Morning light was beginning to streak through the pale sky over Minas Tirith, and down below on the battlefield some were finding rest while others were rising to begin again. With all of the enemy dead or captured, the remnants of the Gates had been pushed aside and the women of the city had begun to come down to the fields to find their loved ones. The cries of discovery, some of grief and some of joy, were drifting across the Pelennor.

It had been a long night. Gimli had turned up again after helping supervise the careful removal of the fragments of the Gate. The weary soldiers of Gondor had been glad for the dwarf’s expert help and advice. After an hour or so of working by torchlight, the area was clear enough to allow soldiers, citizens, and healers alike to pass through unharmed. Watching in wonder and appreciation at his friend’s skill, both in knowledge and in how he kept the workers calm and focused, Legolas had set his own renewed, elven strength against the giant blocks of stone and fragments of wood more than once.

Tired and covered in places with blood muted by a layer of dust, Gimli and Legolas managed to find an unused tent and set it up. They had just used cold water to wash the worst of the grime from their arms and faces when Gandalf pushed Aragorn through the open flap. The wizard’s face was stern as he forced the man to sit on the elf’s neatly stacked bedding.

"And see to it that you do not move from there!" Clearly this was the tail-end of a much longer rant. "And here I thought that only hobbits could cause such worry and aggravation…" Gandalf’s voice trailed off in to grumbles. "Faramir, Eowyn, and Merry are safe now, as are the countless others you’ve cared for, and your brothers will surely be able to handle whatever patients are left this night." White hair flew as he whirled around to face Legolas. "And you see to it that his wounds are cared for, and not just quickly this time." Aragorn opened his mouth to protest, but shut it rather abruptly at the look from the wizard. "Your wounds haven’t been properly tended since before the battle at Helm’s Deep, has it? Do not look so surprised…I am Istari after all, and one who has known you since you were a boy."

Rolling his eyes in exhausted and reluctant compliance, Aragorn nodded.

"I will go back and keep watch over our friends and I expect that you will rest. Elrohir and Elladan do not need as much rest, and they will continue to care for the wounded."

As Gandalf strode out of the room, muttering to himself, Legolas walked to the cot and sat beside his friend. "You know," he said softly, undoing the leaf clasp of Aragorn's cloak, "for a man raised by one of the most powerful healers in Middle Earth as well as being one himself, one would think that you’d give a care to yourself as well as others."

"I can’t rest, Legolas. There is too much to do, too many still to tend to…"

"I’d listen to him, lad." Gimli interrupted him from where he had been watching. "For an elf, he makes a great deal of sense."

"Estel," the elf prince said, deliberately using his friend’s childhood name and ignoring the dwarf’s last comment. "Would you truly want to answer to Mithrandir after not doing as he bid you? And I would mention that I do not want to answer to your brothers if you were not cared for."

Aragorn considered this but a moment and then shook his head with a soft, pain-filled laugh. "Nay, I would not. Truly."

"Then let me do this, gwador nín." Legolas waited and was relieved to see a reluctant nod in response to his words.

"Legolas?" Eomer entered the tent cautiously and held out a satchel of herbs. "Gandalf asked me to bring you these. He seemed to feel that the presence of more strange soldiers would not be welcome just now."

When the elf took it with a nod of thanks, Eomer went back out and returned quickly with a basin of water and some clean cloths. "These should do, but supplies are beginning to run low."

"My thanks, Eomer." Legolas responded, beginning to wring out the scraps of soft material in the water. "If there is little left, do you think that you could have some of your men check the city for those who might volunteer such things? The sons of Elrond will need all that can be spared to save lives this night." He ran a damp cloth gently over Aragorn’s face, carefully removing blood and dirt, sweat and tears.

"I shall do so. Aragorn," Eomer said, moving to where they sat. "I called you Wingfoot once, for how you sped to save your friends. You saved no few of my men today with healing as swift as your feet, and I wish to honor you for that. I’ll return soon, then." At Aragorn’s silent nod of gratitude and thanks, he bowed slightly in return and nodded to Legolas before slipping quietly from the tent.

"I must see to some things I’ve left unfinished, and I’ll return to rest when I can." Gimli laid a hand on Legolas’ arm as if needing to confirm that his friend was still whole and well.

"I will expect you soon, then." Legolas smiled at this most unlikely of friends, returning the gesture with similar need.

A few quiet minutes passed as the elven archer busied himself then with the herbs, choosing some to cast into the still-warm water in the basin and wringing out the cloth in the fragrant and cleansing mixture. Looking up after a bit, he saw that his friend had managed to remove his tunic and shirt, but that Aragorn’s grey eyes were unfocused and staring at the trampled grass at his feet.

"Aragorn?" Legolas laid a questioning hand on the man’s arm.

"I healed as many as I could…" Aragorn whispered hoarsely, and did not flinch when the elf knelt beside him and began to clean the great gash that crossed his shoulder.

"Yes, you did. And saved more than you can truly know. Your valour in battle kept more than a few men of Gondor and Rohan from despairing on the field." Carefully washing away the dirt and blood from the cut, Legolas shook his head. He had dealt with this wound already, before Helm’s Deep, and the elf could see that it had reopened during this most recent battle. "You’ve undone all my careful work, Aragorn." He kept his tone light, trying to penetrate the fog of exhaustion his friend was in.

When joking did not provoke a response, Legolas frowned. This seemed more than the typical fatigue after the passions of battle had waned. "Tirna amin, Aragorn. Look at me." He put aside the basin and cloth for the time being and put one hand on his friend’s face to force him to meet his eyes. Dawning comprehension grew in the Mirkwood elf and he let out a slow, deliberate breath to calm himself. "How much of yourself did you give to save them?"

No explanation was needed as to whom he referred. "More than I knew I could," was Aragorn’s hoarse answer. "I had to.…"

"For what purpose? Your adar certainly taught you to be careful in healing in the elven way." Teasing gave way to scolding as the elf’s worry for his friend came to the fore. "You are needed and you should not extend yourself so far. What happened?"

Aragorn pulled away and lay on his less injured side, dark hair falling over his eyes. "They were so far away, Legolas. I almost lost Faramir…he was so distant. I had such trouble reaching him, but he was Boromir’s brother and I could sense such a…a light in him. I could not let him go, not him as well."

"And you went further than you should have gone." Legolas guessed.

"Further than I knew I could go, I suppose." Aragorn murmured, and shuddered a little. "Eowyn and Merry were closer to find, and Eomer and Pippin were able to call them back with my help." He rolled onto his back with a soft groan of pain. "They had someone they loved to call them and Faramir had no one left."

Legolas reached out and brushed the dark and blood-matted hair gently from his friend’s face. "He had you, and that must have been enough. Aragorn, you saved many. The Army that followed you from the Paths of the Dead saved many because of you, your skill with a sword and knife saved many on the field of battle, and your skill in healing saved friends and soldiers alike this past day and night. You cannot save them all, and that, is something I know that Elrond has spoken of before."

"He has, but I could not…I felt so many slipping away and I could do nothing…" Aragorn’s voice was full of unshed tears that were echoed in red-rimmed eyes.

"Ai, perhaps you could not. But you did what you could. What most of us could not."

Eomer’s reappearance in the tent startled the tired Ranger, but not the elf, who had of course heard him enter. "All who have commanded feel thus after a battle, my friend, and I am somehow sure that you’ve told such to more than one you’ve set to command. Am I right?"

Aragorn gazed at the man with something of a resigned expression on his face. "Yes, you are right. It is one thing, though, to give such advice and another to take it."

"So I said to my uncle, once," Eomer answered. "And I’d wager that our elven companion had such a conversation as this at some point."

Legolas shot him a grateful and eloquent look. "Yes, as it happens. More than once. With my father, and come to think of it, Aragorn, yours as well." He wound a soft bandage around the man’s torso and tucked the edge into place. "That is the last of them, I believe, unless there is something you’ve neglected to tell me."

Closing his eyes with a faint smile that the other two were glad to see, Aragorn shook his head slightly. "Pots and kettles, mellon nín. I recall Elladan scolding you once…" His voice grew fainter with each word until he was sliding into exhausted sleep.

"I should get back to my camp." Eomer said softly to Legolas as they heard Aragorn’s breathing even out. "I only wanted to be sure that he would indeed find rest this night. Not many would give of themselves as he has, without regard to rank or even to himself and his own wellbeing. Aragorn has gained no few followers this night, I think."

Legolas nodded solemnly, and drew a blanket over Aragorn’s shoulders.

"He would not even raise his banner over the city, despite objections from many. When I asked, he said it was not yet the right time. And he was ever like this, as long as I have known him and from what his brothers tell me, as long as he has lived. Ranger, healer, soldier, Chieftain of the Dúnedain…or king."

"Watch over him, Legolas."

"Always. Hodo vae…rest well."

"And you."

***TBC****