The War of Light and Shadow
By Freddie23
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Disclaimer: I own nothing Tolkien created.
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Chapter 29 – The Long Wait
Much to Aragorn's surprise, the whole of Bree turned out to see them off the morning they left the town. Many of those – man and woman – who were able to bear arms, were joining the Rangers on their quest. At that first meeting in the inn when Kinnale had explained his commitment to the future King of Gondor, many of them had volunteered, insisted even, that they be involved in the effort in some way. Most were too young, too old or too inexperienced to consider taking along on the dangerous road but there were some strong enough to be of use to the cause and Kinnale had been eager to fast-track their initiation into the Rangers. They would not be as proficient with weapons or have the skills trained into the few select seasoned warriors but Kinnale was happy to include them, certain that he could make use of them in some way. Soldiers could always be trained.
As they walked from the town, backpacks full of supplies, as many as the people of Bree could spare, the women and children and elderly who were set to remain behind in Bree hugged and kissed goodbye, knowing fully the certain cost of the task their fellows were undertaking.
Aragorn was surprised by how many people hugged him, an outsider only just come amongst them, as he left; tearfully saying goodbye to one they barely knew they lamented his leaving, it seemed and it filled his heart with sadness to think that he might never return to the small homely town.
The only one who went entirely untroubled by well-wishers was Legolas. During their admittedly brief stay, the Elf had made no attempt to get to know anyone at all, distancing himself even from the Rangers he had come to know on the road. Over the week they'd stayed in Bree, the citizens had come to think him unsociable and thus had made no attempt whatsoever to befriend him. So, the Elf had locked himself away, uncaring of the talk spreading that he was cold and devoid of feeling, whilst his unfortunate ward was apparently warm and caring.
"That was a nice send-off," Aragorn said cheerfully to Legolas as they walked together now that they'd left the town and the crowds behind. "Don't you think?"
"What?" Legolas asked distractedly; he hadn't been paying much attention to his ward.
"I said they gave us a nice send-off."
"Yes." The Elf, however, did not look in the last bit pleased by any of the sentiment.
"How long do you think it'll take to reach Gondor?"
"I don't know," the guardian told him bluntly.
Aragorn glanced across at his mentor and asked, "What's wrong with you?"
"Nothing's wrong."
"Don't you like the people of Bree?"
"Why would you say that?" Legolas asked him emotionlessly, not so much as glancing in Aragorn's direction as he spoke.
Aragorn shrugged dismissively. "Just because you don't seem at all sorry to be leaving."
"I am not sorry."
"Why? They were so kind to us during our stay."
"I suppose."
"I'll miss Ellen especially; she was so sweet to me," Aragorn sighed wistfully, thinking about Kinnale's wife's endless hospitality upon inviting him into her humble home. Legolas merely stared at the path ahead, not impressed by the whimsy in his ward's voice. "Don't tell me you didn't like her either."
"I didn't know her."
"Well, you might have tried a bit harder instead of hiding in your room for the whole time," the man snapped irritably.
"Excuse me?" Legolas asked as his head turned sharply to look at Aragorn for the first time since setting off, shocked by his ward's bluntness towards him.
"You heard!" Aragorn said, stopping suddenly and forcing Legolas to do likewise. "They have been nothing but welcoming to us and you've been ungrateful beyond belief!"
Calmly, Legolas told him, "I am not ungrateful."
"Well, you're acting like it!"
Legolas looked briefly to the Rangers, who continued on without stopping at the pair's absence as they fell behind the group. None wanted to be involved in this disagreement. "I do not mean to."
Aragorn found himself, as ever, infuriated by the Elf's continued composure whilst his own emotions ran wild in the face of another dispute. "Then why did you say it? Why do you hate Bree and its people so much?"
"Aragorn, I don't hate them," the Elf sighed wearily.
"You could have fooled me!" Aragorn exclaimed in anger. He couldn't understand why Legolas was denying something that was so blatantly true. "You hardly spoke to anyone but Kinnale, accepted no invitations from anyone, you didn't even come down to sit with us in the bar in the evenings."
Blue eyes could be seen flickering briefly with pain before they drifted away from Aragorn's intensely burning gaze. The Elf shifted uncomfortably on his feet then, upon coming to a decision, sighed again and returned his gaze to the man. Almost in shame, Legolas confessed quietly, "I did dislike Bree."
"I knew you…!" Aragorn went to exclaim but was silenced by both Legolas' raised hand and the sad look on his pale face and glittering in blue eyes.
"I didn't like it because…it reminded me too much of my home," the Elf said so softly that Aragorn could hardly hear it.
Stunned by this unanticipated admission, Aragorn could think of nothing to say in return for a long while. When he finally did come up with something it was halting, uncertain and obviously deeply regretful for both his previous unfeeling words and thoughts against his guardian. "I…I didn't realise, Legolas. I should have…"
Legolas halted his words by laying his hand on Aragorn's shoulder and offering the boy a reassuring smile. "Do not trouble yourself," he said in a warm voice that also sounded troubling drained. "You will soon have enough to think about without also worrying about me as well. Now, come, we must catch up with the others before our absence becomes noticeable." Legolas released the man's shoulder after a quick squeeze of further reassurance and started to walk after the Rangers again, keeping a steady pace.
Still a little shocked by Legolas' sad words and that he had not even once considered this to be a possibility, Aragorn at first followed slowly before jogging to catch up with the Elf. He was walking as if nothing had held them up in the first place, strong and sure as ever, keeping his silence; he would not speak unless Aragorn dared bring up the subject again. It had been hard to admit that for it was hard to acknowledge it even to himself. The look of surprise and pity on Aragorn's face had reminded him why he had said nothing in Bree.
"Legolas, I am sorry," he said once they were again walking side by side.
"It is hardly your fault," Legolas smiled sadly across at him, some of the coldness between them thawed now that Aragorn understood his reasoning. That, at least, was a relief.
"No, but…I should have realised."
"How could you?"
"I…"
Pausing on the track again, Legolas said, "Can we not speak of this anymore, please? We have more important things to discuss than my failings."
"Of course," Aragorn agreed sadly, slowly following after his mentor.
The Rangers, it turned out, travelled very differently to how Legolas preferred to travel. They moved slowly, steadily during the daylight hours. At nightfall, they stopped. They never once walked in darkness. Day was for travelling, night for sleeping. This was certainly proving a novelty for Aragorn and a great frustration to the impatient Legolas. Their pace was slower than Aragorn was used to and very often he inadvertently found himself at the front of the group with his Elven guardian, wanting to push onwards even as the Men held them back.
Despite the fact that he was so obviously frustrated by their slow pace and constant pauses in progress, Legolas managed to hold his tongue, adjusting himself – with no small amount of difficulty – to the Rangers' way of doing things. Aragorn could see how hard it was on the Elf being held up in this way – he'd personally very often seen that look of consternation on Legolas' face whenever he, as a youth had dawdled on the Old Forest Road.
Rarely did Legolas stay with the group at night. Once Aragorn had settled around the fire that the Rangers always infuriatingly insisted upon building during the cold winter nights, the Elf often slipped away, sometimes without a word, but mostly with the unlikely explanation that he was checking for enemy activity along their route. No one stopped him. In fact, Aragorn was fairly sure that the majority of the group were actually relieved when Legolas left their presence, for the only ones Legolas would speak to were Aragorn or Kinnale, everyone else was ignored.
That terrifying distance that Aragorn had so greatly feared would divide them at the inclusion of a third party was well and truly in place now and it saddened Aragorn even more than he had imagined it would. He missed the feeling of being looked after solely by his guardian. He missed the training that, ever since entering Bree, Legolas had ceased to pursue. He even missed the Elf's sometimes rather dour, taciturn company. It wasn't that he didn't enjoy the company of the friendly Rangers. He'd already made some solid friends amongst them, especially in Ciaran, their leader's son, who was roughly the same age as him and of the same kind of temperament. But none of them were a match for Legolas and as they travelled further, Aragorn felt his friend and mentor drifting further and further away.
OIOI
"Aragorn! Aragorn!" Legolas pushed forcefully through the bulky Orcs that surrounded them, heedless of the blows being aimed at him. He was moving so rapidly that he didn't even need to block the advance of any of the weapons, even though occasionally the blades nicked his clothes and skin. Small, insignificant wounds. "Aragorn!"
He'd seen the man fall. He knew he had. Now he desperately sought Aragorn out amidst the chaos of the unexpected Orc attack that had fallen upon them.
"Aragorn! Answer me!"
"Legolas?" It was not his young ward who called but rather Kinnale. The Ranger grabbed Legolas' arm and pulled him aside with no hint of gentleness. "What are you doing?"
"Aragorn – I can't find him."
Kinnale looked around himself then assured, "I'm sure he's fine. Let's deal with this most pressing problem first."
Before Legolas had a chance to protest at this careless order, Kinnale plunged back into the battle, fighting alongside the Rangers against the vicious creatures. But the Elf could not heed Kinnale's words. He had to know that Aragorn was unhurt before he could concentrate on anything else, even the angry mass of bloody fighting going on all around him.
"Aragorn! Ara…" Legolas could not finish his imploring cry as he was knocked to the ground, his breath stolen from him at his sharp fall to the blood-wetted ground. The bulky creature that had tackled him did not linger to finish the job, however, as it found another target. Nevertheless, Legolas was suitably floored for the time being. The grey sky blurred above him for a moment until he managed to regain his breath and levered himself into an awkward sitting position.
All around him, the Rangers fought the Orcs with great success. They were, for the most part, skilled warriors and these dull-witted Orcs for them were not much more than target practice. Legolas retrieved his knife, knocked from his hand after he'd been tackled to the ground, and struggled to his feet. He still could see not see any sign of Aragorn anywhere so dived back into the fray. This time though, he could not avoid engaging in the battle as he was assaulted from all sides. His anger and fear at this distraction from his purpose proved a good motivator, however, and he cut down the Orcs without mercy; eyes only partially taking in what he was doing whilst still desperately seeking out Aragorn.
Deciding that the only way to get his ward back was to dispense of all distraction, Legolas went on the attack, cutting down the foul creatures of Sauron with practiced ease. It wasn't long before, at the Rangers' side, he triumphed. Orc bodies littered the blood-soaked ground but Legolas had no interest in looking at the filthy corpses. He moved as quickly as he could through the Men – mostly unhurt save for a few scratches and grazes here and there – searching for Aragorn but he could not find any sign of the young man.
"Aragorn!" he called loudly, startling the Rangers who stood around looking at the devastation in the wake of the battle. "Aragorn!"
With panic now racing through him, Legolas began the task of searching through the remains on the battlefield. Surely Aragorn could not have fallen. Not here, not like this. Panic rose to desperation as he pulled heavy Orc corpses aside in an attempt to find his missing ward.
It was only when he physically ran into the Rangers' tracker, Kalub, that Legolas realised that the others had also finally taken up the search for Aragorn. Barely able to think straight through blind panic, Legolas moved quickly through the slaughter, checking for signs of his ward amongst the Orc bodies.
"Legolas!" a man shouted, gaining the Elf's attention. "Here."
Shoving the Rangers aside, Legolas raced over to where Janor crouched, dragging a dead Orc body off a pile.
"Aragorn!" Legolas threw himself down, unheeding of the blood and mud that now made up the ground on this field of battle, and helped the second in command of the Rangers lift the bulky corpse off his fallen ward. Dragging the boy into his arms, Legolas frantically felt the young man's neck for a pulse then released a heavy sigh of relief when, after a second of concentrating, he felt the steady thumping beneath his fingers. "He lives," he breathed a reassurance to the Rangers standing anxiously around him waiting for confirmation that their future king was not dead to them already. "We have to get him somewhere safe. We cannot stay here amongst this filth."
Kinnale nodded in eager agreement, knowing all too well the risks of lingering too long amongst the Orcs – dead or otherwise – and called to the Rangers, "Let's move out." He turned to Legolas again just as the Elf lifted the yet unconscious Aragorn up into his badly trembling arms. Stepping forward, the commander told him sternly, "You should let me carry him."
Adjusting Aragorn's weight in his already aching arms, Legolas insisted firmly, "I can manage," then walked away from the Commander of the Rangers before further protests could be made by the concerned man.
Legolas was keen to put as much distance as possible between them and the slain creatures of Mordor as quickly as was possible and for once the Men of Bree seemed to concur wholeheartedly with the Elf's sentiments. They moved as fast as they could manage across the barren lands, fleeing the site of battle.
Whilst the Rangers wisely kept their weapons close to hand and remained on high alert for fear that there could be the further danger of Orc patrols moving along their chosen route, Legolas' concentration and eyes remained entirely fixated upon the pale, unconscious charge laid limply in his arms. The young man had not stirred once during the three whole hours they had been on the move and the flutter of worry that had begun subtly building in his chest when they had first started out now continued to grow stronger with every passing minute that Aragorn remained unresponsive until it became a pounding so intense that it became physically painful.
"Legolas." A hand upon the Elf's shoulder accompanied the strong voice of the Commander of the Rangers; both of which startled Legolas so greatly from his thoughts that he stumbled gracelessly over his own feet and very nearly fell flat on his face. Kinnale's hands shot out to steady him though and he quickly regained his balance. "Sir, let me take him from you." Legolas looked about at the multiple pairs of eyes watching him pityingly as they continued walking around him. Kinnale's voice was soft now as he continued, "You have carried him long enough."
Defying the burning pain shooting up his tired arms, made all the more noticeable by Kinnale's mention of it, Legolas shifted Aragorn's dead weight again and, starting to walk forward, muttered a gruff, "I am fine."
"You are in pain," the man whispered to him, knowing already the pride of the Elven being.
"I am not."
"Yes; your shoulder troubles you still. What good is your defiance if you drop him?"
"I will not drop him!" Legolas very nearly snarled obstinately at the very suggestion that he would be so careless with his precious charge.
"You would risk dropping our king?" Kinnale asked pointedly, knowing fully well already that Legolas would not be able to sufficiently argue that logic. "Let me take him for a while. At the very least it will give you a chance to restore the feeling lost in your arms," he added more kindly, trying to be as persuasive as he could.
Glancing down at the near-lifeless man cradled in his arms, Legolas concluded that Kinnale was right and he nodded gently in rather bitter submission. "Very well," he agreed, although it hurt him to do so, before carefully transferring Aragorn into the stronger arms of the tall commander.
Just as they started walking again and Legolas started stretching his arms out to get the feeling back into them, the Ranger's scout, the stern, flame-haired Tarsem, ran up to Kinnale, barely out of breath from his run, and relayed, "There is a network of hills not a league from here; they should provide sufficient shelter for us."
"Thank you, Tarsem. We will stop there. Go on ahead of us and light a fire ready for our arrival," Kinnale ordered the scout.
Shrewd green eyes went to the man laid limply in the embrace of his commander and he asked emotionlessly, "Will he live?"
Before Kinnale could reply to the harsh enquiry, Legolas snapped with a mixture of anger and terrible fear, "Of course he will live."
"Get going," Kinnale then ordered his riled scout and Tarsem obeyed with a scathing glance in Legolas' direction.
As Tarsem had predicted, it did not take long for the Rangers to reach the uneven ground that the scout had described. In the most sheltered place, that also provided ideal concealment from any passing enemy spies, Tarsem had dutifully set up a fire ready for them and put water in a pot, which now hung over the flames to heat up.
Carefully, Kinnale laid Aragorn down on blanket that had been placed close to the fire. Right away, Legolas was back at his side, hands searching the boy for wounds. They hadn't had time to stop when fleeing the battlefield to check the young man's injuries.
He found that, besides an obvious gash on his abdomen, Aragorn had not been seriously hurt by Orc weaponry. It was the cut to the back of the man's head that worried Legolas the most, for this was almost certainly the cause of his continued unconsciousness and therefore obviously must be classed as a serious injury.
Ignoring all offers of help from the sombre men moving quietly around him, Legolas used a damp cloth to clear away the dried blood that caked the boy's head, face and torso, revealing overly pale, bruised skin underneath. Tears threatened to obscure his vision at the sight of his young charge struggling to breathe through what he suspected to be broken, or at the very least, fractured ribs, but he blinked them back to better focus on the task before him.
Once he'd finished, Legolas replaced the mask of calm to his face and got to his feet.
"He should wake soon," the Elf assured the worried Kinnale, who had been looking over his shoulder the whole time he worked. "But he still needs to rest."
Kinnale nodded and walked with Legolas a couple of steps away from where Aragorn laid covered in a blanket close to the fire for warmth. "We have set up a watch all around the perimeter so we should be safe here for a while at least."
"Good."
"I'm sending Kalub out with a small hunting party – you never know, they might get lucky and we can eat tonight." Kinnale sighed heavily then and rubbed his hand over his stubble-darkened chin, clearly still twitchy after the harsh battle with the servants of Shadow.
"Right." Honestly, Legolas did not care much about hunting parties; he couldn't even think about eating when worry knotted in his stomach.
"Father?" Kinnale's son, Ciaran, came over to the pair. "How is Aragorn?"
Laying his hand on his son's shoulder, the Ranger smiled reassuringly. "He'll be fine after a little rest."
Relieved, Ciaran asked, "Is there anything I can do?"
"Not right now, son. Rest a while in case we have to move quickly again."
"Yes, sir." Ciaran smiled first to his father, who returned the gesture, and then to Legolas, who didn't even seem to notice the boy's presence.
At the boy's leaving, Legolas was startled from his thoughts and asked the commander, "I forgot to enquire: was anyone else hurt? In the attack, was anyone else injured?"
"Nothing serious. Everyone – including Aragorn, by the way – is going to be fine," Kinnale stressed.
"Yes." Legolas nodded thoughtfully. "I'm going to sit with him until he wakes."
"That could be a while," Kinnale went to tell him but Legolas had already left his side and returned to Aragorn's. With a sigh, the man decided to just give up trying to console him and let the Elf have his own way in this matter. When it came to Aragorn there could be no reasoning with him; so it would only be a waste of energy to try.
The general mood amongst the Rangers lifted when the hunting party, led by Kalub, returned with a couple of skinny rabbits to cook and eat. It wasn't much, but over the years of pitifully sparse resources, the Men had learned how to stretch out very little meat to feed as many as they needed.
With the adrenaline of the earlier battle now worn off, many of the Rangers dozed on the ground as night fell, whilst others gathered into smaller groups to discuss the surprise ambush by the Orcs.
Legolas, however, remained by Aragorn's side in case he should wake. Much to his concern, Aragorn barely stirred under his solemn watch. Darkness replaced typically grey daylight and then Legolas watched only by flickering firelight, eyes fixed on that painfully youthful face for even the slightest movement that might indicate wakefulness.
But only the slow rising and falling of Aragorn's chest proved that life continued to endure within the otherwise motionless body. One consolation was that his breathing didn't seem quite as laboured now as Aragorn relaxed into the pain. That surely had to be a good sign, or at least it comforted Legolas during his fraught vigil.
"Looks like a storm is coming," Janor's light voice startled Legolas from his thoughts. He blinked to clear his vision just as lightning flashed again away to the east. A tin cup was held before him and he looked up to see the blonde man standing at his side. "Tea. Kinnale said you refused food." He nudged the cup at Legolas' hesitation. "If nothing else, it'll warm you up."
Slowly, Legolas reached out his stiff arm and gratefully took the cup. "Thank you," he said softly before taking a small sip. With a sigh as warmth slid down his throat and warmed him inside, Legolas returned his gaze to Aragorn then he frowned and looked down at the steaming herbal drink in his cup and mused, "I suppose I should try to get some fluids into him."
Crouching down beside Aragorn's head, Janor asked, "Do you think he will wake soon?"
After taking another sip of his tea, Legolas shook his head. "I don't know," he sighed wearily.
"Is there anything I can do?"
Legolas shook his head thoughtfully, attention once more fixed upon Aragorn rather than the young Ranger at his side. "It is just a matter of waiting for him to wake."
Janor's eyes also moved to the young man laid on a blanket, pale and unmoving as the dead, before the small, crackling fire. At his side, Legolas was no longer touching his ward as he had been doing earlier but rather sat cross-legged about a foot away from him, close enough to see even a slight flicker of waking. Janor was reminded of the time Kinnale's son, just sixteen at the time and out on his very first patrol with the Rangers his strong father commanded, had been injured in an Orc raid. The boy had been unconscious for two full hours and Kinnale had sat at his son's side, wearing the same identical expression of desperate anticipation as Legolas now had etched on his face the whole time. Not a father himself, Janor could not understand the feeling personally but he sympathised with the Elf prince all the same.
"Would you like me to sit with him for a while?" Janor asked in a soft voice, both for persuasion but also because many of the Rangers were sleeping now and he didn't want to wake anyone unnecessarily.
"No, thank you."
"Are you sure? I don't mind if you want to take a break."
"I said no," Legolas snapped at him impatiently. "Thank you for the tea."
It was a dismissal, Janor realised, and he fought not to be offended by the Elf's curtness. So, nodding understandingly even though he didn't understand at all, the man stood up straight again. "Well, just yell if you need anything."
This time, Legolas did not make any response but before he could repeat his offer of assistance, Kinnale called him over to relay the report of the earlier battle again to the scout.
Not long after that, the rest of the camp settled down for the night. Watches were set, with the Men remaining on edge after the earlier surprise Orc attack. For once though, Legolas wanted no part in that particular important obligation. He had his own watch to attend to. He was aware of Kinnale observing him for a long while but he paid the man no heed, ignoring the concern obviously radiating from the Ranger.
For Legolas, the night was almost painfully long. With only the simple task of stirring the fire to break up the mind-numbing monotony of the tedious night-time hours, Legolas found his mind unintentionally wandering to the darker moments from his troubled past. One thing he remained fully aware of even through his meandering thoughts, however, was Aragorn's condition. The man's state did not change at all throughout the night. Every half hour, Legolas' fingers came to rest on the pulse at his wrist to ensure that his heart continued to beat steadily even in unconsciousness. It did but as the hours drew on it became less and less of a reassurance.
When the first light of dawn began to filter through the thick grey clouds above, Legolas wearily looked skywards. Thankfully, the storm that had earlier threatened had come to nothing but a light and brief drizzle of rain and the night had remained mercifully peaceful. The Rangers were not yet stirring in the camp; it was only just dawn and they would take all the time to sleep that they could. Legolas had been too worried about his unconscious ward to sleep at all that night or even leave Aragorn's side for a moment. He didn't want to miss any sign that Aragorn was in pain or distress and he certainly didn't want Aragorn to wake up all alone.
As the sky lightened further, the Elf stifled a yawn and ran his hand over his aching eyes. Stiffly, he uncrossed his legs and stretched them out before him, wincing at the cramp brought on from sitting on the hard ground in the same position for so long during his night-time vigil. To work out the persistent ache in his arms, he stretched them high above his head, ignoring with sheer determination the stab of pain that shot over his left shoulder and streaked down his arm and across his chest brought on by his as of yet unhealed wound. Rearranging himself back to his previous position, Legolas chanced a quick glance around the campsite. They would be stirring soon, eager to be on the move once again, to continue across the plains towards the next ill-fated Human civilisation. But, for the first time since their brief pause in Rivendell, Legolas did not feel the desperate need to be on the move. Every single one of his scattered thoughts rested solely on Aragorn rather than their intended destination.
"He hasn't moved all night," Janor said quietly to his commander, looking with Kinnale over at the motionless Elf.
Sipping at his freshly made tea, Kinnale shrugged, swallowed then answered, "I cannot force him to leave the boy."
"Yes, but you could talk to him; try to persuade him."
The commander sighed softly in submission and handed Janor his tin cup. He was just about to head towards Legolas in an attempt to persuade the Elf to at least leave Aragorn's side long enough to stretch out his folded legs, when Legolas abruptly sat up straight and shifted onto his knees so he could bend over the prone man in front of him.
Kinnale's gentle, reluctant stroll accelerated into a run upon seeing the abrupt action and he fell to his knees opposite Legolas, keen to see the soft grey eyes of the Human king. He was disappointed, however, to discover Aragorn remained unchanged.
"What…?" Kinnale started to ask why the Elf had moved so suddenly and why there was such a look of expectation on the face of the prince.
Legolas ignored the Ranger, placing his hand delicately on Aragorn's shoulder as though to rouse him. So softly that Kinnale's ears could hardly pick it up, Legolas whispered, "Aragorn, open your eyes."
And, as if by magic, or summoned simply by Legolas' touch, confused eyes fluttered open with no small amount of difficulty. A grin lit up Kinnale's face that at last the boy was awake but Legolas' face remained a mask of strictly enforced concentration and calm. It was obvious to everyone watching that the Elf desperately longed to see if his ward was well after the bang he'd received to his head and yet he sat with remarkable patience as Aragorn blinked the grey sky into focus then moved his gaze blearily to the concerned blonde being partially leant over him.
At long last, Legolas broke the silence, smiling, "Welcome back."
Aragorn frowned deeply. "Legolas? Where…? What happened?" The young man's voice was a little rough and very slightly slurred through his continued confusion. He blinked then, as if only just remembering. "There was an attack." Panicked now, he asked, "Was anyone hurt?"
"Yes. You," Kinnale laughed, relieved that the boy was at least alert enough to form coherent questions.
At Aragorn's frown, Legolas quietly clarified, "You were injured in the battle, Aragorn."
"Injured?"
Soothingly, Legolas tightened his hand on the man's shoulder and Kinnale noticed how the boy relaxed instantly, his trust in his guardian implicit. "A minor scratch and you banged your head." Aragorn could well believe this last part. His head throbbed cruelly, making it frustratingly difficult to entirely focus on Legolas' words and their meaning. "You will be just fine. For a whole day now you have been unconscious." Legolas moved his hand to rest gently upon Aragorn's forehead, which smoothed at his touch, and smiled. "But you're awake now; you'll be fine."
"Alright," Aragorn mumbled, still disoriented. "I don't remember any of that."
"Don't worry," Legolas smiled, although it was shakier than previously, Kinnale noticed. "You just need to rest."
The boy frowned again, his eyes sliding closed. "My head hurts."
"It took quite a pounding, so I'm not surprised," Kinnale grinned down at the child.
More sympathetically, Legolas said, "There is not much we can do to ease it. Try to go back to sleep and maybe when you next wake you will feel better still."
Aragorn agreed, being careful not to nod his head. Then he asked Kinnale, without opening his eyes, "Has he been sat there all night?"
Legolas and Kinnale looked at one another and the commander laughed softly, laying his hand on Aragorn's shoulder. In a light-hearted voice, he confirmed, "Since you were hurt in the battle he has not once left your side."
Aragorn's eyes opened again, fixed upon the Elf and he asked, "Not once?"
"Nope."
"We were worried for you," Legolas informed the young man in his defensive.
Looking once more to the lightly amused Ranger, Aragorn told him softly, "He should sleep."
"Yes," Kinnale agreed pointedly, looking to Legolas. "He should. Even with a concussion, your ward has more sense in such matters than you."
It was said in no way cruelly and Legolas understood that. Rolling his eyes at both men, he told Aragorn, "You just worry about yourself, not me."
Aragorn nodded gently, worn out even by this short conversation. Just a moment later he was fast asleep once more. Legolas readjusted the blanket across the boy's chest, resisting the urge that swept through him to run a paternal hand over his ward's pale forehead. How he longed to take away Aragorn's pain. Whenever the child had been unwell in his youth, Legolas had found himself to be at an absolute loss as to how to care for him. Elven children did not suffer from illness and Legolas' healing experience had been limited to messily dealing with battle wounds that may have been sustained on patrol in his dark forest home. He had never in his life needed to know more than the bare minimum and he had learnt from difficult experience alone how to deal with his youthful human's childhood illnesses – even then his knowledge remained so sorely limited that any respectable healer would have found it almost deplorable.
During his past life as Prince of Mirkwood he had only ever focused on being a fine enough warrior to protect and defend his people from the Shadow. Now he wished he had taken more time out of weapons training to learn the art of healing from his childhood mentors or from Lord Elrond, one of Middle Earth's greatest healers, on one of his many visits to Rivendell.
So involved in his own thoughts was Legolas that it was only when a hand touched his arm that he realised Kinnale had been speaking to him and he hadn't heard a single word. The man was now looking at him questioningly, obviously waiting for a reply.
"I'm sorry?" Legolas asked, realising that he couldn't simply guess at an answer seeing as he had absolutely no clue what the man had been saying.
"Have you not been listening to a word I've been saying?"
"No. Sorry," Legolas admitted, unfolding his cramped legs. "Excuse me." Stiffly, he climbed to his feet, carefully disguising the wince that threatened to cross his features.
Before a surprised Kinnale could say anything more, Legolas had walked swiftly away, leaving Aragorn's side for the first time since the end of the battle with the Orcs. The Ranger sighed in despair. His life had been so much less complicated before he'd stumbled upon the Elf and his ward on Amon Sul. There were times when he longed to have that simplicity back once more.
Legolas had been gone for almost thirty minutes before Kinnale, concerned for his well-being, went off in search of him. As he moved across the camp though, Tarsem caught up with him. Restraining a sigh, Kinnale asked, "Can it wait? There's something I have to do."
"We need to start moving soon. This place may well be sheltered but it will not render us invisible. To linger too long might attract unwanted enemies to our position."
"All of this I know."
"Then you should order the immediate dismantlement of the camp."
"Should I now?" Kinnale stopped to stare directly at his scout in response to the order. "Forgive me, Tarsem, but have you, without my knowledge, been promoted to Commander?"
"No, sir, of course…"
"Then perhaps you should leave it to me to give the orders," he 'suggested'. The red-haired man nodded tersely. "Legolas will not wish to move Aragorn too soon. Let us give him another day to recover, then I will reassess our situation. Does that suit you?"
It was not a well-intentioned question and fortunately Tarsem interpreted that from the older man's tone of voice for had he not then things might not have ended quite so civilly. "Yes sir."
"Good."
With that final, short word for his grumpy scout, Kinnale walked away, continuing his search for the missing Elf. He felt Tarsem's shrewd green eyes burning judgementally into his back as he left though. Had the man not been with him for so long, ever since he had first taken up the title of Commander, then Kinnale mused that he would have dismissed the increasingly grouchy man from his service long ago. Tarsem only wanted what was best and in this case Kinnale knew him to be correct in his assessment, and he was loyal and excellent at his appointed job. If only he were a little milder mannered.
Fortunately, Legolas had not wandered too far from their main camp and Kinnale found him easily enough, hidden though he was behind the remains of some spindly tree trunks. He'd expected to find the Elf perhaps cleaning himself up or pacing off that anxiety he had been holding tense all through the night and loosening his stiff muscles. He was most certainly not expecting the blonde to be knelt on the ground, arms folded tightly around himself, head bent so his chin touched his chest, shuddering violently. The Elf uttered no sound in spite of his distress but neither did he appear to notice Kinnale's arrival.
Kinnale found himself suddenly torn between leaving the Elf to what he obviously considered to be a private moment for which he'd purposefully sought solitude or going over to check that, after his majorly stressful night, Legolas was alright.
He knew that, as an intensely proud person himself, he would not wish to be disturbed, but Kinnale's conscience troubled him so that he couldn't merely walk away.
Decision set in his mind, the man tentatively stepped towards Legolas. Giving the Elf fair warning of his approach with loud footsteps, he asked loudly, "Are you alright?"
Legolas tensed visibly at the sound of his voice but made no answer. He further tightened his arms around himself and shuddered again. Drawing in a shaky breath, he minutely lifted his head and tried to compose himself in Kinnale's presence but when he released said breath he was surprised to find that it came out with a soft sob filled with despair. He slapped a white hand over his mouth in shock at the foreign sound. But it was too late; he knew Kinnale had already heard and was stepping forward in curiosity.
"Legolas?"
Swallowing thickly, Legolas removed his hand from his mouth, replacing it against his waist where it had come from and assured in a strained voice, "I'm fine. I'll be back to camp in a moment." It was too shaky to believe.
And Kinnale did not believe. He came to Legolas' side and crouched down, laying his hand against the Elf's shoulder. "You don't look fine, my friend." Legolas shook his head, unable to speak the quip that was poised teasingly on the tip of his tongue. Instead, he moved his hand to his eyes to try to hide the tears that shimmered in them. Kinnale squeezed his shoulder, a little out of his depth with the obviously upset prince who'd, up until this point, never shown much emotion at all before. "If this is about Aragorn…He'll be fine now; you said so yourself."
"I know," Legolas agreed, rubbing his eyes.
"He just needs time to sleep off his confusion."
Again, Legolas nodded. "I know that. Really, Kinnale, I'll be fine. I just…I hate to see him…" He stopped to steady himself again. "I hate that I can't protect him."
"It was an attack – an unforeseen attack at that. You couldn't possibly have known what was going to happen. There's nothing you could have done to prevent his injury." The Elf cast a watery sceptical look in Kinnale's direction but the man continued anyway. "And it wasn't like you were sitting on the side-lines doing nothing. You did have your own fight to concentrate on if you recall. And if you had wavered from that concentration then it would have been you laid unconscious on the ground."
"Better me than Aragorn," Legolas said without hesitation.
"If it were you, then I've no doubt that Aragorn would be equally upset and stubborn."
Softly now, Legolas said, "I don't know about that."
Kinnale shifted uncomfortably in his surprise at that comment, sorrowful and self-deprecating. He squeezed Legolas' shoulder again and reasoned, "I'll ignore that madness for the moment." Legolas hung his head low again, shrugging Kinnale's hand off him at last. "You're tired, my friend; you need to sleep – before any more is said that you will later regret."
The Elf did not reply to that but lifted his head and nodded in agreement. "Give me five minutes then I'll return."
"Alright." Kinnale did not doubt that Legolas considered not returning to the Ranger's camp. But he was equally certain that Legolas would never leave Aragorn. So, he stood up, safe in the knowledge that he'd see the Elf again once he'd pulled himself together.
When Legolas did return to the campsite, it couldn't honestly be said that he looked entirely comfortable. He looked over Aragorn first but the man remained sleeping peacefully, just as he had left him, so Legolas moved over to the other side of the camp, ignoring the other men milling around and watching him curiously and went to the very edge of the campsite where he laid down on his back on the ground, not bothering with a blanket, which remained draped over Aragorn anyway, and closed his eyes.
To Be Continued…