Disclaimer see Chapter One.

Author's Notes: Isn't that a timely update? ;-)

I really loved reading your reviews! (grabs reviewers and huggles them) Your thoughts about the argument were very interesting – and I hope some of you will like Aragorn better after reading this chapter! ;-) Review replies have been sent. Stephy and Brittney, thank you very much for your reviews, I loved hearing from you, too, though I can't answer you properly. :)

Here is another glimpse into the past. I hope you enjoy and I'd love to hear what you think about it:)

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- Wounds -

Chapter Three: Departure

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"The friendship that can cease
has never been real."
St. Jerome

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Aragorn awoke with a start. The sudden movement sent a stab of pain through his cramped neck and shoulders. For a moment he felt disoriented, remnants of his vivid dream still clinging to his consciousness. He looked down, and the sight of Legolas wrapped in cloak and blanket and still resting securely in his arms cleared the last fog from his mind. He could feel the heart of the elf beating under his hand.

His own ragged breathing calmed down, and the ranger closed his eyes. The memories were still there, waiting for him, haunting him.

This is none of your business.

I believed you to be my friend… but it seems I was mistaken.

I do not want to hear anything from you.

As I said, you are free to go whenever you wish to. In fact, I think it would be better if you did.

Aragorn opened his eyes again and looked down into the pale face of the elf. How could he have spoken such words to his friend – how could he have believed them? He had been beyond weariness, disillusioned, and perhaps even a bit scared, but there was no excuse for what he had done. How could he not have seen that Legolas had spoken out of concern, that he had risked hurting him and incurring his friend's anger in order to save him, to save all of them?

Legolas had been right all along, and he, Aragorn, had been willing to sacrifice his men's safety to his own hurt pride and his fears. And the worst was that all that had happened to Legolas was entirely his fault. If he had listened, if he had been willing to trust his friend, the elf would be safe now. He would never have met those orcs, would not have nearly frozen to death in a snowstorm, and he would not be here at all in the first place. They would all have been on their way to Imladris, to safety.

But Aragorn had never been able to forget the hurtful words that Elrond had spoken to him when he had last visited Imladris. He had vowed to himself then to never come back. He had lost his home on that day, not wanting to be where he was not welcome any longer. Even now he did not want to go back, but if Legolas had been willing to trust Elrond, he should have done no less. Ai, Valar, he missed them, he missed his family, Elrond, who had been like a father to him, and his brothers.

The ranger sighed. He had not even tried to understand, and now Legolas lay mortally wounded in his arms and they were trapped in a cave in the midst of a snowstorm. He tried to imagine what it must have been like, to be out in the cold alone, unable to go on, hurting and slowly dying from the cold and the blood loss. He shivered. What had he done? How could he ever expect Legolas to forgive him?

He bowed his head until his brow touched Legolas' forehead again. The fear and the pain that washed over him at that moment took his breath away. Fear that Legolas might die, fear that he might have lost his friendship forever, even if the elf survived. He remembered the dead horse lying out there somewhere in the snow, knowing how much Legolas had loved the beast.

"Forgive me," he whispered softly to his friend, holding him as close as he could. "Forgive me."

If nothing else, he prayed that he would at least have a chance to ask the elf's forgiveness. Legolas must not die because of him. He could not bear to live with the blood of his friend on his hands. He could not change what had been done, nor evade the blame for it, but he vowed that he would do all he could to make things right again, as far as he was still able to.

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How he wished now that he would have understood sooner, that he would have turned back before it was too late. Halbarad had been much wiser than his chieftain that day. He had not spoken a single word to Aragorn during their ride to the village, but he did not need to. Aragorn could feel the thoughtful look of his second-in-command rest on him the entire time, and see the silent disapproval in his eyes, when he dared to meet them.

The ride to the village had been long, and Aragorn had had ample time to think and reflect on his behaviour. He had always relied on Halbarad's opinion and advice, and the obvious disapproval of his friend and comrade first annoyed him, then made him feel unsure, and finally made him think.

While he kept repeating them in his head, the words of the elf started to take on a new meaning, and suddenly he had been able to understand the concern and the deep hurt in Legolas' eyes for what they were: fear for him. The lost expression in those blue eyes that showed so much of his friend's soul started to haunt him, and his own words suddenly seemed cold and cruel, and unnecessarily so.

When they arrived at the village and had bought the needed supplies, Aragorn suddenly could not wait to get back and try to talk to his friend. He knew he had wronged the elf, and he had never even given him a chance to explain his words, condemning them as treason to their friendship and as an attack on himself. His sudden eagerness to return had not been lost on Halbarad, who had suddenly deigned to speak to his chieftain again, very probably sensing the pain and remorse that had started to plague his friend.

Halbarad had never once mentioned the argument he had overheard or uttered a reproach, and Aragorn was grateful for it. They returned with all haste, but ere they could reach the camp they were halted by another small group of Dúnedain rangers who needed to speak to their chieftain. Aragorn had sent Halbarad on ahead with the supplies and had stayed behind, though with a heavy heart. He knew that he could trust Halbarad to not only deliver the desperately needed supplies, but to also keep an eye on Legolas until he was back.

Little had they known that it was already too late. When Halbarad returned, Legolas was gone. None had seen him leave or knew where he had gone. Having experienced the loyalty of the elf firsthand, Halbarad soon found out that there had been more to Legolas' disappearance than his argument with Aragorn. A man named Géran was careless enough to brag at the campfire about his encounter with the elf, and Halbarad listened quietly.

Obviously Géran had waylaid the prince some time after his argument with Aragorn and taken the chance to vent his frustrations with elves in general and insult both Lord Elrond and King Thranduil. According to his description, Legolas had just listened, looked at him for a while, and then turned and left. No one had seen the elf afterwards, and his horse and his weapons were gone the next day.

To Halbarad's satisfaction Géran soon found himself shunned by the other men, even without his intervention. Legolas was both liked and respected among the men, and the argument between the elf and their leader had worried them greatly.

When Aragorn returned and Halbarad had told him what had occurred in their absence, it had not been difficult for him to guess why Legolas had acted the way he did. The proud elf had not allowed Géran to provoke him, but he must have needed all his self-control to do so.

He also must have known that Géran would not stop of his own accord, and Aragorn doubted that Legolas could have listened to any more insults like those without showing a reaction. And knowing Géran, the result would have been a fight. Aragorn realized with a pang of guilt that Legolas had had no reason to trust him to deal with the situation after his return, and so the elf had chosen to leave rather than bring strife to men he had come to see as friends.

If the entire situation had not been caused by himself, Aragorn would have been in a mood to strangle Géran. He had never liked the man, and now he wished in vain he had dealt with him before. For a while he had watched Géran closely, not sure if he was a spy of the enemy, but then he had realized that the man was only clinging to old ways and beliefs and fears that would harm him more than do him good.

He had allowed him to stay, hoping that the influence of the other men would change him. Now he rued this decision dearly. Aragorn dealt with the situation quickly and effectively, as if to make up for former shortcomings. Géran had been banned from the camp and forbidden to ever return. The likes of him would never understand what it meant to be a ranger.

Afterwards, Aragorn had immediately prepared for his own departure, wanting to go after Legolas as soon as possible. He knew he would find no peace until things were settled between them, and he had had the chance to apologize to his friend, who had not done anything to merit the careless and hurtful treatment he had been given. Aragorn realized that he needed his friend at his side more than ever now, to help him to prevent terrible mistakes, and to correct him when he erred.

If Legolas even wanted to return. Aragorn would not have been able to blame the elf if he refused to come back. He knew instinctively that Legolas would not go to Rivendell, heeding the man's wishes in this respect, though he had no reason to do so anymore. That left only Mirkwood, and to go there the elf would have to take the path over the Misty Mountains. Aragorn did not like that thought. There were orcs in the mountains now, and winter was near. The heights would soon be impassable. He could only hope that he could catch up to the elf quickly.

Halbarad had liked the thought even less, and Aragorn had had to do a lot of convincing before Halbarad accepted that he had to do this alone. "Be safe," Halbarad had said in parting. "Both of you."

Aragorn had nodded at him in quiet gratitude, mounted his horse, and left.

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There was a bitter smile around Aragorn's lips as he remembered Halbarad's words now. It had been another mistake he had made. He should never have gone alone, not when there were orcs in the mountains and winter was so near. Without the snowstorm, his supplies would have been sufficient, though he doubted that he would have been able to catch up to Legolas before the elf had reached Mirkwood. But now, everything had changed.

Aragorn straightened slowly and leaned back against the wall. The ranger knew how dire their situation was. He had neither expected to find Legolas more dead than alive, nor to be surprised by a snowstorm. He had already used up all their medical supplies in tending to his friend, and the firewood would not last much longer than the night.

Normally, a small fire would have been enough to warm him through the night, and Legolas would not have needed any warmth at all. But now he could not take any chances. The elf's body was too weak to fend off the cold on top of everything else, especially after he had nearly frozen to death already. Aragorn knew that he would have to find a way to get them both out of here tomorrow. He only hoped that one night spent in rest in the warmth would invigorate the elf enough to survive through the ordeal that would follow.

He studied his friend's pale features for a while and gently traced the elf's hairline with his fingers, noticing for the first time a bruise that was forming on one high cheekbone. "You have to wake up, my friend," he said softly, "so I can tell you what a terrible fool I am."

Legolas showed no response, and Aragorn had expected none. He wished so much to see his friend awake, to see him move and hear his voice. Even if Legolas yelled at him he would have preferred that to seeing him so still. Not that Legolas would be strong enough to yell anytime soon. Leaning forward over the limp body of his friend, Aragorn grabbed some more pieces of wood and added them to the fire to keep it going.

For the moment, he could not do anything but wait. It was still snowing, and it was already dark outside. They would have to stay here until morning. Even without the snow, the night would be bitter cold. Aragorn watched the dancing flames for a while, and listened to the soft crackling sounds of the burning wood. Then, against his will, he drifted off into sleep again, giving in to the hypnotizing flames and his body's demands.

To be continued…

The next update will come about the end of the week. I hope I'll see you again then (and I promise that Legolas will survive until then ;-),

take care,

Tinu :)