Disclaimer: See Chapter 1

A/N: Thank you, revriley, starlight9, Nosterineth, Kal Key, willabeth0906, Elven-Tear, Atlantisgirl12, and invisigoth3, for you wonderful reviews. They make me so happy. I am so sorry for the delay but writer's block finals, overwhelming hours at work, and Christmas have slowed me down. I know the chapter's kind of short, but I will update again before I return to classes, and it will be longer. ENJOY!

It took a moment for Aragorn to process the small sound that had just infiltrated his senses. For a few days he had convinced himself that he would never hear that voice again besides the confines of his nightmares of loneliness and guilt. His heart beat wildly in his chest and tears formed in his eyes as he turned around and gasped at the sight before him.

Legolas looked no better than he had before, but something was indeed different about his appearance. Where once his beautiful blue eyes were locked away beneath the cover of his eyelids, now they glistened in the small beam of light that filtered in through the crack in the tent flap. They were open! Legolas was awake! His chest rose and fell steadily, and his breathing was heavy and very audible as though the elf were trying to control the obvious pain that wracked his fragile body. A weak smile formed on his face that made Aragorn gasp, a sob forcing its way out.

Aragorn pulled away from his father and brother and stumbled to the blonde elf's bedside. He fell to his knees grabbing the pale hand as though it were his lifeline to reality. He pulled Legolas' hand to his forehead as he softly said a prayer of thanks to the gods for giving him back his best friend.

"Ar—gorn," Legolas whispered, his voice cracking.

"Shhhh, mellon nin, all will be well. I am here," Aragorn said stroking the side of his friend's face with the back of his unoccupied hand. He still refused to release Legolas from his grasp.

Legolas looked as though he wanted to say more but Aragorn placed a finger to his lips to silence him. After the traumatic experience that the elf had been through, it was undeniable that his voice would be weak from lack of use (or constant screaming as was evident in Aragorn's nightmares).

"Don't talk, Legolas. Your voice isn't strong enough yet. You need to rest now and regain your strength. You will heal," he whispered firmly, seeing the doubt in his companion's eyes.

"B-but...what if…I-I can't?" The elf's voice was so completely broken and defeated, that a few tears escaped and trailed down from the corners of Aragorn's eyes. He began to rock back and forth slightly as the truth tried to constrict his heart. The ever-growing fear that his friend would not come out of this experience unscathed was turned into a distinct possibility in those few seconds. The whole world seemed different now; a much crueler place it seemed. A pain Aragorn had never felt before stabbed him in the chest, and for a moment he thought that he had been physically wounded. Looking down to find no blood or wound entry, he realized that it must have been his heart breaking, hope deflating, and his world crumbling. Desperation soon became his only feeling, overwhelming the need to crawl into a corner and sob himself to sleep.

"Please," his voice broke, "You have to be strong now. Have hope…Please…" He begged seeing nothing anymore beyond the blurred vision of his tears.

Aragorn stared deeply into the blue eyes before him trying to find his best friend. Somewhere in there was Legolas, the strong, loyal companion who had braved many trials and healed many wounds never giving up hope. In fact, Aragorn was the one who tended to lose sight of the good things in life only to have Legolas remind him constantly of his blessings. He was his brother in all ways that counted. He was a part of his heart…his soul depended on him. But in those blue eyes, the spark of life was missing. They were empty, void of emotion besides pain, but even that was physical. His mental state was all but invisible as though Legolas buried every feeling, denying them release for fear that more damage would result. His spirit was broken, Aragorn could see that now.

'Perhaps it would have been better if you had d-di-…' the man could not even finish the thought.

Swallowing his sorrow, he pushed all doubts away, trying to be strong for his best friend. After all, it was what Legolas would have done for him. He leaned down to look his friend square in the face, eyes searching for a sign of recognition. With the strongest voice he could muster, Aragorn said, "I will not let you give up…I cannot."

He sighed heartbrokenly when not even the slightest reaction was elicited. He sat up straighter by his bedside, and stared down at his now unresponsive friend. Since he had told him not to talk, Legolas had not uttered a syllable, nor had he showed any sign of comprehension.

Aragorn was interrupted when his father and brothers entered the tent. They had left to give the man some time with his friend, in case…well, just in case. Upon returning, Elrond knelt down opposite his son looking anxiously between him and Legolas. The man sat hunched wearily over the blonde elf's side, his eyes never leaving the pale face or the half open eyes. Placing a comforting hand on his son's, Elrond tried to draw his attention away from the current scene.

"Ion nin, why don't you go with your brothers now and get some rest. I will look after Legolas." His voice was soft but firm leaving no room for arguing. He gently tried to extract Aragorn's hand from Legolas', but the grip was tight and the man fought against the attempt.

"No," Aragorn muttered almost inaudibly. He held the elf's hand even tighter at his father's sudden intrusion. Elrond tried again, but it made the man even more anxious.

"No!" He yelled, eyes finally meeting the gaze of his worried father. Elrond saw something frightening in his son in that small moment.

Eyes, they say, are the window to the soul; Aragorn's were no exception. Irreversible damage and a pain so deep and true echoed forever in his gray orbs. Tears were unconsciously falling down his tired face, and a wild panic overwhelmed his features. Elrond knew his son was broken, almost as bad as Legolas.

Aragorn could not bear the concerned look of his father any longer. He slowly turned away, lowering his eyes toward his friend once again. Legolas was no longer awake as the once half-lidded eyes were now closed and his breathing was more even than it had been before. The man sighed, though it came out as more of a sob, and leaned over to kiss the bare forehead of the sleeping blonde elf.

"Sleep peacefully, mellon nin. May nightmares wane this night," He whispered softly.

Aragorn sat up and moved away from the bed until his back was against the wall of the tent. He wrapped his arms around his knees, and rested his chin upon his folded arms. His eyes never left the form of his slumbering friend. He watched his father check Legolas' body for aggravated injuries and possible improvements. The man was numb, staring lifelessly at the scene before him. He never even noticed when a comforting hand gripped his shoulder willing him to respond. Nothing seemed to matter anymore, not even as everything faded to a world of empty black.

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