Aragorn, son of Arathorn made his way through the castle to a room where many medical supplies were kept. He began gathering small bottles of medicine and bandages from a shelf, then paused, placing his arm on the shelf and resting his forehead on it.

"Le penorven." ("You're exhausted.")

Aragorn jerked, twisting to see who spoke. His gaze fell to Legolas.

"…Min pân." ("We all are.") Aragorn said, blinking slowly.

He placed some things on the table and then turned back to the shelf, shifting bottles around to find what he was looking for, "Egor... Lhaew ned ammen." ("At least… Most of us...") He continued.

A small smile came over Legolas's face and he picked up a bottle off the table to examine it.

"...Ai cen host sen'an?" ("Who do you gather these for?") Asked Legolas.

"...Sam." Aragorn said solemnly.

"Man neitha hon?" ("What's wrong with him?")

"...Dol harna. Ar'athan." ("A head injury, and beyond.")

Legolas' steely eyes stayed on Aragorn and he inquired further:

"Ir garo heriatir ab'tin? Im nauth fallaner maethah tin." ("When did you begin looking after him? I thought a healer was tending to his needs.")

Aragorn: "Ir tir tû thia, gerin an tiri na tin anim, tin fallaner an'na lain an i'gwanath, ha norn athan nauth-nin…" ("Once his health was somewhat stabilised, I volunteered to tend to him myself, so that his healer would be free to tend to the more seriously injured, but it is more complicated than I expected…" Aragorn said, taking a few steps toward the small table and Legolas. "Tir'ah bronadui dol'caul, al-minai cened, glam nedh-ihaw, a lu'ned flaew o i dol harna." ("He has had a persistent headache, blurred vision, ringing in the ears and spells of emesis brought on by the concussion." He continued, "Alan peduin i arnediad herno a tin'na taur penaes." ("Not to mention the countless wounds and the fact that he is severely malnourished."

Legolas inhaled, taken aback by the extensive list of Sam's injuries.

"Gar'im neithan na carsin? Im car-al naro man noen si." ("Was i wrong to take this on? I don't know what's right anymore." Aragorn said, sighing and rubbing his weary eyes.

"Car-al anna'am estel, Aragorn. I ogol adel min." ("Do not despair, Aragorn, for the worst is behind us.") Legolas said, and placed his hand on Aragorn's shoulder, then spoke again: "Cen or-baur o'ech. Ech innas na-noen an'idh. Ennas na-er fallaner an nesta Sam." ("You expect too much of yourself. You should rest. There must be a healer available for Sam.")

Aragorn shook his head.

"Al-pen innas na-an iuitho… Lhaew adan harn min dagor." ("None can be spared… Many men were injured in the battle.") Aragorn stated.

"Cen iuitha-er an Frodo, thand?" (You found one for Frodo, didn't you?"

"Thand, na beleg galw." (I did, but only by chance.")

"Nanye ú fallaner... Baur'ech buio nin, cen baur fael ped-ha." ("I am no healer... But if you need my help, you need only ask.") Legolas said, earnestly.

Aragorn placed his hand on Legolas's shoulder.

"Hannon le, Legolas… Gwaem." ("Thank you, Legolas... Let's go.")

Legolas helped carry the vast number of items Aragorn had collected, and together they walked through the ornate halls of Minas Tirith until they came upon the door to the room where Sam rested. Upon entering, they deposited the supplies upon a table and Aragorn went directly to Sam and took up his hand, patting it gently to rouse him from his semiconscious trance. He lifted a cloth covering a gash in Sam's knee and studied the wound, only briefly breaking his gaze to turn and speak to Legolas.

"Puig I nasta-bach nedh-born nen, ech innas?" ("Boil that needle in some hot water, will you?") Aragorn asked.

Legolas nodded and immediately went to fill a pot with water and place it over the fire. Aragorn held his wrist to Sam's forehead, checking for signs of a fever, and then held his finger up before Sam's eyes.

"Follow my finger." Said Aragorn, slowly moving it back and forth.

He did this repeatedly and it seemed Sam was struggling to focus his eyes. Aragorn brought his supplies to the beside and began to carefully remove the debris from Sam's wounded knee.

"Legolas, i nasta-bach?" ("Legolas, the needle?")

Legolas dutifully brought him the sterilised needle, and thought to fetch some thread as well. Aragorn took up the needle in one hand and the thread in the other, straining his tired eyes in an attempt to pass the thread through the hole, and Legolas, upon noticing his struggle, kindly took both the needle and thread into his own hands to quickly thread it for him. Aragorn quietly thanked him as the tool was returned.

With a deep breath, he began the process of stitching up the gash.

As he made the second stitch, he took notice of how remarkably calm Sam was through the procedure and soon became concerned about his silence.

"Sam? Are you alright?" Asked Aragorn, looking up at his face.

"…Yes…" Sam replied, straightening up and swallowing.

"Can you feel this at all?" Aragorn inquired.

"Oh, yes, sir- It's horrible." Sam replied, quickly and straightforwardly.

"Let me know if you need me to stop for a moment."

"I'd just like to get it over with, I think..." Sam told him.

By the time Aragorn had finished, Sam; exhausted and sore, had succumbed to much deserved sleep. Aragorn bound the affected knee with a gauze dressing and situated the unconscious hobbit in a more comfortable position.

Aragorn worked diligently- doing all that he could for Sam. When he found a moment to pause, he eased himself back onto his chair and held his head in his hands, searching for the energy to continue. He felt Legolas' hand on his shoulder.

"Aragorn… How long do you think you can go on like this? You must sleep. Go now, I will watch over Sam." The elf said, but Aragorn shook his head.

"He is not out of danger. He is in a very delicate stage of the head injury and must be examined constantly. I appreciate your offer, my friend, but-"

"Then I will find a healer for him." Legolas insisted.

Aragorn pressed his lips together and issued a subtle nod.

"I will return as soon as I can." Legolas said, making his way out of the room.

He stayed true to his word, and did not return until he had found a healer for Sam, though it was no easy task. Upon meeting the new healer, Aragorn told him all he knew of Sam's injuries and symptoms. Even as Aragorn's presence was no longer required, he lingered to ensure Sam's health was in capable hands, as he had recalled the incident with the man tending to Frodo. Legolas assured him that such a thing was not likely to happen again and he finally agreed to rest.

Aragorn, upon entering his room, did not bother to change his clothes to sleep, but rather hastily tore off his shirt and boots and collapsed onto the soft mattress. He could hardly recall when a bed had felt so comfortable. His body ached from the recent battles but he cast it all aside and surrendered to sleep, only to wake a few hours later, suffering from insomnia. Once it became clear to him he would not be able to fall asleep again, he got out of bed and picked up the crumpled shirt he had carelessly tossed away, pulling his arms through the sleeves, reaching for his pipe and heading out onto the balcony. He sat there for a long time in the blessed silence, gazing out over the moonlit horizon, dismissing his worries in puffs of smoke.