The War of Light and Shadow
By Freddie23
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Disclaimer: I own nothing Tolkien created.
A/N: Thanks so much for all your kind reviews. I love getting them. They really make me feel like I should continue writing this story even when it gets difficult, which it has several times already! Sorry the last one was a bit short. Hopefully, this new chapter posted early should make up for it.
So, here's the next chapter for you all. Enjoy.
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Chapter 37 – Help
"Eomer is still with his sister. I didn't have the heart to tear him away despite all that needs his attention," Kinnale spoke softly to Legolas as they walked carefully amongst the fallen creatures of Mordor through which they were picking in search of survivors to dispose of – or help if it were one of their own people still lucky enough to be living. "To be honest, I don't think I could have pried him from her side if I used all my strength."
Legolas sighed deeply, sharp eyes focused on the ground rather than on the man walking steadily at his side. "He's only just got her back after their prolonged separation; it is understandable that he does not wish to leave her alone just yet. Let him have his time with her."
"Yes. You never know, it might improve his mood some," Kalub, the Rangers' tracker who walked with them, dead-panned.
"I think that is wishful thinking, my old friend," Kinnale chuckled in amusement. "Having said that, he didn't snap at me as he usually would when I went to speak to him earlier about the clear-up, so I suppose that's a step in the right direction."
It felt strange to Legolas that in amongst all this macabre carnage, whilst hundreds of bloodied Orc corpses through which the three of them were now trudging littered the ground of the Deep, searching for the three Rohirrim men that remained unaccounted for, Kinnale and Kalub could still find humour. To Legolas, being here in the dark, broken only occasionally by the flickering of torches that the men had kept burning, was a truly stomach-churning position to be in. Yes, the Orcs were the Enemy and he could not deny that he rejoiced that there were now several hundred less of monsters in the world but they were foul, vile creatures and being amongst them even dead made him feel dirtied.
"It's amazing that she survived all these years in those rat-infested holes," Kalub mused, bending to retrieve a discarded sword of Rohan from the mud where it had fallen from a warrior's hand during the battle.
"Not really. A princess of Rohan would be a valuable asset to the Shadow, especially if the Rohirrim looked to attack or reclaim the Deep," Legolas reasoned idly, his mind only half on the conversation they were having.
Kinnale muttered darkly, shaking his head, "A perfect human shield."
"In effect."
Twirling the sword skilfully over in his hand, Kalub laughed again. "You blew that plan right out of the water," he enthused toward Legolas, his crooked smile bright. He seemed unaffected by what had occurred here, as if battle was merely a slight distraction to his day and now that it was over he could resume his normal good humour.
The Elf simply glanced briefly in his direction in unashamed distaste. A victory against the Shadow it might have been but Legolas felt only sympathy toward Eowyn, the joy of winning back Helm's Deep dampened by what he had seen that day. He couldn't imagine how awful her time spent as a prisoner in Helm's Deep had been and he didn't find even a hint of amusement in it or her reunion with Eomer as the Men seemed to.
As Kinnale and Kalub continued to banter about their recent and admittedly rather unanticipated victory, Legolas walked in thoughtful silence, eyes only half-focused on the ground before him, mind only just on the task at hand. Certainly, he wasn't listening to the inane conversation going on by his side so it was only when someone tapped his arm that he realised that he was being spoken to directly.
"Don't you think so?" Kalub asked him expectantly, peering across Kinnale to look at the Elf for a response.
"I'm sorry?"
"I was just saying that after our victory the Men should be rewarded. I was thinking of a small celebration. One of the Rohirrim said that the halls here are almost as spectacular as those at Meduseld."
"Yes," Legolas muttered, obviously distracted.
"Personally, I think it's a great idea," Kinnale smiled at his long-time friend. "And with the return of his sister, Eomer might just be in a good enough mood to agree as well."
Kalub laughed at this. "I wouldn't bet on it."
"Right."
Through his laughter, Kinnale looked to Legolas to check he was sharing their amusement at the expense of their comrade only to find that the Elf was no longer by his side as he had been a moment before. He frowned and looked behind him, finding the Elf was stood staring up at the high defensive wall that surrounded the Deep. The Elf was so light-footed that it was impossible to hear his steps so not surprising that his absence had gone momentarily unnoticed by his Human companions.
"Legolas?" Kinnale called, stopping in his tracks to wait for the Elf. "Are you alright?"
Legolas' eyes snapped suddenly back to the two men waiting for him. It was almost as though he had only just realised himself that he had stopped walking. However, he offered the Rangers no reassurance as he mentally shook himself and caught up with them.
"So, do you think it's a good idea? The party?" Kalub pressed even though Legolas still showed absolutely no interest his suggestion and Kinnale had now fallen sombre as he observed the taciturn Elf.
"Really, I don't care what you do, Kalub," Legolas muttered under his breath, his expression dark now, echoing his impatience.
"Excuse me?" Kalub snapped back, at once offended by the tone of the Elf.
Fearing a confrontation between the two rather dour beings on the horizon if he did not intervene, Kinnale ordered of his tracker, "You carry on this way; we'll head back towards the Keep. This unpleasant task will go faster if we three split up." When Kalub continued to glare stand-offishly at Legolas and the Elf did not budge, Kinnale commanded more firmly, "Go, now, Kalub."
With one final glare at a still unrepentant Legolas, Kalub turned sharply and stalked off into the darkness of the courtyard, spirits well and truly dampened by the confrontation with the dour prince.
Now alone, Legolas and Kinnale started up their measured walk again, this time paying no attention to the ground in front of them at all. For a while, the man allowed the silence between them to continue uninterrupted as Legolas obviously wished it so, but when he heard the Elf trip on one of the bulky Uruk corpses that littered the ground, he could no longer hold his silence.
Coming to a halt, Kinnale outright demanded, "Alright, what is wrong with you? Don't tell me that Kalub really ticked you off that much with his talk of partying amidst all the death here."
"No, of course not."
"Then what?"
"Nothing." Legolas' eyes wandered up towards the recaptured Keep idly, not paying attention to the Men swarming over the battlements, securing and clearing the heart of Helm's Deep in the wake of the battle. They were tired, that was obvious from their stiff, sluggish movements, but they kept on going with determination that Legolas had rarely in the past found accredited to the Human race, unwilling to be beaten by the Shadow in even this small matter of cleansing their fortress. They wanted the filth gone entirely before they could rest at ease.
Kinnale sighed heavily as Legolas coolly ignored him with practised ease. He knew Legolas well enough by now to be certain that he wouldn't get anything further out of the Elf on this subject so he changed the direction of the conversation entirely.
"You know that a fair few Orcs escaped from the Deep during the attack, Uruk-hai too."
"Yes."
"You are not worried?"
"That they will report back to their master in Mordor? I am expecting it."
Kinnale was surprised and he asked, "Really?" Legolas nodded as again they headed in the direction of the Keep. "And that doesn't bother you?"
"The Enemy was bound to find out eventually. The timing makes little difference."
"You seem remarkably calm about the fact that with these reports Sauron will know our exact numbers and position." To this accusation, Legolas said nothing and again the man exhaled deeply in his frustration. "I am assuming, then, that you have some kind of plan in mind to follow this up, some thought as to what we should be doing next." He still got no answer from the exasperatingly unforthcoming Elf. No wonder Aragorn always seemed to be endlessly irritated with his guardian. "Alright then, say nothing. It makes no matter to me."
Legolas came to a halt again and glanced across at Kinnale with dark eyes that seemed to be naturally softened by the torchlight. Slowly, gently, the Elf laid his hand on Kinnale's shoulder, moving the man's attention to him. Quietly then he said, "I have been injured. Can you help me back inside?"
For a moment, Kinnale stood dumbfounded by this unexpected confession, staring at the Elf in horror and alarm as Legolas looked steadily back at him in such a casual way that Kinnale wondered if he hadn't perhaps misheard him entirely and he'd actually just confessed to merely feeling rather worn by this whole endeavour and in need of a stiff drink and a good nights' sleep. However, he could not so easily dismiss what he had been told, for it was burned into his mind now and he doubted that Legolas would have spoken such if he had not been really hurt.
Legolas, impossibly proud creature that he was, was asking for his help and yet, still stunned, Kinnale could nothing but stare dumbly, uselessly for what seemed like long minutes. And yet Legolas stood patiently as the man absorbed his admittedly unlikely request, as though anticipating such confusion his words would have presented.
After a moment, Kinnale snapped from his thoughts and focused once more on the Elf with a short shake of the head. "Why didn't you say earlier that you needed medical attention?" was all Kinnale could come up with in reply.
Unfazed by the accusatory tone that had crept into the man's voice, Legolas replied calmly, "Because I didn't feel that I needed attention before."
"But now you do?"
"Hence I am telling you."
Kinnale looked toward the main building in the Deep where candlelight shone almost welcomingly in the windows. "Alright," he finally said, as though only now coming to a decision as to what course of action to take, taking Legolas' arm even though the Elf did not look at that moment like he needed the support. "The Rohirrim travel with a few trained healers; I believe they have set up a kind of triage in one of the halls in the Keep. We should go there."
"Very well."
They walked slowly; Kinnale setting a cautiously steady pace even though the only outward sign that Legolas was not in perfectly normal health was a very slight limp in his right leg. The Elf allowed the fussing without comment, however, and did not withdraw from the support offered. He felt Kinnale's eyes trained on him constantly as they made their way up the slope but he allowed the close scrutiny as well, knowing that it was well-meant if nothing else.
However, by the time they reached the bustling hall where Rohan's healers and appointed helpers were based, Legolas' bravado had diminished somewhat along with his strength and Kinnale had to catch the Elf as he staggered slightly. Holding the prince steady against his side, Kinnale led him further into the hall, urging him to both move quickly and take his time. Still, Legolas held his tongue against the retort that threatened, knowing that the man was helping him as he had been asked to do.
A harassed looking young man hurried toward the two new arrivals, weaving amongst Men laid out on the floor, when they walked through the open door.
"Not another one found alive?" he blurted out without thinking or realising in his frantic state who he was speaking to.
"Such a miracle is unlikely after so much time passed," Legolas reasoned softly in the face of such bluntness.
Rolling his eyes at the young healer and at the Elf by his side, Kinnale nodded to the prince and told the healer, "He was injured in battle and needs aid from a healer."
"Well, join the queue," the healer snapped impatiently, gesturing behind himself at the packed hall and busy healers then running his hand over his forehead in a weary way as though that might justify his tetchiness at their arrival.
"Did you not hear me?"
Legolas laid his hand against Kinnale's arm to placate him and calmly told the healer, "We shall return at a later time when you are not quite so overwhelmed."
"What…?" Kinnale started but already Legolas was limping away and he had no choice but to chase after the Elf. "Legolas!"
"Relax. In all likelihood it is nothing I cannot take care of myself anyway and if I experience any problems then I shall simply return here later."
"But…"
"You mentioned earlier that I had somewhere to rest tonight," Legolas promptly interrupted the protest, steering the conversation away from his stubborn nature and wounded body and pride.
The commander sighed heavily, finally giving up the fight. "Seeing as I already know that you will not be dissuaded, I will show you the way. For a fortress it is remarkably comfortable with regards to lodgings, despite the fact the entire place thoroughly reeks of Orc filth."
Kinnale led Legolas confidently through the dark halls, fairly certain that he was going to right way. In the wake of their victory over the interloping Orcs, the Commander of the Rangers had gone with his Men all through the fortress, flushing out and disposing of any creatures that may have escaped the initial cleansing. Mostly consisting of Goblins, whose natural instinct it was to hide in dark places, it had been a methodical task but despite the tedium they had to be sure that Helm's Deep was indeed clear of the Shadow. Evidence of the Shadow remained everywhere but as of yet, the weary Men of Bree and Edoras had not bothered to clean the rooms or halls of the sights and stenches that the Orcs had left behind them. They were too tired to care for such housework.
Many of the Men had volunteered to join in the search on the battleground for Human survivors but Kinnale knew that so many people frantically searching for fallen comrades, however well-intentioned they were, would be utter chaos, so he had divided them into shifts. One group at a time, consisting of approximately twenty Men, searched the battleground whilst the others went to rest. Aragorn had been part of the first group, as had both Kinnale and Legolas, but whilst the Commander and Prince continued on even after their shift had ended, Aragorn had been sent to sleep.
"Well, this is it." Kinnale stopped before a door half-way down a corridor. "You have the room to yourself. Aragorn is next door. I supposed you would want to be close so you could check on him as you are prone to doing."
Legolas glanced to the door Kinnale pointed to beside his own and nodded thoughtfully, even as he said, "I'll not disturb him now. He'll no doubt need to rest."
"Right. Get yourself settled in and I'll bring you some water and…"
"I have water and a blanket; they'll do me just fine."
Biting his tongue against the sharp retort on the tip of his tongue at the Elf's stubbornness, Kinnale pressed his lips into a thin line to more subtly hint at his displeasure and nodded. "Very well. I'll be around if you need anything. And, Legolas, promise me you'll go back to the healers if you need to."
"You have my solemn promise, Kinnale," Legolas smiled gently through the dark at the man.
Still smiling after the exasperated man, Legolas let himself into his room and went straight over to the dark fireplace. Inside the room, his pack had earlier been placed and now he pulled it towards himself, rummaging through until he found his blanket, a spare shirt and his water flask. Quickly, he set about making a fire in the stone hearth, breaking up the already irreparably damaged chair from the corner to use as firewood. With the light making the whole room now visible, Legolas realised that, unlike in Meduseld, there were no mattresses in the rooms, which seemed to serve only as a means to provide privacy from the main structure. Not much, but to Legolas in that moment it was as perfect a place as he could get in the ruined world.
Sat cross-legged on the stone floor next to the fire, above which now hung his cup with water inside to heat up, Legolas unbuttoned his filthy shirt and shrugged it off his back with a hiss of pain. His wound had at least ceased bleeding, although, not having had time to clean it earlier, his whole side was crusted with dried blood that he now had to clean. The pain was bearable, actually improved now that he was no longer walking about. Still, Legolas was not looking forward to the task of cleaning the gash.
Despite his hesitance in getting started, Legolas ripped apart the spare shirt – no longer suitable for use as its intended purpose – using his dagger, then removed the warmed water from above the flames. Dampening a piece of rag, Legolas cleaned around the wound first, getting rid of all the dried blood and dirt, then he began cleaning the knife wound itself. As predicted, the pain returned even with his light touch, but, closing his eyes, he pressed the cloth to the wound, knowing how important it was to keep such an injury clean and infection-free.
As he removed the filth, the wound began bleeding once more. The Prince of Mirkwood was no healer so perhaps it was to be expected from his inexpert touch. Aside from the most basic survival aid he'd learned during his warrior training in Mirkwood, he knew very little about the art and he certainly didn't have the light, confident touch of a professional healer, so perhaps it was inevitable that he would only make matters worse when forced into action upon himself.
A hesitant knock at the door startled Legolas into looking up. Surely, Kinnale hadn't completely disregarded what he'd said so soon. He'd expected the man to come back to check on him sometime later in the night. But so soon after he had left?
Worried that it might be Aragorn at the door looking for him, and not wanting to worry the young man unnecessarily, Legolas pushed the bloodied strips of torn-up shirt behind his pack to hide the evidence that all was not well and, keeping his hand with a cloth pressed tightly against his side, Legolas pulled his blanket around himself. As he got up, another knock came from the door. By now the impatient Aragorn would have let himself in, Legolas realised.
"Eomer," Legolas exclaimed, surprised to see the Man of Rohan stood hesitantly in the corridor outside his room. He was the very last person Legolas had expected to see this night.
"I hope I'm not disturbing your rest."
"No." The Elf frowned; Eomer sounded different, softer than he had previously when addressing him, and he seemed almost nervous to be here, remaining quiet as Legolas stood waiting to hear what he had come to say. "Did you want something?" the Elf prompted after a while of what he thought to be the most uncomfortable run of silence he'd ever suffered through. Was this, Legolas wondered, how Aragorn felt at the long stretches of quiet Legolas so often allowed to fall between them? If so, he was sorry to ever have put the boy through the discomfort so often in the past.
Clearing his throat, Eomer started, "I just…I wanted to…Can I come in for a moment?"
Legolas stepped aside, pulling the door wide open for the man to enter without question or comment. Eomer took a moment to look somewhat distastefully around the small, naked room, perhaps a little guilty that he no doubt had taken a much better room for himself. Legolas found himself suddenly concerned that the man might spot the blood-caked cloths he'd so poorly hidden but fortunately Eomer wasn't paying any real attention to what he was seeing and didn't even seem to notice.
Shifting with impatience on his feet, Legolas prompted, "Eomer?" hoping it might encourage the man to hurry up and say what he had come to say.
Once more, the Human's gaze snapped back towards Legolas. "Yes. I just came here to…Well, to…to thank you for what you did. That was unbelievably kind of you. And if I can ever repay you in any way then you need only say the word." The gratitude was hurried, spilling from the man as if he had to get the praise out before he thought better of it. Once he had gotten it off his chest he breathed a deep sigh and visibly relaxed.
For a long moment, Legolas simply stared at him, knowing fully well that it unsettled the man. Then, at last, he smiled. "That very nearly killed you to say, didn't it?"
"You know it did." Eomer returned his smile knowingly. "But I meant it, Legolas. You returned my sister to me. That is the greatest kindness I can think of."
It was sincere and Legolas found that he could not mock sincerity. Instead he settled on asking, "How is Eowyn?"
"The healers are still looking to her. Her injuries…they are severe, but the healers believe that in time she will be well again."
"I am pleased to hear it."
Eomer nodded and then took a step back towards the door. "Well, I'll leave you to rest now." He threw open the door eagerly and returned to the corridor. Then after a hasty 'thank you' he closed the door behind him and gladly left the Elf to his privacy, relieved that his duty was done and that he could escape the uncomfortable situation he had put himself in.
Legolas stood for a long while, staring at the door through which the man had just left. Surely he must have imagined the past few minutes because there was no way that the proud Man of Rohan who openly hated Legolas had actually walked into this room and thanked his Elven comrade in all sincerity for his actions in Helm's Deep. Shaking his head in utter amazement, Legolas fleetingly wondered whether he'd actually lost more blood through the gash on his side than he'd initially thought and Eomer coming to him had all been one crazy hallucination.
After coming to the decision that it really didn't matter either way, Legolas returned to sit in front of the fire and finished cleaning up his once more freely bleeding wound. Squinting in the poor light of the fire, Legolas attempted to examine the injury but it was in such an awkward position that he found it frustratingly difficult and stretching in an attempt to see the extent of the damage was only making things worse.
Coming to the conclusion that he would probably be best simply tying a bandage around it to staunch the bleeding, Legolas took out his dagger and tore up a few long strips from what remained of his ruined shirt.
As he was pondering on how best to secure the cloth around the seeping wound, a loud knock came from the door. In his current state, Legolas did not particularly want to be observed by anyone else and getting up again to answer the knock seemed to be increasingly difficult, so he called out, "Come back later."
Despite his request, however, the door was roughly flung open and Aragorn stormed inside. Upon seeing Legolas sat before the fire tending to an ugly looking wound on his side, he slammed the door closed so hard that Legolas could have sworn he felt the ancient walls of the Deep rattle.
"Kinnale said you were injured," the boy accused without preamble.
Legolas looked pointedly down at himself, at his bloodied hands and muttered darkly, "That man has no sense of discretion."
"Well, he obviously knew that you wouldn't tell me yourself so he decided to do the sensible thing. Don't get angry at Kinnale for doing what you should have done in the first place!" shouted Aragorn, not sparing his guardian his anger. Legolas deserved it this time for something so foolish. However, for the next question he reined his annoyance in and asked quietly, "How bad is it?"
"Not bad at all. I can handle this on my own, thank you, Aragorn."
Taking another step forward, Aragorn blanched at catching sight of the stained cloths littering the floor around his Elven guardian. "Is that blood?"
Legolas followed his gaze down to the blood-soaked material and answered shortly but honestly, "Yes." There was no point in lying when the truth was so blatantly obvious, even if the truth was bound to worry Aragorn so much. "But I have it under control."
"Legolas, that is a lot of blood!"
"Yes, it is."
"Why aren't you taking this seriously?" Aragorn yelled suddenly, his heart banging hard in his chest as worry for his mentor flared bright in his mind. "This is serious. Don't you get that?"
Seeing the tears beginning to pool in the young man's eyes, Legolas regretted all the more the concern he was causing his charge. All Aragorn's life, he had tried so hard to protect him from seeing him weak and vulnerable, and yet now through his own pride and stupidity he was knelt helplessly before his young ward doing exactly what he had spent the past seventeen years trying to avoid.
"I know it is," Legolas sighed softly, gingerly pressing another piece of cloth to his wound and hiding a wince as he did so. "I am sorry, Aragorn."
The young man seemed oddly defeated at this as he turned away. "I'll go and find the Rohan healers."
Before he could leave, Legolas called after Aragorn, "I have been already. They were run off their feet. I can take care of this myself."
"Clearly," the man dead-panned, motioning to the multiple bloodied scraps of torn up shirt strewn about the place.
"True, I am not the best healer in the world but I can manage this sufficiently."
Aragorn exhaled sharply in seeming frustration and then moved his eyes, now hard and determined, back to the Elf. "When are you…?" he started to say angrily but then breathed deeply and changed his tone with no small amount of effort. "Do you want me to help you?"
Refusing Aragorn's offer, tempting as it may have been to do so, did not seem the wisest idea right then given his state of mind, so Legolas nodded instead. "I'd appreciate that." With a sharp incline of his head, Aragorn stomped over and knelt at his guardian's side, laying his hand against Legolas' and prising it away from the wound on his side that it covered protectively. "I could use a hand bandaging this up. It's tricky to do alone."
Ignoring this, Aragorn took a second to examine the gash on Legolas' side and then decided, "You need to clean this first."
"I have done that already."
"Not well enough. Do you want it to become infected?" Aragorn snapped impatiently as he wetted another scrap of reasonably clean cloth.
"No, I wouldn't want that." Legolas remained quiet as Aragorn concentrated fully on cleansing the knife wound. It was not difficult to pick up on the young man's mood as he worked. His entire demeanour oozed anger. His body was taut and tensed the entire time and he did not once look up into Legolas' face. It was only once Aragorn had finished cleaning the injury that Legolas broke the silence. "You are annoyed with me."
"What makes you say that?" Aragorn asked tightly, still avoiding looking his guardian in the eye.
"Just a feeling. I should like to know why."
Aragorn scoffed. "You know why."
"No I do not, or I would not have asked." At this, the man shook his head in disbelief. "Aragorn? What have I done to upset you? Is it that I got injured – because in battle that is not always avoidable? Or is it just that I didn't tell you about it?"
Suddenly, Aragorn threw down the length of cloth he'd been neatly rolling up in preparation for bandaging and his anger exploded forth. "Why did you have to go and do something so stupid?"
"Excuse me?" Legolas asked, rocking back a little in surprise.
"A whole army on your side but you have to leave them all behind while you go and play the hero."
"Aragorn, I don't understand what…"
"Any one of the Rangers or the Rohirrim could have accompanied you in rescuing Eomer's sister from that prison but you had to go do it by yourself and get yourself hurt in the process!"
"Eowyn? Is that what you're angry about?" Legolas demanded incredulously.
"Of course it is! Why did you have to go in alone? You must have known the resistance you'd come up against, walking into a nest of creatures of the Shadow!"
"Alright, firstly, I had no idea the Uruks were going to barricade the doors behind me and trap me inside. Secondly, had they discovered that the Men attacking Helm's Deep were of the Rohirrim, they would have murdered Eowyn immediately rather than hand her back to her own people, so I had to move fast before the Orcs realised who exactly was trying to take the Keep."
"You didn't have to go in there alone," Aragorn yelled unrelentingly in the face of Legolas reasoning.
"I had to move quickly. Had I taken another it would have hindered me."
"So now I am a hindrance?"
Silence fell as realisation dawned on Legolas. Then after a moment he said softly, "You're angry that I didn't take you with me."
Lowering shining eyes to the floor, Aragorn answered quietly, "You left me alone out there. In the face of an army of Shadow, you left me."
Legolas let his eyes fall closed for a moment and a sigh left his lips. "Aragorn." When he returned his gaze to the young man, Aragorn had his head bowed low. "I am sorry." He laid a delicate hand against his ward's arm, relieved that Aragorn didn't shake him off as he might have expected him to. "I…I didn't…It was too dangerous for you to follow me. Please understand that."
"Yes, dangerous," Aragorn snapped suddenly, looking up at the Elf, angry again, "and you got hurt."
"Better me than you. That, I could not abide."
"Don't say that," Aragorn pleaded, his voice cracking with emotion. "Don't even think like that." He raised his arm to wipe his wet face with his sleeve and shook his head. "I can't do this without you. I can't lose you. You're all I have."
The words sent a jolt of fear rushing through Legolas and the weight of the burden Arathorn had placed on him pressed down again like it had not done in a long while. This dependency had been the one thing that he had tried so hard to avoid during Aragorn's childhood. He had tried so hard to ensure that he would grow up independent. Aragorn could not become entirely reliant on him. Legolas' mind, his heart, could not handle it. It was the main reason he had sought help from first Lothlorien and then Rivendell and finally with the Rangers of the North, to relieve himself of some of the responsibility. And since meeting Kinnale and the other Rangers, who Aragorn had taken to so well, Legolas had grown more confident that the future king would lean more toward the company of his own kind. Not that Legolas would ever intentionally abandon his charge – he could never break his vow to Arathorn – but the future remained frighteningly uncertain and he wanted to be as sure as he could be that should he ever be unexpectedly removed of his guardianship of the heir to the Gondorian throne then Aragorn would still have backup, people to look after him in times of uncertainty and trouble.
Feeling an almost overwhelming mix of emotions – fear, compassion, guilt, appreciation, affection – Legolas carefully shuffled closer to the young man and enveloped him in a hug. For a moment, Aragorn sat stiffly in the embrace, seemingly trying to remain angry to spite his guardian, but Legolas was unrelenting and let his forced sense of calm wash over the man until he softened and leaned against the Elf. Long arms were wrapped around Legolas and Aragorn's head rested upon his shoulder.
Reaching up to tenderly stroke Aragorn's hair as he cried, Legolas hushed the young man gently. "I am sorry," he whispered truthfully. He closed his eyes again, ashamed at his own thoughtlessness. "I'm sorry to have upset you so."
"Just don't leave me to do this all by myself. Please."
"No matter what happens, Aragorn, you will never be alone in this. Kinnale will…"
"I don't want Kinnale," Aragorn said into Legolas' shoulder. "Kinnale doesn't know…all you do." Legolas' hand ran comfortingly over his back and his tears fell freely. "I need you."
"Aragorn," Legolas sighed sadly. "I swore to both your father and to you that I would always guide and protect you and I have no intention of quitting that now."
The young man chuckled sadly, reaching up to wipe his face. "Good," he laughed. For a moment longer he stayed in his guardian's arms, letting himself bask in the Elf's unshakeable cool confidence. Then he remembered that Legolas was injured and still needed attention so he pulled back, taking a second to once more wipe his face free of tears. Legolas smiled kindly at him, his own hands lifting to gently wipe away his ward's sadness. Clearing his throat so that he was certain his voice would be reasonably steady, Aragorn said, "This still needs bandaging," pointing to the bloodied wound at Legolas' side.
As Aragorn wrapped the lengths of cloth they were using as bandages around Legolas midriff to apply pressure to the injury, Legolas remained quiet, watching the boy work so competently on him, wondering when Aragorn had picked up on such a skill. Certainly, it was nothing that Legolas had taught him. Most likely, he had learnt it in just the past day as he'd helped the other injured Men in Helm's Deep. Apparently, he was a fast learner as he carefully wrapped the bandage around his guardian so that the wound was bound and protected.
"How's that?" Aragorn asked uncertainly, leaning back to admire his handiwork.
"Perfect," Legolas smiled in return, gingerly laying his hand against the bandage.
Beaming at his guardian in the wake of the rare compliment, Aragorn nodded his thanks.
Legolas bent to clean up all the soiled cloth scattered around, saying to Aragorn, "Thank you for your help; you should go on to bed now, it's getting late."
However, the Elf knew that there was no real chance of Aragorn leaving when he winced in pain upon leaning over to pick up the dirty cloths.
Taking the material from Legolas' hand, Aragorn insisted, "No, you have to lie down and rest. That's what the healers would advise."
Legolas smiled tightly through the pain. "Would they now?"
"Come on, I'll give you a hand."
Realising that in his current mood Aragorn would brook no refusal, Legolas yet the young man help him to his feet, swallowing back the groan that threatened to escape his throat. When he lowered himself onto the layer of old blankets that were serving as his bed, Legolas realised just how tired he really was. He could not exactly remember how many days had passed since he'd last slept.
He tried to hide a yawn as Aragorn helped him lay back, although seeing as his eyes were already beginning to grow heavy it was a pretty pointless deception. As he laid down, Aragorn draped a blanket over him.
"Do you need anything else?" the boy asked softly. Legolas merely shook his head, eyes already closed and on the verge of sleep. Suddenly, he felt so terribly weary. The world about him was starting to fade and although he knew that he should not give in to the deep sleep that his body craved, he also knew that the outcome this time was inevitable.
Aragorn was surprised that his guardian drifted off so quickly. However, when he went to clean up the mess before the fire, he realised that Legolas had indeed lost a lot of blood; it was caked over pieces of ripped-up shirt that Legolas had used to clean himself up.
Throwing the scarps into the fire to incinerate, Aragorn glanced over to the pale Elf, wondering if perhaps he should drag a healer up here to look at him. The medics were swamped with injured patients though and it might be difficult getting them away from the mass of patients downstairs. He decided that he would stay with Legolas as he slept and if his condition got any worse he would insist on a healer coming up here to look at him properly.
Set on this course of action, Aragorn sat cross-legged on the floor beside his friend and mentor and waited to see what the daylight would bring.
To Be Continued…