I made a reference to Aragorn and Legolas' past together, but I have no stories written on that subject. However I have read many other fanfiction stories where Aragorn and Legolas go on a grand adventure and during their time, one gets hurt or falls ill and it's up to the other to save the day! My recall of their past is only a vague blurb, but this generalized idea is what I am referring to.
Also, sorry about the length. I was going to break it up into two chapters, but decided I wanted this to be done with so we can move on.
Chapter 4
The hollow was set up as a makeshift camp for the remainder of the night. A small fire burned brightly in the center of the cavern, but the crackling glow proved to be the only thing that dared to break the silence that settled over the trio. The warm glimmer did its best to offer a soothing peace, however, the company in the space found little solace.
Legolas came to shortly after their arrival at the cave, but rather than find comfort in the presence of warmth and friendship, he immediately withdrew into the cold seclusion found on the edge of shadows. Still foggy from his torment and the drug induced sedation his captors kept him under, Legolas could not quite comprehend he was actually safe despite repeatedly hearing Aragorn's easy assurance. The prince would have fled from the company altogether if he could, but the cavern walls trapped him within its unbreakable confines. And so, the elf settled in the darkness, finding there an odd sense of safety while his returning awareness unfolded the truth that he had not been stuck in a false nightmare. Now, the limited light was his only protection against the disgrace and humiliation that awaited him and he dared not move in the hopes of it never finding him.
Aragorn and Gimli had no choice but to be patient with their companion. The elf clearly needed medical treatment, but try as they might to help, their concern only turned into a suffocating presence that kept Legolas panicked and on edge. He would not let anyone near him, let alone be touched, and so the man and dwarf resolved themselves to keep a watchful eye on the prince while giving him the space he needed. They busied themselves over mundane tasks for some time, each lost in their own thoughts as they too tried to come to terms with all that transpired only hours ago.
Aragorn looked up from his doings by the fireside and glanced at the elf who sat hunched over at the far end of the cavern. The man's heart twisted at Legolas' pitiful sight; his knees were drawn to his bare chest and he hugged them tightly. Snarled blond hair hung in a tangled mess about his head, his chin rested heavily on top of his knees. Exhausted, pain-glazed eyes were riveted to the fire that was some distance away from him. A quaking shudder racked the elf's slender frame and it was the only movement that set him apart from the stone-still walls around them.
Aragorn wanted nothing more than to comfort his friend. He did not know if Legolas trembled out of fear or cold, but either way, the frigid dark was no place for the prince. With frustrated despair, the king remembered all the failed attempts to entice the elf out of the gloom thus far, but he could no longer idly sit by. He had to try something.
"Legolas?" Aragorn spoke softly, attempting to hide the broken-hearted fury engulfing him. "Come sit by the fire, mellon-nin. Rest." The king's words were warm to hedge any hesitations, but Legolas made no attempt to answer. He had barely spoken since his rescue and his lack of response gravely worried both Aragorn and Gimli.
The dwarf too looked up in the hopes of seeing a change in the prince's demeanor, but somehow he was not surprised to find the elf just as he had been for some time.
"Lad, you're not doin' a thing for yourself by sitting way over there." Gimli said to try and add his own validation to Aragorn's attempts.
There wasn't even the slightest acknowledgement from Legolas.
Aragorn sighed in dismay. He turned to Gimli, watching the dwarf toss his hands up, lost with what to do.
"Ya can't do this forever, Legolas…" the dwarf began to lecture, but Aragorn cut him off by holding his palms up in a silent gesture to give in. His gray eyes fixed on the stout being with a stern, knowing stare, for now was not the time to let frustrated anger control them or their words.
Gimli shook his head lightly, but capitulated his arguments easily. With nothing more he could do, the dwarf stood to retrieve his ax that lay in a heap with the rest of their gear and heavily plopped in his place by the fire again. He dug deep into his pockets, locating his honing stone to take up a new chore that would distract himself from his own annoyance. He ran the rock slowly along the blade's razor sharp edge to polish out any dents and dings that were driven into the hefty weapon from the brief fight just a few hours ago.
Aragorn watched the dwarf with no real interest, but soon he found his eyes had drifted back to the forlorn elf, focusing on the ugly and painful contusions that should never be seen gracing Legolas' fair features. The discoloration of his bruised cheeks were starting to darken and his busted temple and split lip still glistened in the fire light, having yet to seal over. The king winced internally, but knew that those injuries were minor compared to the lash marks that striped Legolas' back, yet they still spoke volumes of the brutality that Legolas endured.
The king exhaled softly to ease his own mounting tensions. In all likelihood, Legolas sustained other injuries during his imprisonment that had yet to be uncovered. Time was passing swiftly and his healer instincts told him that he could not wait much longer.
Aragorn stood slowly, trying to formulate a new plan of action that somehow would be different from all the previous attempts to offer the elf aid. But as he rose, a strong breeze pushed its way through the cave's entrance. The cold, damp air stirred the fire into a fit of rage, dimming the radiant light as the flames fought against the force that tried to snuff it out. The pleasing warmth around the fire was chased off and the man shuddered with the sudden loss of heat.
"Blasted storms..." Gimli mumbled and he set his ax aside to tend the fire. "It'll be a miracle if we can keep th' fire going all night. All our kindling is wet and now we have to worry about the wind. It's picking up again… and I think the temperatures are dropping too, eehh? Feels colder anyway... " the dwarf spoke to no one in particular as he placed the driest log he could find into the coals and began stoking it with a stick.
"At least we have shelter." Aragorn replied, watching from the corners of his eyes the way the elf shuddered again.
Finally, an idea came to him.
The former ranger spotted his pack among the cluster of gear and drug it closer to the light of the fire. He sifted through the contents and began pulling out an array of items, setting them on the rocky floor.
A small metal pot tumbled out of the pack and landed with a metallic crash that resonated inside of the cavern. Aragorn quickly grabbed it before it rolled out of reach, placing the container into the hot embers then filling it with water from his flask.
After a few moments, the water began to boil. The man picked through the items that were strewn on the floor and untied a small leather pouch. He dumped a small amount of crushed leaves into the palm of his hand, measuring out what he needed before he placed the aromatic plants into the water. It wasn't long before the sweet and soothing scent of a healing tea was released into the air as the herbs steeped.
Gimli resumed his attention to this ax and for a time the occupants let all conversation die. The dwarf's blade seemed to sing roughly as it was honed, but the smooth passages of the whetstone were soon becoming gruff as the dwarf's mind recalled darker memories.
$Finding Legolas in the hands of kidnappers was the last thing Gimli ever expected to see. It puzzled him to no end on how they managed to capture the nimble elf for he had seen Legolas fight numerous times and knew the prince possessed fighting skills that could hardly be matched. So how was it that they managed to catch Legolas? What went so horribly wrong?
Searing anger was building inside the dwarf as he recalled what had been done to the elf and the insubstantial way Legolas looked in Aragorn's arms as they fled from the town. He was haunted by the fact that the traders simply sold the prince for use as though he were a work horse-
"Gimli..." Aragorn halted the dwarf; his tone was soft, but held a tinge of warning, begging the dwarf to stop.
The mention of his name snapped Gimli back to the present as the last harsh pass of the honing stone sent a hissing zing through air. He froze, listening to the ricocheting sound reverberate off the cavern walls from his overzealous actions. The dwarf glanced at Aragorn from across the fire and his eyes locked on the humans for a brief moment. The same pain and anger Gimli felt was visible in the depths of the king's eyes.
Gimli tore his gaze away quickly. He was deeply disturbed with the horrendous treatment of his dear friend and wished there was some way he or Aragorn could simply erase what transpired. Having to sit in silence and watch the elf struggle with reality was sickening, but they had been trying to reach out to Legolas who only refused help.
With an audible breath, Gimli shifted his position quietly and resumed his chore.
Aragorn went back to his concoction and searched through his pack for a small tin mug that he carried in tandem with the metal pot. However, he failed to find it.
"Have you seen the cup I keep in my pack?" he mumbled to the dwarf as Aragorn rechecked all the inner pockets of his satchel.
"Uh… I think it was packed into our rolls the other night when I was cleaning up." Gimli answered in a masked tone and shrugged his head towards the rest of their gear to further illustrate what he meant.
Aragorn returned to the pile of provisions and began rifling through it hastily until he fished out what he was looking for. But as he stood to his feet, a wad of material caught his attention and he bent to retrieve it.
"What is this?" Aragorn asked, shaking out the folds of the muted gray fabric that quickly took on the form of a cloak. Curiously, the man looked back to his place by the fire to spy his own rain-soaked cape spread out to dry and the dwarf still wore his securely fastened at the neck. They left Minas Tirith with little provisions and the former ranger could not recall noticing a spare cloak among their gear before now.
Gimli looked over his shoulder briefly, eyeing the woven fabric the man held.
"Eehh, I think it's Legolas'." Gimli turned back to his space, squinting at the upturned blade that was now held at eye level to closely inspect the razor sharp edge he was working on. "I came across some of his stuff an' stashed what I could find before we left."
Aragorn looked back to their provisions at his feet, just now noting familiar twin white handles belonging to the elf's favored weapons peeking out of their things along with his elegant quiver laying off to the side.
"You found these?" the man asked, stunned that those priceless possessions could have been lost forever had Gimli not spotted them. The dwarf simply nodded his head.
The former ranger could only stare at the elven equipment. But rather than being relieved at having recovered the weapons, his heart became heavy with the thought of dark what-ifs.
Then, the king noted a price tag dangling from one of the blade's handles and rage began to boil anew within Aragorn.
He set the cloak down carefully, freeing up his hands to rip the tag off in disgust. But no sooner had that tag been removed did the king find one still attached to the quiver. Silently, he snatched that one off too. The man began digging through the pile of gear, unable to bear the thought of Legolas' precious belongings being auctioned off, but his eyes began to blur with an outbreak of vexed tears.
Not only did the elf's possessions have price tags, but Legolas himself had one too. The elf was sold for a meager profit to anyone willing to pay and were given unrestricted access to the prince, allowing them to dispoil Legoals in whatever manner they pleased.
Aragorn wiped away the sudden streak of moisture that cascaded over his cheeks as he located and swiftly removed the last found tag from the elf's longbow. He crumpled the small papers in his fist and threw them into the fire.
The tags writhed in the flames as the fire quickly overtook them and Aragorn watched on with a small amount of satisfaction. In that moment, the tags felt as though they were alive and somehow extensions of Legolas' captors that were now justifiably suffering as punishment for their roll in the crimes they committed against the elven prince. Aragorn was finally able to do *something* for Legolas that would make his ordeal vanish.
The tags only lasted mere seconds within the blaze and so did Aragorn's contentment, for he became painfully aware that no amount of retribution could erase Legolas' moments of torment no matter how hard he tried. Besides, the men who had captured Legolas had already paid dearly with their own lives, but somehow that did not seem like enough.
The soft scraping of Gimli's honing stone filtered though Aragorn's awareness and the man closed his eyes softly, taking a moment to collect himself. He could not even imagine how Legolas felt in this very moment. The man knew full well how difficult it was for himself to simply unfold what had transpired, but the elf was the one who lived through it.
With nothing more Aragorn could do, he finally gathered Legolas' cloak in quick, but neat folds and returned to his seat to finish the tea he was making. After straining the liquid into the cup, the man added a few more healing and tasteful ingredients to the mug that dissolved instantly with a quick stir.
All that was left now was to approach the prince and Aragorn hesitated. Deep down he knew the elf would reject this just as he had everything else that night. The king forced himself to carry on. He walked cautiously towards the prince whose blank stare never left the fire and the king's approach seemed to never register with Legolas, even after Aragorn gained his side.
"...Greenleaf?" Aragorn called out the nickname tenderly to get the elf's attention as he knelt beside the despondent prince. It wasn't until then that Legolas finally turned his sights to his friend.
For the first time that night, Aragorn was given an unrestricted glimpse into Legolas' enervated eyes and his heart dropped. What was once an endless ease of lively spirit and joyful blue was now nothing more than raw and haunting anguish threatening to snuff out his friend's graceful elven light. Legolas was totally lost within his own depths and Aragorn swallowed the thick, choking lump that suddenly formed in his throat.
The change in the king's demeanor was noticeably visible and the prince could see how the man worried for him. He felt incredibly vulnerable under Aragorn's careful scrutiny and Legolas turned away, further ashamed of himself.
"Here, mellon-nin," Aragorn compelled himself to proceed. "...drink this." The king held the cup out to the elf, but Legolas made no indication of moving or speaking and he seemed to revert back into his crestfallen stupor.
While the prince ignored him, the man chanced a glance at the torn and inflamed lacerations on Legolas' back, further proving the fact that the elf needed urgent care. Had the man not known his friend's strong will and stoic nature so well, it would have been a wonder that Legolas was not screaming in the agony he knew the elf must be in.
"...Legolas, please. You need this. It will help you."
Still the elf dare not move. His resolve was only one crack away from shattering and he was certain that if he even breathed, he would crumble and never be able to recover.
"...It is only medicine that will help lessen pain..." Aragorn tried his best to encourage, but his compassionate voice trailed off as the elf rejected the offer.
"I do not want it." Legolas' voice was raspy and broken as he mustered up enough courage to safely speak the few words needed to refuse the help he didn't feel worthy of.
"...I don't deserve it." Legolas added in a breathless whisper, feeling an overwhelming sense of humiliation start to flood him one more.
"What?" Aragorn softly implored as he drew in closer to his friend. He couldn't make out what the prince just said and wanted clarification, but the man's brows furrowed in concern when he saw tears beginning to shimmer in his friend's dull eyes.
Legolas buried his head against his knees to hide his face before the treacherous drops could escape his long dark lashes. He didn't want anyone to see his pain, not even those who were trying to help. He felt shame twisting in the pit of his stomach as a barely contained sob escaped his lips. His emotions were slipping from his control which only added to his frustrations and disgrace.
Aragorn was stunned. He hated to see the regal elf reduced to this, but he also didn't quite understand what brought about this reaction to a mug of tea. Of course he knew it wasn't about the tea, but sadly offering a simple and small comfort only caused pain. The king would give anything within his power to remove the grief that was so evident in Legolas' every movement, word, and expression, but he was left with no way to fulfill that if his very presence disturbed the elf.
That crushed the man.
With another sigh, Aragorn set the mug down beside the elf. He knew he could not force the prince to take it, but had hoped if Legolas would just drink a simple tea, perhaps the pain that kept him on edge could dissipate and the elf would be more willing to accept their help.
With little more he could do, the man unfolded the elf's cloak and draped it over the prince's hunched form, careful not to further aggravate the bare bleeding welts that lay there. To Aragorn's surprise, the elf grabbed the fabric rather than refute it and with trembling hands he hugged the protective cloth about himself. Finally the elf had been given a way to shield himself from plain sight.
A pain of guilt stabbed through the man in an instant at having witnessed Legolas' desperate need for the covering and the man kicked himself mentally for not having found that comfort sooner. His own cloak was still too wet from their flight to the cave and the man never offered it thinking the damp material would only add to the prince's discomfort. But now he supposed he had been wrong in his assumptions. Unknowingly, the man's head shook sadly as he chided himself, but the elf noticed the small movement and mistook it for annoyance.
"...I am sorry, Strider." the elf barely whispered, but the man heard his words this time.
"Sorry?" Aragorn questioned dolefully, his brows furrowing deeper as he knelt beside his friend once more. "Sorry for what?" His voice was soft and full of sincere compassion that struck the prince to the core, but rather than comfort the elf, he felt compelled to recoil further.
Legolas took a shaky breath as if to say something, but pressed his lips closed in a thin line as he repressed a sudden resurgence of tears. He shook his head tightly, unable to speak as his emotions began coming undone again.
**For what?!** the elf berated himself **You ask a witless question, Strider. I have become nothing more than a soiled plaything for others! It cannot be denied! You saw it with your own eyes! … And I called myself a warrior - I am an idiot for believing it and a fool for making others accept it too for I could not even protect myself! You should have left me there to die rather than burden yourself with my pitiful incapacity."
The prince's own condemning thoughts were interrupted as an unbidden sob broke free of Legolas' lips. He buried his face in his arms once more, mortified that he was further disgracing himself with his tears and quickly losing what shred of dignity he could possibly have left.
"Legolas?" Aragorn asked, unable to hide the plaintive ache in his voice at seeing his friend's grief and having no way to combat it. The man laid a comforting hand on the elf's cloaked shoulder with the intent to console the prince, but the elf's body went taut at the simple contact and Aragorn withdrew quickly.
Outside of the cave, thunder rolled softly through the night sky, momentarily breaking the thickness within the very air in a low rumble.
"Sounds like another storm is approachin'..." Gimli commented, trying to lighten the mood with another subject for the time being. He was watching the exchange between his two companions and felt the need to interject. "I fear we don't have enough firewood ta' last us through th' night… I'll go collect some more before the rain makes a mess of things." and the dwarf began to ready himself to leave.
Aragorn turned back to the elf who had withdrawn further into himself. Any progress Aragorn just made vanished within seconds and the man let out a defeated breath.
"Legolas, I am the one who is sorry…. I-" Aragorn began to explain, but what could he say that could possibly make a difference at this moment? "...If you have need of anything, you have only to ask." With that, he stood to leave, giving the elf some space and finding that he himself needed some of his own.
"Gimli." Aragorn called out to halt the dwarf before he departed and the stout being turned to face the approaching man. "I will go. Please…." he inclined his head towards the elf indicating what he was requesting of Gimli. Aragorn needed to step out and clear his head and the need to gather firewood provided a convenient excuse. The man got ready quickly, pulling his still-wet cloak on and strapping his sword to his hip before the dwarf reluctantly agreed. Legolas should not be left alone and after the small exchange between the healer and elf, perhaps Aragorn was a better choice to leave for a time.
Aragorn stalked out of the cave, distant flickers of lightning briefly illuminated his retreating form as he ventured out into the night. His footsteps could be heard through the squish of soggy leaves as he trailed out into the forest until he was too far away to be heard.
Gimli felt awkward and for a majority of the time he stood in silence listening to the soft crackle of the fire. He wished Aragorn had stayed behind instead of himself, but suddenly felt guilty for such wishes. After all, he was simply keeping watch over their friend, offering silent company while guarding the elf who would not be able to defend himself in his current state if they were taken unaware. But the grieving prince needed more than a watchful eye and this was far beyond what Gimli knew how to handle. He would aid in any way possible, but his help was severely inadequate when compared to that of an expert healer such as Aragorn.
The dwarf rounded the fire to gather the last of the firewood that was on hand. He threw a fresh log into the fire and watched as the flames struggled to consume the wet timber.
"Laddie..." Gimli's gruff voice was soft and compassionate as he addressed the elf. "We're worried about ya'." Again, he felt awkward for his obvious statement. He fidgeted with a twig that was destined for the fire before he threw it into the flames. "Ya' need to let us help you."
"There is nothing to help." Legolas responded hoarsely. His voice was slightly bitter and sharp, surprising Gimli who thought the elf would never speak. Regardless, Gimli snorted and shifted to face the prince.
"And I suppose the sky is not blue an' the grass is not green, eehh?" Naturally, the dwarf had very little patience and it was starting to run thin with the elf's rigidness. Even with Legolas so run down as he was, he was still the most stubborn creature the dwarf had ever encountered and the prince's ability to be so stubborn always found a way to get under the dwarf's skin. Gimli knew Legolas wasn't doing it on purpose, but now was not the time to allow the elf to be bullheaded and have his way. Legolas needed help, he needed someone to break through to him. It was for his own good.
Pinching the bridge of his nose in an attempt to clear his thoughts, Gimli tried a different tactic.
"Laddie, ya' don't have to hide from us. We're here to help you. Holding back and refusing' help is only going' to make matters worse... for you an' for us. We are your friends, an' I know you know that. We're not like those men who hurt you. We dealt with them - Aragorn an' I made sure of that. They will not be hurtin' you anymore, but *you* are the only one hurting' yourself now. Don't push us away. Don't close yourself off and suffer in silence any longer. We understand it will take a long time for wounds to heal... even for a pointy-eared-elven-princeling like yourself, but you have to take the first step and let those who are close to you, help you... in the least, your wounds need care and I doubt you can treat yourself very well... if at all. You can trust us Legolas... Don't you know that?"
The prince knew the dwarf was right, but the thought of having someone put their hands all over him once more made him feel ill. He didn't know how to comply with their pleas to allow them to access himself so openly. Of course he trusted Aragorn and Gimli, but why was he so afraid of them?
Perhaps he wasn't afraid of them, he was afraid of himself; afraid of his own broken and abused body. His friends should not be subjected to that sight - no one should.
"Well?" Gimli actually wanted an answer.
"I do trust you and Aragorn. Tis' just..." Legolas could not finish as his voice choked around the swell of emotions that were threatening to overtake him once more.
"It's just what?" Gimli softly implored.
Legolas just shook his head yet again, looking off. How could he put into words that he didn't want anyone to see how used he was. How he was horribly violated and he was helpless to stop it from happening. He was Prince of Mirkwood, Lord of Ithilien, one of the finest archers and warriors of his people. He fought in many battles and wars, one of which saved all of Middle Earth from peril. And this... *this* was going to be his downfall? And now he had to rely on others to fix what he could not stop? And how could he be alright after what had transpired? He was beginning to believe that he did not want to continue in this world any longer. He did not even have the heart to try.
Gimli sighed. This was going nowhere and he masked his concern with his usual hard front.
"I'm only doing' this because I care about ya'..." He said with a heavy breath. "I'm giving' ya' three options... You can let me see to your wounds to the best of my ability…. You can let Aragorn do it - he is far more qualified to treat you, or... I hold you down while Aragorn does what is needed." Although it was a threat, Gimli spoke calmly.
What little color was in the elf's face seemed to drain, but he didn't say a word.
"I take it the first option is out then…." Gimli said while walking off, leaving the elf to ponder over the choices that were left open to him. "Ya' have two more options left and little time to decide… and if you don't, I'll decide for you and I think ya' know what direction that will go."
The dwarf moved to stand in the cave's entrance, watching the increasing flickers of lightning flash through the tree branches as the storm moved in. The stiff arbors were starting to bend in the grueling wind that was now continuous and what was soft rumbling in the distance was starting to sound angry.
A single crash of thunder sounded outside of the cavern and large heavy drops started to flood the air. The shower was slow at first, but the rain dropped more and more frequently until the clouds opened into an all out downpour.
Some time passed before the fall of heavy footsteps was heard running toward the cavern and Gimli moved just in time as Aragorn quickly ducked into the space. He stood in the entrance for a moment to let a majority of the water roll off of his coat. He passed his cloak to Gimli which he converted into a tote to allow himself to carry more tinder than his arms alone would allow.
"My word, it is getting nasty out there." Aragorn stated as he ran a hand through his hair to push his wet, dark locks out of his face. He shook his hand free of the excess water and shrugged out of his coat to let it dry by the fire.
As he unbuckled his sword, Gimli gained the man's attention by way of a silent gesture and the dwarf stuck his thumb towards the elf. The man glanced to Legolas, noting no change from the last time he saw the prince and the tea he had made for the elf was still untouched. He turned a questioning brow back at the dwarf, but Gimli spoke out loud.
"Have ya' made your choice, Legolas?"
Legolas' head came up, concern etched in his battered features and Aragorn suddenly became worried with what transpired in the short span of time he was gone. Of course the man knew Gimli would not harm the prince, but his bold approaches to sensitive matters may have pushed the prince too hard and he did not like where this was going.
Since the elf did not speak, Gimli made good on his promise and began taking matters into his own hands.
"Alright then, Aragorn, do what ya' need to do." The dwarf stated as he began rolling up his sleeves in preparation of the struggle he knew would ensue.
Legolas' eyes wet wide.
"Gimli, no!" The elf's voice was panic stricken, until Aragorn interjected.
"Halt, Gimli…. peace." The king's command was soft, but Gimli would have none of it.
"This needless suffering is asinine. We should have been past this hours ago. I know I am not a renowned healer by any stretch, but as friends, we have a responsibility to care for him and I am through playing games. Legolas still bleeds and you are a healer - that is unacceptable. We are not completely out of danger and far from any help. Elven or not, he still risks infection. If we had other luxuries, perhaps I can see the good in waiting, but we just made a narrow escape and we still have to get home with a watchful eye at our backs! That would be far easier to do if we did not also have ta' watch over an elf and his pride-"
"Pride?" Legolas spat, his grieving voice instantly changed to venom, grabbing everyone's attention. "You think I take pride in this?!" He was crushed that Gimli thought so little of him as to believe he found any kind of fulfillment or gratification from the liberties taken against him. Just because Legolas could not prevent what had transpired did not mean that he welcomed his maltreatment.
"Gimli!" Aragorn nearly hissed, knowing what the dwarf meant, but cringed at the poor choice of words, especially at this very moment. The elf was never one to worry over himself in the presence of others, for royalty was trained to do as such - mask one's feelings and fears to project a strong character even in the face of danger. But the man could say no more as Legoas vehemently interjected.
"I did not *want* this! I could "not* stop it…" Legolas argued back, but mostly to his own seething mind that suddenly wondered if somehow he had deserved this.
But no, he was not *prideful*...
He was pathetic.
"Of course you didn't want it! No one in their right mind would!" Gimli snapped, now aggravated that not only had his words been twisted, but his dear friend, whom he had traveled over a vast majority of Middle earth with, who had fought beside him in the face of certain death….. now suddenly assumed him to be so callous. He made no attempt to hide his irritation as he continued to clarify his words.
"You have a very high consciousness of your own dignity, Legolas. Anyone of your stature would, but I didn't mean it as if to suggest ya' took pleasure from what you were forced through and wear your experiences as a badge of honor. Stubborn, then?- Perhaps that is a better word - 'mulish' even for you bull-headed elves all seem to act the same... Eeh, regardless, all I meant was if there were other options, we would have found them by now. We do not have time on our side which is why there is such urgency to help you, aside from the *very obvious* fact that you need it! The sun will be up before too long and you both know we cannot tarry on the marrow - we need to be on the move at first light and that is only going to happen if you can move ta' begin with - and even better if you can do so without pain further hindering you!"
Gimli paused, looking to the man whose calculating glance told the dwarf that Aragorn both saw and understood his point - even agreed with it to some extent - but was perhaps also annoyed with his brassy approach. Gimli ignored it.
"We can't carry you, Legolas, nor do I think you would allow that. But the journey is far too long and we don't have horses…. Now, Aragorn, he can either let you help him… I can do it, but you're going to have to guide me. Or I can hold him fast while you do whatever you deem necessary at this point. Unless you have any other bright ideas, that is what we are left with."
A stiff silence settled over the trio. Aragorn dropped his gaze, looking at the rocky floor but didn't actually see it while he turned things over in his head.
"Gimli is right." the man said softly. He hoped it would never come to this, that somehow Legolas would accept help without being pressured to. The king felt sick knowing the elf was being ganged up on and having his own choices ripped from him, but Gimli was correct with all that he had stated, even as bluntly as he did. They were running out of time because they had to be on the move in a few hours. The dead traders that were left in the street were mostlikely found by now and and searches for the supposed murderers would soon be under way, if they were not already. If they were found and taken into custody, the king would most likely not be able to prove who he truly was to irate townspeople who would likely kill him and Gimli without even a fair trial.
Aragron shuddered to think what would happen to Legolas.
"...Aragorn." The elf's now dead voice broke the silence and the man looked up, confusing the mention of his name as a means to gain his attention.
"Yes?"
"...I… I chose Aragorn." The elf reluctantly whispered.
On the outside, both the man and dwarf went unchanged and easily accepted the outcome. However, on the inside they were stunned to find that Gimli's tactics worked. Aragorn gave the dwarf an almost imperceivable nod of thanks as he turned to begin gathering the medical supplies he needed, but the burly dwarf only inclined his features once to acknowledge the former ranger. Thanks was never needed.
The healer was quick in motion so as not to lose this granted opportunity. He began heating up water in the pot once more and as it came to a boil, he dug through his pack to locate various jars of ointments and salves that would be needed to tend and dress the elf's wounds. He pulled out a small ball of swathing materials, but frowned knowing this small ration intended for quick emergencies was not going to be enough.
He got up and made for the pile of supplies once more and began rifling through it to find anything that could be used as makeshift bandages. The man quickly located a spare set of his own clothing with the hopes of ripping it up and making a new use for it, but stopped. Legolas needed clothing and this would be a better fit for him than anything else they could possibly have. The man placed his set aside and continued his search for any spare clothing or materials that the dwarf may have brought, finally finding a single under shirt. That would do.
"I am going to need this." Aragorn said, holding up the shirt so the dwarf could see what he was talking about, but the sturdy being only nodded.
Aragorn set to work, easily ripping the dwarf's shirt into small long strips and by the time he was done, the water in the pot had headed sufficiently. The man gathered the rest of the supplies he had picked out and made his way back to the elf. Sitting in front Legolas, Aragorn set up the space with open jars and folded cloth all within. Finally, Aragorn turned his full attention to the elf.
Legolas' eyes were tightly closed and he seemed to be holding his breath as he waited for the man to begin his ministrations. His head was downcast, ready to use his folded arms once more as a shield if his emotions began disgracing him.
Rather than beginning right away, Aragon tenderly slipped his fingers under Legolas' chin and carefully pulled the prince's head up to meet his concerned gaze. The elf's eyes snapped open, unsure what was going to be asked of him this time and he took a quaking breath.
Now, the watery depths of his Legolas' sights held fear and Aragorn's heart twisted.
"I would never harm you, mellon-nin." Aragorn tried to reassure with an easy whisper, but Legolas turned his face, easily slipping his chin out of the king's loose grasp.
"Legolas, you can trust me." the king continued. "We have been friends for nearly seventy years and never once have I done anything to cause you any harm." The king gently took one of Legolas' hands in his, offering a thread of connection and begging the elf not to shut him out. His thumb ran soothingly over Legolas' knuckles, desperately trying to break through the elf's walls. "All of the adventures we have gone on and the dangers we have faced together… Cuts from orc blades, broken bones… even spider bites from the giants of Mirkwood - I have only ever helped you as you have even done for me. This will be no different, I swear it."
"I know." Legolas had difficulty whispering. "It is just too much. Everything is out of my control. Even my reactions are their own and it is difficult to fight against them. Perhaps if I were not such a feeble and poor excuse for an elf-" The prince's voice caught on his words, interrupting the sudden swell of his vicious thoughts. Aragorn should not have this much trouble.
"Legolas, you are anything but!" Agrogn could not believe the heart wrenching words that tumbled from the elf's lips, but all the same the man felt a bit relieved in hearing that Legolas was not actually scared of him. His reactions were involuntary caused by the overwhelming stress he was currently under. No one could fault him for that and yet that was exactly what Legolas was doing to himself. His gentle hold of the elf's hand tightened into a reassuring squeeze. "You need to give yourself time. Your heart will not heal overnight, but I know that no wound can reach your soul if you do not let it and you, Legolas, are not weak. You have only ever been strong and resilient in my eyes and there is nothing in Middle Earth that will change that - Not now, not ever."
Legolas silently listened to his friend, but Aragorn's words did little to help him. It felt as though his soul had already been ripped from him and his heart shredded.
"But your heart will fare much better once *you* feel better." Aragorn continued. " I promise."
Aragorn took the hand he was holding and carefully pulled it closer to himself, exposing the abraded skin that encircled the slender limb. With utmost tenderness, he dabbed the wound with a wet soft cloth.
Legolas sucked his breath through his teeth as the irritated welts were cleaned, but he forced himself to sit still, struggling with the unnatural need to pull away from his dearest friend. The minutes dragged slowly by, but eventually both of Legolas' wrists were cleaned. Aragorn spread a cooling salve over the torn flesh and he finished by lightly binding each cuff with bandages.
That done, the man pushed the cloak back slightly, further revealing the elf's arms. Aside from a few bruises and shallow scrapes, there wasn't much to clean, for which the man was thankful.
He moved behind the elf and moved the cloak aside, finding there the bleeding lines that covered his friend's back. Aragorn was no stranger to these types of injuries for he had cleaned the elf of crisscrossed stripes before. Over their many long years of friendship, both man and elf had numerous brushes with trouble. Brutal wounds such as these were not unknown to the duo, however, it grieved the man regardless knowing that Legolas had only suffered that much more.
Cleaning Legolas' back took more time than Aragorn initially thought it would, but soon the man tied off the last bandage and the healer began to focus on Legolas' face. The nasty gash to his temple was Aragorn's first priority and he inspected the injury prior to any treatment, noting how deep it was.
"This might need stitches, but I will wait to see how it fares in the morning." the man stated as he carefully tended the wound. His ministrations traveled to the elf's swollen cheeks where the sides of his face were now turning purple. Aragorn tipped the elf's head slightly to better inspect the dark marks, but other than spreading a salve over them to dull the ache, there was nothing more the man could do, those would have to heal on their own.
Aragorn reached for a fresh cloth and dipped it in the water to start cleaning the elf's mouth. Blood was found to be caked in the corners of his lips from a painful split found on the bottom lip.
But there was something else there too, something Aragorn didn't quite recognize and the king swiped at the matter finding that whatever it was must have been liquidus at one point, but had dried across the prince's chin and nose. The water from the cloth gave efforts to reconstitute it before being whipped away, but as the substance made efforts to rejuvenate itself, it's natural odor began to awaken.
The prince began to choke on the pungent smell and panic began to surge forth along with the horrific memories that were tied to it. The prince turned as his stomach began to heave, but having found nothing in his system to bring up, all he could do was gag.
"What is wrong?" Aragorn asked, concerned with this sudden symptom. He did not understand what was happening for his mortal senses were far too dull for his nose to pick up what the elf could.
Blindly, Legolas snatched the rag from Aragorn, scouring his own face hastily to simply remove whatever ailed him. The elf was less than gentle as he practically clawed at his face and he reopened his split lip.
"What is it, Legolas? What is wrong?" Aragorn grabbed the prince by the shoulders to stop the elf from causing further damage to himself, but it was too late as Legolas' lip bled freely once more.
"Get it off!" The prince half pleaded, half demanded while terrorized panic flashed through his eyes.
"What is it, Legolas? What is wrong?" Aragorn asked again, grabbing a fresh cloth and wetting it before trying to aid Legolas, but the man's gentle motions were far too slow for the prince and Legolas grabbed the rag from Aragorn again and swiped his own face frantically.
Finally the fresh cloth removed whatever it was and in an instance, the elf chucked the rags to the far corner of the cavern.
Aragorn watched, bewildered by Legolas' desperate actions and he tracked the path of the soiled fabrics, but when the man turned back to Legolas, he was sad to see the elf was trembling hard. His fists were now pressed to his eyes and though Legolas tried not to cry, silver streaks trailed down his cheeks that he could not help.
Aragorn laid a gentle hand on the elf's arm as Leogals' breath caught on itself in an attempt to choke back his emotions. This time, it was proving to be too big of a task for the disgraced prince. The king wracked his brain for a reason as to why the elf reacted thusly, part of him feared that he himself was responsible for Legolas' violent reaction. And yet, that somehow did not seem to make sense. Memories drifted to Aragorn and he allowed them to enter his mind when suddenly it hit the ex-ranger as Dreager's cruel comments replayed in his head.
§§ "Five to fuck it, ten to use it's mouth…. We've made sure it can't bite…" §§
"Oh Valar, Legolas!" Aragorn gasped, but his shock was quickly turing to rage. He prepared another cloth and forced Legolas' head up, inspecting his face to ensure every possible trace of dried male essence was removed from his dear friend's body while catching Legoals' tears before they could stain his fingers.
"I am so sorry mellon-nin." Aragorn was on the verge of tears himself, finding more emissions on the elf's neck which the man removed quickly.
But it did not stop there. Through the part in the cloak about the elf's shoulders it was plain to see more spent seed covering his friend's chest and the man gulped.
"I'm going to have you lie down, mellon-nin. It will make it easier and faster to tend to you and get you cleaned up." The man tested his boundaries and carefully pushed the cloak back from his friend, watching intently for any signs of distress or disapproval from the elf.
Legolas, however, was desperate to be rid of the humiliating remnants of his tormentors and allowed the man to do what was necessary without objection. Slowly, the man removed the cloak completely before pressing the elf to the cavern floor, worried that the rigid elf put up very little fight despite Aragorn's expectations.
"I want you to relax if you can." Aragorn encouraged while doing his best to make the prince as comfortable as possible.
"I reek of them, Strider." the elf whispered miserably as if to argue that being at ease was impossible.
"You won't for long, I promise."
The healer set to work quickly and cleaned away the grime and gore. But the king went still as he took in the sight of his friend and the newly uncovered horrors gracing Legolas. The prince's torso was littered with marks and lesions as Aragorn half expected, but his assailants obviously meant to humiliate the elf with their unchecked freedoms upon the prince. His collarbone was decorated with splotches of red from bruising kisses and the the buds on Legolas' pecs were raw from abuse.
The king let out a withered sigh after spying the torn and bloodied leggings that hid the nexus of Legolas' maltreatment. Aragorn had hoped the elf's most private injuries did not need any aid, but the evidence before him suggested otherwise. He feared what he might be forced to do if the prince refused the help, knowing full well that Gimli's earlier plan may have to be invoked.
Legolas draped an arm over his face. He could feel Aragorn's eyes upon him and it made the elf feel vulnerable while memories began to surface of the uncomfortable, embarrassing feel of lustful eyes gazing at his naked body. Legolas clenched his eyes closed, reminding himself that Aragorn was in no way the men who had used him. This was his friend who was only trying to help.
"Legolas... do... do you trust me?" the man hesitantly asked. The question caught Legolas off guard and he dropped his arm to look up at the man bending over him, granting Aragorn a look of confusion so he did not have to speak.
"I-I... I need to see to you. You are hurt... Please mellon-nin... Do you trust me?" Aragorn reiterated clumsily. He knew what he had to do, but was scared of causing the prince more pain. He looked up to the elf and searched the depths of his weary blue eyes. This was the last thing the man wanted to put Legolas through.
With no response to his question, Aragorn nervously illustrated what he meant. He let his fingers hover ever-so-lightly over the waistband of the elf's leggings.
Realization hit Legolas and he paled. No, not this! He couldn't do this, not now, not when the memories were too fresh! The prince urgently shook his head and sat up with effort, his breathing hitched as he started to panic once again.
"No! No, Aragorn!"
The king felt rotten inside hearing the elf's desperate pleas and yet his anger at the whole situation started to swell. Why did this have to happen? Why were there men out there that would do this to another being?
Quickly Aragorn squashed his anger. He was mad, he was furious, but he had to push his emotions aside for Legolas' sake. Smoothing the blond hair away from Legolas' face, he explained what needed to be done.
"Legolas. I know you are hurt, but I know not the extent of the damage that was done. You are *bleeding* mellon-nin... I fear what it could be. I don't want you to be in pain anymore."
"N-No! Please, no Aragorn. I-I can n-not!" The elf shook his head trying to gesture desperately as he felt his shaky voice falter. Tears were rolling down his face once more, but he was horrified that Aragorn was requesting him to bear the full extent of his shame.
Aragorn looked over the frightened elf, his own apprehension eating at him. The man reached out and placed his hands on either side of the prince's face and drew Legolas close, bowing both their heads so that their foreheads touched. Aragorn offered silent support as his thumbs gently wiped the prince's silvery tears away.
"Legolas..." he whispered, trying to pull the elf out of his distress. "I wish I did not have to do this. I am so sorry my friend, but please I beg you, let me help you. I-"
"No." the elf croaked.
"We don't have a choice. This could be serious and-"
"No!" the elf interrupted again. Another sob shook his shoulders. "J-Just... leave me be, Strider... Please..." his voice trailed off.
Shuffling behind Aragorn grabbed at the man's attention and he turned just enough to find Gimli gaining his feet. The dwarf could only grasp pieces of what was going on from his seat by the fire, but from what he could make out, it sounded like Aragorn had hit a roadblock and he was ready to offer his assistance.
Aragorn swatted a hand toward the dwarf, silently telling him to back away. At this moment, Gimli's overbearing presence would surely make matters worse and Aragorn was not willing to submit the elf to the dwarf's force just yet.
Thankfully, Gimli sat down.
"Legolas, you know I can not do that." He turned back to the elf and countered softly, but the elf's barriers were collapsing. At the far corners of his mind, Aragorn began to fear what the elf would say next.
"Strider... I-I can't go on... What has been done... I'm too damaged. A weak elf has no use in this world and you should not-" a sob jerked his frame again. "-you should not have to deal with the damage that has been done."
Legolas could not hold his emotions in check any more. He gripped Aragorn's forearms on either side of his face and bowed his head as much as Aragorn's embrace allowed. Silent sobs wracked his graceful frame, his facade finally shattering as he admitted his defeat.
Legolas wept.
He loathed himself and wished the ground would simply swallow him up so he could leave this world. He felt as though he were far too broken for anyone to help him. He did not deserve help.
Aragorn pressed Legolas close and held the prince's head against his shoulder. Wrapping his arms around his trembling friend, he offered support, comfort and protection. Tears began to spill down his own face as he held his friend and felt every shudder tear through the elf that he held in his arms.
"Oh, Greenleaf..." Aragorn whispered into an elegantly pointed ear. He wished he could erase those horrible moments and felt helpless that he could not. He began to stroke the back of Legolas' head to soothe him as he talked. "I... I'm so sorry, mellon-nin. I'm sorry this happened to you. You didn't do anything to deserve this... No one should have to go through this. I can't even begin to imagine what you are going through, but you are not going through it alone. What has been done to you is not a burden to anyone, least of all me. You didn't ask for this to happen, you didn't seek out abuse. This was forced upon you. It does not mean that you are weak."
Aragorn grabbed the prince's head and pushed him back so he could look Legolas in the face. "Legolas... Legolas, please look at me."
The elf's pain-filled blue eyes fluttered open and locked on the gray eyes of the king as the man spoke.
"I *want* to help you. Please, Legolas. Don't leave us. Don't leave me. After everything we have been through together, all we have conquered and all we have seen, please don't leave me now. Not like this. You must let me help you. There is hope for you and I know that you are far stronger than this."
Legolas was trying to calm his emotions as the man spoke. Aragorn's pleas tore at him, but his own pain and disgrace was so heavy it felt like he was suffocating.
"Legolas… my brother. Please..." the man said meaningfully. The elf saw the tears in the man's eyes feeling a stab of guilt for putting his friend through this.
It was true; the man and elf had been through so much together over the many long years they had known each other. They had a strong connection, a bond that only brothers really shared. The man considered Legolas no less dear than his adopted brothers, Elladan and Elrohir. The thought of losing one of his family members, extended though it may be, was something the man could not even contemplate and he was not willing to let Legolas go. Not like this.
"Please," the man whispered. He started to choke up, for the elf didn't immediately accept his help. Legolas was actually contemplating death, stopping his heart forever and leaving this world.
The prince dropped his gaze. It did not matter how much Aragorn pleaded with him. His heart felt as though it was torn and bleeding, much like his body was. He would never be able to recover from this. He hated to leave those he loved behind. But having to face the pain and disgrace was worse and he did not want his friends to suffer their time and lives with wasted effort.
The elf calmly shook his head. He could not continue facing the pain that could never be erased whether it be physically, mentally or even emotionally.
The man wrapped his arms around the elf and held him tightly. His grief overcame him as the elf made a choice.
"No... No!" Violent tears spilled down Aragorn's face as he begged the elf not to leave "... please, Legolas."
Aragorn was frantic. He gripped the sides of the prince's head tightly once more, giving it slight shakes to emphasize his words as if he could force his own will to embed itself into the prince's heart.
"No!" he commanded "I'm not going to let this happen to you! You cannot just *go,* Legolas. You are stronger than this! You can be mad at me for this, you can hate me, but... dammit Legolas! I'm not going to just let you die! Even if it is by your choice! You have far too much to live through yet!... You... you made a promise to me! You said that no matter how many of your people left for the Undying Lands, you never would. That you would stay here until the end of my days... I am the one who has to leave this world. *Not* you! My time will come one day, not by choice, but it will come and you said you would not leave until I have!"
The elf grabbed at the hands that trapped his face and pushed them away softly. The anger in the man's eyes scared him. He had seen Aragorn angry, but he had never been angry *at* him. The elf swallowed the lump in his sore throat. He didn't want to break his promise, but how could he keep it?
"Strider... I-"
"Please!" The man cut him off. He couldn't hear the prince's choice again. He searched Legolas' ageless blue eyes for any spark of life that he could ignite. He was desperate.
Legolas took a deep breath and turned his face looking at the cavern wall as if searching for something in the blank rock. He was torn.
"Please." the man whispered again. The elf turned back to the man and looked into the depths of his gray eyes. He was surprised to see guilt, anguish, grief, concern... but there was something else in there too... Hope? The elf tried to make his voice strong, but it came out as a whisper.
"There is no hope for me, Estel."
The man shook his head. "*YES* there is, Legolas! You just cannot see it right now because this is all too fresh, but you have to give yourself time to heal! It will not happen in a few hours, nor a few days... I understand how you must feel at this moment... but, I know you can recover from this... and I want to help you. My father named me Estel for its very meaning is hope! I was the only hope for men and I fulfilled that! Your hope is in me... your brother. We might not share parents, but we share that same bond. Please... let me be your hope."
They remained unmoving and unspeaking for a time. The man would not accept the elf's irrational choice and silently prayed that Legolas would hold on. He did not know if the elf could just flee this world at a moment's notice, but did know a broken heart and elven grief could destroy an elf… eventually.
Aragorn was about to resume his encouragement when he felt his friend take a deep, shaky breath. Legolas carefully nodded his head, but it was so slight Aragorn was not certain that Legolas even moved.
"Legolas?" he asked and searched the prince's features for the answer to his half asked question.
The prince nodded again. He relied on the gesture to communicate, feeling a dull pinching in his throat from the swell of feelings that would surely prevent him from speaking. He couldn't believe that he was going to put himself through this torment, but the wild and frantic look in the ex-ranger's eyes scared him into making his choice, and yet he was unsure how long he could hold on. His will was only so strong and his heart was too broken.
"You will hold on?" Aragorn asked to clarify, relieved to feel the prince nodd once more.
The man squeezed his eyes briefly, clearing them of the moisture that was obscuring his vision before he pressed a kiss on his dear friend's forehead.
"Thank you." The king whispered calmly despite his frantic movements before Aragorn pulled back abruptly and helped ease the elf to the cavern floor once more. A thick rolling accent piped up by the fire interrupting the irie silence that settled in the cavern.
"Aragorn?" Gimli asked, wanting to make sure everything was ok, but fearing it wasn't.
"Peace, Gimli.'' The man chanced a response to placate the worry he knew Gimli must have, but he did not have time to offer more than that. The man placed his own body between Legolas and the dwarf, blocking the prince from sight. There was precious little coverage for the prince and the man did all he could to help conceal Legolas for the elf's own ease.
But despite the blockage, Gimli was all too aware of what was transpiring. Eventually, the elf's trousers were removed and discarded. Aragorn's placement at the elf's side suggested where his attentions were focused. The man grabbed several rags to aid him in his efforts and after each use, they came away from the elf bloody.
"I'm sorry mellon-nin, I just need to get you cleaned up," Aragorn could be heard whispering to help calm the tremors that tore through the elf before him, but with each movement the man made, the elf gasped sharply and visibly stiffened, wide eyes were locked in the ceiling above them.
"Strider… please." The elf began pleading again. He was now squirming under the man's touch, struggling to find the courage to endure. He could not take much more and it was no small miracle that he had made it this far.
"Just…Bear with me, Legolas…"
The last cloth was discarded and Gimli watched Aragorn dip two fingers into a jar of ointment, gathering a liberal amount of paste on his digits.
"This will only be a moment." Aragorn murmured. He took a deep breath to menallty prepare himself for what was to come, but his hesitations did not last.
Gimli's eyes went wide as the elf barely stifled a scream, but Gimli held back, trusting the healer was only doing what was absolutely necessary.
Legoals immediately kicked himself back. There was nothing left in him to be strong any more and he wanted all contact to cease.
"I'm so sorry, mellon-nin. But it is over now. I am done." The man sat back and wiped his fingers clean with a rag before he got up to retrieve some needed items in his pack.
The elf bolted upright and buried his face in his hands, trying without success to calm the emotions that continued to claim him. He began to shiver again as his exposed body felt the cold air around him in the shadows. The elf huddled against himself to try and keep warm. He ran his fingers under his eyes to catch the last traces of tears before they could spill down his face. He only revealed his face from the need to cover his exposed self and using his hands, added what little protection he had available to him to hide his private area.
Then, the prince felt eyes on him. He glanced at the man who was still turning items over in his pack. Then, he looked across the fire and spotted the dwarf who was silently watching his two companions with concern written clearly on his face. Legolas' screams caused him to become worried and he watched what was going on, not sure if he needed to help Aragorn with the elf, or vice versa.
Legolas and Gimli met each other's eyes briefly, but the elf looked away quickly as his body further flushed with embarrassment. He had forgotten about the dwarf and now here he was, naked and crying after Aragorn had to see the full extent of his shame. Obviously Gimli had heard his miserable screams under Aragorn's touch and tears of humiliation began to well up in the elf's eyes again while his frustration mounted.
Gimli got to his feet and walked to the opening of the cave pretending to be interested in the storm's progress. He looked out at the darkened forest; rain drizzled on top of the dead leaves filling the forest with a soft and soothing pitter-patter. He purposefully kept his back to the elf to give him some privacy.
Aragorn finally found what he was looking for and pulled out his spare set of clothing. He knew the garments would not fit properly on the prince's slender frame, but it was all he had. He passed the clothing to the elf who grabbed at it needfully.
Legolas felt as though he could not get the clothing on fast enough. He unfolded the shirt and began to put his arms through the sleeves with difficulty. He was trembling and shivering so hard that he could barely get it on. Aragorn came to his aid, unclasping the top of the shirt and pulled it over his friend's head. It was too big and the excess material of the shirt pooled in Legolas' lap.
The man backed away to let the elf pull the pants on. He grabbed his handy metal pot and rinsed it out before he placed it on the fire once more and began to heat up water for a third time that night. As the water boiled, he dumped a few small handfuls of dried leaves and herbs into the water as he made a sanative tea for the elf once again. This time, he added a small amount of a sleeping aid to the mixture. Normally, it would be the primary ingredient in a potent medication to drug his patients to oblivion before tending to broken bones or other major injuries. Both he and Legolas were no strangers to this drug from all of their long journeys and adventures together.
And that's what had him concerned. He knew how finicky Legolas was about taking medications, especially ones that knocked him out. But now, the elf was emotionally traumatized and he doubted the elven prince would readily take any substance that would put him to sleep against his will. Legolas needed to feel like he had control of the situation and Aragorn did not want to deepen his friend's distress. Besides, Legolas had been put through far too much force this night, even by Aragorn's own doing. He was not going to force this on the prince as well if the elf refused it.
But if the elf drank it willingly…
Aragorn opted to add just a small amount of the sleeping herb, hoping the elf would not be able to detect the medication's presence in the tea. He added just enough to simply make his friend drowsy and allow natural sleep to kick in.
Or so he hoped.
"Gimli…" the man called out and the dwarf turned from the cave's entrance at the mention of his name. "Grab my bed roll. Set it up by the fire." he half asked and the dwarf went right to work in doing just that.
Aragorn walked back to the elf who was tying the laces of the pants in secure knots. Aragorn handed the warm cup to the elf once more who hesitantly took it.
"The salve I have placed on your wounds will lessen the pain a little and should be kicking in now. But this-" Aragorn tapped the mug "-will help considerably. I need you to drink this - all of it. There is medication in there too that will help fight infection. I know you are not typically prone to infection, but I want to take all precautions and do not want to leave you at risk."
Steam from the mug kissed the elf's face and he inhaled the sweet, calming scent. He took the cup without issue, having no resolve left to put up any kind of argument. He lifted the cup to his lips and took a small sip of the hot liquid, letting the warm fluid soothe his sore throat. He could feel promised comfort traveling all the way down to his core and he shivered again as he realized how cold he actually was.
Aragorn grabbed his own cloak that had been left by the fire to dry from his previous errand in the rain and draped it around Legolas' shivering shoulders. The elf grabbed the fabric, pulling it closer to his body while feeling the residual heat from the fire in the soft enveloping material. He wrapped his hands around the tin cup, absorbing as much warmth as he could.
In all his life, the elf had never felt the cold before. He knew what cold was - ice was cold to the skin much like fire was hot - but his whole body had never been consumed by the deep chill that his mortal companions were so frequently subjected to in the colder months.
Aragorn was watching Legolas with worry for he knew that elves did not suffer from the temperature's extremities. He placed his hand to the elf's forehead, feeling for fever. There was none. The prince had simply been pushed past his limits and his body needed time to recover. He watched as the elf took another small sip of the tea before he left his friend's side and began to set up a place for the injured prince near the fire.
He was stopped however by a slight whisper.
"Strider?" the elf called out to the man. Aragorn turned back to the elf and watched him carefully, but Legolas could not look his friend in the eyes. "...Hanna lle." (thank you) the elf whispered. He was not quite sure why he felt compelled to show his gratitude, but despite the twisted and malicious feelings he was battling, he knew Aragorn was only doing his best for him. And yet his words felt completely inadequate.
A small sad smile worked its way into the corners of the man's mouth.
"lle creoso gwador-nin." (you are most welcome my brother). He nodded compassionately to reassure the prince that he understood and was grateful he was not only able to help, but was allowed to help.
Aragorn moved off and grabbed the elf's cloak that had been left in a crumpled mess some distance away. He picked it up to fold it, tucking the blood stains that the previously open wounds had left behind on the elegant fabric. He sighed, hoping the stains would come out if washed properly.
Once Gimli had the bed roll set up, Aragorn returned to the elf.
"Come to the fire, Legolas. It will be warmer and you can rest." but Aragorn did not wait for a reply and instantly helped the elf stand. He guided the prince a few paces closer to the fire and bid the elf to take a seat on the meager bed. Aragorn finished by handing the elf the tin cup of unfinished tea.
"Finish drinking this, mellon-nin." the man requested softly. The elf took the cup, but only held it in his hands.
An overwhelming fatigue washed over the elf and suddenly the small cup felt awkwardly heavy in his long fingers. He dropped his head to his free hand and held it for a moment as he took a deep breath. He felt so strange suddenly. Legolas really didn't want the rest of the tea and was about to set the mug down when Aragorn crouched next to him and placed his fingers to the bottom of the cup, encouraging the elf to drink.
"Come on Legolas, you need to finish the tea. Your body needs the medication. There isn't that much left." He looked over his friend and noted the tell-tale signs that the potent sleeping herbs were beginning to affect the elf, but it was coming about a bit too quickly and the man grimaced internally.
Perhaps he added too much sleeping aid?
Well, it was far too late to go back now. The man pushed the cup to Legolas' lips and the elf took over from there. He tipped the cup back, and sipped at the amber liquid until he finished the last of the tea. Aragorn took the empty cup from him, rinsed it out and put it away in his pack. He settled down next to the elf and cautiously laid a comforting hand on the prince's stooped shoulder, watching the elf's features slowly going blank.
"Lay down and rest." The man encouraged once more and the elf nodded mutely. He did not really hear the man's words at this point. He felt completely detached from his body and was having a hard time comprehending reality. With Aragorn's help, the elf shifted and lowered himself to the ground.
Aragorn scooted closer to the prince and slid his leg under the elf's head to prop him up with an improvised pillow while Gimli offered his own ideas of comfort and covered Legolas with the unused cloaks to help keep the prince warm. The shifting and settling of the occupants slowly ceased and soon all that could be heard was the crackle of the fire and the soft pitter-patter of the rain outside.
Legolas allowed the soothing heat to weave through the fabrics covering him. Aragorn's healing administrations were finally paying off. As promised, his injuries were turning numb with blessed relief and slowly his mind followed suit as the herbs in the tea took full effect. He no longer had any energy for the adrenaline that had been his only fuel the past few hours started to recede. He watched the playful dancing flames of the fire, letting it further lull him into a silent trance. His eyelids began to feel heavy and his vision slowly blurred as his exhaustion overcame him. With a sigh, he closed his eyes against the bright light of the fire.
With the closure of one sense, his others heightened. He could now smell Aragorn while his head rested heavily on the man's thigh, giving Legolas a touch of security at the familiar scent of his dearest and most trusted friend. Despite the events earlier, he felt safe with the man - he always had for the bond they had formed through the long years of friendship was a strong one, but his hesitations earlier stemmed through all that he had been through. It was simply too much and far too soon to trust anyone and though his heart may continue that struggle for Valar-knows how long, he was forever grateful for the love and support Aragorn had shown him. Legolas' closed off heart now sought the offered comfort Aragorn was giving so freely. Perhaps if his fleeting mind wasn't on the brink of sleep, he would have felt foolish for thinking he should ever have reason to hide from the man, but his over taxed state refused to let him feel more than he already had.
Aragorn could sense his friend struggling with rest that wanted to claim him, but didn't understand what kept Legolas' mind from shutting down. He placed his hand on Legolas' disheveled golden crown, willing as much calm influence as he could to the prince.
The gentle touch stilled the elf's jumbled mind and with a final calming sigh, the elf's consciousness left him as sleep took over.
It was some time before either man or dwarf felt comfortable enough to talk, but Gimli gave Aragorn a reassuring pat on the king's back. Aragorn now needed some support after wading through the difficult and unbelievable thickness and the dwarf could almost feel the stress rolling of the ex-ranger. Gimli knew he had offered his assistance earlier, but was grateful the man was able to take care of matters on his own. After witnessing the terrified elf scream, he was not so sure he would have been strong enough to follow through with his threats.
"Will he be alright?" Gimli asked quietly so as not to disturb the elf. The pieces he heard of the elf's admissions left the dwarf feeling unsettled. He watched as the man worried his lower lip with his teeth.
"I know not... physically, his injuries will heal..." The man let his voice trail off not wanting to think about the possibilities that the traumatic events could bring about. He directed his troubled gaze at the fire.
"Mentally?" the dwarf quietly asked. His brows furrowed. He didn't quite understand, but the man's reaction was beginning to answer his own question.
Aragorn shook his head. "He has a long road to recovery, if he can recover." He placed the palm of his hand against the elf's back and rubbed soothing circles in the sore, knotted muscles, trying to give Legolas encouragement to pull through, even as he slept. Aragorn looked at the dwarf to his side and noted the perplexed look on Gimli's face. With a heavy sigh, he looked back to the flames and continued.
"Elves are... they are sensitive... Grief can plague their hearts and more often than not, if they reach that point..." The man slowly shook his head. He didn't want to say it. "If they reach that point, they don't make it, Gimli." The man turned his face to the dwarf and Gimli saw tears begin to shimmer in the man's gray eyes.
The dwarf stiffened at the news, disbelief written all over his face.
Aragorn kept his voice low as he addressed the worry in his own heart. "He is very strong- one of the strongest beings I have ever known, but I only hope that he can beat the odds and will not fade." The man held on to hope. "He will need a lot of help and support if his heart is to heal. Only time can tell if that is a possibility, but we need to have patience and we need to help him through this."
The dwarf nodded. He looked to the still form of the elf and silently made a vow to himself; he would do everything in his power to see the elf through this. He reached across Aragorn's lap and let his thick hand rest lightly on top of the elf's golden head.
"I'll do anythin'," He whispered.
The man smiled sadly at the elf. "Rest Legolas, just rest. You are safe now."
To Be Continued….
Comments Welcome!