The War of Light and Shadow
By Freddie23
OIOIOIOI
Disclaimer: I own nothing Tolkien created.
A/N: Thanks so much to all those still reading and for the reviews. Here's a brand new chapter for you to peruse. Enjoy.
OIOIOIOIOIOI
Chapter 27 – Welcome Home
The sleepy hush of the camp was split by an ear-piercing cry and immediately the Rangers woke at the harsh sound, reaching for their weapons to confront whatever danger was surely now upon them. However, despite their smoothness and speed perfected from many such actions in the past, it was Legolas who found and reached the source of the disturbance first. He raced nimbly around the Men, dropping his white knives as he fell to his knees at Aragorn's side. The boy thrashed wildly beneath the blanket, struggling with unconscious violence as Legolas' hands reached to cease his frantic movements.
"Aragorn!" he called loudly as he tried to restrain the man, made strong through his fear. "Wake." Shoving at the Elf, fingers automatically curling around his guardian's shirt as though he could offer protection through the veil of sleep, Aragorn made no other response but to throw his head back and scream as though in searing agony. "Aragorn, wake now!" His calls had no effect, lost in the screaming and the darkness of the nightmare Aragorn found himself trapped inside. So Legolas changed tact. He laid his hands on either side of his ward's tear-stained face, leaned in close and commanded softly, "Come back to me, child."
The Elf's words, spoken achingly gently through the commotion, had better effect than his cries could ever have done and suddenly Aragorn gasped loudly, his eyes snapping open as he woke, wide in terror at what he had witnessed in the darkness of his dreams. He sat up abruptly, forcing the Elf to make a rather hasty retreat backwards in unison. He fell then into Legolas' already open arms, face pressed deeply into Legolas' chest where he felt safe, protected. The scream that continued into the waking world, still loud and unrestrained, became muffled by the fabric of his guardian's shirt and jacket. Stiff fingers clawed at Legolas, clenching tightly as he cried, eyes squeezed tightly shut in the hope of banishing the images seen in the night, of securing some semblance of control over himself.
Legolas laid his hands gently on Aragorn's trembling back, concerned that the young man had not yet ceased his worryingly howling and by the shakes that rattled his thin body. What could possibly have upset his ward so much? Rubbing his back soothingly, Legolas leaned in closer to the man, whispering, "Shh, it's alright now. You are safe here."
"Legolas?" Kinnale asked of the Elven prince, taking an uncertain step towards them, his hand still resting on the pommel of his sword, wary of danger that may still have been lurking within the Human camp.
Glancing down at the boy, crying and trembling in fear against him, Legolas stroked the dark curls atop his head then turned back to the startled Rangers gathered before them, watching in interest. "All is well," he told them in a voice meant to reassure. Any demons on Amon Sul this night could not be defeated by a sword but rather by warm comfort. The Rangers had nothing to fear.
Gently he then prised Aragorn away from him a little way and the man lifted his head, frightened grey eyes drinking in the comforting sight of Legolas' face softly lit by firelight. Legolas rubbed his thumbs gently over Aragorn's cheeks, brushing at the tears that continued to stream freely.
Moving his hands down to rest on the young man's arms, Legolas said softly, "Come; let us move somewhere more private." He got smoothly to his feet, keeping hold of Aragorn's hand and tugging on it when he made no move to stand himself. "On your feet," he commanded, knowing that the young man would respond to firm instruction. And indeed, with Legolas' support, he climbed up, embarrassed now at being watched by so many as he struggled to gain his balance. Unfazed, the Elf laid his hand on Aragorn's back to lead him away from the others.
On his way past, Legolas snatched up the flask of water, then led Aragorn out into the darkness, to the site of their own smaller camp the night before meeting the Rangers.
"Sit," he told his ward, pushing him down gently to sit on one of the now familiar crumbling stone walls. He uncorked the flask of water then held it out for Aragorn to take. "Drink this." As he raised the drink to his lips, Legolas noticed how Aragorn's hands still continued to tremble dreadfully. For a long while, they sat in silence, Aragorn breathing erratically, even as he tried to calm himself, and Legolas watching him through the poor light just about reaching them from the Rangers' fire.
When at last the young man had calmed sufficiently, Legolas, crouched on the ground before him, asked, "What haunts your dreams, Aragorn? What upsets you so?"
Aragorn opened his mouth as if to speak but when the words failed to come he settled for just shaking his head in response.
"Talk to me, Aragorn. You can tell me anything. What did you dream?"
Shaking his head again, Aragorn managed to choke out a reply this time. "Not a…dream. Something far more…real."
"A premonition?" Legolas asked with a concerned frown. Never had he imagined that his young ward would suffer from visions of the past or future. Such things were usually reserved for the Blessed and although Aragorn did have the blood of the Firstborn within him, Legolas could not have anticipated that it would be strong enough to allow for such a gift to emerge. If it had indeed been a premonition.
"I don't know." Aragorn answered, still sounding breathless and tearful. "But it felt so real."
Even though he understood from the boy's distress that even in wakefulness the horrors yet lingered in Aragorn's mind, Legolas felt he had to ask about them, to learn what this child destined for great things had seen. He asked kindly so as not to push his ward once more over the brink of panic, "Tell me what you saw and ease your burden, child."
Aragorn was quiet for a long time, gathering his thoughts together before he even attempted to speak of his nightmare to his guardian. And Legolas allowed the silence, waited patiently for his ward to be ready to speak. After all, he knew all too well of the difficulties of facing the things that haunted the mind.
When he did finally start, his voice was so quiet that had Legolas not possessed the superior hearing of the Elven race, he feared he would have struggled to catch what was being said. "I dreamed of…of him, of Sauron." Aragorn paused to let this revelation sink in, half expecting Legolas to demand that he speak no more of such darkness, or perhaps for the Elf himself to fall into panic. But although the prince's eyes did flash briefly with concern and he visibly tensed, he nevertheless nodded for the man to continue and, somewhat more at ease at Legolas' lack of alarm, Aragorn did just that. "I was in a tower in the Black Lands where he dwelt. And there was a room, piled with the dead, the Rangers of the North." He swallowed thickly at this particularly vivid memory, lowering his gaze when Legolas' eyes again shone with concern for him. Shuddering, he continued, "And…you were there also."
"Go on," Legolas prompted the man to keep going when he struggled with the words.
"He had you, was…was hurting you and…he told me that you would die at his hands."
At this, Legolas moved quickly, getting up to sit beside Aragorn on the wall. Laying his arm across his charge's stooped shoulders, he leaned in close. "That will never happen."
Aragorn gave a short snort of laughter and demanded, "How can you know that for certain?"
"Because I do."
Shaking his head, Aragorn looked down at his hands, stilled now that his shaking had ceased. "He offered me a choice: if I surrendered myself to his will then he would let you go free."
"Aragorn…" Legolas sighed in despair, having already guessed where this was leading.
"I did it, Legolas. I gave myself over to the Shadow to spare your life. But…but he deceived me. He took everything away from me and he killed you anyway," Aragorn cried, his voice breaking as he spat out the bitter truth.
"Listen to me, what you saw was a dream and nothing more. Nightmares do not come true, even those that seem so very real to us."
Aragorn shook his head firmly this time, looking once more to his mentor in renewed desperation. "You can't know that, Legolas. I surrendered to him and I didn't even think twice about what the consequences might be. What if…what if it all comes true? What if, when the time comes, I am too weak to resist?"
Legolas was silent for a moment, staring steadily into the frightened eyes of his young charge. He was quiet for so long that Aragorn began to wonder if perhaps he could think of no reassurance to offer and he suddenly became desperately worried that the Elf would do the most sensible thing and cut his losses whilst he still could, leaving the foolish young boy he had unwillingly rescued far behind and carry on with his miserable but safe life alone. Perhaps Legolas would return to the Old Forest Road near his devastated homeland where he had always seemed the most at peace to Aragorn. Or maybe return to be with his kin in Rivendell. Either way, Aragorn would not begrudge him it.
However, instead of running, Legolas rested his hands on Aragorn's, capturing the man's wandering, uncertain gaze.
"Aragorn," the Elf started with a small, enigmatic smile, "if the time comes when you must face that particular Evil, when you take a stand against the Shadow that hangs over these lands, I have not a single doubt in my mind that against it you will prevail. Despite a whole world indicating the contrary, over Darkness, Light will triumph and you shall be the one to facilitate such change. Regardless of my fate, of yours I am and always have been certain – or I would not have sacrificed so much for you."
Tears streamed freely down Aragorn's face as he absorbed his guardian's kind, sincere words, taking great comfort in them. "How can you have such faith in a world that you hate?" he asked shakily.
Frowning, Legolas corrected the boy's view, "I do not hate this world. If I did then how could I ever have found the heart to fight for its freedom as I have done all these years at your side? My adoration of this weakening world has bound me forever to it. I had the chance to leave once and I denied the call of the West and my own salvation."
Drawing in a deep, shuddering breath, Aragorn cried softly, "And through me delivered yourself to damnation instead."
"I do not believe that."
"Then you do not trust me after all?"
"In you I trust. But dreams are convoluted and vague and never to be relied upon as fact. They lie. To walk down the path they would guide you can only lead to danger and despair." Aragorn seemed unconvinced by his assurances no matter how wise they may have sounded. "And if what you saw does indeed come to pass, then I trust you to do what if right. And I believe, without any doubt in my mind, that my fate, whatever it may be, is not of your making. I made my decision, Aragorn. I was influenced by no other. I alone must bear whatever consequences lie in my future."
Another quiet sob emanated deep from Aragorn's chest and he embraced his mentor tightly, burying his face in Legolas' shoulder. "I'm so sorry."
"You have nothing to be sorry for."
"Those words I spoke to you…"
"Already forgotten, child. Do not trouble yourself over something so small as my feelings; not when you have more important things on your mind."
"I do worry. You've given me everything and all I can do is hurt you in return."
Legolas rubbed the man's back soothingly. "Shush now. You owe me nothing, Aragorn. Let us forget all about this." He pulled back a little once more, wiping the tears from Aragorn's cheeks with long, pale fingers. "You must rest now."
Aragorn pulled his head away from Legolas' touch and whispered, "I cannot sleep. I do not wish to."
"Perhaps you do not wish it, but you must."
"When I woke, I did not expect you to be at my side. I thought you might have left me to the Rangers; rid yourself of my keeping for good."
"I would never do that; as you ought to know by now. I was close by, as I always will be."
"Don't make promises you can't keep," Aragorn told his guardian sternly.
"This is one promise I fully intend to keep," Legolas smiled easily - infuriatingly easily in Aragorn's eyes. He then released the man and got up from the wall. "We leave not long after dawn for the town of Men Kinnale deems a safe refuge, and you need to sleep in preparation for the journey." Aragorn rolled his eyes at the fussing words but he knew that in this Legolas would not relent. "Come back and sit by the fire."
"Can I not stay here tonight? I'm not sure I can tolerate being back amongst the Rangers just yet," the boy said, recalling the image of them stacked on top of one another in the blood-spattered room, slaughtered by the Shadow-creatures in Barad-dur.
Legolas' eyes drifted towards where the Men were, now all wide awake in the wake of the commotion caused by their newly discovered king, gathered around the fire, which had been stoked up, and were casting none too discreet glances in the direction of himself and Aragorn every now and then even though it was too dark to see much beyond the bubble of firelight. He could well understand the man's reluctance – all eyes would undoubtedly be upon him at his return amongst them.
"Very well," Legolas agreed. "Wait here; I'll fetch you a blanket."
"Thank you."
Smiling thinly at him, the Elf walked purposefully back to where the Men remained in the camp.
Upon his return, the Rangers hastily dispersed as if trying for the pretence that they had not been attempting to see and hear what was going on between Man and Elf in the darkness. Only Kinnale boldly remained where he was, waiting to speak with Legolas.
"How is he?" the commander of the Rangers asked when Legolas came close.
"He will be well. It was only a nightmare. Who among us has not suffered the horror of nightmares on occasion?"
"Indeed," Kinnale agreed quietly. He fell into silent reflection for a moment and Legolas took advantage of his pause to pick up Aragorn's blanket and pack from where they had been left on the ground. When he stood back up, the man was smiling at him.
By way of explanation, Legolas told the tall man, "For Aragorn. He wants some privacy for the rest of the night. We'll continue in the morning as usual."
"Very well." As the Elf walked away from him, Kinnale asked, "Will he be alright, Legolas?"
"Aragorn? He will be fine." Legolas smiled once more at him then turned, going back to his young charge. In his absence, Aragorn had managed to pull himself together some more and he actually managed to force a smile as his mentor approached. Legolas laid the blanket on the ground and told the man with some sternness, "Now you must rest."
The man nodded reluctantly. Although the sickening images conjured in the dark hours of his sleep had been somewhat quelled by Legolas' soothing words he had no wish for a repeat performance of those horrors. Remaining awake was by far the safest option but he doubted that Legolas would allow him to sit up for the rest of the night. So, he laid down and wrapped the threadbare blanket tightly around himself to ward off the chill. He would spend what remained of the night pretending to sleep simply to appease his mentor.
OIOI
Five Days Later
Aragorn found himself surrounded by more people than he had seen in one place in his entire life. Close at his side, Legolas seemed equally overwhelmed and discomforted by the bustling, noisy crowd of Men. Only the Rangers looked pleased for the exuberant welcome they received upon entering their hometown of Bree. Even Legolas and Aragorn, who were most certainly to be considered strangers, were welcomed as old friends returning home after long years away. They were congratulated and embraced by those lucky enough to have squeezed themselves to the front of the seething mass of people as they made their way through the streets and finally entered what Aragorn presumed to be the town's main tavern.
Drinks were thrust unceremoniously into their hands and Legolas immediately recognised the sickly smell of the potent alcohol Kinnale had offered Aragorn previously at their camp upon Weathertop, so he took the wooden goblet from the young man before he could even take a sip and returned both cups to the bar with a loud, irritated clunk.
When Legolas turned back around, an enormous man was stood before him, towering above even the tall Elf. Clad in leather and fur and bearing a heavy sword in his hand, the man glared down at the two strangers entering the tavern for the first time with no hint of the friendliness bestowed upon them by the town's other celebrating occupants.
"What has been brought among us?" the giant man demanded with such a thick accent that Legolas could hardly understand the deep, booming words.
"This," Kinnale stepped in with a small flourish to rescue the pair, "is Legolas and Aragorn, friends and the newest additions to our cause." The commander grinned broadly and patted the huge man fearlessly on the back, for which Legolas admired him somewhat. "And this," the commander then introduced to the two newcomers, "is Garlan. Do not worry yourselves; he is not as brutish as he appears on first sight."
"Good to know," Legolas murmured darkly to Aragorn.
"Come on, let's get you some food." Kinnale guided the pair away from the mass of people crowded around the rejoicing Rangers, and gestured to a free table at the very back of the establishment. Both sat down in wobbly, creaky wooden chairs with some reticence, looking anxiously around them as Kinnale returned to the bar, gratefully accepting the praise he received on the way through. It seemed he had been through this kind of chaotic homecoming before and he clearly enjoyed the attention.
"Legolas?" Aragorn asked in growing concern, leaning over the table so he could address his guardian with some small measure of privacy.
"I know," the prince agreed without any doubt whatsoever over what Aragorn was thinking. "Grin and bear it for now; we'll extricate ourselves as soon as possible."
Looking around himself, Aragorn muttered softly enough that only the Elf would hear, "I don't like it here."
"Me either."
Kinnale returned a moment later carrying three metal dishes on which sat a small block of cheese, an apple and a hunk of bread. Aragorn looked down doubtfully at the mostly unfamiliar food placed on the table before him – he had never seen any of the items presented to him before. When he looked to Legolas for reassurance though, the Elf calmly nodded that it was alright to eat and he curiously picked up the small round fruit, bringing it to his nose to smell before taking a small bite. Sweet, juicy and surprisingly nice, he smiled in approval and took another, more hearty bite.
"How is it that you have perishable food?" Legolas asked, using his fingers to tear off a small chunk of fresh bread.
Swallowing down a large bite of his own food with no hesitation at all, Kinnale answered, "We have managed to plough and sow the fields around Bree, bringing them back from the brink. We keep a limited number of cattle for milk and have brought the orchards back to life as well. It wasn't easy, let me tell you, but there were a few farmers amongst us in the beginning and they built the land's crops up suitably well for our needs. Our crops are never excellent or plentiful but for a limited season they sustain us sufficiently. We store grain for the winter months or in case the crops fail, we preserve a little meat if we can."
"The crops fail often?"
"More often than we would like. But we are a frugal people and we get by with what we have," Kinnale smiled at the pair.
"And you remain untroubled by the allies of Shadow?" Legolas asked then, for surely such a successful population of Men could not fail to attract the attention of the forces of Darkness that patrolled the lands.
A shadow passed over the man's features and he lowered his food back to his plate slowly, as if remembering events past had stripped him of his appetite in an instant. "Not wholly untroubled," he finally spoke quietly, eyes lowered to the table, fingers idly picking apart the thick crust of his bread portion. "There have been attacks. Many lives have been lost, much property destroyed. But we are warriors and we did all necessary to protect our lands and our people. We are a small community, Lord Legolas, and I believe it is our apparent insignificance that has kept the forces of the Dark Lord at bay all these years."
"Insignificant?" Aragorn echoed in surprise. "But you stand against the armies of Shadow."
Kinnale took a long, fortifying swig from his tankard then nodded. "Yes, my lord, we do. But we work often in secret, killing only a small number of the Shadow's allies in order to protect those of good heart who still gather together in these fractured lands. We are indeed insignificant enough to avoid any serious assault on our small town."
There was a long, tense silence after that before Aragorn said softly, "But now…"
Legolas continued for him, "Our being here endangers your entire population, Kinnale."
The man nodded once more, thoughtfully, then grimly replied, "In a war, to do the right thing, sacrifices must be made."
Both Elf and boy were surprised by his candour and Aragorn looked from Kinnale around the small but bustling tavern, filled with men, women and children, visibly paling. "Excuse me," he said, abruptly standing up and fighting his way out of the building.
"Did I say something wrong?" the commander asked anxiously, straightening in his chair in order to watch the young man's retreat.
"Uh, no. I should go after him." The Elf got up with a flash of a smile to Kinnale and followed quickly after his ward.
After making his way through the crowds, earning some annoyed glares along the way, which he expertly ignored, Legolas shoved the door open and looked around to find Aragorn sat against the wall of the building, his head bowed in his hands.
"Aragorn?" Legolas called as he approached. "What are you doing?"
Not raising his head, the man answered quietly, "I shouldn't be here."
"Where?"
"Here, with these people."
Sighing in frustration at his lack of understanding, Legolas demanded, "I don't know what you're talking about."
"Didn't you hear him?" Aragorn shouted angrily, at last raising troubled grey eyes to his mentor.
"Who? Kinnale?"
"Yes, Kinnale!" the man yelled, exasperated. "He practically said that my presence was going to kill all those innocent people in there!"
"He said no such thing!" Legolas exclaimed in return.
"Yes, Legolas, he did! 'Sacrifices must be made'," he quoted in a raised voice. "All those people are going to die and it's going to be my fault."
Realising all too well the guilt that rested upon the young man's shoulders, Legolas softened his approach and moved slowly to sit down next to him on the ground. "Whatever happens to those people it is in no way your fault. They will be targeted but doubtless they have been before and they have survived, prospered even, in spite of the constant threat. But you cannot quail from your duty, your birth-right, because you fear what may happen to them."
"They will look to me for leadership. My failures in that regard will be plain to see," Aragorn told him bitterly.
"And what makes you so certain that you will fail?"
Crying openly now, Aragorn demanded of his guardian, "How could I not? And even if by some miracle I do succeed, how many people will have to die in the process?"
"That is the price of war," Legolas told him with chilling calmness.
"Right," the boy scoffed, turning cold eyes on the Elf. "And it is I who must bear that on my conscience."
"You are a king, Aragorn. A king must bear much for his people. Yes, there will be casualties; many will have to be sacrificed along the way, but it will be for the greater good, for freedom."
"It's not fair."
Legolas smiled sadly, laying his hand on Aragorn's arm. "It seldom is."
The man wiped at his face with his sleeve and breathed deeply before asking, "You felt this way, when you were in charge of your people in Mirkwood?"
Shoving away the burning pain that welled up in his chest at the mere mention of his past and fallen home, Legolas answered the man's question with perfect honesty, "My father bore that mostly, but I know he felt each loss acutely. As a commander, one must be prepared to do the hard thing for the greater good. Under my various commands, hundreds and in the end thousands perished for the protection of their home."
"And you wish you had been among them?" Aragorn asked softly, resting his head against Legolas' shoulder, his eyes falling shut as he braced himself for the dreaded answer his guardian may give.
He was not disappointed as Legolas whispered under his breath, "Yes, I wish that."
Tears dropped from his eyes again and Aragorn breathed, "I'm scared."
Legolas laid his hand on the man's head and consoled, "I know. But I will be with you."
Aragorn sat up straight and stared imploringly into blue eyes filled with shadows. "You won't leave me, right?" he beseeched of his guardian and only friend.
The Elf summoned a thin smile to his lips. "I will not leave you. It will be you and me together against the Darkness – as ever." Aragorn seemed to relax somewhat at this last reassurance and he leant back against the wall. "However, right now we must return to our host. We may have his allegiance but to keep it we must remain in his good favour and that will not be done by running away from his generosity."
"I suppose," Aragorn sighed unenthusiastically.
"Believe me," Legolas said as he got up, "I feel much the same way."
Getting up to follow the Elf, Aragorn asked quietly, "You are weary?" Legolas smiled gently at him and made for the tavern door. "Me too."
Legolas chuckled and slapped Aragorn on the back to shut him up as he opened the door.
They fought their way back through the crowd to the table where Kinnale was still sat, now speaking with a large, pot-bellied man standing next to him holding a tray of drinks. Both looked up at the return of the boy and Elf. For a moment, Kinnale stared at them, uncertain if whatever had transpired had been resolved but then he smiled brightly.
"There's someone I want to introduce you to. This is Barliman, the publican."
"Nice to meet you, sir," Legolas smiled warmly, shaking the portly man's hand in the same manner as he'd seen the Men of Bree doing upon welcoming one another. "I am Legolas and this is my ward, Aragorn."
"I know who you are."
"Is that so?" Legolas asked as he and Aragorn took their seats again.
The man nodded the affirmative. "Kinnale here has been singing your praises."
"Has he indeed?"
"Not so much," the Ranger said defensively with a slight blush colouring his cheeks. "Anyway, do you have a room for these two or not?"
"You know I have. Any friend of yours…"
"Thank you," Kinnale called after the portly man as he walked back to the bar. After taking another glug of his drink, the Ranger continued, "There will be an open meeting tonight right here. I think everyone will come and you'd be wise to be in attendance also. Barliman has a couple of rooms prepared for you, so you can get cleaned up before this evening."
"A couple of rooms?" Aragorn asked him anxiously. He'd never stayed in a place like this before and he didn't like the idea of being alone during the night.
"That is very kind of you," Legolas said kindly, smiling at the man. Then he told Aragorn, "Finish your food."
Had he not been so completely famished, Aragorn would have miserably turned down the food in light of this latest revelation about their stay in the ever-surprising Bree, but instead he slowly finished off the unusual meal he had been given. Legolas too ate slowly, surprisingly finding little pleasure in the action.
Once they were done, Kinnale led them upstairs to one of several rooms that made up the top floors of the tavern. They were simple spaces with only one mattress in each but pleasant enough. Legolas supposed that Bree got very few visitors from other lands and that these rooms were primarily used for patrons who needed a warm place to stay after a night of too much indulgence. Still, they were kept in good condition, which was all that really mattered.
"Yours is just next door," the Ranger said to Legolas.
Smiling reassuringly at his ward, Legolas went out the door, closing it softly behind him. He knew that Aragorn would be fine by himself for a while so he went next door with Kinnale. His room was smaller than Aragorn's but that didn't bother him in the least. It was warm and dry – perfect for him and more than he could have expected.
"I'll come and get you when the meeting convenes."
"Thank you for your kindness."
With a final nod, Kinnale left and closed the door behind him, leaving Legolas to drop his bag to the floor and slump down on the mattress with a heavy sigh. He let his eyes fall closed and breathed deeply for a moment, uncaring that the mattress reeked of dust and earth. He was tired. So tired that he could collapse backwards and fall instantly into sleep but he knew that he should clean himself up before Kinnale dragged both him and Aragorn away to the village meeting.
Forcing his eyes open, Legolas shrugged off his jacket and shirt, shivering at the chill. Before doing anything further, his fingers probed at his injured shoulder. Gasping at the sharp stab of pain that shot through him at the touch, Legolas' fingers retreated. There was a bathroom just down the hall, Kinnale had informed him, so he kicked his shoes off and put his shirt back on then got up to head out to the bathroom. He was relieved that a bowl of water had been placed over the fire to warm up for he and Aragorn to wash with and he moved over to the basin, above which stood an ancient mirror. Given that his reflection made him queasy to look at, Legolas focused only on the wound on his shoulder.
It looked worse than the last time he'd bothered to examine it. Hot to the touch, it was beginning to show signs of infection now. That was what he had feared would happen. Using some of the warm water, he dabbed at the wound, caused by the filthy Orc dagger in battle some weeks ago, with a soft cloth, gritting his teeth as the pain flared.
By the time he was finished, he felt so disconcertingly lightheaded that he could do nothing but stumble back to his room and crash onto the mattress with a groan of pain.
The exiled Prince of Mirkwood had never been one to wallow in self-pity or injury, either pre- or post-War, and yet here amongst the safety of allies and feeling as utterly wretched as he did in spite of the relative comforts afforded him, he allowed himself to mope for a while. Laid on his front, half on the mattress, legs resting on the floor, Legolas fell into an unintentional, deep sleep.
But from the best rest he had enjoyed in many months, Legolas found himself shaken. Opening his eyes, Legolas turned his head to the side to find Aragorn peering at him.
"Are you alright?" the young man asked.
Levering himself up with his arms, having to disguise a wince as he did so, Legolas squinted at the boy. "Of course," he replied gruffly, his voice still gravelly from sleep. "What are you doing here?"
"Kinnale said the town meeting is to begin soon and we should make our way downstairs."
"Oh, the meeting." The Elf ran a thin hand through his hair and nodded. "Alright. I'll be right there."
"He brought us some clothes. They're a bit large but they're comfortable enough." The man patted at the neatly folded pile of clean clothing he'd placed on the bed.
"Thank you. I'll get dressed and meet you outside in a moment."
"Alright," Aragorn smiled tensely. He knew something was not quite right; he just didn't know what it was.
To Be Continued…