Perspiration beaded on Legolas’ brow and gathered
on his upper lip.
His head spun dizzily and his vision hazed. He was surprised by the
sheer, throbbing power of the pain that made his leg feel as if it were
being held in a slow fire. He drew in a deep breath and held it before
letting it out through his teeth and sucking in another, trying to slow
his pounding heart and calm his shaking body, but the pain seemed to
just keep getting worse, as if it were spreading slowly up his
leg and making more and more of his body burn. The elf’s heart was
racing unnaturally fast, and that did nothing to help Legolas’
lightheadedness. Near hyperventilation made a ribbon of pain lance
between his temples, his grip on his thigh tightening urgently as the
agony shooting up his leg threatened to overwhelm his control.
Aragorn observed Legolas’ symptoms with rising
concern. He had seen
something like this before, but not in a person. He was suddenly struck
by the memory of finding an injured fawn caught in some hunter's snare
in the woods near Rivendell when he was ten or eleven years old. Being
a thoughtful and kindhearted boy, he had tried to help the little fawn,
but it was dead before he could get it home. Elrond had examined the
creature and gently explained to the boy that he had done nothing
wrong; some snares were laced with a certain kind of poison that
entered the bloodstream quickly, disabling normal clotting functions
and speeding up the victim's heart rate until they died from either
blood loss or coronary failure.
Aragorn remembered the way the fawn's heart had
hammered against his
chest as he carried it and the glazed look in its eye... It was far too
close to the look he saw on Legolas' face at this moment.
Touching the arm of one of the elf warriors who were
gathered with
concern around their prince, Aragorn sought the elf's attention. "They
have to slow his heart..." he started to say, but the elf, concerned
about Legolas and not particularly fond of the brash young human,
shrugged the ranger off and shushed him as if he were a child, which,
in point of fact to the elven mind, he was.
"They know what needs doing, young one," the elf
brushed him off with mild annoyance.
"You don't understand!" Aragorn tried again, but no
one was
listening to him. Highly frustrated, Aragorn turned and ran back to
their camp, not far distant. Hastily dumping his pack on the ground, he
sorted through the items with a fevered haste. Partly at his adopted
father's insistence, the young ranger always carried a small supply of
healing herbs and medicinal powders with him. Now he sorted through
them quickly, pulling out several different items that he knew he would
need and laying them aside.
Uncorking a small vial with his teeth he poured it
into a small
wooden dish and added some of the other items he had laid aside. Mixing
the herbs quickly, he avoided taking any deep breaths. Aragorn
hesitated as he prepared to add the last ingredient. He hadn't had the
call to do this very often and he found himself suddenly unsure of how
much of which vial he was supposed to add now. The last thing he wanted
to do was get this wrong and make the potion too strong. Finally,
hoping he did right, he put in a few drops of the yellow liquid and
re-corked the vials.
Pulling a rag from his pack, Aragorn folded it into
a hasty square
and soaked it in the greenish-amber-colored mixture he had just
prepared. If he had done his work right, the drug he had mixed should
put Legolas into a deep sleep, which would slow his heart rate back to
normal and remove the risk to the prince's life. If he had done it
right. The young ranger desperately hoped that he had.
Tucking the rag in his pocket and returning to the
elves, Aragorn
saw that Legolas was worse. The look on Sarcaulien and Raniean's faces
was grave as they finally gave up trying to staunch the bleeding, and
simply began wrapping the injured leg as tightly and securely as
possible, hoping that that would help. Many elves were exceptionally
skilled at healing, but these were warrior elves, not healers and,
although they did their best for their prince, Aragorn feared it was
not going to be enough.
The young ranger tried to approach, only to be
shouldered aside by the other concerned elves.
Aragorn bit his lip. He was getting mighty tired of
their
cold-shoulder treatment, but now was not the time for it. If he was
right about his suspicion, then his friend might be in real danger.
"Let me through!" Aragorn pushed his way into the
circle of elves
around Legolas. The elf prince was curled tightly into himself, rocking
slightly as he tried to deal with the pain.
The ranger shoved a warrior out of his path,
ignoring the glaring looks his actions generated, and knelt behind the
wounded elf.
"Legolas." He softly spoke the prince’s name but
there was no
response, "Legolas, it is I, Aragorn." Still no response. The elf
seemed to have pulled up inside himself in an effort to deal with the
pain of his wound and the dangerous reaction his body was having.
The elf prince's face was pale and Aragorn could
feel Legolas' pulse
racing under his hand when he pressed his fingers against the side of
his friend's neck.
Quickly making up his mind, Aragorn pulled the
square of herb-ladened fabric from his coat pocket and leaned forward.
He wrapped his
left arm around Legolas’ chest and pulled the elf back towards him. He
could feel the prince tense under his touch and knew the reasoning
behind the resistance but he didn’t let up, forcing the elf to uncurl.
Legolas panicked at the restrictive touch as his mind, slowed by the
pain, surfaced memories long forgotten. The ranger moved quickly and
with his right hand, Aragorn gently placed the cloth over Legolas’ nose
and mouth.
Legolas reached up to stop the ranger, but Aragorn
pulled the elf
back until his head rested against the man’s chest. Within seconds the
prince lay limply in the human’s lap, unconscious.
"What do you think you're doing?" Sarcaulien snapped
protectively,
rising and moving towards Aragorn as if to pull him away from Legolas.
"Trust me," the young human shook his head
earnestly. "I just put
him to sleep. I think there may have been poison on the trap, and his
body needs to be relaxed or he could die."
Aragorn pulled the drugged cloth away from his
friend and brushed
the elf’s hair back from the fair face to make sure the prince was
completely out.
The circle of elves, momentarily too shocked by
Strider's abrupt
actions to stir, erupted around him and Sarcaulien brusquely pushed the
man out of the way as they hurried to tend to their now unconscious
companion.
"If there was poison," Sarcaulien muttered
somewhat darkly,
as he smoothed Legolas' rumpled tunic and helped a second elf replace
the prince's boot and wrap the ties around his bandage to help keep
pressure on the wound. However, he could not deny that it was better
for Legolas to be unconscious rather than in all that pain.
The human paced the exterior of the circle, to which
he had once
again been edged, trying to see how his friend was doing. "You still
need to stop the bleeding." Aragorn interjected as he watched them
working at binding the leg up. He pressed in next to Raniean who gently
pushed him away.
"They are doing their best, leave them to it."
"But I can help." Aragorn shook his head. He
couldn't believe they still didn't trust him.
"Stay out of the way, Strider. They don’t need you
right now." The elf warrior tried to set the man’s mind at ease.
Frustration washed over the ranger and he ran back
to the edge of
their camp, gathering up his pack and the medicines he had dumped out
of it earlier. He picked through the assortment of herbs and powders,
and, grabbing a small pot, began to prepare a poultice, stirring the
odd contents over the small campfire. If the elves wouldn’t listen to
him then he would simply be prepared for later. He did not doubt their
own healing skills, but he had had extensive training in the healing
arts due in no small part to his adoptive father’s own knowledge in the
profession.
Legolas was carried back into the camp and the
unconscious elf was made as comfortable as possible.
When the confusion and bustle in the camp had died
down and the
elven warriors had settled around the fire and taken up their positions
skirting the camp, Aragorn crept back over near Legolas. The elf prince
still had not gained consciousness and that in itself worried the
ranger. Had he made the potion too strong? Had he given Legolas too
much? Usually he had Elrond, or one of his brothers to check his
potions and poultices, but now he was on his own and he had better
not have made an error or his friend would pay for it. His fingers
slid down to check Legolas' pulse and he was gratified at least to feel
that the elven prince's heartbeat had begun to return to normal. No
one seemed to take notice of his ministrations, so he seated himself
next to his friend and unlaced the elf’s soft leather boot once more,
exposing the bandaged wound. The deep cuts had started to bleed again,
if indeed they had ever stopped, and the dressing was already soaked.
Sarcaulien moved from where he sat near the fire,
but Raniean
pressed him back down. "Let him be. Prince Legolas' heart did slow as
he said it would, did it not? Just watch him and he can do no harm."
Aragorn leaned over Legolas and brushed stray locks
from the elf’s
face, worriedly pressing the palm of his hand to the prince’s forehead.
Legolas' skin was no longer clammy, but it was still a little pale,
even for an elf. Gently he touched the other's eyelid and opened the
eye
wider to the dim firelight. The pupils of the blue-grey eyes were
normal; there was no dilation. His worry dropped a notch and he
returned his attention to Legolas’ leg. The gashes had cut deep into
the soft tissue and muscle of the elf prince's calf; in places the
steel trap had bitten through to the bone.
Shaking his head in disgust, Aragorn set himself to
the task of
cleaning the wounds again. He discarded the bloodied bandages and
pulled the poultice from the pocket of his overcoat. Carefully he
spread the thick solution on the cuts and, ripping strips of cloth from
his shirt, he rebound the elf’s leg. The poultice would help Legolas'
body fight the anti-clotting agent in the poison and the elf's strong
body would do the rest.
Aragorn set the leather boot aside and removed his
heavy overcoat,
draping it over his friend’s still form and tucking the edges in around
the prince to keep the cool air from slipping underneath its heavy
warmth. When he had finished his tasks, he scooted up near Legolas’
head and laid his hand on the elf’s chest waiting for his friend to
awaken. There was nothing more he or any of them could do until morning.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
The horses made soft sounds in the night, tied
just outside the
circle of the camp. The fire had died down and the elves were stirring
in the pre-dawn, preparing to break for the day’s ride back towards the
heart of Mirkwood and home. Aragorn had not moved from where he sat,
keeping vigil over the fallen elf.
The warriors in the camp had contented themselves
with letting the
human care for their prince, since trying to deny him had already
proved
a futile gesture. They had watched the young ranger gently caring for
the elf throughout the watches of the night. Raniean had not left the
inner circle of the fire, still not quite at peace with a human in
their midst, but that had changed sometime in the night as he had seen
the care and efficiency that the ranger took as he watched over
Legolas. The human had finally given in to sleep less than an hour ago.
He sat in the same position he had all night, legs crossed, one hand on
the elf's chest to feel for any irregularities in pulse or breathing.
Slowly Aragorn’s head had nodded, eventually falling against his chest,
as his eyes grew heavy.
Raniean hated to wake him. He was spared the task by
the stirring of
Legolas. At the slight movement from the body beneath his hand, Aragorn
came fully awake. He raised himself up on his knees and leaned over the
elf, talking softly to him as he woke up. He spoke so quietly that not
even the elves near the two friends could hear the words he uttered.
"Legolas," Aragorn whispered his friend’s name. "Are
you okay?"
"Aragorn?" Confusion and pain drifted across the
elf’s features as he attempted to blink the world into focus.
"Shh. Yes, I’m here." Aragorn replied, gently
squeezing the prince’s shoulder.
"What happened?" Legolas questioned groggily.
The ranger smiled a lopsided grin as his friend’s
eyes locked onto
him. "It was my turn to drug you." Aragorn was very glad to see that it
appeared as if the danger was past and Legolas' body had dealt with and
neutralized whatever poison had remained in his system. However, the
elf was still weak from his wound, which was bad enough on its own
terms.
Legolas laughed slightly, the chuckle turning into a
cough. "Where are we?"
"We are still in camp."
Sarcaulien kneeled next to the ranger and leaned
over the elf prince,
interrupting the conversation. "How do you feel, my lord? Can you
travel? We are almost ready to leave."
Aragorn slipped quietly to the back of the knot of
elves that had
gathered around Legolas, talking to him softly in their native tongue.
He edged towards the horses and stood among them, helping get them
ready to leave.
The ranger looked back across the camp as Legolas
was helped to his
feet and two elves assisted the elf prince in making his way towards
the horses. The elf smiled at his friend who walked a dappled grey
steed to intercept them, holding the animal’s head until Legolas had
been seated on it. Legolas winced as the perpendicular position caused
more blood to flow into his injured extremity and adjusted his position
until his throbbing leg was as comfortable as was reasonably possible.
Aragorn was forgotten in the chaos of breaking the
camp down and, as
the first of the elves rode out, he remained behind to help clean up.
When they were through it was impossible to tell that anyone had stayed
there throughout the night.
Legolas was among the first to leave. Turning
carefully in his
saddle so as not to disturb his hurting leg, he watched as Aragorn was
ordered about and patiently complied. The ranger’s eyes caught his and
the human smiled at the elf as the small entourage rounded a bend in
the path.
"Sarcaulien," Legolas addressed the elf nearest him.
"Please go back
and see to it that Strider gets a horse. I’d like him to ride with me.
I’d rather he wasn’t walking with the warriors alone just yet."
The elf nodded and reined his horse in, turning back
towards the
camp to retrieve the human. The other elves had finished and those on
horseback were just mounting up when Sarcaulien stopped his horse
inside the empty campground. He spoke quietly with the elf in charge of
the camp and was immediately handed the reins of a dark brown stallion.
Drawing even with the walking ranger, the warrior paced the human and
blocked his path with the horses.
Aragorn was so tired from staying up nearly the
whole night that he
almost ran into the side of the steed before he realized that
Sarcaulien had been speaking to him.
"I’m sorry. What did you say?" He squinted up
through the sun at the seated elf.
Sarcaulien shook his head and repeated himself. "My
lord wishes you to ride up with him. Are you able?"
"Of course," Aragorn replied in surprise and
delight. The elf held
the horse steady for him and passed the reins to the man when he had
gained his seat. Without looking back, the elf warrior nudged his horse
into a full trot and left the human in his wake. Aragorn kicked the
underbelly of his steed and gained the elf in minutes. He cantered up
next to Legolas and smiled at the elf prince. The two rode together
talking quietly and laughing surrounded by the other elf warriors.
After a while, the talking ceased and the rocking
motion of riding
the horse began to lull the man to sleep. It had been a long wearisome
night for him. He had had neither water nor food as no one had thought
to offer it to him and worry for his friend had consumed him, taking
its toll. Slowly he fell forward in the saddle until he lay along the
length of the powerful animal’s neck fast asleep.
Sarcaulien noticed the ranger first and slowed his
horse down,
pacing the beast that the man rode and coming alongside him prepared to
catch him should Aragorn slip. He called out softly to Legolas, "My
lord, your friend has fallen asleep."
Legolas circled his horse back and sidled up on
Aragorn’s flank. "Did he not sleep last night?"
"No lord, he did not. He took neither food nor water
and he would
not leave your side. I think he feared he had over-drugged you."
Legolas leaned forward over the neck of his horse
and snagged the
reins of Aragorn’s steed, just barely caught in the man's limp fingers.
Slowly he reined the animal in, bringing the horse to a full stop.
The
cessation of the rocking motion woke the man who sat up blearily and
looked around him. His eyes lighted on Sarcaulien on his left and a
frown creased his brow. "Why have we stopped - is Legolas alright?
"I am fine, Strider," the elf prince spoke from his
right causing
him to swivel quickly in his saddle. "Come over here." The elf patted
the back end of his own horse.
"No, I’m fine." Aragorn swallowed and yawned,
"really."
"No. Do as I say." The elf stared into the sleep
weary eyes. "Now
Strider, you are holding us up," he chastised gently, with the hint of
a smile pulling at his graceful lips.
Slightly confused, the young man slid over onto
Legolas’ horse and
seated himself behind the elf, careful to keep his distance. He rested
his hands lightly on his thighs and balanced himself behind the saddle.
"Are you settled?" Legolas looked over his shoulder
at the ranger as
the man watched Sarcaulien walk the steed to the back of the small
group and hand it off to an elf that was walking.
"Excuse me?" He refocused on the elf prince.
Legolas laughed lightly. "Hold on then. We are
headed home."
Aragorn nodded absently and leaned around to look at
the elf’s leg. "How is your wound?"
"It is good, thanks to you." Legolas glanced back at
the ranger. "Raniean told me what you did."
Aragorn didn’t answer; he just smiled and nodded. He
was having a
hard time fighting off the sleep that was stealing back over him,
fogging up his mind. He tried to keep himself upright behind the prince
and not touch the elf, but in the end he lost the battle and he slumped
forward, his head coming to rest between Legolas’ shoulder blades.
Legolas slowed his mount down to a calm gait as
Raniean cantered up
next to him, taking note of the situation. The elf warrior pressed the
human forward, pushing the man’s full weight against Legolas as
instructed by the prince. Reaching back behind him, Legolas grabbed the
cuffs of the ranger’s overcoat, wrapping the man’s arms around his
slender waist, holding them in place there with one hand.
He thanked the warrior for his help and paced the
other as they slowly walked through the forest.
"Humans." Raniean looked at the man seated behind
the prince, his
dark hair spilling over his young features and partially hiding his
eyes. "They need so much sleep."
"Why didn’t anyone care for him last night, Ran?"
Legolas eyed the elf.
The tall warrior looked away uncomfortably before
replying, "I think they were testing him."
"And did he pass?" There was a hard edge to the
question.
"Yes, my lord. I don’t believe it will happen again.
The warriors were very impressed with your young friend."
"Even though he is human?"
"Even though." Raniean smiled at the elf prince
knowingly.
Aragorn shifted slightly in his sleep; a small sigh
escaped his lips
as he turned his head and laid it back down against the elf’s soft
leather tunic.
Legolas glanced cautiously over his shoulder, trying
to see if the man had awoken.
"He still sleeps," Raniean answered the unspoken
question as he
monitored the man’s breathing. After a spell of silence he continued,
"You pick your friends well. The human performed admirably. If it had
not been for him, those dwarves would have left us in that net. And he
was the one that stopped your leg from bleeding when we could not."
"There is more to this one than meets the eye, Ran."
Legolas smiled and nodded at his companion. "A lot more."
"Yes, my lord. I am beginning to see that."
"Make sure he is not forgotten again, Raniean."
"I can assure you he won’t be, my lord." Raniean
smiled back at the
prince, knowing in his heart that somehow the human that had been
brought into their midst would change many things in his world,
including his own perceptions of men.
The End
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