I love Aragorn angst, too...ah well, I like all kind of angst stories^^

Nightmares

"Estel, what's wrong? Estel? Estel!"

"By Valar, he's burning with fever! Father, what happened?"

"I don't know. Carefully take him and lay him on his bed, I will examine him immediately."

Voices echoed around him. He couldn't make out who spoke, everything was a blur. He was being moved and laid down on a softer ground.

"This isn't a normal cold, is it?"

Worried voices spoke around him. Aragorn wanted to know what was happening, but he couldn't open his eyes. There was pain, yes, and it seemed as if it was the only thing that existed.

"I believe his lungs are infected, he has difficulties breathing," a deep voice with a concerned tone in it said. Aragorn immediately recognized it as Elrond's.

Every breath he took raced through his body like fire, and often a cough shook his body, leaving him weak and exhausted.

He wanted to open his mouth, wanted to tell them not to worry, but realized that he couldn't do so. The pain controlled everything, and Aragorn slipped back into unconsciousness.

Images were haunting his mind. He was running through the forest, followed by dark shadows, trying desperately to escape. They were everywhere and he had lost his sword as well as his arrows. He jumped over roots and stones, his breath fast and shallow. He knew that he couldn't keep this up any longer, but he had to escape, had to find a way...

The shadows laughed. Aragorn looked around and gasped in shock as he noticed how close they had come. He tried to quicken his pace, but his legs were tired and achy and wouldn't obey. He raced through the woods, avoiding the branches which snapped into his face, his mind whirling with fear. They couldn't catch him, they would kill him and...no, they just couldn't.

Once again he looked back and saw the shadowy figures, evil eyes shining through the black hoods and staring at him with a hungry gaze. He shivered at the pure evilness in their gaze.

The trees were opening to a small clearing. Aragorn ran through it, turning right. He didn't know where he was, he just ran blindly through the forest, searching for a way to find an escape, a safe place, or at least a weapon to fight....

He stumbled over a stone, nearly falling to the ground. His mind raced. If he fell, there wouldn't be time to stand up again, for the shadows were fast. He jumped over some bushes, wanted to run further...and stopped right in his track as a he realized that there wasn't any more wood in front of him, but a large, wild river.

The water was flowing very fast. Aragorn inwardly cursed, turning his head. The eyes of the ranger widened as he saw the shadows approaching. He had only two chances - either fighting with his bare hands or...he looked into the water. Even a very good swimmer would have had his problems in crossing this river, and Aragorn knew that his swimming skills weren't good enough to survive in such a wild river.

The decision was made as one of the shadows screeched in a horrible voice. Without even thinking further, the man leaped into the icy cold water.

Elrond looked worriedly down on his human son, once again placing his hand on the man's forehead. Aragorn was burning with fever, and every time he breathed, there was a deep, rattling sound in his chest which scared the elf. He knew everything about healing wounds, but his knowledge was limited when it came to human illnesses.

"What is wrong with him?" Elrohir asked, looking with wide, worried eyes at his father. It was him who had discovered Aragorn's sickness, for his room was nearest to the human's room.

Elrond shook his head. "He's very ill. It's not a normal cold, his lungs are affected, too." The elven lord scolded himself for not seeing this sooner. If his son died because of this...he would never forgive himself.

But now was not the time for guilt, they had to help him, and fast.

"We have to get him to drink this tea," Elrond instructed, "It will ease the cough a bit, although I can't fully suppress it, since it helps cleaning his lungs, but maybe it will ease his sleep a bit."

Legolas stayed behind, staring frightened at the shivering form of his friend. Oh, it was his fault...if he had just insisted on searching shelter in time, if they hadn't traveled through the rain...the pale face of Aragorn frightened him, and so did the coughing fits and the labored breathing; the elf had never experienced something like this before.

"Oh, Estel, please...." he whispered, frightened beyond scare. If this would be a fight, then he could do something, but standing helplessly and watching his friend struggle like that was....nerve-wracking.

****************

He was drowning! The cold water entered his lungs, and he coughed underwater, which only worsened the situation. Aragorn tried to swim, but there was water everywhere! He couldn't breathe, he just couldn't...

He started panicking and trashed wildly around with his arms and legs. The cold water was paralyzing him, and he just couldn't swim properly.
Then his head broke through the surface and he gasped for air. He was once again pulled under water by a wave hitting his head before he could finish his breath. The need for air became overwhelming and he felt his muscles slackening.

Aragorn opened his mouth and felt how the water entered his lungs. His eyes widened in panic.

He couldn't breathe! He was suffocating, he needed air, he would die, he...

"Come on, Estel, don't give up, just breathe!"

How could he? There was water everywhere! He couldn't breathe water, it would kill him.

"Hold him upright, he isn't getting enough air!"

"But why, father?"

"There's phlegm in his lungs which stops him from doing so. We have to get it out as soon as possible." The voices sounded panicked. "Estel, son, breathe!"

Father?

They were pleading desperately now.

Oh, and how he wanted to breathe. The problem was that he couldn't! Red spots clouded his vision as his body screamed for air he didn't receive. The icy water was everywhere around him, pulling him down.

Aragorn was scared. He didn't want to die, not yet! And he certainly didn't want to die like that. He had always expected to die in a battle, but not to drown in a river...

In the distance, he could hear the shadows laughing as he struggled for his dear life. He could hear clearly the painful thudding of his heart in his chest.

'Help me...'

"He doesn't respond!" the panicked voice of his brother, Elladan.

'What are they doing here?' the ranger wondered, while being pulled deeper under water. He had given up struggling now, his vision unfocused and blurry.

Strong arms wrapped around his upper body, shaking him forcefully. Voices shouted, people were running around and he was caught in the middle, unmoving.

'What is happening?' he sank deeper, slowly losing consciousness and becoming more aware of the rustling and voices. He was at two places at once, struggling in the water and lying in his bed in Rivendell. But in both places he couldn't breath and the pain in his chest seemed to be exploding.

"He has to cough the phlegm out of his lungs, but it will hurt him a lot. Elrohir, give me the water!"

He moved his hands, trying to swim through the river. Liquid was running down his throat, and he panicked once more. The need for air was unbearable, but he couldn't breathe water, it would kill him... Iluvitar, no! No!

Aragorn's consciousness disappeared and he started fading away.

"Estel, will you please breathe now," a voice full of tears commanded, "For it's far too early for us to lose you!"

"Oh Valar no, his lips are turning blue," another one gasped.

'I'm sorry...' Aragorn thought, as he heard the worry in the voices of his brothers. He felt a slight pang of guilt as he remembered that it was always him who caused others to worry.

His limp body swirled through the water and was thrown against a stone by the forces of the rolling waves. The movement caused him to open his mouth in shock and he gasped.

"That's it, Estel, breathe, you can do it, just breathe!"

His whole body trembled and suddenly he started coughing vigorously. Every cough hurt in his chest and clouded his vision more. Strong arms wrapped around his upper body, holding him in place while the coughs shook his weak body...

And suddenly he wasn't under water anymore, but back in his room in Rivendell. He didn't open his eyes, but immediately knew the change. The coughs were still wracking his body and Aragorn wanted to stop them, wanted to breathe instead, but somebody soothed it away.

"Let it go, just cough, it will clear your lungs. Don't suppress it."

His mind was that foggy that he could barely make out the words, but in the end he did what he was told, merely because he lacked the strength to do otherwise. The coughs didn't stop and his vision was kind of fuzzy. Someone held him up, supporting his body. Fear grabbed Aragorn. What if the coughs never stopped? He needed the air, he was...

Pain shot through him like fire. His chest was burning and suddenly thick phlegm was in his mouth. Somebody wiped it away, and another person wiped the sweat from his brow.

Then, when he thought that he couldn't bear it any longer, the coughs finally subdued and Aragorn took a deep breath. Sweet air filled his lungs and the red spots disappeared. He took the next breath, and another one....slowly his brain started working again and the ranger could focus on what was going on.

He could hear the noises more clearly, although he found it still difficult to understand the words which were spoken. His whole body ached and the dull pain in his chest wouldn't disappear.

The arms were still wrapped around his body and he idly wondered who was holding him. Then his mind focused on breathing again, for every breath was painful and shot a sharp pain through his body.

"Legolas, can you hold him a little longer?" someone softly asked. It took Aragorn quite a while to figure out that it was his father who had spoken. Then someone lifted his face and placed a cup against his lips.

"Drink, Estel, it will make you feel better."

Aragorn didn't want to drink anything, his throat was to sore and he knew that it would hurt quite a bit. But the voice was persistent and wouldn't take the cup away, until the ranger finally swallowed a mouth full. It hurt, how he had expected it, and he clearly felt how the liquid ran down his throat to his stomach.

A cold cloth was placed on his forehead, easing the pain a little.

Lying there, Aragorn found it incredibly difficult to stay awake and slowly slipped back into the darkness.

********************

Elrond let out a breath of relief and gently stroke over his son's face. Aragorn had scared him deeply, for he had suddenly stopped breathing. He and the twins had spent the last minutes in trying to get his lungs to work again, while the face of the human slowly turned blue.

He was resting now, but his fever was still very high.

The pale face of Elrohir appeared, looking down on the still form of Aragorn. "That was damn close," he whispered frightened.

Elladan put a hand on the shoulder of his twin, trying to support the other elf. He too clearly remembered the horror they had all endured during these few minutes in which Estel hadn't been breathing. They had helplessly watched how slowly the color left the human's face. He looked at Elrond. "Will he be okay now?"

The elder elf sighed. "I don't know. His lungs are still congested and we can't get the fever down. It's up to him if he's strong enough to fight this," the lord rubbed his temple, hating the fact that he could do nothing but wait and give his son some medications to ease the pain.

Legolas leaned his head against the wall and stared at the ranger. He had come so close to losing the best friend he had ever possessed, and it troubled him deeply. It reminded him once more of the fact that Aragorn was mortal and that once the day would come on which his friend would close his eyes for the last time. The prince had always tried not to think of that, but now these scaring thoughts came forcefully to his awareness while he watched the motionless, pale human in the bed.

How often had they fought together? How often had one of them risked his life for the other one? And yet he had never thought that he might lose his friend because of an...illness. It seemed rather ironical that he died of that, after he had survived so many wounds, so many poisons...

No! Aragorn wouldn't die, and he, Legolas, wouldn't even think of that!

And all they could do was wait. Wait and hope. Legolas sighed and sat down on a chair, intending not to leave the room until his friend was better.

Obviously the twins were doing the same. As mischievous as they normally were, as serious they seemed now, for they deeply cared for their little brother. They both watched over the ranger, like Legolas did, praying for the best.

It was all they could do.

They were hunting him again and he stumbled through the woods, fear evident in his wide, panicked eyes. Why couldn't they leave him alone? Why were they always hunting him?

These shadows were far more frightening than orcs, for they resembled pure evil and they longed to pull Aragorn into the darkness. The ranger ran as fast as he could, but he was already exhausted while the shadows didn't seem to have any troubles keeping up with him. Panting, Aragorn pressed his back against a tree, too tired to flee, and they circled around him, ready to catch the human.

He raised his fists, determined not to give up willingly.

'My poor, pretty boy;' one of the shadows whispered teasingly and was by his side in an instant. Before Aragorn even knew what was happening, the dark figure had already kicked him forcefully in the stomach, causing the man to double over in pain.

'Trying to escape us, although you know that there's no chance for you, pretty one,' it hissed triumphantly.

'Go away,' Aragorn spat out, fury in his eyes. 'I have nothing to do with you!'

'But we have something to do with you,' the shadow chuckled softly. 'With you and your pretty elf friend, that's it!'

The ranger's eyes widened at this statement. What....Legolas? Did they know of Legolas? Had they hurt him? The questions wouldn't leave him alone, but he kept his mouth shut, knowing that it would only threaten the prince if he told them that he knew him.

But it was too late, the shadow had seen the emotions running through his eyes.

'Oh yes, I am indeed talking of Legolas Greenleaf, your oh-so-strong best friend. We captured him long time ago, but unfortunately he didn't survive long in our prison - poor elves, so resistant against normal weapons, but so weak when you know how to handle them.'

Fear gripped Aragorn's heart at this. It couldn't be true...could it? No. They were lying. They had to lie! Legolas couldn't be dead, he wasn't dead!

Trying to convince himself, the human didn't look at his captors. 'You won't get me,' he growled and rose to a fighting position.

'You want to fight?' the faceless shadow seemed to be amused by this fact. 'Well....it won't help you much, you know,' he stated as a quick blow was thrown at the ranger's head.

Aragorn fell to the ground, his vision spinning, and groaned. Hell, he hadn't even *seen* someone run at him! These shadows were fast, even faster than elves...

More kicks and punches landed on his battered body, he didn't even have the chance to hit back once. Soon he was lying on the ground, hunched up in pain, but not giving away a sound.

'Bind him,' one of the shadows advised. 'We will take him with us.'

All the struggling didn't help Aragorn. They tied his hands up and forced him to walk between them. The ranger closed his eyes in despair. What was happening? He couldn't even remember how this had started...

*****************

"We simply can't keep the fever down," Elrohir was frustrated. Morning was dawning and still Estel was shaking and sweating at the same time, burning with the fever which raced through his body.

He once again put the cloth in cold water and laid it on his brother's head. For a few seconds it seemed to ease the pain of the human, but then he again started to move around, face twitching painfully.

"He's delirious," Elrond said softly, carefully brushing a strain of the dampened hair away. It troubled him deeply to see the silent battle his son had to endure, and once again he placed his hands on the younger's face, falling into healing trance.

Legolas and the twins waited anxiously for him to say something and exchanged worried glances.

"I think he's dreaming," Elladan spoke softly, as if not to disturb his father.

"Yeah, but the dreams don't seem to be pleasant," Elrohir pointed out, looking at the distressed face of the human.

It was silent for a while the harsh breathing of Aragorn and an occasional cough were the only sounds in the room. Legolas wearily placed his head on his hands. "I totally understand why he hates getting sick," the elf proclaimed.

The twins nodded their agreement. It was bad when one had to stay in bed after being hurt, but it was even worse when one had to stay in bed with what seemed to be no reason.

It was then when Elrond came back from his healing trance. Aragorn had eased slightly under his touch and seemed calmer now, but they knew that it wouldn't last long.

****************

'Where are you taking me?' Aragorn demanded.

'To a place you'll like to see,' the shadow answered roughly and pushed the ranger forward. The man stumbled over the rough ground and growled in anger. He hated being a prisoner, it was such a helpless feeling!

Out of the corner of his eyes he glanced at the shadows, once again wondering *what* these creatures were. They were wearing black hoods, their faces covered by black cloth. Their movements were swift and they didn't make any noise as they walked through the forest. These were neither humans nor orcs.

But what then?

Aragorn shook his head. This whole chain of events seemed somewhat illogical and confusing, and the ranger didn't know what to make out of it. He couldn't even remember what he had been doing in the forest! Was he out hunting? Had he been travelling with Legolas? Maybe he had hit his head and had lost his memory; Elrond had told him once that that could happen.

'Stop,' one of the creatures hissed. Aragorn looked up, confused by these actions. They had entered a small clearing. In the middle was a used fireplace; obviously someone had camped here not so long ago.

However, it was the sight of a motionless figure on the ground which made Aragorn's heart stop. His eyes widened in panic as he recognized the familiar blond hair and clothing of the motionless elf.

'Legolas!' he gasped and struggled against the bonds, worry for his friend sweeping over him.

'Pretty, pretty elf,' one of the shadows snarled and shoved the ranger towards the pale figure. In horror Aragorn noticed that his friend's eyes were closed, a sign that he was either hurt or dead. Neither of the possibilities seemed very attracting.

'Legolas...' Aragorn called, trying to catch the elf's attention. Fear crept over him like a spider, grabbing with ice-cold claws for his heart. Legolas couldn't be...

'He won't answer you,' the shadow seemed to find the whole scene amusing, 'Never again!'

'What...what have you done to him?' the ranger shouted in anger, tears spilling down his cheek. 'What happened?' He was deeply scared. He couldn't understand what was going on, and every time he tried to remember, there was only emptiness in his brain.

'What, you don't remember?' his enemy mocked, 'Don't remember that it was your fault? We attacked you, and he was defending you. Then you ran away like mad. Took us quite a while to find you, but you didn't stand a threat against us. No human will ever defeat us! You are too weak.'

'Who are you?' Aragorn tried not to show his horror. It had been his fault...no, he would never run away, would he? But guilt already gnawed at him.

'We are the shadows. We are the nightmares. Call us whatever you want - humans gave us many names. They all fit and yet no one is correct. However, dear Aragorn, we will hunt you, hunt your soul until you give up, until your last spirit is destroyed....'

Slowly he shook his head. 'No....' he whispered and stared at the still figure. On Legolas' face was a bloody scratch and the elf was unusually pale. He hadn't even stirred during the time Aragorn had watched him. 'Legolas....' his plea disappeared unheard in the mist of the forest.

"Legolas...."

The prince's head shot up when he heard his name. He quickly was by Aragorn's side, hoping that the man had woken up, but the elf soon realized that he had spoken in his dreams.

"I'm here, my friend," he said softly, noticing how restless the ranger had become. Legolas felt his forehead and frowned in concern at the hot skin. The fever hadn't dropped a bit during the last hours, and it was draining his friend's strength.

"Legolas...no...." Aragorn whispered, obviously distressed. He was dreaming, and it didn't seem to be a pleasant dream. The elf took his hand. "Calm down, Strider," he spoke in elvish, "I'm here. You are safe."

But the ranger didn't seem to hear his soothing words. Instead he grimaced in pain. Sweat was trickling down his forehead and Legolas quickly wiped it away. He glanced through the room, where Elrohir was sound asleep on a chair. He and the twins had never left Aragorn's side since the night, and it was now nearing the evening. They felt all exhausted, but nobody had the intention to go to sleep until Aragorn was better.

Elrond was in his rooms, trying to find a cure for this human sickness. Legolas hadn't seen the elven lord for over an hour.

"No...." Aragorn whimpered, "You can't be dead, Legolas, please not...."

The elf froze at this statement. Strider was dreaming that he was *dead*? Well, that explained his distress. "I'm not dead, Estel," he whispered into his friend's ear. "Believe me, I'm alive and healthy, more so than you. Just listen to my voice and come back. Don't give up to this illness, I know that you are stronger than that!"

Maybe it was his voice which had helped, or maybe just his dreams had changed....whichever it was, Aragorn wasn't as restless as before and had calmed down a bit. Legolas seemed relieved and looked at the table with the tea on it. They were told to force the human to drink every hour, for it would keep him from becoming dehydrated.

But it was always a great struggle to get Aragorn to drink; he started coughing and trashing around and just wouldn't gulp the tea down. Somehow, it was even more difficult to take care of an unconscious Aragorn than of a conscious.

"It's time again, is it?" Elladan interrupted his thoughts and stepped behind Legolas. "We have to give him the tea."

"Yes." Legolas stood up and filled a cup with the green liquid. "Shall we wake Elrohir?"

"No, let him rest. I fear it might be a long night and we need every ounce of strength we can get." the twin sighed and took the cup out of Legolas' hands. "You will hold him, and I'll place the cup to his lips. He's always calmer in your presence."

"Let's just hope that it works better than last time," Legolas stated and took Aragorn's upper body in his arms. "Come on, Estel, it's time for your tea."
The ranger struggled against his grip and Legolas was forced to hold him closer. He could hear the breath rattling in Aragorn's chest and the sound scared him greatly. Elladan gently held the cup to his brother's lips, forcing the man to drink the tea. Surprisingly, it went well, and Aragorn relaxed visibly.

"Good," Elladan said and stared with weary eyes at his brother. "I guess that's a good sign...well, I hope," he brushed with one hand over his eyes.

Legolas just nodded and wiped a strain of Strider's hair away. It was unnatural for the human to be that silent, and that still. Usually he would never stop talking, or doing something, full of energy and, well, full of life.

By Valar, Estel, I can't lose you. Not yet.

****************

How much time had passed? He couldn't remember. All he saw was the horrible image of his dead friend, lying on the forest ground in a pool of his own blood. And the nagging voice of the shadow, which kept screaming in his head that it was his fault, that it was because of him that Legolas had died....although he still couldn't remember what had happened.

And in fact, Aragorn didn't care.

He had just sunken to the ground when finally the realization had sunken in that, yes, Legolas was dead and that, no, he couldn't do anything to change this. At some point the shadows had taken him again, shoving him forward on their way through the forest, but Aragorn wasn't interested in escaping anymore. He felt numb, like dead on the inside. Legolas had been his best friend and he had trusted him with his heart and soul. The ranger had always experienced that it would be him who died first, for Legolas was immortal, or that they would die together while fighting, but not...this. He hadn't even been there to help the elf in the last minutes of his life. He hadn't even been there...

The pain was immense, and grief overtook the normally so energetic human. His shoulders slumped, he stumbled weakly behind the shadows, not caring for his own sake. It was wrong. It wasn't supposed to happen that way.

'I'm not dead,' the voice whispered in his ear, and he stumbled in surprise. Hadn't this been the voice of...no. Aragorn shook his head. No illusions. He had seen his friend, had felt for the non-existent pulse. Legolas was dead, and nothing would change it.

A small, silver tear rolled down his cheek as he followed his captors.

To be continued....