A/N Ah, the weekend! I seriously wish that I could just sleep the weekend away...

Thanks so much everybody for reviewing and reading! It means the world to me!

Disclaimer: not mine.

Chapter Eight

"We should stop," Aragorn said, throwing a worried glance at Legolas.

"We keep going," Legolas insisted stubbornly as he tightened his arms around his chest as if he could stop the pain and the racking coughs that were threatening to overtake him.

"Legolas!" Aragorn snorted in derision. "You are taking on an ashen color, and I can tell you are just holding back the coughs. We are going to stop for just five minutes and letting you rest."

"No, Aragorn, we don't stop. I'll be fine," Legolas urged, hunching forward. Aragorn laughed sarcastically.

"I seem to remember you swearing to me that you would do as I said, and I say that we stop," he stated, already in the act of pulling the horses up short. Legolas opened and shut his mouth, his eyes wide.

"But Estel, we must keep going," he demanded through gritted teeth. Aragorn had never said that he couldn't argue his point, and, honestly, at this point he was miserable enough to be past caring what he had and hadn't said before.

"It is only five minutes, Legolas," Aragorn tried to comfort. "Besides, the horses could use the break. We have been pushing them hard."

Refusing to take no for an answer, the man pulled the animals to a stop and dismounted from the horse with ease. Grasping Legolas' arm, he pulled him down as well. Legolas was still protesting in a harsh whisper, but even his light weight proved to be too much for his legs and his knees folded on impact with the ground, but Aragorn was there supporting him.

"I can walk," Legolas hissed dangerously as the man moved to sweep him into his arms. Aragorn rolled his eyes, but wrapped an arm around his waist while ducking under the elf's arm. Shuffling forward with the man carrying most of the weight, they stopped next to a large tree.

"Now, you just sit for a moment. Catch your breath, alright," Aragorn instructed as he helped ease the elf down. "I'm going to go take care of the horse."

"Five minutes, Aragorn, that is all," Legolas growled faintly in-between shallows breathes and Aragorn nodded. Getting to his feet, he walked towards the horses while throwing anxious glances over his shoulder. As soon as he was out of ear-shot, he blew out a breath, running a hand through his dark hair anxiously.

They were traveling as fast as humanly possible without killing either Legolas or the horses (he knew it was by far the fastest he had ever traveled this path), but he didn't know if it was enough. Legolas' body was failing. After descending the mountain, his breathing had eased and his fever had lowered, but once again Legolas' seemed to be slipping from him. He hadn't been able to convince the elf to eat anything over the past day and his coughing was getting worse. Not only that, but it was taking him longer and longer to catch his breath after each attack.

Reaching the horses, he sighed. They were both munching contentedly on the grass, taking advantage of the break. Reaching out, he placed a hand on each of their noses, and they looked up at him.

"You, my friends, have done well," he whispered in elvish, rubbing their velvety noses. "And I know you are tired. But I must ask for more. You see, Legolas, your friend, is very ill and our only hope is your speed. You must push yourself harder, for Legolas and all your other elven friends. We are close, we just have to make it to Rivendell." The horses were still, but Aragorn could sense that they had heard and understood him. The horse currently carrying the baggage tossed his head with a nicker and Aragorn smiled. "Thank you, my friends. I assure you that when we get to Imladris you will be free to rest and eat all you want." Rubbing their ears, he turned back to face Legolas.

The elf was no longer were he had left him and his heart dropped. "Legolas?!" he called anxiously as he hurried back to the tree. His heart rate had doubled in a matter of seconds and his breath was catching in his own chest. The elf was lying beside the tree on his side, eyes closed. Could nothing go right, he swore he had only been five minutes with the horses.

"Hey, Legolas, answer me," he said, sliding to a stop in the dirt on his knees. "What happened?" he demanded rather forcefully as the blue eyes cracked open.

The voice above his head startled Legolas. His chest hurt, his body hurt, and everything was fuzzy. There was something he should be remembering, he knew that much, but his head was spinning around.

"Legolas." The voice was back, firm and commanding. He had to obey. Working up the effort, he cracked his eyelids. Aragorn's blurry from was above him and he let them slip shut again as the world revolved dizzyingly around them. He distantly remembered Aragorn saying something about them having to go, or maybe that had been him.

He just remembered sitting against the tree. The walk here hadn't agreed with his aching body and he had almost started to wish that he had at least allowed Aragorn to fling him over his shoulder when everything had abruptly started swirling before everything had gone black. Had he actually passed out? The thought sent a blush creeping across his face. Aragorn's voice drifted across his ears, but he was having a hard time focusing in on it. All his body wanted to do was rest, and his mind was having a hard time competing against that urge.

Besides, the ground was cool against his hot cheek. He could rest here for what remained of their five minutes, couldn't he? Then...then he would have the energy to get up.

Someone was shaking him his shoulder gently. Had it been five minutes already? He couldn't think clearly and he cursed the illness. He was rolled over onto his back and his body did not fight the action. He was close to blacking out again. A hand removed the arm that was draped across his side. The fuzzy buzzing grew louder. The man's cool hands touched his face once, before moving to undo the ties on his shirt. They began to poke and prod, sending sharp waves of pain across his already hurting chest. He heard someone moan, he might have been him, before he twisted, trying to shake the fingers. The hands were back up to his face, pressing comfortably against his skin. Everything grew even fuzzier, if that was possible. Dullness crept upon him, and then everything was gone.

Aragorn carefully shook his Legolas' shoulders, still calling his name, but it appeared as if the elf was out for good. Rubbing his eyes with the palms of his hands, Aragorn gave his still companion a long look. Maybe it was better this way.

Parting the prince's open tunic, he laid his ear against his friend's bare chest. Slowing his own breathing and stilling his nerves, Aragorn tuned all his senses to his ears. The elf's lungs were full of congestion, he could hear it easily. The heartbeat, on the other hand, he discovered as he moved his ear to the left, was hard to discern and frightingly weak.

"Even your legendary endurance may not be enough," he whispered to Legolas as he measured each breath and gauged his temperature. "But we will give it as much aid as possible." Pulling the elf back up into a sitting position, he heaved him into his arms and crossed to where the horses were waiting.

The human had never seen horses push themselves so hard or so fast. He was amazed by the speed they were going without him even having to tell them to, and not for the first time he wondered at the abilities of elven horses. His heart lifted for the first time in days and he felt hope springing back into his soul.

The sky didn't share the same optimism, however, and the clouds which had blessedly left the sky for their trip over the mountain had returned to darken the sky.

The rain began once more early in the next morning, covering the star's feeble light and leaving them in pitch blackness. This time Aragorn and Legolas, who had thankful returned to awareness not soon after getting back on the horses, were forced to stop until dawn cast her light. The elf didn't passing out, for which Aragorn was grateful. He didn't really need to deal with a surly and mad elf along with the tired and ill one that he had. He managed to settle the elf down into a fitful sleep after hearing much complaint that they were wasting time and only with the promise that he would wake him at first light.

Once the sun had showed her face, they were one their way again and nothing of excitement happened until they reached the river. That was when everything began to go wrong.

The river stretched on for several miles to the north and to the south and was trademarked to be deep and dangerous. It's swift current was not one to be considered lightly when crossing, but over the years a few fords had been created to get around the problem. The nearest crossing to Aragorn and Legolas did not take them far out of their way, and so instead of chancing the crossing on their own they made for the ford.

The slow, deep, thundering of the rushing waters was the first clue that they were nearing their destination, but Aragorn felt his heart drop. The winter had been a wet one, and the spring not much better. The already normally high river was instead of lapping at the shore, eating hungrily away at edges and tearing into the ground.

"I don't fancy having to cross that by horse," Aragorn murmured as he leaned forward to talk to the elf. He slowed their panting horses to a walk, eyeing the water crictially. Legolas shifted uncomfortably, tightly gripping Aragorn's wrist to show he had heard. "Good thing we don't have to. The ferry is ahead." He pointed with his free hand to a not so distant shape. The fairy was common property, free for any traveler to use and Aragorn had never been more gratefully for it as he was now as he watched the river roaring past.

However, as they approached the ferry, they found it already occupied by three tall, burly, men. Their clothes were stained with all sorts of foul looking substances and their hair was wild and matted. A sword glinted on the belt of one, while another hosted a wicked looking bow. They were lounging on the ferry as if they owned it and merely glanced up as Aragorn pulled up short in front of them. Aragorn raised an eyebrow, staring at them with uncertainty.

"Hail, good men," he began civilly despite his misgivings. Squeezing Legolas hand lightly to say that he would be just a moment, he swung off the horse. One of the men, the leader Aragorn thought, nodded curtly. "May I use the ferry?" Aragorn held his arms out lightly, showing that he held no weapons at hand and was not dangerous.

The leader stood slowly, eyeing Aragorn critically while chewing on a blade of grass. His dark, beady, eyes moved past him and scrutinized Legolas. "What's wrong 'ith 'im?" The man's tone was rough and blunt, but his eyes darkened as he jerked his head at the elf. Legolas raised his head slowly.

"He is injured," Aragorn said with a sudden note of caution entering his voice. He subconsciously shifted to the left, blocking the men's view of Legolas. His hand dropped down to the handle of his sword. The leader leaned back, giving the injured elf a steady look over, before smirking. Aragorn's glare darkened dangerously and he stepped into the man's personal space. "We must cross. If you are not going to use the ferry, then step aside."

The man laughed and yet did not make a move to stand aside. Aragorn's eyes narrowed.

"It is a reasonable request. Move now or this will not end well for you."

The leader stepped forward, holding out his hand as he purposefully let his cloak part to revel an impressive collection of daggers. "A reasonable request, you say? A reasonable request is thirty pieces of silver."

"Thirty pieces of silver!" Aragorn's eyebrows shot up as he gazed in bewilderment at the man. He glanced briefly behind him at Legolas, before shaking his head. "No one can pay thirty pieces of silver. Now, please let us pass. We cannot terry for such silly matters and I have the means to make you let us through." The men were all on their feet in seconds, various weapons clutched tightly in their meaty fists. The man with the bow trained his arrow on Aragorn's chest and pulled the string back.

Aragorn snorted, and with a flourish pulled out his own sword. "My friend and I must cross, but I am sorry that it has come to bloodshed," he said softly as he took his defensive position. The other men began to circle towards him, their faces grim and tough. Aragorn back peddled steadily as he moved himself in front of Legolas.

"The odds are against you, man," the leader laughed as he twirled one of his daggers. "But by all means, fight your way through." He bowed mockingly, gesturing for Aragorn to go ahead and pass if he dared. Aragorn smirked. If only these men knew that they what they were dealing with a human trained by elves. Raising his sword just a little higher, he was about to take a step forward when a single word stopped him.

"Estel…"

Closing his eyes, Aragorn half turned to look at his friend, keeping the other men in his line of sight.

"No, Estel," Legolas whispered faintly. His hands were white with the effort of keeping himself upright and his eyes slipped shut and he leaned forward further against the animal. "No bloodshed."

"But Legolas—"the man stopped, taking a steadying breath. He switched over to elvish and began speaking rapidly. "Legolas. I have to get you across the river, and it is too dangerous and flooded to cross without the ferry. We don't have thirty pieces of silver, but if we did, I would take that road. What else am I supposed to do?" His voice was soft and desperate, his eyes begging as he locked eyes. Legolas heard his tone and sluggishly blinked his eyes, glazing unfocusedly at the other men. He struggled to free a hand from the cloak that enfolded him and reach out. Aragorn took it, squeezing gently. The skin was hot against his.

"Check…check pack. No bloodshed. You...you mi'ht, hurt." Aragorn nodded, moving around to the second horse.

"Are you coming or not?" A snide, jubilant voice called and Aragorn scrunched up his face at Legolas. A faint smile appeared on the prince's tired and weary face.

"I am seeing something. If you make a move towards either of us, I won't hesitate to kill you," he warned shortly. Turning his back on the men, he swiftly dug through the prince's pack and it wasn't long before his fingers closed around a small, but clinking, pouch. Unstrapping his own, he pooled their money together.

Nineteen. Combined together they only had nineteen. He met Legolas' eyes slowly and the elf instantly read the message written in them.

"No fighting, please," Legolas begged. His puffy, red shot, eyes were pleading and his already flushed face was glowing with intensity. Aragorn sighed, shaking his head as he reached up and cupped Legolas' hot cheek and brought their brows together.

"Thirty is a mighty high price," he declared, turning and striding confidently forward. "Fifteen."

The lead laughed, long and hard. Aragorn stood still, waiting. "Who are you to set the prince?!"

"You don't want to know. Fifteen." Aragorn crossed his arm, drumming his fingers.

"Twenty-five," the leader bargained, leaning forward and idly chewing his strand of grass.

"Seventeen."

"Twenty-five."

"Seventeen, that is my final offer." Aragorn glanced into the other man's eyes. The man looked around at his men, and then nodded and held out a hand.

"Seventeen, then, my friend." The man grinned toothily, showing a broken tooth, and Aragorn shook his hand firmly. Pulling out the bag of money, he carefully counted out the amount of money owed and placed it into the grubby outstretched palm. "MEN! Untie the ropes!" he called gleefully over his shoulder, jingling the money for all to hear as he motioned for Aragorn to bring the horses over.

Aragorn gave him a spiteful glare, but turned back to Legolas.

"No bloodshed, see?" he said as he gathered the reigns and reached out a steadying hand to Legolas, who was leaning enough to the left for it to be a cause of worry. "And a great abundance of two extra pieces." Legolas again offered that half smile, but it was strained. Sure enough, as Aragorn began to lead the horses forward, he buried his face in his shoulder, letting out a serious of deep, tearing, coughs.

"What's wrong with him?" one of the men called, stopping his work as he straightened.

"I told you, he's been injured," Aragorn snapped, his patience with the men gone. He placed a hand on Legolas' arm, silently supporting him.

"Sick. He is sick, not injured." The tone was fearful and Aragorn felt a chill go through his veins.

No, injured! He has been poisoned," he corrected, letting go of Legolas and striding forward.

The leader gestured for the men to continue releasing the craft from it ties.

"Did you also pass through the village only twenty miles to the west? Did you also tell them that you had someone who was 'injured'?"

"I don't understand," Aragorn said truthfully, confusing coloring his words. He took another step forward and the man stepped back. Another step back and he would on the raft.

"That village was almost destroyed from a sickness that a stranger brought. They took that stranger in and tried to care for him, but we aren't going to make that mistake. No." The look on the man's face was vicious and Aragorn felt a snarl forming on his face.

"NO!" he yelled, pushing his legs into a sudden run. But the man had leaped onto the ferry and another man was pushing off using a long pole. The man with the bow had whipped it out again was taking careful aim. The wildly rushing waters jerked the ferry as it entered in deeper and the arrow just missed Aragorn as he also plunged into the water.

"BUT I SWEAR HE ISN'T—YOU COWARDS!" Aragorn broke off, putting all his energy into reaching the ferry. It wasn't that far out, he could still make it. The spray of the foaming water hit him in the face and the smashing tide soaked him to the skin. He lunged forward and his fingertips just caught the edge of the wood, but a boot descending on his already slipping hold broke it. Tumbling under the water, he rose coughing and spluttering.

The water was now up past his knees and he knew that he tried to venture out any further, he would be in true danger of the tide.

"At least give us back our money!" he shouted, shaking his wet hair out of his face. It was a last desperate hope, and if the men were actually stupid enough to come back with his arm's reach... well, then they deserved what would happen to them. The distance between them continued to grow and Aragorn slapped the water with a crack.

Over the thundering of the river, the men's laughter could be heard and Aragorn glared hotly in their direction. Safe passage through the river, seventeen pieces of silver and their precious time had been wasted for nothing. Cursing, he slapped the water once more for relief of the tension building in him, before cursing again. He watched the man make safe passage to the other side and deflated. He had the darkest filling that they wound not send the ferry back over, which meant they would have to find another way to cross.

TBC...

Oh dear, just what will they do now. I mean, they will have to do something, but what is the question. :)

Review Replies:

WoodelfJedi: I'm sorry for my cliffhangers. Sort of. But as you can tell I'm slightly addicted to them. :) Well, now you can worry some more. ;) Thanks so much!

Bellasiel: Oh, thanks so much! I'm really very glad that you are enjoying it so much! Well, as for reaching Rivendell quickly...it isn't going exactly as they planned it too. :) Thanks again!