2
There was no pot to boil water so Legolas did the next best thing. With twigs and dried brush and some flint he made a fire. He fed it patiently for the ground was not dry enough to support it well. But at last it blazed and he held the metal edge of the broken spear in the flames until it glowed red. Aragorn, who was sitting with his back against the trunk of a tree swallowed hard as Legolas came to sit near him. They looked at each other. Aragorn's face was flushed with fever and his unruly brown hair was stuck to his head in places. A few tendrils brushed his sweating forehead.
"I could not stay still enough," he whispered.
"I know," said Legolas.
He let his forehead touch Aragorn's briefly, then he straddled the ranger's legs making sure he tucked his feet firmly under Aragorn's knees.
"Sit on your hands," he commanded softly.
Aragorn complied. Then Legolas ran his fingers deep into Aragorn's hair and took hold. The wound was an ugly and angry reddish/yellow colour.
"Ready?" Legolas asked.
Aragorn nodded but they both knew he was lying. Legolas steadied himself and tilted Aragorn's head to the side. He could see the quickening of the rise and fall of the ranger's chest. Without further delay he lanced open the wound. Aragorn's shout of pain was instant, he bucked involuntarily but Legolas bore down on him, effectively curtailing his movements. When Aragorn would have pulled his head away Legolas forced it still, by tightening his grip on the ranger's slick hair.
Pus, then blood, then a clear liquid ran from the wound. Aragorn moaned pitifully but Legolas did not release him. He pressed the blade down hard on the torn skin, forcing all the virulent mess out. Aragorn shuddered with extra pain and then went limp. Legolas caught him as he slumped. He laid him on the ground. He washed the wound with crushed kingsfoil leaves that grew abundantly around. Then he squeezed the juice of the nettle weed into the wound. It was bitter and it stung, but it would help the wound to heal faster and keep infection at bay. Then Legolas curled up wearily next to Aragorn and slept.
0
The pain hit when he had drifted into a deep sleep. His body clenched and a scream built up in his throat. He thrashed, slamming heavily against Aragorn. The impact loosed his voice and his scream ripped through the night. The sound awakened Aragorn who lunged to his feet, expecting the worst.
Legolas was twisting frantically from side to side, his head banging against the solid earth in a bid to escape the pain.
When his screams were spent he began to make gasping choking sounds. As his hands formed claws a still groggy Aragorn grabbed at them. Legolas began to yowl.
They grappled and finally Aragorn dropped full length on Legolas to stop him from hurting himself. Slowly the cries subsided and the thrashing stopped. Legolas began to whimper deep down in his throat. He opened pain darkened eyes to stare at nothing. Aragorn could feel him trembling.
For the first time in many years Aragorn felt helpless. Legolas was in such pain and there was nothing he could do. He had squeezed both the juices of the athelas and nettle into Legolas ear. But so far there had been no positive response. Was the worm too deep inside or simply impervious to normal remedies.
00
The rain began to pour, impervious to the plight of the man and elf below who struggled to cross the plains. They slogged through the vast muddy fields heading south west towards the border of Rohan and Gondor. Small farms and villages were plentiful along this route so Aragorn hoped to find help and soon.
0
They were soaked to the skin and cold. Aragorn's hair was plastered to his skull and his clothing stuck to his body. With every step his boots squelched in the grass and mud. Legolas was oblivious to the downpour. Rain ran down the wet sheath of his hair, down his back, soaked his clothing and gathered in his boots, but his body was only attuned to the mind numbing squealing of the worm. Aragorn held his hands as they walked for if he did not Legolas would dig at his ears mindlessly. They came to a low hillock of rock, this Aragorn climbed to gauge their progress. Far in the distance he thought he could see buildings. A farm perhaps not a village because there were not many of the structures.
Aragorn's fever had abated, but he was still weak and hungry. Yet he did not slip or stagger as they plodded forward. He was determined to get to safety. After three hours of walking, the muddy grassland gave way to a firmer, stonier soil. Aragorn hunkered down with Legolas next to a tall outcropping of stone. It did not protect them from the elements but he was tired. Legolas knelt in the rain. His face was impassive but his eyes were glazed with pain.
"Soon Legolas, soon we will be there," Aragorn said to him, brushing golden tendrils off his forehead. There was no response; Aragorn could not know that his tears mingled with the rain.
The buildings grew larger the longer they walked and Aragorn could clearly see the farm and out buildings. There were crops of cabbage, corn and carrots spread over an acre of land. But they were still a few miles away from the nearest one. The rain had lessened and now Aragorn walked with one arm looped around Legolas' waist, for the elf's feet dragged and his eyes were closed. His body hummed with such tension that Aragorn was afraid that like a bow strung too tightly, he would suddenly snap. His weight, though lighter than a man's, rested fully on Aragorn and the ranger was hard put to keep to his feet.
He finally put all thought out of his mind and gave over to his instincts. Move, fight, survive. It was this mantra that measured their pace as the miles wore on and on. Hunger gnawed at his belly and fever worried him. His neck felt hot and sore, but he would not stop now. Head down against the rain he ploughed on. His heart pounded a little too fast and his breath came a little too quick but Aragorn did not stop. When he looked up again he noticed they walked in a field of cabbage. He sniffed and wiped his runny nose on his sleeve.
"Almost there," he whispered hoarsely to his somnolent companion.
If Legolas heard he gave no sign. He was in renewed torment for the worm had found the perfect place to make its nest hole. A place so delicate that it affected the balance of the body, a place so delicate that the slightest hurt was magnified tenfold. The worm positioned itself and began to burrow.
Legolas screamed out in anguish. His hands flew up to pound at his head, knocking Aragorn sideways and off his feet. Legolas went up on his toes in agony, clawing at his head, screaming all the while. His body whipped back and forth in pain. He began to tear at his hair.
Aragorn tried to get up, he wanted to, he needed to, but he had hit his head hard when he had fallen and his body had had enough abuse. His eyes dimmed as he helplessly watched Legolas do a macabre dance of pain in the falling rain.
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