The War of Light and Shadow

By Freddie23

O I O I

Disclaimer: I own nothing Tolkien created.

Warning: The title says it all: horror abound.

A/N: Please review. I love reading them. Thanks to all those who have already reviewed, I really appreciate it.

O I O I

Chapter 5

The Grove of Horrors Abound

"Where are we going?" Aragorn asked breathlessly as he simultaneously hurried after Legolas and dodged the large, water-filled potholes that pitted the Old Forest Road.

Legolas sighed in impatience. He was so tired of hearing that same question. Rationally, he knew that if he replied to it, the child would cease to bother him but in truth he feared to answer; to speak the lamentable truth that he had no intended destination.

"Just keep up," Legolas snapped back, adjusting the straps of his bag over his shoulder.

"Why can't I know where we're going?"

Taking a steadying breath, Legolas muttered, "I think I preferred it when you kept your silence."

For four weeks now they had been together and after that first rainy night when Legolas' patience had been at its weakest, confined as he was in the thick darkness and swallowed by painful memories, Aragorn had barely spoken a word to him. When, after the rain had ceased, Legolas had started them walking again, moving in almost complete silence – Aragorn presumably sulking and Legolas uncertain as to how to break the tension that had arisen between them. It had been of his own making so he reasoned that he should be made to suffer the consequences of his words.

It had felt oddly absurd to the Elf to not speak at all in the presence of another and also he felt relieved that Aragorn felt there was no need for words. He had not conversed with another for decades and wondered perhaps if he had forgotten how.

When, finally, the boy did begin to talk to him, he was quiet and hesitant, afraid of the man appointed his guardian. And Legolas had encouraged his increased interest, for the boy's sour look had started to bother him after a while.

So, this new irritating behaviour was once more of his own making, he supposed.

"Can't I even have a clue?" Aragorn persisted, undeterred.

"We're not going anywhere."

"So what are we…?"

"Please stop with the questions!" Legolas finally snapped, halting abruptly and turning on the boy.

Aragorn also stopped in his tracks, startled by the sudden change in his guardian's mood. Legolas had never actually yelled at him before. He didn't like it one bit. His father would never have yelled at him. Hanging his head, Aragorn hid his eyes to conceal his tears. He knew how much Legolas hated to see tears.

"I am sorry," Legolas apologised in a hard voice. "But this is what I do. Walk."

Slowly, reluctantly, Aragorn's eyes came up to meet Legolas' and he saw kindness in those strange blue eyes for the first time since they had met. So he dared to pose another question. "Why?"

At first, Legolas glared down at him in exasperation but when he noticed the hint of fear behind Aragorn's eyes, his face softened and he exhaled slowly to keep his calm. "Because I do not know anything else," he answered quietly.

The words not only surprised the ward but the guardian also. They were spoken in absolute truth but he had never really dwelled on the reasoning behind his constant, repetitive travelling. Embarrassment flushed his hollow cheeks and he turned away from the boy – partly to hide the tell-tale blush but also the pain that flashed across his features, pain which resurfaced every time he so much as touched upon the subject of the past.

"Father and I used to travel a lot; but we walked with the Rangers," Aragorn continued speaking as they started walking once more.

"Yes, I know." Legolas felt a surge of relief at the change of subject, grateful that the boy's mind never lingered on one topic for too long.

"They went all around the lands."

"Indeed?"

"Yes, but I don't remember much of it; I was just a baby at the time."

"Hmm." Legolas looked over his shoulder at the once more cheerful child and asked, "Your father never said: why did you leave the Ranger's protection?"

Aragorn shrugged, his face forming a thoughtful frown. "I don't know. They didn't send us away, I don't think. We just…left one day. Father said we had to go out on our own."

"Why would he wish to leave the shield of protection they provided?"

"I'm not sure."

Legolas pondered upon this strange – and ultimately fatal - decision by Arathorn. In a world where danger and death lurked in every place, if someone held the companionship of great warriors willing to protect them, it seemed foolish to readily give it up. What had Arathorn been thinking, putting not only himself but also his young son in such unnecessary danger? Not even Aragorn's future fate called for such an irrational action. Or was there something more that Arathorn hadn't confided in the prince?

"Legolas?"

"Yes?"

"Do you remember your father?" the small child asked in innocence.

The question sent a cold chill of horror down Legolas' spine and brought back the deep ache in his heart and, a moment later, only after Aragorn had called his name a couple of times, Legolas realised that he had stopped dead and that his hand had flown to his breast, covering his heart.

"That…" he started but found it impossible to speak past the lump in his throat for a moment. "That is none of your…Come on," he ended up saying gruffly instead, hurrying away, purposefully too fast in order to put some distance between himself and Aragorn.

Behind him, the boy fell mercifully silent as he now followed at a distance. Legolas knew that his words would result in another bout of sulking but this time he couldn't bring himself to care.

Although Aragorn eventually caught up with and walked closer to Legolas he asked no further questions, Legolas' words still stinging in his mind. Darkness soon began to descend and Aragorn looked up to his guardian in order to figure out whether they were going to stop as they did every night but now Legolas showed no signs of halting or even slowing. Aragorn recalled his companion mention once that he often walked for days on end without rest but so far that had never happened in Aragorn's presence. Grey eyes peered out from under a thin hood to look up at Legolas in concern. Had he angered his guardian so much that he was going to be punished for his loose tongue?

Aragorn really needn't have worried though. When it became too dark to see the hardened mud of the road beneath their feet, Legolas peeled off the trodden path and laid their bags down.

"We'll stop here," Legolas told the boy without looking at him. "Rest while you can."

Nights without food had become so common by now that Aragorn no longer even expected it and yet, as he laid down on the hard, cracked ground, he felt a pang of hunger deep in his belly and the misery associated with the feeling set in. He wrapped his arm around his stomach in an attempt to alleviate the discomfort.

He heard Legolas sit down heavily beside him – although noticeably further away than usual. The night was quiet as it always was but this night Aragorn found the silence harder to bear. Granted, Legolas never normally chatted freely with him as his father had done when they been together but their quiet had never been quite so strained.

Finally, unable to sleep, Aragorn's resolve broke and without looking behind him at Legolas, he asked nervously, "Are you angry with me?"

The silence that followed was too long, contradicting his guardian's answer of, "No. Go to sleep."

Aragorn sighed, adjusting the arm that was pillowed beneath his head. At least it wasn't cold this night. And it was dry. Another blessing, for he absolutely despised the rain.

Eventually, Aragorn completely gave up on trying to get to sleep, even though he was weary from the long days' travel. He sat up and glanced over at Legolas sitting nearby, pointedly not watching him as Aragorn knew he often did at night.

"I can't sleep," the boy announced.

Legolas looked up at him, a sharp retort poised on his tongue, but at the last second he swallowed it back. "Then don't sleep," he settled for instead.

"Alright," he sighed softly.

Aragorn sat up straight, bringing his legs up and hugging his knees. For a moment, he gazed around the roadside but it was now full darkness and there was little to see, so his eyes were instead drawn once again to Legolas. He could just about see his guardian through the night now that his eyes had adjusted to the lack of light. Legolas was sat up perfectly straight, his eyes lowered towards his hands, which were skilfully sharpening the knife he always carried. Aragorn watched long, pale fingers, for a change void of their gloves, work confidently and skilfully. He rapidly bored of the mind-numbingly repetitive motion of his guardian's deft hands and his eyes shifted back to Legolas' face and suddenly startled.

He had just realised what was different about Legolas – besides the especially bad mood he was in. He no longer had his hood raised.

Long blonde hair spilled down lanky overly-thin shoulders, dirty and uncombed but tucked neatly behind softly pointed ears. Aragorn lifted his head to get a better look, squinting through the darkness in wonder. Legolas had never had his hood lowered before, at least not while Aragorn looked upon him, so he had never seen the man before, not properly.

"What…?" the boy started but found that he had no question formed well enough to ask.

Legolas, however, looked up from what he was doing. "What?"

"You…" Aragorn got to his knees and shuffled closer to Legolas. As the boy held out his hand, reaching towards him, Legolas frowned and went to ask what he was doing but then soft, slightly hesitant fingers ghosted over his ear and he realised with a start what the fascination was. His hand shot out to grab Aragorn's wrist but he did not drag the inquisitive hand down and Aragorn continued to curiously probe the pointed tip of Legolas' sensitive ear.

"You're not human," Aragorn finally breathed.

Finally, Legolas' hand tightened around Aragorn's wrist and moved the hand away. "No," he nevertheless answered honestly.

Aragorn searched his memory of his father's tales for mention of those beings on Middle Earth who looked like Legolas did and found one, exclaiming, "You're an Elf!"

"Yes."

"But you…I didn't know."

"Perhaps you should be more observant in future then." It wasn't said meanly but rather with a touch of amusement.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"I didn't think it was important." Legolas looked down at the boy with no small amount of concern and asked, "Is it important?"

In the dark, Aragorn shrugged. "I suppose not. I would just have liked to have known."

"Then I apologise," Legolas said in all sincerity.

Aragorn had never heard him speak with such softness and for the very first time he felt the cold, unwanted bond they had been forced into mellow ever so slightly.

Arathorn had tried to teach his son as much about the old world as he could, even though such legend was barely within living memory anymore, and had, around the fire as night descended, told an enraptured Aragorn of the legends of the ancient and enigmatic race of the Elves. Now, Aragorn sifted through his memory, clamouring to find references.

"Do you live forever?" the boy finally asked.

Legolas repressed a sigh at the renewed questioning but vowed to not allow the questions to become too personal for comfort again. "I am immortal, yes."

"But you can die?"

"If injured, yes." He failed to mention that his kind could also fade – soul and body - from the earth as a result of deep, unshakeable grief that plagued their fragile hearts in the wake of great loss and sadness.

"But you never grow old?"

"I have been on this earth for over two thousand years," Legolas replied simply, picturing Aragorn's curious grey eyes widening in surprise at the incomprehensible – for a human, anyway - number.

"So you remember…?"

"Yes." The Elf didn't require Aragorn to finish his sentence to know what he was going to ask – what Middle Earth had been like before the war with Sauron. That was not the kind of thing he really wished to discuss right then; it was still too painful to even think about the things he had seen, the things he had done, let alone to talk about them.

Sensing that Legolas wasn't going to elaborate, Aragorn moved swiftly on, unwilling to miss this opportunity to interrogate an Elf. "Do you have any other powers?" he asked with almost painful innocence.

Aragorn listened intently as Legolas chuckled in amusement. "I can see further and hear more clearly than you but, powers…? No."

"Oh." Dredging up his father's words from his mind, Aragorn asked, "Can you talk to plants?"

At this, Legolas once again grew sullen. "Once, yes, but no longer."

"Why not?"

Sighing sadly, Legolas' eyes shifted about their resting place. "Because there is nothing left now to speak to." He remembered in his home, living amongst the splendid, lush forest of Mirkwood, how the trees had sang to him soft songs of sheer joy and comfort; remembered how they had endlessly rejoiced in the presence of the prince who walked freely amidst their deep roots and soaring canopies. How he had loved to sit among them and let their rich, soothing melody wash over him, ridding him of the shadow and doubt that clouded his thoughts when restricted within the sometimes cold stone walls of his father's mighty palace by duty.

"Legolas?" Aragorn's voice rang out through the night air, startling Legolas from his unwelcome reverie.

As his misty blue eyes cleared, Legolas hastily pushed those thoughts aside and shoved away the burning rising in his chest. Through no fault of Aragorn's, at the boy's words, he had fallen into painful thought again. If only he could scrub those past memories from his head so he would never have to endure their taunting images ever again.

"Yes?"

"I'm sorry."

"For what? You have done nothing." All warmth, Aragorn noted, had now dissipated from Legolas' voice and he knew Legolas well enough now to be certain that answers to questions would no longer be forthcoming. "Get some rest now."

Realising the conversation had been officially ended, Aragorn laid down on the ground and did as instructed, closing his eyes on Legolas and the night. His mind was whirling and spinning almost dizzyingly with the new knowledge he had gained but his exhaustion was such that it was mere moments before he slipped into sleep.

Meanwhile, Legolas sat in contemplative silence until the thoughts threatened to entirely consume him in the unpleasant past once more and he pulled his dagger, stolen from a human corpse years ago and bearing no connection at all to his fallen kingdom, from his bag and started his ritual of keeping the blade clean and sharp. As long fingers curled around the crude wooden handle, a small niggle of a warning sparked in the back of his mind warning him that danger was nearby.

OIOI

Aragorn woke to the pale, lacklustre light of dawn cold and uncomfortable. He was laid on his back and he sat up awkwardly with a wince at the ache that had, overnight, developed in his muscles. Yawning wide, Aragorn looked around himself to find Legolas dozing lightly on the ground, closer to him than usual, a dagger resting on the ground inches from his hand as if poised and ready to use if needed. He couldn't tell if this was normal practice as it was Legolas who usually woke him in the morning.

Deciding it best not to wake Legolas whilst he slept, Aragorn dragged himself to his feet.

As he went to walk away though, Legolas' voice rang out softly through the eerie still of the morning. "Where are you going?"

Aragorn turned on the spot to see alert blue eyes watching him. "Just over there," he pointed towards some bracken on the other side of the road. He was surprised that his guardian had bothered to ask; the rule was to always remain within shouting distance, Legolas never normally wished to know precisely where he was at all times.

Now the Elf's eyes narrowed as he followed Aragorn's finger towards the bare bushes on the other side of the road. That odd niggling sensation that something was out of place that had kept him up for most of the night still lingered in the light of dawn and his fingers subconsciously twitched towards the dagger resting at his side.

"Can I go?" Aragorn fidgeted uncomfortably on the spot.

"Yes, but stay within my sight."

"What? No!" the boy protested, outraged. True, he and Legolas had warmed to each other a little but there were some private things he did not wish to share with or have the Elf witness. "I'll only be over there."

Legolas sighed in defeat, sitting upright. "Very well. But take this with you," he added quickly before Aragorn could dash away, holding the dagger out to him. Aragorn looked at him, startled. The one time he had dared to dig through the bags in search of food, Legolas had snatched them away and proceeded to warn him that the weapons contained within were sharp and dangerous to untrained hands and not to be touched. Not once had he ever suggested that Aragorn arm himself and Aragorn had never questioned that decision as he had never had to do so before; his father had always protected him from harm and he now expected Legolas, his appointed guardian, to do the same.

"Why?" Aragorn asked anxiously even as he stepped forwards.

Legolas snapped back, "Because I said so."

Disconcerted by this blunt command, Aragorn reached out and curled his hesitant fingers around the marked and scratched wooden handle. It was heavier than he'd imagined in the palm of his hand as Legolas released his careful grip on the pitted blade.

"Do not put this down," Legolas told him seriously.

"Can I go now?" the boy asked in a much less certain voice than previously.

"Yes, but…"

"Stay within shouting distance; I know."

Legolas nodded firmly and with some hesitance now Aragorn slowly turned away from the Elf. His guardian was on edge, more so than Aragorn had ever seen before and this realisation sent a twinge of fright through him. He stumbled slightly as he walked with the intention of keeping his guardian within his sights for as long as possible, but in the end, favouring staying upright, he turned to look at the path ahead of him to better concentrate on where he was putting his feet so he didn't trip over.

Hurrying behind the bush, bare but for its thick, brittle branches, Aragorn took care of his body's natural needs.

OIOI

Legolas found himself restless, more so than he had felt in a long, long while. In the past, he could have pinned down the potential threat that continued to infuriatingly niggle at the back of his mind with relative ease, turning to the world around him to discover the cause of the disturbance. Now, with nothing to indicate the danger, Legolas felt as if he was stumbling around in the dark, as clueless and unsettled as he had ever felt.

Yet, he recalled recently feeling this same kind of nervous energy. If only he could remember where exactly it had been.

OIOI

Aragorn spun around quickly at the slight rustle the sounded behind him. There was a gentle breeze this morning and it blew over him, only adding to his unease despite the fact that he should have been able to rationally dismiss the rustling as nothing more than dried out branches being disturbed by the wind. Something was wrong, he realised with growing dread. Aragorn turned back slowly with the intention of immediately returning to the relative safety of Legolas' presence but this time a twig blatantly snapped behind him, cracking through the quiet air like the snap of a whip and making him jump in fright.

Perhaps, he thought, it was a stray animal foraging through the dry undergrowth for food making the strange noises. This realisation just didn't ring true in his mind though and he shivered slightly as the breeze brought with it the potent feeling of danger.

Common sense fairly screamed at him to run back to Legolas, and yet, for some reason beyond his comprehension, his legs, almost of their own accord, carried him haltingly towards the sound. As he proceeded towards the source of the disturbance, Aragorn glanced anxiously back over his shoulder, wondering whether he remained still within shouting distance of Legolas. He would turn back soon, he resolved, whether he located the careless creature or not.

Off to Aragorn's left was a small copse of trees, their branches all stripped completely bare; no sign of life in them anymore. Aragorn rounded them with caution, now acutely aware of the weight of Legolas' dagger gripped in his small hand. Honestly, he wasn't sure if he could actually use the weapon if the situation called for it but its presence was still a reassuring thought, a last line of defence if all else failed.

Tension made him wary and he felt that he heard everything within a hundred leagues of here even though the space around him was as silent as ever. His eyes darted around anxiously, even though there was no more rustling from the trees, for now he was convinced that the noise had originated from the copse of dead trees.

As it turned out though, he was thoroughly mistaken. As he moved around the trees, there came into view a tiny oasis in the middle of the dry, cracked mud. And stood drinking from this pool was a huge stag. The impressive creature must have heard his approach as its neck snapped up and it stared wide-eyed at the human boy who'd disturbed it.

Relief immediately flooded through Aragorn when he realised that no real danger existed. He smiled at the proud creature. Such sights were rare – although he remembered his father with the Rangers had once brought down a similar beast, on which they had then feasted gladly – so Aragorn took full advantage of the opportunity, his eyes keenly studying the magnificent stag. With ribs showing through scarred, furred skin, it was clear that the creature was starving, like so many, and would have been twice the size had it been in peak condition. Amazement banished the caution that had previously rang loud in Aragorn's mind and he took a slow step forward so as not to alarm the skittish animal.

The bracken that lay beneath his clumsy feet crackled as he stepped on it and the stag suddenly bolted, running away from the intruder, their spell of mutual interest broken.

"Wait," Aragorn called and instinctively went to chase after it.

His chase was thwarted, however, by a rock in his path tripping him up. He fell hard, sprawled on his front on the dry ground, the dagger flying from his now loose grip to land a couple of feet away from him. Groaning softly at his stupidity, he climbed up to a slightly more elegant sitting position and cradled his grazed knee with a hiss of pain. The beast he had been so curious about had, by now, long disappeared. After uttering a curse he had once heard his father use, Aragorn went to drag himself to his feet, only to find his jacket snagged on something.

Turning awkwardly, Aragorn grabbed his jacket and, after discovering that tugging would not free it, dug into the bracken with his fingers to disentangle himself. Finally free, he pulled himself up and looked down in exasperation at that which had held him.

Shock shot through him, numbing and paralysing his body so he physically couldn't move from the spot upon which he had frozen. Then came the terror, making him quake where he stood. His mouth opened to scream but he found that he was incapable of making any sound louder than a whispered whimper. He longed to run but he couldn't get his stiff legs to work. Suddenly, he became aware that he no longer held his dagger and although he didn't know that in this particular situation it would do him much good, he craved its reassuring weight in his hand once more. No, he craved protection. That was what he needed. He needed Legolas.

After an indeterminate amount of time, Aragorn finally found that feeling had returned to his legs and he was at last able to turn and run. The watering hole and small dead grove of barren trees had appeared so innocent earlier in his distraction. But now, as he really saw it, he noticed the gruesome sights that littered the trees and the clearing surrounding them.

Crude wooden stakes had been driven into the hard ground amongst and around the trees. On top of each of these was impaled the heads of what looked to be humans in varying degrees of mutilation and decomposition. No doubt one of these, perhaps even the closest to Aragorn, which still oozed thick, black blood, belonged to the torso – minus arms and legs – that Aragorn had just fallen over.

Unable to take all this horror, Aragorn just stood staring, essentially trapped in this place now.

OIOI

Legolas was running even before the he heard the shrill scream of the child he had been charged with looking after. White-handled knives were clenched in his hands and he charged along the path he presumed Aragorn had also taken.

As he neared the copse of trees from which the scream had come, Legolas noticed the warning signs that his young companion, in his distraction, had failed to spot. He spat out an ancient and thoroughly filthy Elvish curse when he saw the pile of bodies, stripped of all meaningful flesh and left to rot into the tainted earth. Easily, he dodged the stakes bearing their gruesome warnings and finally he saw the young Aragorn staring in dumb shock into the trees amongst which stood more grotesque signs that depravity and evil held sway over this portion of land.

"Aragorn," Legolas called loudly, gaining no response from the shocked child, so the Elf continued to run and simply snatched Aragorn up into his arms and ran as fast as he could, carrying the boy away from the grisly sights, eager to be away before what he feared most occurred.

It was not to be, however. Aragorn heard a great roar echo around them and Legolas quickly spun to face the evil monsters that were by now bearing down on them. Quickly, Legolas dropped Aragorn on his feet and took his knives in each hand once more.

"Stand tall," he told Aragorn as the boy clung to his leg in fear. "Do not be afraid."

Before Aragorn could shamelessly plea with Legolas to stay with him, the Elf had charged towards the Orcs that were emerging from the trees with frightening fury. The boy's eyes closed of their own accord as Legolas clashed head-on with the monsters, not wanting to see his one and only friend brutally cut down.

Legolas fought with well-practiced precision and fury, as was necessary when battling the merciless creatures of Sauron. Ever conscious was he of the child behind him and he actively worked to keep the monsters at bay, to keep them from reaching the terrified child who cowered. There were too many of the Orcs for one warrior though and, as they continued to trample through the trees, he came to the realisation that he would soon be completely overwhelmed by them.

The Prince of Mirkwood did not fear death; he had not feared it since he had watched helplessly as his father was cut down by the filth of Sauron's legions within the besieged palace of his people, but now Legolas worried deeply for the child recently entrusted into his care, for the boy did not seek death as he did and did not deserve it either. That warmth that had just started to form between them paled – worryingly – in comparison to the protectiveness that this threat of danger stirred in Legolas. Nothing could happen to that child – he had promised Arathorn that and he intended to stick to his vow, even if he had to die for the cause.

The fight was, as always with the Orcs, dirty and brutal. Legolas' arms ached with exertion as he slashed and stabbed without pause, abandoning his traditional graceful Elven moves for a more base, sharp fighting style, preferring speed over accuracy on this occasion. As long as his enemy was disabled and unable to continue attacking then he was sufficiently satisfied.

Aragorn stood back, pressed against the rock that stood behind where Legolas had unceremoniously dumped him. His hands remained clenched into tight fists as he willed his body to do something, even if it was the simple action of opening his eyes. All around him he could hear the uproar of the on-going battle and the noises scared him too much to do anything at all. He was terrified of seeing the broken bodies again and of witnessing the battle in which Legolas would almost certainly fall. So, he crouched there, blind to the storm that pulsed and slammed around him.

So far no one had seemed to have noticed him – no doubt currently distracted by the Elf attacking them – but he couldn't imagine going unnoticed for very much longer. Perhaps he too would be killed this day and his whirring mind suggested that perhaps that would be better than having to live all alone in the world.

Being weakened as he was, it wasn't long before the adrenaline wore off and his aching turned into genuine fatigue. Of course, Legolas would not stop as long as the Orcs continued to attack. Aragorn needed him now. Mercifully, the Orcs were, as they had always been, exceptionally stupid fighters and did not have the wits to recognise and take advantage of the Elf's fatigue.

Legolas, in the end, was saved by the most unexpected of things. Above the noise of the battle came a loud, high-pitched roar of savage anger and suddenly there were many more involved in the skirmish. Pale-faced wild Men came running through the bare trees, weapons raised, screaming a dreadful battle cry.

The Elf momentarily drew back as the Orcs were also distracted by the sheer base, feral ferocity of this unforeseen onslaught. At first, Legolas feared that the crazed Men would side with the evil creations of Sauron, as they more resembled the twisted monsters of the Dark Lord than they did Humans, but they instead immediately started slashing at whatever stood in their paths.

With the arrival of these new, savage invaders, the majority of the Orcs left standing turned their attentions to the greater threat currently posed to their lives. Still firmly on the defensive, Legolas struck down one bold Orc that threatened to get past him and head towards the cowering Aragorn, who was by now staring in utter terror at the bloody battle raging ever closer to him.

Deciding that this new, unanticipated but fortuitous assault presented the ideal opportunity to make his getaway, Legolas slowly moved away, never once turning his back on the brutal battle for fear that the distraction provided by the Wild Men would still not wholly conceal his movements.

As Legolas neared the blatantly terrified Aragorn though, something charged at him from the left, slamming into him so hard that it very nearly knocked him completely off balance and to the blood-soaked ground. The attacker – he couldn't initially be sure whether it was Orc or Human – swung a weapon at his head and he quickly ducked to avoid the crude strike before slamming his own slight weight against the much bulkier body of his attacker and pushing him to the ground to land inches from Aragorn's feet. He heard the boy's cry of fear and horror, mingled with the unpleasant dying gurgles of the Man – a Man, he realised because the blood that spurted copiously from his slit throat and that also coated Legolas' blade was bright red rather than the thick, poisonous black of the Orcs. He felt no guilt over the man's death, no matter how brutal the execution, only relief that he himself had survived another attack.

Climbing with an awkwardness that any self-respecting Elf would laugh at to his feet, Legolas reached for the still frozen boy and quite literally dragged him away.

Although Aragorn knew in some small part of his shock-numbed mind that Legolas would take him to safety and that he should follow, he simply couldn't make his body move in accordance with his mind's commands, and he ended up continuously tripping over and very nearly falling to his knees in the blood-drenched ground. Legolas' hand gripping the back of his jacket just about prevented that from happening but could not provide sufficient distraction from the horrific sight of so much death.

Darkness crept into the corners of his already blurred vision as he caught a fleeting glimpse of the grisly pile of dismembered Human corpses he had missed on his way towards the stand of trees. Just before he could fall heavily to the ground though, Legolas' confident arms had swept him up off the ground, perhaps weary of dragging his unresponsive charge along.

Dripping with blood and sweat himself, Legolas was yet another reminder of the horrors he had just watched but Aragorn did not care and he clenched his eyes shut, wrapped his arms and legs tightly around the running Elf and buried his face in Legolas' shoulder. Legolas was taking him away from all this and right at that moment that was all that mattered.

Aragorn would have liked to have kept running from the battlefield indefinitely but after only a few minutes, Legolas came to a gradual halt and Aragorn felt him down kneel on the ground. Strong hands pried him off the warm body and he found himself placed laid on his front on dried grass. He wanted to open his eyes again, to see where they were but he feared what he might see if he dared. Wanting to be close to his protector, Aragorn reluctantly reached out for Legolas and his fingers came into contact with the damp fabric of Legolas' jacket – although damp with what he did not wish to know.

Feeling Aragorn's shaking hand reaching out to him, Legolas laid his own hand on the boy's heaving back.

"Breathe," the Elf instructed in a voice so soft that Aragorn wasn't entirely sure if it had ever actually been spoken.

"Legolas…" he trembled, his hand fisting tightly around his saviour's jacket.

"We must be silent now," Legolas berated in hushed tones. "Be silent."

So Aragorn remained absolutely silent as instructed, concentrating on Legolas at his side as well as on steadying his erratic heartbeat and breathing, which he realised as it calmed had been perilously close to hyperventilation. Whenever a shaky sob escaped his lips, which was fairly often given his ordeal, Legolas' hand would slide across his back to squeeze his shoulder in reassurance and he would cling to that small act of comfort.

He didn't know how long they laid there, front down on the cold, dry ground, but to Aragorn it seemed like an eternity. Legolas never moved once and made no attempt to speak although in his self-imposed darkness Aragorn longed to hear his voice. Only occasionally would Legolas' hand stroke his ward's back very slightly, simply telling him, without having to speak and possibly give away their position, that everything was still alright.

Finally, just as his arms and legs were starting to cramp from prolonged inactivity, Legolas spoke in his normal voice, startling Aragorn slightly after so much time in silence. "We have to go now."

Suddenly terrified at the prospect of moving from this spot and perhaps drawing the attention of the attacking Orcs and Wild Men, Aragorn whimpered softly and firmly shook his head in refusal. With this renewed fear that pounded in his chest, he doubted he would be able to move his rigid body anyway. He longed to communicate this to Legolas, to make him understand that he didn't want to move from a place of safety, but he found himself unable to make his voice work either.

"It is safe now," Legolas told him confidently as he stood, lifting the trembling child into his arms again.

Aragorn clung fiercely to him once more, so the Elf did not even attempt to lower him to the ground and make him walk of his own volition; it was easier to do it this way.

Held in Legolas' arms, Aragorn relaxed a very little. If Legolas considered it to be safe then surely it must be so. He laid his head against his guardian's shoulder once more in mild relief.

In truth, Legolas was surprised when the skittish child managed to fall asleep as he walked but he was glad for it all the same. He didn't like to see the boy upset.

Legolas was actually quite relieved that, as far as he could tell, Aragorn hadn't yet opened his eyes to see his mentor covered in both the red and black blood of Man and Orc respectively. His appearance would have posed a truly terrifying sight to the already frightened boy.

He walked for as long as his legs would support him, ending up on the banks of a river. Ordinarily, he would never consider venturing so close to such a popular place, where danger often congregated, but he needed to clean himself up before Aragorn woke. So, he gently laid Aragorn down on the ground, surprised when he didn't as much as stir. He hoped that this was merely sleep and nothing more sinister. He knew nothing about Human physiology and didn't know what he would do if the boy fell ill whilst in his care.

To Be Continued…