit difficult this time.

Easing himself up to his feet, fighting the dizziness that threatened to wash over him, he slid his hands under the ranger's shoulders and started to lift him. Legolas bit his lip to hold back a cry of pain as the movement tugged against the wound in his side, and half-dragged, half-carried Aragorn closer to the bed. Gritting his teeth, the elf hoisted his friend's shoulders up, making sure the human wouldn't slide off before lifting his legs onto the bed as well.

Feeling strangely exhausted, Legolas leaned his forehead against his friend's shoulder for a moment as the room slowly spun in an uneven circle. He glanced down at his side, and lifted the hem of his shirt away to see blood leaking through the bandage.

Legolas ignored his wound for the moment as he pulled his friend's boots off, grimacing as dirty water poured out of them. Aragorn hadn't even taken the time to shake the water out of his boots. Part of the elf was touched that the ranger had been so concerned for his health that he had ignored his own discomfort, while the other part wanted to cheerfully strangle Aragorn for not taking care of himself.

He dipped a clean rag in the bucket Aragorn had left by the doorway and wrung it out, placing the cool cloth over his friend's forehead. Legolas glanced over at the herbs the ranger had spread out, and grimaced as he realized he had no way of knowing what to give the human to help him. He could recognize some of the basic herbs, but Aragorn had never taught him how to treat human ailments.

With a sigh, Legolas sat on the floor beside the bed, much as Aragorn had before, and leaned against it. The elf had stopped shivering a moment ago, and he hoped it was because whatever cure Aragorn had managed to give him was working against the poison and not because his temperature had risen again.

Legolas dozed off and on for almost an hour, frequently checking on his friend in case his condition changed. He had gotten used to getting no response from the human, that he nearly dropped the rag he'd been rewetting when Aragorn moved.

"Estel?" the elf knelt beside the bed, flinching and pressing a hand to his side when his wound reminded him that he was still injured.

The man's forehead wrinkled, and he moved his head a bit with a tiny whimper. Legolas gently wiped Aragorn's face, hoping the cool water would help his friend come around.

Bleary gray eyes blinked open, fastening on the archer's familiar face. Legolas smiled in relief, though he was concerned at the hazy confusion in the ranger's eyes. "How do you feel?" he asked, forcing his voice to sound stronger than it was so Aragorn wouldn't worry about him.

Aragorn groaned, and abruptly started coughing. Legolas' eyes widened, and he helped his friend sit up and held him steady as the man was wracked with deep, hacking coughs. The elf winced at the rattle of congestion he heard, and he gently rubbed Aragorn's back as he had seen Elrond do when the ranger was sick with this illness.

Eventually, the man's coughs slowed and he was able to control his breathing again. Legolas worriedly held Aragorn upright, afraid that letting him lie down would cause another coughing fit. "Are you all right?" he asked, knowing what the ranger's response would be.

"I'm fine," Aragorn rasped with a wince, closing his eyes and clutching his head with one hand as though he were dizzy.

"No you're not," Legolas accused, flinching when he heard his own voice waver. So much for keeping Aragorn from worrying.

The man turned a sharp glance on him. "I will be," he amended. "It's just a cold, Legolas. It's nothing."

Legolas sighed shakily, sitting back down as his limbs refused to hold him any longer. "I don't think it is," he replied.

"And you?" Aragorn asked, gesturing toward the elf. "You're bleeding."

He looked down, eyes widening at the red stain that had spread across the side of his shirt. "It's nothing?"

Aragorn groaned, coughing again, and collapsed back down on the bed, too tired and sick to do anything. "I just need to rest, I'll be fine in a few hours," he said, his voice still weak.

Legolas bit his lip in concern, unwilling to believe that would be true. "There has to be something I can do," he said, frustration welling up.

The ranger opened one eye, studying the elf's condition. Legolas resisted the urge to fidget under his friend's gaze, knowing the healer in Aragorn was trying to determine what ailment he was hiding. "There is one thing," the man finally said tiredly, turning on his side. "The red leaf...tea."

There were a couple of red leaves lying near the fire, and Legolas picked one of these up, trying to force his hand to remain steady. "This one?" he asked.

Aragorn nodded, his eyes closing. The man was on the verge of unconsciousness again, and Legolas hoped he was merely falling asleep. "Water."

A small kettle sat on the hearth, its water still warm. Legolas put it in the fire to heat it up a bit, crushing the leaf into the mug Aragorn had used earlier. He hoped he had understood the ranger's instruction as he swirled together the crushed herb and the water. "Now what?" he asked.

"Drink it," the man whispered.

Legolas frowned. "Me?"

"Will fight poison," Aragorn muttered, his voice wavering.

"Strider," Legolas glared down at the mug in his hand. He should have known—even if he were on his deathbed Aragorn would never see to his own illness before making sure his companions were cared for.

"Elf," Aragorn opened one eye, wearily looking down at his friend.

Legolas sighed, knowing it was no use to argue with Aragorn now. He slowly sipped the tea, hoping it would give him enough strength to care for the ill human. He lowered the mug to glare at the ranger, dropping his head when he saw that the man was asleep again.

He set the mug aside, glancing down at the blood-soaked bandage around his middle. He climbed to his knees to find a clean bandage, quickly changing his mind as his arms nearly buckled beneath him.

Gingerly and painfully scooting over to sit against the bed, he leaned his head back and wearily closed his eyes. He only meant to rest for a moment, but he was soon fast asleep.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

The dull pounding of his head was the first thing that woke Aragorn up, followed quickly by the desperate need to cough. He curled up on his side, covering his mouth to muffle the coughs and trying just to breathe. Aragorn groaned, curling up even tighter as his throat burned from coughing too harshly. He pried his eyes open, glancing around the small room for the elf.

Legolas was nowhere in sight, and Aragorn slowly pushed himself up. He heard a strange sound coming from the entryway, and glanced over to see the elf stagger into the room, clutching at the wall for support.

Pain-filled blue eyes met his dull gray ones. "You're awake," Legolas said softly, sinking down against the wall and drawing his knees up to his chest.

Aragorn frowned at the obvious signs of pain in his friend. "You're hurting," he rasped, wincing as his throat ached. He pushed off the blanket and started to sit up, falling back down as dizziness assaulted his senses.

"It's nothing," Legolas joked, one hand pressing against his side.

The ranger groaned, closing his eyes. "I think I'm going to get very tired of hearing that," he complained softly.

"How do you feel?" Legolas asked worriedly, and Aragorn opened his eyes to see his friend half-crawl over to him.

The elf's hand on his forehead was ice-cold, and Aragorn grabbed his friend by the wrist. "You're freezing," he said slowly, shocked.

Legolas pulled away, and he wrapped both arms around himself. "I know," he whispered.

Aragorn groaned, more for his friend than himself. The orc's poison was refusing to release its hold, and he feared Legolas would not recover unless they got back to Rivendell.

Silence reigned for a few moments as Aragorn considered their position. There was no way he could make it back to Rivendell, and Legolas was in no better shape. They were stuck, stuck until he recovered enough to make the journey or Legolas overcame the poisoning, neither of which seemed likely to happen soon.

"Is it still raining?" he asked, figuring that was what the elf had gone to check.

"Barely."

With a sigh the ranger pushed himself up and swung his legs over the side of the bed, pausing as his fevered brain spun for a moment. You can do this, he thought. You've been sick before, it's nothing you can't handle.

"What are you doing?"

Ignoring Legolas' question, Aragorn pushed himself up to his feet, wavering a bit but standing. "I'm leaving," he said, though his words came out somewhat weaker than he intended.

"You can't," Legolas levered himself up, grabbing the side of the bed for support. "Aragorn, you're sick...you won't make it ten steps out the door."

"I have to do something," the ranger replied, stooping to pick up his cloak and fastening it around his neck. "We can't stay here, Legolas. I have to try."

The elf shook his head, his hand shaking as he fumbled for his own cloak. "Then I'm coming with you," he said decisively.

It was Aragorn's turn to be exasperated. "You can't, Legolas," he said, pausing to lean against the wall as he coughed. "You're still too weak."

"And you aren't?" Legolas asked, his legs buckling as he sat down on the bed.

Aragorn was quiet, studying the floor intently. "Legolas, you're immortal," he finally said quietly, steadying himself with one hand on the wall as the ground suddenly seemed unstable. "If one of us has to die it should be me."

"No," the elf's voice, though a bit shaky, was fervent.

"Legolas."

"No," Legolas rose, grabbing Aragorn by the arm and forcing the man's head back up. "I won't let you go alone."

"Elf," Aragorn put a good measure of warning into his tone.

"You can hardly stand," Legolas added.

"Neither can you," Aragorn retorted as the elf wavered.

Legolas sighed. "We have a better chance of making it if we go together."

The ranger couldn't reply. He knew that was true, but he still couldn't just let his friend walk all the way to Rivendell injured the way he was.

"Besides," the elf's voice suddenly lightened. "How will you go without your boots?"

For the first time, Aragorn noticed that he was barefoot. "All right," he grumbled, going back to sit on the bed. "Stubborn Elf," he muttered as Legolas pushed his boots over to him.

As he tied his boots on, he directed Legolas to pack only the barest of what they might need for the rest of their journey. It was only a few hours to Rivendell by horse, but he knew it could take them well over a day in their conditions.

"You know, my father will say we're two of the most stubborn beings he's ever met," Aragorn commented wryly as he closed the door, turning to face the rising sun.

"Really?" Legolas asked, wrapping one arm around the ranger's waist and letting Aragorn lean against him as the ranger's legs wobbled a bit. "I can't imagine why."

The human grinned, fighting back a laugh. "Neither can I," he added quietly.

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Last part of the story will be posted Wednesday night.