Property of JRR Tolkien.

The hot sun shined down on Aragorn causing beads of sweat to drip down his face. He watched the Prince of the Woodland Realm out of the corner of his eye; he was bemused by the Elf. At times he was warm and friendly, and just now he was positively cold. Perhaps Legolas knew of the Ranger's feelings toward him, thus rendering him repulsed. All Aragorn could do was pray to the Valar that Legolas remained oblivious. Suddenly Legolas' golden head whipped around, his eyes wide, ' Lasto! Yrch!' he cried.

Aragorn's hand immediately sprang toward his sword. He could now hear the sounds of the Orcs footfall. It sounded as if there were twenty, next to him, in one fluid movement, Legolas had nocked his arrows and drawn his bow. Aragorn waited impatiently, and in those few moments Aragorn witnessed a flash of his life from a different perspective: a life without Legolas. He knew it was too late to turn back now, especially now that he knew Legolas too well. He vowed to himself to protect the Elf until his last breath.

The Orcs were close; Aragorn could make out their forms behind the trees. When the first foul creature came into sight, Legolas released an arrow which easily found his target. Aragorn was impressed. The rest of the Orcs alerted to the fact that an enemy was near, roared and drew their scimitars. In the few seconds it took them to do this, Legolas had neatly shot down four more. Aragorn went from being impressed to uncomfortable – he was letting Legolas do all the work. Hence he sprinted toward the Orcs and began to hack away at them, the adrenaline flowed freely through his veins – for the Ranger fighting was like a recreational activity. Behind him he heard the clash of blades, looking around worriedly he saw Legolas had drawn a pair of knives and was battling two Orcs at once. This momentary distraction cost Aragorn; a scimitar sliced through his sleeve and cut his forearm – he gasped as the pain stung him, but not before he severed the offending Orc's head.
Twenty minutes later, numerous Orcs' corpses lay strewn on the ground around Aragorn and Legolas.

'What must we do with their bodies?' said Legolas, his nose screwed up in distaste.

'We must burn them, it would not be prudent to leave them lying about as it would notify their fellows of danger.'

'As you wish,' replied Legolas bluntly and began to drag the carcasses into a pile.
Aragorn raised his eyebrows at the Elf's bitter attitude, but said nothing and set to work.
When they were done, Aragorn decided to tend to his wound – a large, angry gash which was bleeding profusely. He moved away from the fire and Legolas and rolled up his sleeve. Examining the wound he was relieved to understand it was not poisoned.

'Aragorn,' Legolas whispered from behind the Man. He was ashen-faced and his eyes were wide as he stared at the deep cut. 'Are you all right?'

'Yes, mellon-nin, thank you for your concern,' replied Aragorn feeling touched, 'I simply need to bind it and allow time to heal it,' he smiled.

Legolas still did not look convinced, his lower lip protruding, he watched as the Ranger ripped a piece of cloth to create a bandage. Aragorn noticed the fear and innocence in his eyes, almost as if he were a child contemplating a serious matter for the first time. He wished for nothing more than to wrap his arms around the Elf and keep him safe. But he still said nothing; he reached into a small pouch and retrieved some herbs which he sprinkled on to the cut before struggling to bind it.

'Allow me, mellon-nin,' Legolas said tentatively. Aragorn handed him the cloth, and watched as Legolas gently began to bind the wound. Aragorn really tried his hardest to not seem affected as the Elf's soft hands brushed against his skin. He bit down hard on his lower lip, so that it looked like he was grimacing.
'Does it hurt?' Legolas asked catching Aragorn's expression.
Aragorn shook his head, as his eyes burned into Legolas' beautiful sapphire ones, 'Not at all,'