Chapter 8: Caught

"No, Legolas." Shaking his head, Aragorn cut Legolas off. "My ankle does not even hold my weight while walking. I will never be able to climb a tree and jump from branch to branch. Even if my ankle was not hurt, it would be very difficult for me to do that with all the heat and the smoke. No, Legolas." Aragorn looked Legolas deep in the eyes. "I cannot go, but you can. You can get out of here. Leave me and save yourself."

Legolas looked at Aragorn with wide eyes, disbelieve flashing across his face. His lips moved, but no sound escaped them. His eyes reflected various emotions; horror, despair and a great amount of fear. Paling, Legolas looked around. Maybe for the first time since they had left the cave, he really took in their surroundings.

The trees around them burned brightly, as did the underbrush. Bright red flames seemed to leap up the trunks of the mighty old trees, devouring them with heat and smoke. All around them the forest burned and the sky was veiled by thick black smoke. Hot grey ash rained down on them, burning their clothing, hair and unprotected skin. Only a few trees were left untouched, but it would be enough for Legolas to escape this sea of flames. This deadly trap. But it would not be enough for Aragorn. With his injured ankle, Legolas knew that the man would never be able to escape.

A cold shudder went through Legolas's body and he felt his eyes water. This was not supposed to happen! This was so unfair. A gust of hot, dry wind rushed past him, making him cough from the smoke and lack of air. He could feel Aragorn tremble in his arms. Suddenly, Legolas's knees seemed to be unable to hold his weight any longer and the elf sank to the ground, taking Aragorn with him.

"Legolas?" Aragorn asked worriedly.

Legolas' head was bowed and his long blond hair hid his face from view, while his arms held tightly onto the young ranger. Another shudder raced through Legolas's body, and the elf lifted his head and turned to look at his friend. Red rimmed, despairing eyes locked with Aragorn's. Swallowing, Legolas took in the red rimmed eyes of the man, the pale face and the sooth and ash on his skin and clothing. There was so much devotion and at the same time hope and fear in Aragorn's eyes that Legolas felt his stomach tighten painfully. His voice was soft when he spoke,

"Estel…."

Despite the fact that he had told Legolas to go, Aragorn feared for one horrible, terrible moment that Legolas would indeed leave him. That the elf would escape this red death as he had bid him to do. He truly hoped that Legolas would save himself, but the thought of being left behind, of being left alone like he had been left alone in the cave, seemed unbearable. Unconsciously, he tightened his hold on the elf.

"Estel, I cannot leave you here alone. To die alone. I- I am sorry, but I cannot do as you ask." Legolas whispered, barely audible above the noise of the fire. "I have left you once behind, and I will never do so again." Tears filled his eyes. "That I promise."

In that moment, Aragorn felt his heart shatter to pieces and mend at the same instant. Legolas would not leave him to die alone. But, the elf would forsake his immortal life for nothing. Trying to do what was right, Aragorn shook his head and gripped Legolas's arm tightly.

"That is folly, Legolas, and you know it. Please, I bid you, go! You cannot save me."

Defiance entered Legolas's eyes, "I can try!"

"You will achieve nothing by staying but dying yourself, a fate that is not meant for the firstborn!" Aragorn pleaded, hoping that Legolas would indeed leave him.

"Estel please!" Legolas looked imploringly at the young man. "Can you not understand? I would rather die here with you, than….go on alone."

"Legolas…." Feeling the heat of the fire close in on them, Aragorn tried one last time to save his friend, "Do you think I would ever rest easy in Mandos' Halls, knowing that you threw your life away for me? I'm not worthy of such a sacrifice."

Legolas opened his mouth to respond, but whatever it was he wanted to say, he never got the chance. A loud crack came from above them, and before Aragorn could react, Legolas threw himself forwards on top of Aragorn. They fell backwards to the ground, Legolas above Aragorn. Only a moment later, something heavy and thick crashed down on them, burying them in a shower of wood and sparks.

"Legolas!" Aragorn yelled, fighting to breathe despite the weight of the elf on his chest and the ash and smoke the filled his lungs. For a moment, all Aragorn could see were twigs and leaves and fire, and he began to panic slightly. "Legolas!"

When he got no answer, Aragorn groped around blindly above and around him. Smoldering twigs burned his fingers and hands, but he did not care. Legolas was still lying on top of him, but when Aragorn rolled slightly to the side, he could feel that Legolas was not moving. Now really feeling a panic rise inside his chest, Aragorn rolled out from under the elf. When his eyes took in the scene for the first time, he gasped in shock.

A huge, thick branch that had caught fire had crashed down on then, nearly burying them under it. Here and there the branch was still burning, other parts smoldering. Breathing heavily, Aragorn quickly rushed forwards again and heaved the branch off of Legolas, who had yet to stir.

"Legolas, mellon nin? Can you hear me?"

The elf did not move at all. Gently but with haste, Aragorn smoothed away the long blond strands of hair to better see Legolas's face. Shock tore through him when his fingers touched warm, red blood. It coated most of the hair on the back of Legolas's head and ran in a small rivulet down the elf's neck.

"Legolas?" Aragorn nearly sobbed, turning the elf's head to the side gently. "Please…."

But Legolas did not stir. In his attempt to save Aragorn, Legolas had thrown himself on top of Aragorn, protecting the man with his own body from the falling branch. Feeling despair in his heart, Aragorn cradled Legolas close and closed his eyes. Dark smoke filled the air around him and the fire was so near now that he could feel its heat enter his body.

By saving him, Legolas had made his choice, for there was no way that the elf would escape now. They were both caught in the flames. With no way out.

Aragorn could barely see the trees around him anymore, so thick was the smoke. His lungs hurt from the hot air he was breathing and his skin tightened painfully from the heat. He coughed deep in his lungs and gasped, but no matter what he did, he could not get enough air. The ash that rained down hurt him, and with every second that passed he knew that death was coming closer.

Minutes had gone by since Legolas had fallen unconscious, and the elf had shown no sign of waking. A part of Aragorn was glad that Legolas was unconscious and would therefore not feel the eventual bite of the flames. Maybe, Aragorn thought, the lack of air would kill them before the flames did; it would at least be more merciful.

While he watched the flames creep closer, a strange calm stole over him. He knew that there was nothing he could do, that no help would come, and that this was the day he would die. As a mortal among the elves, he had always felt his mortality keenly. Since he had been able to grasp the phenomenon of dying, he had known and accepted the fact that he would one day perish. But, never had he thought this day would come so quickly. Was he not of the Dunedain? And did Numenorean blood not promise a longer lifespan than other humans? What good was being of ancient blood, when the life was cut short by a fire? A tragedy?

While Aragorn waited for the inevitable, he realized – maybe for the first time – that even the life of the Dunedain where nothing more than a fragile thing. And that the life of a Firstborn was, too, not invincible, not immortal when faced with insurmountable odds. And when the storm howled around him, he cradled Legolas's close and placed a loving kiss on the elf's forehead, hoping that it would be over quickly.

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Elladan and Elrohir stood on a high balcony overlooking the valley, like most of the inhabitants of the Last Homely House did. The spectacle that the summer storm provided was exiting and horrible at the same moment, and none seemed to be able to withdraw his attention for long.

All above the valley the sky was a deep black, with streaks of green and yellow. Thunder and lightning filled the valley and the air was cracking with tension. The wind was so mighty that it might have blown the elves over, had it been but a tiny bit stronger. Twigs and leaves, sand and grime flew through the air, and the rivers and streams that flowed through the dale seemed angry and upset. The picture that presented itself was so unlike the haven that the elves knew that some feared the Valar did this to punish them.

A particular loud thunder cracked right above them, making the twins raise their heads quickly. The thunder rolled through the valley and it took long until it was gone completely. Turning his gaze back to the dale below him, Elladan shook his head, "All the damage this storm will cause. It will take us weeks to repair the fences and houses."

Beside him, Elrohir rested his hands on the stone railing, "I will gladly repair fences for a few weeks if but nobody is hurt in this storm."

"Aye, well said." Elladan commented, and his thought almost immediately came to rest on his foster brother and the Prince. The two of them were still out there somewhere, and he hoped that they had either stayed at the caves or found other suitable shelter. To be out in this monster of a storm would be deadly.

Suddenly, Elrohir gripped his arm tightly. "Elladan, look!" With his other hand, Elrohir pointed into the distance, towards the other end of the valley.

At first, Elladan could not find what his brother was hinting at, but then his eyes widened in alarm. "Fire!" He breathed, shocked. While he watched, the red gleam he could see spread to the North and the South, and dark smoke began to swirl into the air, where it was carried away by the wind quickly.

As if on an unspoken command, the twins turned away from the sight and hastened into the house to find their father. It took not long for the first shouts of alarm to echo off the walls of the Last Homely House, for many elves detected the fire in the distance. Soon, yells and hastening elves filled the corridors and hallways.

A fire in the valley was as deadly as an orc attack, and they all knew it. When Elrond had chosen Imladris as the place to build his sanctuary, he had done so because it was embedded deep into a natural gorge, where no outside intruders would easily find it, and if they did, they either had to know the secret ways to enter it, or to climb down the steep cliff walls. Alas, the same cliff walls that protected the elves could also be their worst enemy; they would not let the fire escape, but would force it through the whole valley on its search for food, and therewith endanger all within. They had to extinguish the fire, and quickly so.

In but a short time a contingent of elves left the settlement, Elladan, Elrohir and Glorfindel among them. Even Lord Elrond joined the group of elves, hoping that his elvish power might help extinguish the fire. While the walked over the stone bridges and through the gates, many elves joined them, armed with buckets, axes and shovels. This was their home, and they would do all they could to rescue it.

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Aragorn's coughing increased and his eyes burned. Legolas had still not awoken, and Aragorn was grateful. By now, it was almost impossible to breathe, and his head felt lightheaded. Soon the flames would reach them, and then it would be over quickly. Yet, when the first flames licked at the undergrowth close to where Aragorn was sitting, he could not help himself but scramble away, his injured ankle throbbing painfully.

He knew that he had nowhere to go, for all around him the forest burned brightly. Legolas lay heavily in his arm, his breathing shallow and his skin pale. The wound at the back of his head had stopped bleeding, but that mattered little given their position.

Thunder roared above them and a gust of wind rushed through the forest. The flames seemed to swim on the wind, and in but a heartbeat the dry grasses all around Aragorn and Legolas were smoldering. A bush right next to Aragorn suddenly burst into flame. With a hacking cough, Aragorn pressed the unconscious elf to his body and climbed unsteadily to his feet, forcing his ankle to support his weight. The calm that had possessed his body seemed to leave him in a heartbeat, only to be replaced by survival instinct.

Frantically, Aragorn looked around, but all he could see was fire and smoke. Stumbling backwards through the thick smoke, he fled from the advancing flames until he could feel the fire directly in front of him. There was nowhere to go. Coughing, Aragorn shook his head in despair and moved to the side, away from another brightly burning tree. But instead of dry forest ground, his foot suddenly slipped and Aragorn found himself falling sideways.

With a cold splash Aragorn fell into the small brook that he and Legolas had passed earlier. Water rushed over his head and upper body, blessedly cool. Spluttering, Aragorn quickly sat up, groping for Legolas. The unconscious elf had half fallen down the bank of the river, but he had not fallen into the shallow water.

New hope flooded Aragorn. With all the fire and the pain, he had completely forgotten about the small stream. Looking around, he saw that the hot summer had nearly dried it out. It was shallow and small, the banks covered with dry grasses. The water would barely reach over his knees would he stand, but still! Maybe the river would save them!

Quickly, Aragorn got to his feet, grabbed Legolas by the shoulders, and dragged the elf down the riverbank and into the water. When the cool liquid touched Legolas's face, the elf groaned softly, but did not awaken. Aragorn did his best do wet Legolas and himself thoroughly, hoping that wet hair and clothing would help them against the flames and the hot ash.

Still coughing, Aragorn held Legolas close to his body and tried to flatten them against the bed of the river while keeping their head above the water. Breathing became more difficult when the wind blew smoke and ash into the gorge of the river, and Aragorn ripped two pieces out of his clothing and wound them around Legolas' mouth and nose and his own in a vain attempt to protect them.

In but minutes the fire closed in on them, licking up tree trunks and setting the boughs of the trees aflame. The dry grass that grew on the riverbank caught fire as well, burning slowly to the ground and leaving nothing but smoldering ashes behind. Dead, black twigs and leaves rained down, whole trees collapsed. Not too far away, an old oak creaked and shuddered, its trunk ablaze, before the mighty tree crashed to the ground in a shower of sparks and flames. It came to rest across the small river, its branches partially blocking the flow of the water.

Aragorn watched the tree fall and he felt as if it would take the tree ages to fall, although it took barely a minute. Twigs, needles and sparks fell down on them, sizzling on their wet clothing and skin. With wide eyes, Aragorn watched the water level dropping rapidly. It took but a few minutes for the riverbanks to be visible and the water cease to flow.

And the fire still kept coming.

To be continued.