Rating: PG-13 to R (Angst... proceed with caution)

Summary: When Legolas is forced to make a decision that could very
well determine the fate of all Middle Earth, what will he do? And
what consequences will his choice have?

// = elvish translations
# = flashbacks
* = thought

Disclaimer and Acknowledgements: As in Chapter 1

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Chapter 18 - Hopes and Prayers

While keeping pressure on the neck wound, Aragorn pulled the frail body against him, pressing Legolas’ head on his shoulder. He rested his chin on top of the elf’s head and his eyes brimmed with unshed tears. He kept asking himself why but no answer came to him. Legolas’ decision shocked him. It was not unheard of for elves to die from injuries or a broken heart but he had never heard of an elf trying to take his own life. Blood seeped slowly through the makeshift bandage and soaked into his tunic. Feeling the life of his friend slipping away by the seconds in his arms, Aragorn pulled the elf a little tighter against his chest as if by doing so, he could somehow hold on to his soul. Something hard pressed painfully into his ribs. Reaching into his tunic unconsciously to remove the offensive object, his hand closed around a glass tube… the birthday gift from Elrohir. His heart leapt. There may still be hope yet.

Crushing the glass with his bare hand, the young man released the contents of the tube onto the grass. Ignoring the stinging pain in his hand, Aragorn picked out the athelas leaves, chewed on them and carefully packed the paste into the gaping wound. Ripping more cloth from his clothing, the ranger bandaged the wound as tight as possible without cutting off the elf’s air supply. He sat and waited and prayed… and watched with hope as the bleeding slowed. A tiny spot appeared on the bandage but did not spread. Aragorn let out the breath that he did not realise that he was holding and made a note to thank his brother when they get back.

Aragorn slid his left hand down Legolas back, placed his right hand under the elf’s knees, and with one swift movement, lifted his friend into his arms carefully. Making sure that he had a firm grip on the body, Aragorn made his way carefully but quickly towards home, afraid that any jarring movement would aggravate the prince’s injuries further.

Despite his vigilance and the use of the healing herb, the wound started to bleed sluggishly again several minutes into the journey. Blood saturated the bandage and made its way into the elf’s tunic. Aragorn felt the wetness sipping slowly through Legolas’ clothes and into his own sleeve. The ranger quickened his pace and sprinted forward knowing that stopping was not a choice and the life or death of Mirkwood’s prince depended solely on whether he made it back to his father in time or not.

Running with someone in your arms was not an easy task. It should be easier if he could throw the body over his shoulder but that was currently not an option. The ranger tripped and stumbled many times almost dropping his precious burden at one point. Sharp pains shot through his arms and back from the exertion as he pushed his body to do the impossible. His lungs burned, as the air he breathed in was not enough to compensate for the oxygen consumed by his exhausted body. Aragorn commanded his feet to move forward via sheer will power and soon his hard work paid off. The gates of the Last Homely House loomed before him and moments later, he staggered unsteadily into the courtyard panting heavily.

Elrond and his twin sons stepped into the field just in time to see the ranger stumble in with a bundle cradled against his chest. The trio hurried across the field towards the near-collapse human and Elladan promptly relieved him of his burden and sprinted back into the house. Noting the blood on Aragorn’s hands and tunic, Elrond did a quick scan of his human son.

"Are you hurt?" the elf lord asked as he looked the ranger over.

Aragorn shook his head and waved him on motioning them to treat the elven prince. Leaving Elrohir behind to see to the exhausted ranger, Elrond followed briskly behind Elladan.

Aragorn panted heavily trying to catch his breath. With his body bent forward, he braced his hands on his knees and hissed as the glass shards that had been embedded in his right palm cut into his flesh. With the adrenaline surge worn off, the young man found that his legs no longer wanted to support his weight and he plopped down onto the grass and placed his head between his knees, still gasping for air. Noting his brother’s reaction, Elrohir grabbed the human’s hand, turned it palm-up and grimaced at what met his eyes. The skin was torn and bloody and numerous bits of glass still buried deeply in the flesh.

"Come Estel, let’s go get this cleaned up," the younger twin said as he helped Aragorn onto his feet. "And you can tell me what happened."

Aragorn nodded his appreciation and allowed his brother to help him into the house. As they passed by Legolas’ room, the ranger saw his father and brother bent over the bed working fervently on the wood-elf and his feet detoured automatically from their original course and brought him through the open door. Elrohir tried to steer him away but Aragorn rooted himself firmly on the ground and refused to budge. Sighing in defeat, Elrohir pushed his brother down onto the floor and went to his own room to retrieve his healing pack. Elrohir returned moments later and proceeded to clean the wounds on the human’s hand. Using a pair of tweezers, he picked the glass shreds carefully out of Aragorn’s palm but the ranger was completely oblivious of the pain. All of his attention was focused on his father, Elladan and the figure lying on the bed.

It took Elrohir almost fifteen minutes to pick out all the glass shards embedded in his brother’s palm but the ranger had been silent all that time. Mixing some powdered dried herbs into the basin, Elrohir dipped Aragorn’s hand gently into the warm solution and the human hissed as the water stung his wounds.

Elrohir smiled mildly, "Well, that got your attention. Now would you tell us what happened?"

Allowing his father to deal with the more delicate procedures, Elladan washed his hands and dried them on a towel before joining his brothers. "He did it to himself, didn’t he?" the older elf said in a soft tone as he sat down beside Elrohir, his legs crossed casually in front of him.

The human nodded. "I thought we have already sorted things out, that we would help him through with this." Aragorn shook his head in confusion. "I have no idea what brought on to this sudden change."

Elrohir stole a glance over his shoulders at his father and his gaze lingered there for a moment as he watched the healer expertly stitch up the open wound on Legolas’ neck with great care and precision. "The only way we can find out is to wait until he wakes." Turning back to Aragorn, Elrohir continued his ministration, bandaging the human’s hand with a strip of clean cloth.

Elladan watched as his twin brother fussed over Aragorn and raised his brow. "So what happened to your hand?"

*~*~*~*~*~*

To Be Continued...