A/N: Yeah I'm back! Thanks for your patience!

Chapter 11: Home

It was the day after the two friends had been rescued out of the forest, and night was already approaching. The rain had kept on falling throughout the day, and scouts had reported that the fire was truly extinguished. A great cloud of smoke was still hanging above the forest, telling of what had happened.

Elladan and Elrohir never left the side of either Legolas or Aragorn. When Elladan was with Legolas, Elrohir was sitting with Aragorn, and when Elladan wanted to be with Aragorn, Elrohir would stay with Legolas. Elrond visited both patients regularly, making sure that their injuries were treated properly and healing as they should. Legolas suffered from a medium severe concussion and he had inhaled enough ash, smoke and water to give him some trouble. But, Elrond was sure that there would be no lasting effects.

Aragorn suffered from more serious injuries, though. His hands were burned badly, and Elrond had needed hours to stitch the skin and treat the burns. He had hope that there would only be a few lasting scars. The young man's face had suffered almost equally as bad. The heat and flames had singed and burned his skin, leaving huge blisters that watered and must hurt quite a bit. The father in Elrond wanted nothing more than to bandage the burns, so that those that looked upon Aragorn's face would not see them, but the healer in Elrond knew that the burns needed the air to heal. Elrond had examined his son's limbs as well, finding that, indeed, one of the ankles was sprained badly, just as Legolas had said, but not broken.

The human's lungs worried Elrond the most. While he had treated Aragorn, the young man had woken shortly, probably due to the pain the treatment caused him. During the short time that he had been awake, he had wheezed and coughed, wincing with every breath he took. Elrond had given him tea that put him to sleep, for in his sleep, Aragorn breathed easier.

Elrond had listened closely, his ear pressed to his son's chest, and what he had heard worried him. There was water in his son's lungs, either caused by the stay in the river where they had been found or caused by the ash, sooth and grime his son had inhaled during the fire. Foreign particles in the lungs could not only cause injuries to the soft tissue, but also lead to inflammations with water concretions. It would take a long time and be very painful for Aragorn to cough the water out of his lungs. And if the lungs had been damaged, then the healing process would take even longer. But with the right care and rest, Elrond was sure that Aragorn would also heal.

Now, with the sun just setting behind the clouds, Elrond sat with his youngest son. He knew that the healing tea he had given Aragorn would wear off soon, and he wanted to be with his son when he awoke. Elrohir and Elladan were with Legolas at this moment, keeping the fidgeting Prince company while Elrond waited for Aragorn to wake.

Legolas had woken around midday and had immediately asked if he could see Aragorn. Elrond, true to his earlier word, had allowed the Prince to visit Aragorn, but he had ordered him back to bed for the night, much to Legolas's dismay, of course.

While he waited, Elrond stared out of the window at the falling rain. His thoughts returned to the sight that had met him in the burned forest, and his heart clenched painfully in his chest. He could not help but wonder what had happened to his son and Legolas, and how much luck they must have had to survive this wildfire. Surely the Valar must have watched over the two.

A soft sound from the bed caught his attention, and Elrond redirected his thoughts towards Aragorn. Leaning forwards in his chair, Elrond gazed at his son's face. Aragorn's eyelids were fluttering, and he was shifting under the covers. He was waking up.

"Estel, ion nin? Wake up, son." Elrond crooned softly, patting his son's arm.

Aragorn groaned softly and coughed under his breath, but he opened his eyes nonetheless. He looked around owlishly, then blinked a few times. "Ada?" He more croaked than said, coughing as soon as the word left his mouth.

Quickly but gently, Elrond helped him into a sitting position and rubbed his back until the coughing finally subsided. Then, he held out a cup of water to Aragorn's lips to drink. "Here, Estel, drink this. It will help."

The water felt wonderfully on his parched throat, and Aragorn drank gratefully. When the cup was empty, he turned his head away and Elrond replaced the cup on the nightstand. Elrond quickly felt the man's temperature and pulse, before he sat down on the bed, a soft smile on his lips.

"I'm glad you awoke, ion nin." After a pause he added with a twinkle in his eyes, "And I'm sure Legolas will be thrilled, too."

At those words, Aragorn flicked his head left and right, searching the room. When his search came up empty, he locked huge eyes on his father. "Legolas? Is he alright?" His voice was so soft and scratchy that Elrond more guessed the words than understood them. Patting his son's knee, he smiled reassuringly.

"No need to worry, my son. Legolas is as well as can be expected, and if I may say so, in a much better condition than you are." At Aragorn's relieved sigh, Elrond continued. "What happened, Estel? Legolas could not tell us, but we hoped you could."

Aragorn opened his mouth to respond, but as soon as he inhaled, he doubled over and coughed violently. He wrapped his arms around his chest and coughed and coughed, each hacking sound shaking his whole body.

"Shh, Estel." Elrond soothed, rubbing his back in small circles again. "Try to breathe not too deeply. That's it, my son. Easy."

After a while, the coughing ceased, and Elrond helped Aragorn to drink a bit more. The water ran blessedly cool down his throat, chasing away the last weak coughs. When Aragorn had caught his breath, he leaned wearily against the headboard and closed his eyes for a moment. Only now did he become aware of the pounding in his hands and the sharp pain in his side, just under his ribs. Sighing, he opened his eyes and gazed at his father.

Elrond watched him with a small frown creasing his ageless brow. He was still waiting for an answer to his question, but he would not force his son to speak if he was not yet ready to share the tale. But Aragorn gave him a small smile, looked at his bandaged hands for a moment, and then began to tell him of what had happened to him and Legolas. Of course, Aragorn did not tell him everything, just enough so that his father could make himself a mental picture of what had happened. Aragorn said nothing about what had happened in the cave, of Legolas' and his flight, of the dark images he had meant to see in the darkness of the cave or of the fear that had taken a hold of him when he had noticed that they had been caught by the fire. But, he told him of how he had injured his ankle, of how Legolas had saved him from the branch, of their flight to the river and their subsequent struggle to escape the burning flames.

While he spoke, his eyes sought the window to his right, and only when he finished his tale did he look at his father. It was so much easier to tell this tale without seeing his father's emotions flitter across his face.

"I know that I reached the top of the riverbank." Aragorn finished. "And that is all I remember."

Nodding, Elrond smiled at his son. "It were your brothers who found you and Legolas amidst the burned forest. They called for help and we brought you home. That was yesterday." And then Elrond told Aragorn of how the elves of Rivendell had fought the fire, and how they had entered the forest to extinguish the last flames and to take care of the poor animals that had not been able to escape.

When Elrond had finished, it was silent for a moment. The moon had appeared in the dark night sky, and its soft light bathed the room in a silver glow. Finally, it was Aragorn who broke the silence. "So all is well now?"

"So it would seem, ion nin." Elrond said. He reached out to caress Aragorn's cheek gently. "You should sleep now. I am sure that Legolas will visit you at the break of dawn, and it would not do for you to greet him with one of your huge yawns."

A smile stole onto Aragorn's burned features, and he sank down into the mattress. "I admit that I am tired, Ada." As if to underline his words, he yawned.

"Then sleep, my son." Elrond smoothed the covers, before he gave Aragorn's a kiss on the dark locks. Silently, Elrond got to his feet. He doused the candles that stood on the tables and dimmed the lamps, before the closed the curtains. When he turned back to his son's bed, Aragorn had already fallen asleep. With a tender smile that spoke more than words, Elrond moved soundlessly to the door and exited the room. And those that saw the Lord of Imladris walk to this chambers that evening, were surprised to see such deep emotions of pride and love in his eyes.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………

The next days passed slowly. Aragorn slept or dozed most of the time, for his burned hands and face troubled him and his father deemed it best that Aragorn slept through the worst of the pain. When he had been awake the second day after the fire, Aragorn had spoken much with his brothers and father, but now, days later, the twins and Elrond had too much to do during the days to keep him much company. The forest had to be taken care of, as had the fences and gardens that had been damaged by the flames. Elladan and Elrohir were busy with the repair of the bridges, while Elrond delegated the other works.

So it was only Legolas who kept Aragorn company during the hours of day, but neither of them regretted this arrangement. They both felt incredibly grateful that they were still alive, and Legolas had thanked Aragorn in his own unique way for saving him from sure death. Aragorn still blushed when he thought about it.

But although they talked much about what had happened in the last few days, there were topics that they both avoided. And they knew it very well. While Legolas tried not to speak about his shameful actions in the caves, Aragorn fought to forget the things he had felt and said in the caves as well. For both of them the caves held bitter memories that they wished to forget. And while they succeeded to skirt around them during the day, the nights revealed their fears.

More than once Aragorn woke sweaty and with a pounding heart from his nightmares, hoping that he had not unconsciously cried out in his sleep. And Legolas, sleeping in his own room instead of in the healing wing, was not able to find sleep at all; for every time that he tried to wander off to elvish dreams, his mind would whisper to him of his cowardice and disloyalty to his friend and lover.

Legolas's head wound healed quickly, and after but a few days Elrond proclaimed him as good as new. Aragorn's injuries needed longer to heal, and even a week after the fire he had to lean on a crutch to make his way to the dining hall. At least, Elrond had deemed him well enough to sleep in his own room again.

A sunny morning a week after the fire found Aragorn in his room, standing in front of his chest of drawers. He looked into the huge mirror that stood on the chest of drawers and leaned on the wall. Slowly, he turned his face left and right, examining his reflection. His skin had lost the pale hue it had had the day after his rescue, and the skin on his forehead, nose and cheekbones was no longer angry red. But, when Aragorn turned his head so that he could see the left side of his face, he sighed deeply. From forehead to chin, covering his whole left side, ugly looking burn marks covered his features. Although he treated them every day with water in which calendula had seeped, and used oils and salves to quicken the healing process, the marks were still angry red, watery, and altogether horrible. They reminded him daily of what had happened and he could not help but notice the stares that the elves gave him whenever they saw him. To them, those marks disfiguring his face must be disgusting. He must look like some kind of monster to their eyes.

Aragorn sighed once more and shook his head at his strange thoughts. Of course the elves that lived and worked in his father's house would not think such things. They were noble beings and he was well loved and respected since he had come to Rivendell as a child. No, what he saw in the eyes of the elves, was pity. But, Aragorn was not sure whether pity was better than disgust. And what was it that he had seen in Legolas's eyes? Aragorn was not sure if he wanted to know, either.

Once more, he looked at his reflection in the mirror, before he grimaced at himself and looked away. Opening the topmost drawer of the chest of drawers, Aragorn rummaged through it for a moment, before his fingers grabbed a clean shirt. Pulling out and the drawer shut, Aragorn shrugged clumsily out of his nightclothes. His hands were still bandaged, if not so heavily anymore, and his fingers moved slower and less accurate than he was used to.

With a grunt, he pushed the clean shirt over his head, then pulled it down. Shaking his head, he swung his locks back into their usual unruly position. A knock on his door made him turn his head. "Enter."

It was Legolas. "Good morning, Estel. I hope you have slept well?" Legolas entered the room, looking fresh and healthy and altogether as if nothing bad had happened only a few days back. If one chose to ignore the singed hair-tips, that was.

"Aye, I have." Aragorn lied, turning back to the chest of drawers so as to avoid Legolas's gaze. Of course he had not slept well. Again he had dreamt of Lithdal, of what he elf had nearly done to him, and it had left him breathless and unable to go back to sleep. Aragorn busied himself with the laces of his shirt, cursing softly when his bandaged fingers could not tie the knots.

"Let me help you." Legolas was suddenly at his side, taking the laces away from him and deftly closing the shirt for him. "There, here you go."

"Thank you." Aragorn mumbled, a bit ashamed that Legolas had to help him with such a simple task.

"You're welcome." Legolas said, before he leaned closer and gently brushed his lips against Aragorn's. It was a slow kiss, sweet and warm, and before Legolas knew what he was doing, his hands cupped Aragorn's face like he used to do.

The man's reaction was instantaneous. With a yelp of pain he stumbled back, flinching in pain. His breathing was fast and labored, and Legolas watched as a few tears tracked down his cheeks. Aragorn coughed a cough that originated deep in the lungs, and held his side while he tried to catch his breath; his lungs had not healed yet.

Shocked, Legolas stammered, "Estel, I…I'm sorry. I forgot…."

Legolas had not meant to touch the burned side of Aragorn's face; he had simply forgotten the man's injury. Taking a step forwards, Legolas grabbed Aragorn's upper arm in apology. "I am so sorry, Estel."

Having caught his breath, Aragorn wiped the tears from his cheeks and shook his head. Without looking at Legolas, he brushed past him so that he stood once more in front of the mirror. "I'm fine, Legolas." He reached for a brush, but Legolas's words stilled his movements.

"No, you are not. I hurt you, Estel, although I did not mean to. I simply forgot." Legolas said, his voice thick with guilt.

To his surprise, Aragorn snorted. "How could you forget, Legolas?" He asked bitterly, lifting his head. His eyes met Legolas's in the mirror. "How could you forget when these scars are so clearly visible for all with eyes to see?"

There was a note of accusation in Aragorn's voice, as if he wanted to defy Legolas's earlier words. But there was even more insecurity in those grey eyes that met Legolas's, and the elf's heart reached out to the young man's pain. Taking a few steps so as to stand directly behind Aragorn, Legolas placed both of his hands on the man's shoulders.

"I forgot because, although I can see those marks you speak of, they do not matter to me."

Aragorn shook his head in denial. "Do not matter? But…LOOK at me, Legolas!" Aragorn gestured at his appearance in the mirror. "How can that not matter?"

Giving Aragorn's shoulders a gentle squeeze, Legolas answered gently, "It does not matter to me, or to those that love you, Estel, because we see more than just your face. We can see into your heart and soul. And we love what we see there."

Aragorn frowned, not yet willing to believe Legolas's words. "But Legolas, what if those burns have disfigured me forever? What if they leave scars?"

"Then they leave scars." Legolas said, smiling gently. "And they would tell of your courage and bravery in the face of almost certain death. They would be a reminder for all with eyes to see that you have saved me, that you were willing to sacrifice your life for mine." Legolas reached out and tucked Aragorn's dark locks behind his ears on both sides. "I would not miss them, for they remind me of your love for me."

Aragorn felt his eyes water slightly, and he lowered his face. He had not thought about it that way before. A moment later he felt Legolas's soft fingers lifting his chin. Their eyes met in the glass of the mirror and he heard Legolas say softly, his eyes sparkling, "And….I cannot deny that they give you that roguish flair that I love so much about you."

Aragorn laughed quietly, shaking his head once more. "Oh Legolas….you always find the right words."

With a smile, Legolas placed a kiss on Aragorn's undamaged cheek, then wrapped his arms around the man. Numerous thoughts raced through Aragorn's mind. Legolas….Aragorn closed his eyes and leaned his head back against Legolas's shoulder, enjoying the strength of the elf and the feeling of complete safety that always seemed to engulf him when Legolas was close. He loved that feeling with a passion.

'Maybe', Aragorn thought, 'now is the time to tell Legolas of the continued nightmares.' Maybe Legolas would find the right words to heal him from those, too. But before he found the words to begin that particular conversation, Legolas let go of him and made his way over to the door.

"Breakfast is ready, Estel. If we do not hasten, you brothers will have left us nothing but scraps."

Aragorn nodded, then turned and followed Legolas. Maybe later would be early enough.

To be continued.