Chapter 27 - Lothlorien

He woke to the sound of water and soft voices. They swirled above and around him, invading his foggy senses and drawing him slowly from unconsciousness.

He had been dreaming of Rivendell. The beautiful valley had become so much a part of who he was that his thoughts strayed back there when he himself could not. He had left behind many from whom it was painful to be parted. Elrond, his guide and father, Elladin and Elrohir, his brothers and eternal friends, and deepest in his heart, where her memory touched him ever, was Arwen.

Awakening to pain and confusion tainted Aragorn's thoughts with the possibility of death. He was reminded bitterly of his own mortality and the great divide between himself and the immortal ones he had left behind.

A cool hand was laid upon his brow and a soft voice spoke close to him. He opened his mouth to speak but found himself coughing instead. The violent spasm left him gasping and weak, and he felt himself pushed backwards to lie flat once more.

"Do not try to speak," the voice said, "But Aragorn, listen to me."

He recognised the voice as Legolas', and even in his current state he sensed a tone of urgency in the Elf's words.

"We have come to the river crossing. You must be strong now, and trust me."

For the first time Aragorn forced his heavy eyes open. Colours swirled above, forming and reforming into familiar faces. The strange numbness in his body intensified as his gaze fell on Legolas' face.

"Welcome back, my friend," the Elf smiled, helping him to raise his head so that he could see better.

Aragorn focused on the figure behind Legolas and noticed the grim expression on the other Elf's face.

"Can he do this?" Haldir asked Legolas, looking down at the Ranger on the ground.

"I must," Aragorn grimaced. He had to be strong for the rest of the Fellowship. He knew how the Elves crossed rivers when they wished to leave no trace of boat or bridge and knew also that the rest of the Fellowship would fear to cross this way. It was his duty to lead by example. If he could cross, wounded as he was, then the others would feel more confident when their turns came.

He leaned heavily on Legolas as he was raised to his feet. And he almost fell as his blood, weak with the Orcs' poison, rushed to his head and made him feel faint. He stood a moment, his eyes firmly closed against the nausea and dizziness that was rushing though him. Then he forced his feet to move towards the bank, still allowing his friend to bear his weight.

He vaguely heard Gimli speaking to the Elves and Sam muttering to himself. But he had to focus on the task ahead. He stared blearily down at the thin cord stretching across the water. It seemed as though it stretched all the distance and beyond. Legolas' arm tightened upon his chest, and he knew all he had to do was position his feet and his friend would support his weight. Unsteadily, he moved his right foot towards the gently swaying rope. But he had misjudged the timing and his boot slipped on the side of the cord, threatening to send him plunging into the fast-flowing waters. He kicked out, feeling himself falling...

The arm around his chest dragged him back, and he felt his feet touch the edge of the bank. He tried to ignore the gasps of the Fellowship behind him as he steeled himself for another attempt.

This time he focused entirely on the thin rope, trusting Legolas with his balance and strength. His boot landed squarely on the rope and shook violently until he could compose himself to move on.

It was a slow ordeal, not only for Aragorn and Legolas, who had one hand around Aragorn and the other on one of the side ropes for balance, but also for those watching. Aragorn heard shouts of encouragement from both Merry and Pippin, and even a polite comment from Haldir about his determination. But when at last his foot touched the solid earth on the other bank, he sunk to ground once more, knowing that his fate no longer rested in his own hands.

---

Gold light passed above him, mingling with the grey shades of his closed eyes. Voices spoke near him, though everything seemed far off and muffled. It was like a pleasant dream, where fear and shadow faded and all was familiar and comforting. He was moving, a pleasant swaying motion.

He opened his eyes once, though was unsure whether he had. More swirling gold above, and a numb feeling of sleep spreading through his tired body. There was no pain now, only light and rest. No conscious thought disturbed him, save an obscure feeling of loss when he moved his fingers and found neither hilt of sword nor shaft of bow.

A hand gripped his own, squeezing gently with a pressure from which he did not shrink. A soft voice spoke to him, urging him not to fall asleep.

But the numbness had risen to his chest, like a weight pushing his consciousness out of reach. The poison had drained his strength to fight it, and he relented.

---

A smell reached him, dragging him slowly from the darkness and into the light. It was a familiar smell, though at that moment he could not place it. Aragorn realised he was no longer moving. He forced his eyelids open, squinting into the golden light. He felt clean. It was so long since he had had a bath that he could barely remember what it felt like.

A shape appeared above him, and he had to blink several times to believe what he saw.

"Awake, son of Arathorn," the gentle voice said, and it seemed to Aragorn as if she had not spoken aloud, rather that the words were inside his mind.

"My Lady," he began, trying to raise himself to his elbows.

Galadriel laid a gentle but firm hand on his chest and pushed him back down. "Now is the time for rest. Your companions have waited long for you to wake, would you disappoint them now by exhausting yourself too soon?" As she spoke, Galadriel gestured to something out of his sight.

With an effort, Aragorn raised himself enough to see the sleeping form of Frodo curled in a chair at the side of the chamber. Aragorn sighed, feeling as helpless as a child but took heed of the Lady's advice and resigned himself to rest.

The next time he woke, Aragorn found Legolas beside his bed, and no sign of either Frodo or Galadriel.

"How long?" he asked his friend, relieved his voice was returning to its normal quality.

"Four days and three nights since you were brought here," Legolas told him, ignoring the look of surprise on Aragorn's face. "Although time is hard to reckon in Lothlorien, it seems as if it stands still, or flows too swiftly to be measured by days and nights."

Aragorn assented. He knew what the Elf was saying and knew also that the Fellowship must be careful not to lose track of the time they spent in the haven of the Elves.

"How is everyone?"

"Everyone is healing like yourself. Though I believe some will take longer than others." Legolas looked grave for a moment before continuing with a slight smile, "Merry and Pippin are happy to have found a place with a bath and fine food."

Aragorn also smiled. He was strangely relieved at this. He had been worried about Pippin since the terrible experience in the Mines and was glad to hear the Hobbit was returning to normal.

Legolas suddenly turned his head to the doorway. When he turned back to Aragorn he was smiling mischievously. "You should be glad of all the rest you have taken," Looking at the door once more and rising to his feet he said, "You are going to need it."

Aragorn glared at Legolas as the loud voices of the Hobbits rose up to them from the stairs below. "What if I pretended to be asleep?"

"Then I would just have to tell them you are not."

Aragorn sunk back on the pillow in defeat as the two eager Hobbits burst into the room.

"Strider! You're awake! Why didn't you tell us?" Merry looked up at Legolas, but the Elf was already backing out of the doorway.

"I think I hear Gimli calling. He might have got himself stuck in a tree. Farewell friends, and Pippin? Merry...?"

The two Hobbits looked up at the tall Elf.

"Do not tire Aragorn out before the others can see him." Legolas slipped out of the door smiling, and Aragorn had to stifle a groan.

"I told you he'd be awake today, didn't I, Merry?" Pippin grinned, plomping himself down on the side of the bed.

"You did not! You said... Well it doesn't matter now anyway."

"You should have seen me cross the river, Strider. I didn't look down once and walked all the way across." Pippin was grinning triumphantly, and Aragorn, despite his exhaustion, felt happy that the Hobbits felt the need to show their courage to him.

"I am sure you did, Pippin," he said, trying to sound impressed. But the whirl of voices and the feeling of tiredness through his body caused him to close his eyes. He hardly noticed himself falling asleep once more.