Beta: Radbooks (Sorry for forgetting this earlier. Without her, the ending of this chapter might have been a bit too abrupt. She's been a great help with this story.)

Disclaimers: I don't own any of Tolkien's characters, settings, or plots. I just like to play in his sandbox. I also make no money off of any of this.

A/N: There is a slight deviation from canon in this story. Rather than having Arathorn slain when he was 'riding against the orcs with the sons of Elrond', I have assumed that Aragorn and Gilraen were with him and they were heading to Imladris to live for a time. In the Silmarillion it says 'In that house [the house of Elrond] were harboured the Heirs of Isildur, in childhood and old age, because of the kinship of their blood with Elrond himself…'. The quote continues, but this made me think that Aragorn would have been taken to Imladris for his own protection at some point, so why not when he was two? The twins are still there, acting as escort, but they were not out specifically to hunt orcs. I know that is not Tolkien's version, but I need things to happen a bit differently for this story to work. Therefore, this story can be considered slightly AU. I am also using a history created for Elladan and Elrohir by Cassia and Sio. I do have their permission to use Dehlfalhen and Glamferaen, which were their creations.

Please read and review. If you have any ideas for changes to the history of Middle-earth that you would like to suggest as the story progresses, please feel free to e-mail me at mistycracraft@yahoo.com and let me know what they are. If they fit well with other plot elements I have planned, I may use them.

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Chapter Six

The first few days out of Imladris were relatively quiet. Aragorn spent most of his time getting to know the names and histories of the other Rangers in the patrol. He had met a few of them in Imladris, but had spent most of his time with Arathorn and his family, or on the practice field with the twins and Arathorn. In his guise as Eradan, he seldom spoke of himself, but drew the others out to talk of themselves and their families. Eradan already knew that at twenty, he was the youngest member of the patrol, but he had not known that the next youngest Ranger was just over twice his age at forty-three. Many, but not all of them, had families, wives and children waiting at home for them.

They were not long out of Imladris when the large group of Rangers split into smaller patrols. Several patrols had joined ranks to escort Gilraen and Aragorn to Imladris, but the Rangers were too few to allow such large patrols on a regular basis. Eradan, Elladan, Elrohir and two Rangers by the names of Baran and Tarcil were all that would journey with Arathorn. They would be heading south, toward the Misty Mountains, holding the Redhorn pass and keeping the path between the east and west sides of the mountains clear of orcs and other predators. The other patrols would be heading west and north.

Since Eradan was the youngest member of the patrol, the others took great pleasure in showing him many things about hunting, tracking, healing and fighting. He asked many questions, and they became used to answering his numerous and quite varied questions. It seemed to the others that Eradan wanted to learn everything there was to learn as quickly as he could. Eradan, for his part, simply wanted to make sure that if he showed knowledge about a certain topic, the others would not become suspicious of him. Each night after they stopped and established a camp, one of the others would spend some time sparring with Eradan, working to bring him up to the fighting level of the others. Often, after a sparring session, Eradan would sit down and speak with whomever was available about whatever topics came to their minds.

One night, after about a week of this routine, Eradan collapsed near the fire after an especially wearing sparring session with Elladan. Arathorn and Elrohir were sitting nearby, and Baran and Tarcil were out gathering firewood and collecting fresh water.

Eradan glanced sideways at Elladan as the elf sat down. "How do you do it?"

"Do what?" Elladan asked in confusion, staring at the young human.

"How do you manage to fight like that and show no signs of strain?" Eradan gestured to himself, and then toward Elladan to make his point.

Elladan smiled slightly as he took in the sight of the exhausted youth. Eradan's hair was plastered to his head with sweat, and he lay half-reclined on the ground, panting in an attempt to regain his breath. Elladan allowed that he had given the young man quite a workout that evening. Elladan, on the other hand, could have just gone for a casual stroll in the gardens of Imladris. The only sign that showed he had been exerting himself at all was that his hair was slightly mussed. Elladan shook his head in amusement as he answered Eradan's question.

"I have been fighting for quite a bit longer than you have, Eradan. I am thousands of years older than you, do not forget. That gives me much more experience with this than you. Also, the life of the eldar runs through my veins, and elves have more strength and stamina than do men." Elladan was not boasting, by any means, but simply stating facts.

Eradan rolled his eyes and collapsed onto his back on the ground for a moment, staring up at the stars. "It must be nice."

Elladan and Elrohir both chuckled before Elladan answered. "It does have its advantages."

Eradan was silent for a moment as he lay staring at the stars. When he sat up again, he had a curious look on his face. "Why do you do this?" He directed his question toward both of the twins.

"Do what?" It was Elrohir who answered this time. He sounded a little confused, as none of them quite knew where Eradan's questioning mind had gone this time.

"Ride with us," Eradan answered. "You're obviously not Dúnedain. I know you and your family claim a kinship with the Dúnedain through Elros Tar-Minyatur, but surely that's not enough reason to ride out as often as you do. You said you've been fighting orcs for thousands of years. Don't you get tired of it?"

The twins stared at him seriously for a moment before Elladan answered. "We have not ridden with the Dúnedain for all of our lives, only the last few centuries. Before that, we only rode with the elven patrols to protect Imladris, as do most of its inhabitants."

"What changed?" Eradan asked. Inwardly, Aragorn flinched at bringing up this painful topic, but he knew that Eradan did not know this full story, and it was something he wanted to be able to discuss with them.

The twins glanced at each other, and Elrohir looked away, leaving Elladan to answer. "Our mother was attacked as she journeyed through the Redhorn pass, traveling to Lothlorien. Her escort was waylaid and she was taken captive. We rescued her, but she was no longer able to stay in Middle-earth and sailed the following year. Ever since then, we have tried to make Middle-earth safe from such foul creatures. Riding with the Dúnedain allows us to protect the other inhabitants of our world."

Eradan stared at them for a moment. He looked at the path ahead of them, toward the Redhorn pass. He knew how hard it was for them to be near the place where Celebrían had been taken captive. "Why are you on the patrol heading back to that place? I know I would have trouble patrolling the place where my father fell."

Elladan stared at him, knowing that this young man did know how he and Elrohir had felt at losing a parent. If anyone would understand their motives, Eradan would. "We must do what we can to keep this path safe, so that no other travelers, elven or edain, fall victim as our mother did. This is our duty, the task that has fallen to us."

"Or the task that you assigned to yourselves," Eradan said softly. "I saw the pain in your father's eyes as he watched you both. He did not wish to see you leave again so soon." He held up a hand to halt Elladan's words as he opened his mouth to speak. "Please, hear me out before you speak." He paused for a moment, gathering Eradan's memories. "My mother died when I was young. She fell sick, and the healers were not able to help her. When my father died, I lost all the family I had left. You still have your father, and I simply think you should spend time with him while you can rather than ride out so often, not knowing if you will return." He shook his head, not knowing whether he should say what else he wanted, then forged ahead and hoped for the best. "This cannot be the life that your mother wished for you."

Elladan and Elrohir's faces darkened in reaction to his words.

"Do not presume…" Elladan started to say, before Elrohir held up a hand to halt his words.

Elrohir sighed and shook his head, remembering that the young man had very recently lost his father, and must be feeling quite lost and alone, even in their presence. "Is this the life your mother wished for you?" His voice was soft and understanding.

Eradan gave him a wry half smile, acknowledging the point. "No, I do not believe that my mother wished for me to travel out to battle orcs, but she knew that my future was not likely to hold much else. The Dúnedain are so few that we cannot spare able-bodied men from the patrols. My mother feared for my father's life every time he rode out, and I know she wanted a different life for me."

"If you did not have to ride with the patrols, what would you like to be doing?" Arathorn asked. He had been relatively silent during the conversation, but he truly wished to know what Eradan wanted from life. He may not be able to accommodate him, but he did want to know what might make him happy.

Eradan looked to Arathorn with a startled look on his face. "Oh, forgive me, hîr nin, I did not mean to sound as if I do not appreciate the chance to ride with your patrol. It is truly an honor, and I could ask for nothing more."

Arathorn waved his apology away. "Peace, Eradan. I know you meant no offense, but my question was an honest one. What would you like to be doing, were there no orcs and no reason to have to ride out on patrol so often?"

Eradan hesitated before slowly answering. "I think I should like to stay in Imladris for a time and study."

"Study what?" Elladan asked. He had forgiven Eradan's earlier comments, and now saw that Eradan craved the life that he and Elrohir could have if they so chose.

"Everything," Eradan answered earnestly. "The history of these lands, the tactics of war, how to resolve conflicts between parties of differing opinion, healing, languages, even art and writing. I want to know all there is to know about the different races that roam this world. There is so much to learn, and so little time."

"Little time?" Arathorn asked in confusion. "I have enjoyed answering your questions, Eradan, and you have spurred some very interesting conversations and debates, but why are you in such a hurry to learn all that you can? You still have a lifetime ahead of you."

Eradan paused for a long time and thought about the best way to approach this. Finally, coming across a believable story, he hesitantly began to explain. "My rush is due largely to a vision I had not so long ago. It was brief, and I do not know the full circumstances, but the image I saw was quite clear." He looked to Arathorn. "I had a vision of your son. I saw Aragorn, grown and a leader of men. He will be a great man, my lord, and his people will love him. In this vision, I saw myself standing at his side as a friend and advisor. But, my lord, I do not know enough to be an advisor to a leader of men. I must learn all I can so that I can advise him well." Eradan's expression was earnest, and his urgency quite clear in his voice.

Arathorn and the twins stared at Eradan in amazement for a time. Arathorn did not quite know what to think of this. The thought that Eradan had seen his son full grown brought a pang of envy to his heart. This was a vision he would have wished to see. He quelled a momentary urge to ask the young man for every detail of his vision. Arathorn wanted to know what kind of man his son would become. Knowing that those with the gift of foreknowledge were not always free to share what they had seen, however, he held his tongue. But the words Eradan spoke brought hope to his heart. Aragorn would grow to be a great leader, beloved by his people: that thought alone was enough to keep him fighting long and hard to make the world a safer place for his son. When he realized Eradan's motive for wanting to learn as quickly as he could, however, he could not help but burst into laughter.

"Eradan, Aragorn is only two years of age. You have a great deal of time to learn as much as you can before he is grown. You already have a great deal more knowledge than he does." Arathorn's smile brought an answering smile to Eradan's face.

"Be that as it may," Eradan said, nodding his head toward Arathorn to acknowledge the point, "I was not trained to be an advisor in matters such as your son will face. While I have had the training that all Dúnedain receive, there is still much for me to learn."

Arathorn granted Eradan that point. "I am sure that Elladan and Elrohir will agree to answer any questions you may have, as will I. We will do everything we can while on patrol to teach you all you wish to know. And, as you are now my responsibility, when I travel to Imladris to rest or visit Gilraen and Aragorn, you will accompany me, and you can avail yourself of the great libraries of Imladris."

A smile broke out across Eradan's face. "Thank you, hîr nin."

"Think nothing of it," Arathorn said, with an answering smile. "After all, I also want you advising my son well when the time comes. We will see that you learn all that you can."

With a serious look now on his face, Eradan bowed his head toward Arathorn. "Thank you again. I will strive to do the best I can. I do not want to disappoint you or him."

"I am sure you will do very well," Arathorn responded. "Though I have not known you long, I know your heart is pure, and you have shown what you are willing to do to protect your liege. I would be honored if you would ride with my son when he is full-grown. I feel that he would be quite safe in your company."

A quick smile spread across Eradan's face, then faded back to seriousness as he looked steadily at Arathorn. "How did Aragorn handle the attack? I hesitated to ask before, but I know that if I had been his age, witnessing that battle would have given me nightmares. As it was, I woke up from more than one bad dream of orcs attacking me."

Arathorn frowned, and for a moment, Eradan wondered if he had somehow overstepped his bounds. "He did have many nightmares," Arathorn responded slowly. "There were many nights he woke up crying and we brought him to our bed to comfort him. I hate the thought that those creatures will haunt his sleep for some time to come, but I fear they will."

Eradan frowned slightly. That was one thing that had changed already. In the version of history he knew, he had gone to Elladan and Elrohir for comfort. Glancing sidelong at the twins, he knew that little Aragorn had not gone to them this time. Their faces were full of sympathy, but not the tenderness that Aragorn had seen on their faces when they told him this tale so many years in the future. Knowing that in his past, the twins had remained in Imladris for a much longer period of time when he came to live with them, Aragorn had to wonder what else would change because of this. Would the twins even grow to think of Aragorn as a brother? Eradan reached up to rub the pain that had started back behind his eyes. Thinking about all of the possible changes that could occur to history was beginning to give him a headache.

"Are you well?" Arathorn asked, gazing at him in concern.

Eradan dropped his hand from his head and looked back up at Arathorn. "Yes, my lord, I am well. I was only thinking of Aragorn. If he is still so troubled, perhaps some of us should have remained behind for a time, to comfort him." Eradan glanced back and forth between Arathorn and the twins.

Elrohir started laughing softly. "Are you still trying to convince us to return home to spend time with our father, Eradan? Or are you trying to ask permission to return and avail yourself of our libraries?"

Elladan laughed as well. "Eradan, Aragorn has his mother, our father, and many other elves of Imladris to comfort and distract him from his fears. Children are more resilient than you may think. I do not feel that Aragorn's dreams will continue to plague him for much longer. The peace and safety of Imladris will help to ease his fears. Besides, if your idea was for Elrohir and I to return, I truly do not know what you expected us to do for him." He glanced over at Arathorn as he continued. "While we do enjoy having the heirs of Isildur growing up and learning in Imladris, we do not know how to handle such small children. El and I do better with children that are slightly older. We will have a great deal of time to spend with both our father and Aragorn in the future."

Arathorn faced Eradan fully before speaking his turn. "I appreciate your concern for my sons well being, Eradan, but Elladan is correct. Aragorn has his mother and many others to comfort him. While I would have loved to stay with them for a much longer period of time, that was simply not possible. Without our presence here, orcs would be free to attack any travelers journeying through the mountains. This is our place, protecting our people and all the free peoples of Middle-earth."

"Of course, hîr nin," Eradan said, bowing his head and looking down at the ground. "Forgive me, I did not mean to question your decisions."

"Questioning is not a bad thing, Eradan. It is how you will learn. If you wish to be a good advisor, you will learn when it is helpful to question your lord's decisions, and when it is not. In the meantime, feel free to ask what you will. But be prepared to accept the answers you are given."

Feeling slightly chastised, Eradan nodded. Silence fell for a moment before the twins started speaking quietly with Arathorn. Eradan tuned them out and stared at the flickering of the flames before him as he thought deeply. It seemed that his choice to save Arathorn had altered things such that Elladan and Elrohir were not likely to take Aragorn as a brother. But, maybe he was trying to rush things and insist that they happen as they did before. There was still much time for the twins to learn to love little Aragorn. If they spent any time around him at all, they were sure to warm up to him. Now, he just needed to figure out how to get the twins to return to Imladris. His first attempt had failed quite badly.

Shortly after the conversation had moved on, Baran and Tarcil returned with the firewood and fresh water. As it was Eradan's turn to cook the meal, he quickly moved to begin the preparations for the meal. The others had been pleasantly surprised to find that Eradan actually knew how to cook quite well. He explained that he had learned after his mother died, as he and his father had then split all the chores. After the meal was finished, they set the watches for the night and then lay down to seek their rest.

Upon awakening the next morning, they resumed their patrol and kept to the same schedule they had set. Eradan dropped the subject of Aragorn and returning to Imladris, but resumed peppering his companions with questions on a great variety of topics. Aragorn watched the twins grow tenser as they approached the mountains, and felt a sense of sorrow. How he would love to be known for himself so that he could reach out and offer comfort to his brothers. But even though they accepted Eradan as a friend, he knew they would not accept such an offer of comfort. So, instead, he used Eradan's penchant for asking questions to distract them from their dark memories and the pain associated with the place they now approached. Though they did not know him as a brother, he would still do what little he could to help them. He considered it a great victory every time he was able to make one of the twins smile or laugh.

It was another two days before they reached the base of the mountains, and began to set up camp in a small cave hidden by foliage. It was still another hour or so until sunset, but this was the best location in the area for a camp, so they stopped earlier than usual. There were enough trees and greenery in the area to hide the horses that they would have to picket outside the cave. The interior of the cave was large enough to harbor all six members of the patrol, and had enough of a draft through the cracks in the back of the cave to pull the smoke from a small cook fire away from those inside. After transferring their packs from their horses to the interior of the cave, the twins decided to go hunting and bring back some fresh meat for the evening's meal while Baran and Tarcil would tend to the horses. Arathorn and Eradan had the task of setting up the camp inside the cave, and gathering the firewood. As the nearby area was littered with broken branches and material enough for a fire, the task was soon finished and they were back inside the cave, preparing their supplies. They worked in silence for a time before Arathorn finally spoke.

"Do not think your actions have escaped my notice," his quiet voice reached Eradan's ears where he sat building the fire.

Eradan looked up in confusion from the pile of sticks in front of him. He didn't think he was doing anything odd, not at the moment, anyway. "What do you mean?" he asked carefully, wondering if he had done something to give himself away.

"Your attempts to distract Elladan and Elrohir," Arathorn said, watching Eradan. "I have noticed how you try to keep their thoughts off of their current location. They have also noticed your efforts, and are quite appreciative. I doubt they would tell you so themselves, not wanting to admit how much this place bothers them, but I have seen how much more relaxed they are on this trip than usual. I would like to thank you for that."

Eradan relaxed as he looked back at Arathorn, sitting on the ground and leaning against the wall of the cave. "No thanks are necessary, my lord. I have seen how tense they became as we approached the mountains. I know how I would feel were we returning to where my father was lost, and I merely wanted to help them in any way I could. They have been quite kind to me, and I wish to return their friendship in whatever small measure I can."

A small smile flickered across Arathorn's face. "Believe me, your actions here are no 'small measure'. I believe the twins have found a true and loyal friend in you. It pleases me to see this. I would encourage you to continue in your efforts. They do not seem nearly as restless and tense as they usually are in this place, and I believe that is only thanks to your presence."

An answering smile formed on Eradan's face as he nodded to Arathorn. "I will be sure to ask them as many questions as come to mind, then, my lord. Are you sure they will not grow weary of answering me?"

Arathorn chuckled at that and opened his mouth to reply when they heard the shrill whinny of one of the horses and Baran's voice as he tried to calm the horses. Sounds of a commotion drifted to them and they both stood, moving toward the entrance of the cave to see what was happening. Arathorn, being closer to the entrance, was ahead of Eradan when the ground started to shake.

Aragorn's eyes opened wide as he realized what was happening. Eradan was pushed aside in his mind as Aragorn came to the fore. A quick glance upward showed that the rock above their heads was beginning to crack under the stresses being applied to it. He glanced quickly around, assessing their situation. They were still too far from the entrance to make it out before the rock collapsed in on them, but they were still too close to the entrance where the rock was most vulnerable to collapse. Lunging forward, he grabbed hold of Arathorn's coat and yanked him backwards, toward the more stable part of the cave. As he did so, an avalanche of rock crumbled down from the ceiling toward them both, stirring up an immense cloud of dust and dirt as it did so. A rain of rocks and pebbles enveloped both men, doubling them over as they tried to avoid the worst of the barrage. Sudden pain flared in Aragorn's head and back as he was struck from behind, and he fell into darkness, hitting the ground hard. Though he did not entirely lose consciousness, he was barely aware of his surroundings as the first, horrible roar of the cave collapsing in on them faded, to be replaced by an uneasy stillness, broken only by the sound of shifting rock and falling pebbles.

Awareness was slow in returning. The first sensation that registered on Aragorn's senses was pain. His head was throbbing and his thoughts were rather fuzzy. Moving very slowly, Aragorn raised a hand to the back of his head and felt a warm, sticky substance. He sighed softly as he realized that his head was bleeding. He would have to see to that in a moment, but before he could do that, he had to see if he had any other injuries. With his next inhalation, he breathed in a lungful of dust, causing him to cough harshly in an effort to clear the intrusive particles from his lungs. When he did, a sharp stabbing pain sliced through him, emanating from a central point on his back. Though the coughing fit caused him a great deal of pain, he found himself unable to stop. It was several more long, pain-filled moments before he had his breathing back under control. He held his hand to his mouth to help filter out the dust a little bit as he lay still on the ground, trying to bring himself back under control enough to finish assessing his situation.

A memory from another lifetime slammed into his mind as he lay there in the dark, trying to breathe. He had been trapped in another cave-in, long ago. It had happened as he had been journeying alone back to Rivendell. Taking refuge in a small cave for the night, there had been another earthquake, and he had found himself trapped, unable to move at all, for the weight of the rock that had fallen upon him had held him trapped in place, and had barely missed crushing him completely. He never knew how long he had lain there, but he had nearly given up on all hope of rescue, as none had known where he was, or even that he had been heading to Imladris. Against all hope, he had eventually been rescued by Elladan, Elrohir and Legolas, but ever since that experience, he had been slightly anxious about small, enclosed spaces. As he heard the silence of the cave and felt the rocks upon his body, he shuddered with fear.

"Stop that!" he ordered himself. He had already been able to move his arm, and he had curled in upon himself in his coughing fit, so he knew he was not trapped as tightly as he had been in the earlier cave-in. Taking shallow breaths in an effort to avoid breathing in more of the dust, he began moving each limb carefully, testing his range of movement and seeing if he was trapped. He breathed a soft sigh of relief when he found he was able to move his arms and legs without impediment. Slowly, he rolled over more fully onto his side, dislodging the rocks and debris that had settled on his back. Though it hurt to move, it seemed that a blow to the head and a massive bruise on his back were the worst of his injuries. Forcing himself into a sitting position, he tried to look around at the interior of the cave. However, it was pitch black, as the fire had been extinguished by the rock fall, and the rocks now blocked their path to the cave entrance, and the waning daylight that would have illuminated the cave.

Leaning forward to rest his arms upon his bent knees, he tried to clear his mind enough to remember what had happened, and what he had been doing before the cave-in. His head shot up in a move that spawned a blinding pain in his head as he remembered that he had not been alone in the cave. His father was also in here with him. Holding his hands to his head in an attempt to keep it from falling off his shoulders, he slowly rose to a crouching position. He would not attempt to stand until he knew how high or low the ceiling of the cave was. Stretching an arm above his head, he slowly rose to a standing position. Finding that this part of the cave was high enough to stand upright in, he slowly crouched back down and moved forward a few steps, his hands outstretched and toward the ground, hoping and dreading what he might find. It had him worried that he had heard no other sounds of movement in the cave the entire time he had been awake. If Arathorn was trapped in here as well, he was not moving.

It took several minutes of carefully crawling through the rubble before his outstretched hand brushed a piece of cloth. Freezing for a moment, he carefully traced the cloth until he encountered a warm body. Gently prodding the flesh under his hand, he realized that he had found Arathorn's arm. He followed the arm to the shoulder and found that Arathorn was lying on his stomach, much as Aragorn had been when he awoke. With a trembling hand, he reached around to check Arathorn's pulse in his neck, fearful of what he might find. He closed his eyes and bowed his head for a moment in gratitude as he found a strong pulse under his fingers. Knowing that it could do more harm than good to try moving Arathorn until he had fully assessed his situation and injuries, Aragorn let his hands roam carefully over Arathorn's body. As he was examining his head, Aragorn's fingers encountered a very familiar warm liquid near his temple. Knowing he would need to treat the head injury very soon, Aragorn quickened his examination and moved down Arathorn's body, away from his head. He brushed the rocks and debris off of Arathorn's still form as he moved. As he reached Arathorn's legs, he found a larger fall of rock that seemed to have Arathorn pinned in place. Aragorn moved his hands up over the rocks, finding that it was not a solid wall of fallen rocks. He began gently moving the rocks on the top of the pile, being as careful as possible so as to not cause another smaller rock slide. Realizing that it would take many minutes to move all the rocks, he moved back to Arathorn's head, and tore off a strip of his own tunic, binding the wound as best he could while not being able to see what he was doing. He hated to use his tunic for bandages, as it had to be covered with dirt. He nonetheless knew that the first priority was to stop the bleeding, so he had to use whatever he had available. After they were out of here, he could take the time to properly clean the wound. Once he had done all he could to halt the bleeding, he moved back down and began digging Arathorn from the rubble. When at long last he had freed Arathorn's legs from the rubble, he very gently rolled him over onto his back and continued examining him as best he could, looking for further injuries.

When there were no other injuries obvious to his questing fingers, he gently gathered Arathorn into his arms and prayed that he was not exacerbating a hidden injury. Standing in a stooped over position, he walked a few steps toward the back of the cave, trying to get away from the fallen rocks and the worst of the dust still hanging in the air. They had stored some of their supplies toward the back of the cave, and he had hopes that some of the medicines and the water skins had survived the rock fall. Unlike the last time he had been trapped in a cave, Aragorn at least had the assurance that Tarcil, Baran, Elladan and Elrohir were aware of their location and would be working tirelessly to dig them out. They just had to sit tight and wait for help. In the meantime, he would treat their injuries as best he could.

Laying Arathorn gently down on a clear spot near the back of the cave, Aragorn proceeded to search their surroundings. A sigh of relief escaped his lips as his questing hands felt one of their saddlebags. He had found their supplies. Now he just had to see if it was something that would be helpful. The first bag he searched had little other than spare clothing. If he did not find any medical supplies, he would use the clothing as clean bandages, but he still had a few other bags to search. A smile curved his lips as he reached inside one bag and found several cloth-wrapped vials and small drawstring bags of herbs. He very carefully rummaged through the bag and found several rolls of clean bandages. Now, if he could just find some water. He was sure he had placed several water skins back here with the other bags. Pulling the bag with the medicinal supplies closer to Arathorn, he resumed his search until his hands encountered a skin full of clean water.

He now had all of the supplies he needed. The only thing standing in his way now was the fact that he could still not see his hands in front of his face. The darkness was absolute. That would cause a few problems, but he would have to do the best he could. Taking out one of the bandages, he wet it with the water and after gently removing the makeshift bandage from Arathorn's head, he cleaned the wound as best he could without seeing it. Feeling that the bleeding had lessened but not stopped, he reached back into the bag and pulled out another bandage and tightly re-bound Arathorn's wound. Remembering the cut on his own head, he reached back and found that the bleeding had stopped. Taking out another bandage, he cleaned his head, wincing as the wet cloth touched the wound, then wrapped a thin layer of bandages around his own head to keep out the dirt and dust in the cave.

Once the obvious injuries were treated, he put the rest of the supplies carefully back into their bag. Putting the bag aside for the moment, he reached forward and began a more through examination of Arathorn's unconscious form. While he knew the head injury could very well be the sole cause of this inability to wake, he was still concerned that Arathorn had not stirred once since they had been trapped here. To break the silence and provide himself a little company, Aragorn began speaking to Arathorn as he searched somewhat blindly for any hidden injuries.

"You know, this would be much easier if you would wake up and tell me what hurts. I can hardly treat an injury if I do not know it exists, can I?" In the silence that followed his question, Aragorn began to worry that there was truly some hidden injury that he was not able to see, bleeding inside somewhere that could end up claiming Arathorn's life. "I have not come all this way to save your life merely to have you die on your very next patrol, Ada," Aragorn said softly. He frowned as a thought occurred to him. "Surely history will not demand your death. I was sent here for a reason. I was told that I may change your fate. But what if that fate insists on claiming you after all? Am I to spend the rest of my life here trying to save yours?" The thought of spending the rest of Eradan's natural life trying to keep Arathorn safe through one dangerous situation after another was not overly appealing to Aragorn. But then, isn't that what he and the rest of the Rangers had done anyway? They spent their lives patrolling the wilds, protecting the innocents and doing their best to keep each other alive through one battle after another. This would not be so different from that, except for the small niggling doubt in Aragorn's mind that perhaps fate would not rest until it had claimed Arathorn's life. However, he would not let that doubt sway his path. "If that is what I must do, I will do it. I will do what I must to keep you alive and a part of your son's life. He needs you, as I did, but I did not have the chance to know you. He will have that chance, I swear it."

Reaching out, he felt his father's face, and was somewhat reassured when it was not too warm, too cold, or clammy, all signs that might indicate problems. Looking back toward the entrance of the cave, he debated on whether he should start attempting to clear away the rocks on this side of the fall to aid the others, or wait for rescue. His first attempt to stand decided the issue for him. While he had been rescuing and treating his father, he had been able to push the pain toward the back of his mind where it did not prevent him from doing what must be done. But now that he had done all he could for his father, all the pain he had been suppressing came back full force. The aborted movement caused his head to start pounding again, and the injury to his back made its presence known with a painful intensity.

"Perhaps I will rest a moment," he gasped, sinking down to sit at his father's side. Reaching toward the packs, he pulled out a few items of clothing that he balled up and placed under Arathorn's head. Making another makeshift pillow for himself, Aragorn lay down carefully on his side and closed his eyes, hoping that with a cessation of movement, the pain would also cease. Before he realized what was happening, he had fallen into a deep sleep. Had he thought about it, he would have tried to avoid falling asleep with a head injury of unknown severity, but that decision was not in his hands.

The next thing he was aware of was a hand gently shaking him awake. Opening his eyes with a great deal of effort, he tried to focus on the face that was surely nearby. All he could see, however, was the darkness that still surrounded them. Struggling to sit up, he felt a hand gently holding him down.

"Do not move just yet, Eradan. I am relieved that you have finally decided to wake."

Aragorn squinted in the direction of Arathorn's voice, wishing he could see his father. "How long?" he rasped out. He could not quite focus his thoughts through the pain still pounding in his head.

"I have been awake for awhile, and was unable to rouse you from your slumber. Upon feeling the bandage wound round your head, I became rather worried." Arathorn could not hide the relief in his voice that Eradan was now awake.

"Other than a headache, I am fine," Aragorn said, brushing aside Arathorn's hands and struggling to a sitting position. "I am relieved that you are awake. I was worried myself when I could not wake you. I found only your head injury. Are you injured anywhere else? I need to know if you have any other injuries that need treatment." Aragorn's words came out thicker than normal, and he was beginning to think that he had suffered at least a minor concussion. Had the twins of his world or Legolas been here, they would have rolled their eyes at his declaration of being 'fine' and directed him to the nearest bed. He was hoping that Arathorn would not know him quite so well and believe his declaration.

"I can tell by your voice that you are not 'fine'," Arathorn replied.

So much for that hope, Aragorn thought with a wry grin. "Very well, I may have a slight concussion, and my back is bruised from the falling rocks. However, I fear you may have been injured worse than I. I had to dig you out of the rubble. Are your legs injured? You still have not answered my question."

Arathorn sighed at Eradan's persistence. It seemed he would not be able to avoid answering Eradan's questions. "There is nothing broken, though I may have twisted my ankle. It feels quite bruised, and will not easily hold my weight. I also have a headache, but seem to be doing reasonably well, otherwise."

Arathorn's voice was matter-of-fact, but Aragorn could hear the pain that he was trying to hide. However, Aragorn also knew he could not push the matter further, not until he was able to see Arathorn and give him a more thorough examination, anyway. "I am relieved to hear it," Aragorn answered instead. "I had feared that there was some injury I could not see that would claim your life before help could arrive."

"Then rest easy," Arathorn answered. "I am not in so much pain that I believe that to be a danger."

Aragorn tried once again to rise, only to rapidly sink back to sit on the ground as his head began spinning.

"What are you doing?" Arathorn asked sharply, hearing the soft movement and the hiss of pain emanating from Eradan.

Aragorn clenched his teeth against the pain and breathed deeply for a moment to help ease the dizziness. It was a long moment before he could answer, and when he did, his words came out haltingly as he tried to speak through the pain raging once more in his head. "I thought to stand…but found I could not."

"If you are concussed, you should not make an attempt to move," Arathorn chided him, knowing how much pain the young man was in. When he had attempted to stand earlier, he had been in much the same condition as Eradan. "Stay still where you are and wait for the others to reach us."

"I had hoped…to help move some of…the rocks from this side." Aragorn spoke softly as the pain in his head slowly began to recede with the cessation of movement.

"I believe they can dig us out without help from either of us," Arathorn answered, knowing that neither of them were in any shape to try moving rocks, or even to try moving themselves at the moment.

"They will have to," Aragorn agreed, knowing he would not be able to move again. That last attempt had nearly been more than he could handle. Aragorn drew his knees up and rested his aching head on the arm he draped across his knees. A soft chuckle escaped him as he thought of something. "Are all of your patrols this…eventful? First the orc attack, and now a cave-in?" He couldn't help but think of what Legolas would have said in a situation like this. His friend certainly would have ended up blaming Aragorn for the events that befell them. Either Legolas was correct, and Aragorn's luck was following him as Eradan, or Arathorn suffered from similar luck, and Aragorn had come by it honestly.

"No," Arathorn answered with a soft chuckle of his own. The situation in itself was not humorous, but Eradan's question had made it seem so, at least a little. "Most of the patrols are quite uneventful, quiet even. Do not fear, Eradan. You will not end up injured on every patrol." His brow furrowed as he realized that so far, on his two patrols, Eradan had indeed been injured. He certainly hoped that trend did not continue. His mind flashed back to just before the cave-in, and he realized that Eradan had likely saved his life by pulling him toward the back of the cave, away from most of the falling rocks. So, Eradan had saved his life twice now? "It appears that I am once again in your debt," he said softly. "This appears to be twice now that you have saved my life."

To Arathorn's surprise, another chuckle was Eradan's response to his comment. "Have you ever thought of making me your bodyguard? It would seem you need one."

Arathorn could not quite believe the temerity of the boy in making the offer. Eradan was a young man, out on his first patrol, and he offered himself as Arathorn's bodyguard? But then, Arathorn had just acknowledged that Eradan had saved his life twice now, had he not? "Perhaps I should, at that." Eradan had certainly shown his willingness to place himself in danger to save his chieftain, a needed quality in a bodyguard, but Arathorn hated to place a burden like that on one so young. Especially not one that he had taken responsibility for, as he had for Eradan. Then there was Eradan's vision that had shown him acting as advisor to Aragorn sometime in the future. Should he not do everything he could to shelter the young man and help him learn what he needed to know to be such an advisor? But what if it was by acting as bodyguard to Arathorn that he learned what he needed to know? Arathorn's head hurt too much at the moment to make such life-changing decisions. Maybe it would not be necessary to actually name Eradan as such, but simply to keep him near at all times. In that way, he would see first-hand what it meant to be chieftain of the Dúnedain, and be able to help guide Aragorn in the future.

"But whether that happens in the future or not, it does seem that I have great reason to keep you close to me, for your safety as well as my own." His comments indicated in no uncertain terms that Eradan would not be named a bodyguard until he was older. "It does seem that you attract trouble of all sorts." His voice was amused as he said the last, making it clear that he did not blame Eradan for any of the events that had occurred. How could anything that happened have been Eradan's fault, in any event? It was only unfortunate coincidence that these things had happened on Eradan's first two times out on patrol.

Aragorn groaned softly to himself as he heard Arathorn's last comment. It seemed that he would once again acquire a reputation as one who was followed by trouble at every turn. If he was not careful, it would become a running joke as to how often he was injured. That part of his life seemed fated to repeat, no matter what guise he was known under.

Arathorn smiled slightly in response to Eradan's groan. He could tell by the tone of it that it had been Eradan's response to his comment and not caused by the pain that Eradan was in. If nothing else, he had to admire the young man's ability to see humor in situations that might leave other experienced warriors more than a little discomfited. Eradan, however, seemed quite able to take such things in stride.

At that moment, Eradan started coughing slightly, the dust in the air causing him problems. Arathorn remembered that he had not had anything to drink since waking, and reached over for one of the water skins that he had found near him upon waking in this darkness. He reached over and placed it in Eradan's hand. "Here, drink. At least we do have a supply of fresh water here."

Eradan took a long drink before replying. "Yes, that is a blessing." Aragorn reflected on the misery he experienced the last time he was trapped in a cave-in, with no water to drink, and no way to move enough to drink it even if he had had any near to hand. All in all, he much preferred this experience to his last cave-in.

Arathorn heard something odd in Eradan's voice as he replied, but when nothing further was said, decided to let the matter go. As there seemed nothing for them to do but wait for rescue, he settled himself against the wall near his position and started telling Eradan about the history of the Dúnedain. Talking would keep him awake, and listening and responding to him would keep Eradan awake. Knowing they both had head injuries, Arathorn wanted to make sure neither of them had the chance to drift back to sleep.

Many hours later, they heard the first sounds of scraping and moving of rocks in the direction of the entrance of the cave. Arathorn crawled over to the pile of rocks, and heard Eradan also moving beside him. They could now hear voices coming faintly from the other side, calling their names.

"We're here!" Arathorn called back through the wall of rock. "Eradan and I are both here!"

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Elladan turned to Elrohir in relief at the sound of Arathorn's voice coming through the rock. Though he and Elrohir had been out hunting when the earthquake happened, the trees around them had sent out warnings of danger. They could not hear the voices of the trees as clearly as the wood elves, but they had heard this warning quite clearly. Abandoning their pursuit of the doe they had been tracking, they ran back to the clearing they had left the others in. A scene of chaos had greeted them upon their return.

Baran and Tarcil were trying desperately to calm the terrified horses, and the entrance of the cave was now nothing but a pile of tumbled rock. Racing into the clearing, Elrohir and Elladan had taken the reins of the horses, speaking to them until they had calmed enough not to run off.

Once the horses were calmed, Elladan turned to Baran. "Where are Arathorn and Eradan?"

"They were in the cave when the earthquake started," Baran said, his voice quite grim as he stared back at the rockslide.

"No," Elrohir breathed the word in horror as he approached them. He too, turned to look at the rocks blocking the cave.

"Have you heard anything from them? Do you know if they still live?" Elladan asked Baran fiercely.

The man stepped back away from Elladan at the look on the peredhil's face. "We do not know. There has been no sound from the cave. We do not know whether they yet live."

Elladan's expression darkened. "This mountain has claimed too many victims already. Arathorn and Eradan will not be among them. We must reach them. Tie the horses up and help me start digging."

Despite his words, they did not start digging immediately. After staking the horses a short distance away, they studied the rock fall as best they could in the waning daylight. Only once it was determined that digging into the rock fall would not further destabilize the mountain did they start actually moving any of the rocks. A full moon soon rose, shining its light onto their efforts to dig through the mound of rocks. They dug in silence for most of the night, without any sign that they were nearing the end of the rock slide or that the ones they sought were still alive. As they had yet to find any sign that Arathorn and Eradan had perished, though, Elladan chose to believe that they were still alive and waiting for rescue.

As the rocks began to come away more easily and they began to think they were nearing the end, they began calling out for Arathorn and Eradan. It was nearly morning and they were beginning to give up hope, when their calls were finally answered. While the voice was too faint for Baran and Tarcil to make out the words, Elladan and Elrohir could hear Arathorn's voice confirming that they were both alive and just on the other side of the rocks. That was all they needed to buoy their spirits, and they quickened their pace, and just as the sun began lightening the sky, they broke through to the other side.

After clearing a space large enough to crawl through, Elladan was the first into the cave. Though the light was dim, Eradan and Arathorn were shielding their eyes from the light filtering in through the hole. A frown crossed his face when he saw the bandages wrapped around their heads. Crouching down beside Arathorn, he reached out to gently touch the bandage. "How badly are you injured? Can you make it out of the cave?" A glance toward Eradan included him in the questions.

"I believe we are well enough to go that far," Arathorn responded. "My ankle will not enable me to stand on it, but I can crawl out of here if need be."

"Eradan?" Elladan asked, glancing toward the young man.

"I am well enough to leave this place," he answered with a look around the interior of the cave. "We need to be sure to take our supplies. The water and bandages were quite useful to us, and we will need them outside this cave, as well."

Elladan nodded and quickly gathered up the saddlebags and water skins that had been stored in the cave, then handed them to Baran and Tarcil through the hole, while Elrohir joined them in the cave to help him escort the wounded out. Once they were all safely outside, Elladan and Elrohir made Arathorn and Eradan sit down on some nearby rocks to examine their injuries.

Choosing a patient, Elladan treated Arathorn's injuries while Elrohir treated Eradan. Unwinding the bandages, they found only superficial cuts marring Arathorn and Eradan's heads, though it would still be wise to keep an eye on them for some time to come. Cleaning and re-bandaging their head injuries only took a few minutes.

Placing a hand on Arathorn's shoulder, Elladan nodded in satisfaction. "You did a very good job of treating your injuries without being able to see anything. If the bleeding had not been stopped in time, you would not be doing so well right now."

"I thank you, but it was Eradan who treated our injuries, not me. I was unconscious after the cave-in, and Eradan dug me out and then cleaned and bandaged both our wounds."

Both peredhel looked askance at Eradan, who simply gazed back evenly at them.

"You truly do have the instincts of a healer, especially for one so young. If you agree, I would like to begin training you in the ways of a healer. The Dunedain are always in need of a trained healer." Studying Eradan's face intently, Elladan awaited a response.

Nodding his head slowly and carefully, Eradan kept his gaze on Elladan. "I would be quite honored to have you train me in this." When Elladan nodded and returned his attention to Arathorn, Elrohir asked Eradan to tell him if he had any other injuries.

"I bruised my back when the cave-in happened. I was hit by some of the falling rocks. While it does not feel serious, it is causing me some pain." Eradan was honest in this, knowing that the twins would find whatever injuries he had, whether he told them or not.

Elrohir carefully helped the young man out of his shirt and examined his back with a critical eye. "Aye, you did bruise it quite badly, but there is more damage here than mere bruises. You have a rather nasty gash across your back. I am afraid that it will need at least a few stitches to close. It will also require a thorough cleaning, as there appears to be a great deal of dust mixed in with the dried blood. We must do what we can to help avoid infection."

Groaning miserably, Eradan dropped his head to his chest, knowing how much that was going to hurt. And since they would be concerned about his head injury, they would be disinclined to give him any pain-killing tea. A hand touched his head with a gentle touch, and Eradan looked up to see Elrohir smiling sympathetically down at him.

"I will be as gentle as I can, you have my word. And this may be a good time for your first lesson in poultices that can be made to help prevent infection."

"I would much prefer it if I were not learning how to treat my own injuries," Eradan said with a wry grin.

The others all laughed at that comment and it was a release of all the tension they had felt over the course of the long night. Elladan and Elrohir proceeded to treat the rest of the injuries, Elrohir stitching Eradan's back and placing a healing poultice over it, while Elladan immobilized Arathorn's ankle with a stiff bandage. Declaring that neither man was fit to move on immediately, they set up camp nearby and remained for two days before the injured were healed enough to continue. Once they were cleared to return to normal activity, the group resumed its regular patrol of the Redhorn pass and the Misty Mountains.