Aragorn launched himself off his pillows with a speed and force that took even him by surprise. Legolas, however, was quite prepared for the Elessar that flew through the air towards him and stepped nimbly out of the way. Aragorn, his target shifted too late to correct his aim, pitched into thin air and out of the bed.

Legolas rather enjoyed watching the King's bare legs fly above his head as he tumbled from the bed head first, flipping somewhere in midair, and finally coming to an abrupt halt on the flat of his back, with a satisfying smacking sound of skin against stone.

"Oh," Aragorn simply said and blinked up at the ceiling, leaving his arms flailed out to his sides, the posture he'd been in as he'd tried, unsuccessfully, to catch himself before hitting the floor.

In a moment, Legolas peered over him. "You have lovely legs, Estel. I had no idea, really."

Aragorn quickly reached down and jerked his nightdress back down past his knees. "I hade you."

"You did not have me. Not even close," Legolas disagreed.

"Nod had. Hade. Hade…despise."

"Oh, I see now. You hate me," Legolas said merrily. "Well done."

Aragorn continued to stare up at Legolas, wondering why the elf smiled so broadly and where his own fight had gone so suddenly. He should really put an end to the elf as soon as possible, or at least maim him, but as it were, he felt perfectly content to lay still, the cold stone pressing against the back of his legs, his heated skull throbbing against it.

As he watched, Legolas' face began to waver, as if he looked at a reflection of the elf in a fountain rather than the elf himself. Cocking his head to the side, he saw colors swimming and hovering around Legolas' golden head, watched in amazement as they materialized into little bursts, like fireworks.

"Hmmm," he said, fascinated.

"How do you feel, Aragorn?" Legolas wondered knowingly.

And something in that tone returned Aragorn, for only a moment, to sobriety. "You haf poisoed me," he accused, but already his interest was wavering.

"Nay, poisoned is such a strong word. I have drugged you, yes. Don't worry. It will only help you sleep. It will not kill you, most likely."

"Did the healerd pud this in the medicid?"

Legolas smiled, bending in and out of focus, his face obscured by a large purple butterfly-like cloud that floated across it. Aragorn heard the elf's voice as if from some great distance. "He is far too loyal to you to put anything else in your medicine. You forget I know something of plants and trees. I found the root myself. Your gardens are quite adept to the needs of a healer, you know."

"You are nod a healerd!" Aragorn charged, eyelids lowering.

"Nay. But your recovery requires plenty of rest. You must rest more."

"Id thad whad the healerd said?" Aragorn wondered.

"It is what I say. If you do not sleep, I fear what I shall do to impede your recovery. Let us get you into bed, mellon nin. Your dreams should be sweet ones. I will wake you when it is time to take your medicine again. Or perhaps after you've already taken it."

Legolas reached down and struggled to lift Aragorn off the floor. Aragorn was little help in the matter, his limbs gone limp and heavy as a dead man's. By the time Legolas got him semi-on his feet and urged him the two steps toward the bed, Aragorn was almost snoring.

With a final shove, Legolas got Aragorn onto the mattress, though the King fell face down in the pillows. His breathing was muffled, if not stopped altogether, but still Aragorn did not move. With a great sigh of impatience, Legolas hurried to the other side of the bed, and crawled upon it, reaching over the still form and grabbing Aragorn's far shoulder.

He pulled a little, but Aragorn did not move at all. He couldn't very well let the king suffocate into his own pillows, so with a determined set of his jaw, Legolas prepared to pull the dead weight over onto his back.

In his fear of having to tell Arwen he had killed Aragorn after all, in addition to not wanting Aragorn to have the satisfaction of being right about the matter, Legolas put too much strength into the effort. Aragorn rolled easier than he'd intended. Caught off balance, with all of his momentum coming back at him unspent, it was the elf's turn to tumble backwards off the bed and onto the floor.

"Oh." He murmured, much as Aragorn had, from the flat of his back and looked at the ceiling.

And from the bed, there came just the slightest sound, one that could have almost been a giggle that soon dissolved into snores.

***

Early the next day, Arwen paused outside the door to her chambers.

Something seemed wrong. It was too quiet. Too peaceful. She could hear birds singing through the open window of the hallway, welcoming in the spring morning. No shouting, no insults, no threats. It was almost eerie.

Supposing she would find they'd finally killed one another since she had left them, black medicine smeared across both their faces, Arwen stepped into the room and raised her eyebrow in surprise. The curtains were drawn open and light spilled into the room. Aragorn slept soundly in a rectangle of sunlight, a blissful smile upon his face. Legolas too, rested, perched in the windowsill.

She made not a sound, but went to her husband's side, and sat lightly down on the bed beside him, without even a twitch of blankets. Unable to help herself, because he looked so dear at the moment, smiling in his sleep, his nose cherry red and his chapped lips parted a little, she reached forward and stroked his cheek.

His smile stretched those chapped lips further and he gave a delightful little laugh in his sleep, a high-pitched "hee," which caused her, in turn, to laugh softly.

The sound awakened Legolas, who quickly shifted his gaze to Aragorn's bedside. He smiled when he saw Evenstar, tenderly stroking Aragorn's cheek. And for a moment, he left her to her thoughts of her husband, suspecting they were the first kind ones she'd had towards him in days and days. However, when he saw her expression turn solemn and inward, he felt obligated to intrude and lift her from whatever sorrowful thoughts she had descended into.

"Lady?" he inquired, as he left the windowsill and walked to the opposite side of Aragorn's bed from where she sat. "What troubles you?"

She did not look surprised that he had read her expression. With a sigh, she brushed Aragorn's hair back from his forehead. "I was thinking of how easily these mortals expire. A simple chill, a fall from a horse, an arrow gone astray, any of these things may so easily be the end them."

"Aragorn is strong, Arwen. Your children are strong. They are of the blood of Elendil."

"I know, Legolas. But not even that will keep them from their final fate."

She looked so troubled, and there was nothing Legolas could think of to offer her as comfort, for the thought also plagued and troubled him, and had since he had seen how easily men could fall at Helms Deep.

"It is the risk we take in loving them, Lady," Legolas murmured at last, "in loving him."

Arwen nodded silently, a bittersweet smile crossing her lips as Aragorn smiled and laughed softly again in his sleep.

"You have drugged him with Somneil root," she guessed.

"He used the word 'poisoned,'" Legolas admitted with a nod. "He has slept soundly now for almost twelve hours. Through the evening and night."

"No wonder he is smiling. Dear, foolish man," Arwen shook her head and sighed again, looking to Legolas.

She had attempted to be light, but Legolas could still read her thoughts in her eyes, knew she still considered not only Aragorn's ultimate fate, but her own. Knowing that he saw this, she finally gave her thoughts to him. "Is it worth it, Legolas? Is it worth the pain?"

Legolas smiled gently at her, and ten thousand years of wisdom fell from him in his next words.

"Love is always worth it, Arwen. It is worth any price. And you have always known it, even when the rest of us did not."

 ***

*Author's Note: Somneil root...Middle Earth's version of Nyquil.