Chapter Twenty One

Seeing the determined set of Aragorn’s jaw, Legolas pretended not to hear what Aragorn had just said about wanting to know the details of the elf’s injuries. Instead, he tired to turn the discussion away from himself, as he often did, and on to an entirely different subject. “I am sorry that we were not able to retrieve your gold medallion. I think it may have been lost when Hatch was burned. He is the only one that I saw with it.”

“I hate to lose it, but if I know my father, he’ll have another one made for me. Besides, he would much rather me show up in Rivendell in one piece than risk life and limb trying to find it.”

“Still, I know how much it meant to you.”

“It did, but our lives mean much more, so that’s what we need to concentrate on saving.”

If there had been more light in the shelter, Aragorn would have seen the pain and slight dilation in the elf’s blue-gray eyes. That would have outright frightened the man, and he would have spent his last ounce of energy getting the elf out of the shelter. Then he would have gotten Legolas into the forest, fighting every inch of the way, if need be.

Legolas kept his eyes averted, so his perceptive friend couldn’t read the truth of his condition in their depths. He knew he couldn’t be too obvious, or Aragorn would be alerted by that maneuver in itself.

Aragorn observed Legolas, fully aware of what the elf had been trying to do when he mentioned the medallion. “I know that your offer of sympathy was genuine, Legolas, not just a way to distract me. Right?”

“Of course,” Legolas replied, a little too quickly.

“It didn’t work, my friend. Nice try, though.”

Closing his eyes, Legolas just sighed. He should have known - did, in fact, know - that the ploy wouldn’t work. Occasionally it did, but this was clearly not going to be one of those times.

“Now tell me,” the ranger said firmly, as he shifted his position so he could look squarely at the elf. “How bad does your head really hurt?” It was clear he was prepared to sit right where he was until the question was answered.

“Bad,” Legolas finally confessed, unable to put his friend off any longer. “It pains me enough that I am dizzy, and even in this gloom, I can tell my vision is not as focused as it should be. And before you ask, my shoulder throbs, because I have overused it in our escape attempt, instead of being able to rest it.” In the spirit of full disclosure, he added, “And I cannot control the trembling.”

The rush of words came out flat and had a distinct, ‘Are you happy now?’ tone to them. He regretted the harsh declaration as soon as it left his mouth, because he knew Aragorn didn’t deserve to be spoken to in that manner. The elf felt somewhat like an elfling who had been scolded for misbehaving during his lessons and was now sorry for talking back to his tutor. “Estel...”

“Don’t you dare apologize,” Aragorn interrupted. “I know how annoying I can be with my persistence, because I know how you hate admitting to anything you consider a weakness, even when it isn’t your fault.” The man’s own harshness softened considerably when he added, “I’m worried about you.”

“I know you are,” the elf replied in a much softer voice. He knew his friend was genuine in his feelings of concern. “I do not mean to worry you, Estel. You can do nothing for me, and it only frustrates you.”

Aragorn nodded. “That’s true, but I still want to know. I’m a healer, and there’s a chance I can help in some way.” ‘A very small chance,’ he was forced to admit to himself.

“This is not a distraction,” Legolas declared before saying, “but we need to find a way out of here. Those trolls will not stay gone forever. When the large rocks that have hidden us so far run out, they will be back. We will be trapped, because I think they will simply wait us out.”

Aragorn had to agree with Legolas’s reasoning. They did indeed need to leave this shelter as soon as they could.

“There seems to be only one way,” the elf stated, as he pointed toward the shelter’s entrance.

Looking at Legolas, the ranger shrugged and gave the archer a wry smile. “It’s simple. We just have to move the stone that’s blocking our way out.” After seeing the dubious expression on Legolas’s face, he said, “Like I said, it’s simple.”

From where Legolas and Aragorn sat, there was no way to tell the full size and weight of the rock the troll had pushed across the shelter opening. They hadn’t the slightest idea if moving it was even a possibility. The fact that it might not be was too frightening a thought to even entertain, much less dwell on.

“You stay here,” the ranger told Legolas.

“No,” the elf replied. “You cannot do it alone.”

“You’re in no condition to be trying to move large stones.” Aragorn spoke firmly.

“Neither are you,” the stubborn elf insisted. “I did not tell you how I felt, so that you could make me sit while you did all the work. I will do my share.” The last words were uttered in a tone the ranger was well familiar with. It said that there would be no argument on the matter. Like Legolas a moment ago, he knew when to give in.

Resigned to the decision Legolas was determined to follow through on, Aragorn moved forward first, crawling on hands and knees until he reached the entrance through which they had earlier sought safety. That now seemed like an age ago.

More slowly, Legolas crawled up behind the man, laying his bow down on the ground beside him. He maneuvered himself sideways so his good right shoulder would be next to the rock that was hindering their escape.

Aragorn would have preferred Legolas not tax himself, but he knew there was no way he could move the stone by himself. Even injured, the elf was till probably stronger than he was. So, turning to face Legolas, Aragorn placed his left shoulder against the rock. “Now we push.”

It soon became apparent that this approach wasn’t working. The rock wasn’t budging.

Legolas sat back on his heels to conserve his strength and to think. After a moment, he looked at Aragorn and said, “The stone is leaning slightly against the slabs. We are too low. We must push against the top, so it will move past its base and topple outward.”

Looking at the stone while still on his knees, the ranger realized that the angle was indeed working against them. “The problem there is the top of the rock is above us on the outside. We can’t get our shoulders against it. We’ll have to use our hands.”

Aragorn could almost see Legolas gritting his teeth at the prospect of having to use his left arm on the heavy stone. “Let me take most of the weight of the push,” he said.

Shaking his head, Legolas replied, “We now know how heavy the stone is, Estel, so we must both use all of our strength. It is the only way we can move the stone and clear the entrance.” He stared at his friend. “It is the only way we can escape.”

Those last words were enough to make the ranger agree, reluctant though he was to do so. After all, what was the use of saving Legolas more pain and possibly further injury, if they ended up trapped here? They would either be found and eventually taken again by the trolls, or they would die in this dark place they had so recently believed was their salvation. Neither of those prospects was an option in the minds of the two friends.

Determination again flared in the ranger. ‘Whatever happens to Legolas as a result of this, I will take care of him when we are free,’ he vowed silently. Those words resonated in his mind, and he would see them fulfilled or die trying.

Legolas placed the palms of his hands flat against the stone as close to the top as having them side by side would allow. He determinedly ignored the pain just raising his left arm caused in his shoulder. It would take a lot more determination, he knew, to get through what was coming.

Aragorn placed one hand in the small space above Legolas’s and one below. “Ready?” he asked.

Clenching his jaw tightly, Legolas nodded and said, “Now.”

The two friends pushed with all their might, but the stone did not budge any more than it had a few moments ago.

They continued until Legolas had to pull back, shaking from the exertion. “We need more leverage.”

“Stay on your knees,” Aragorn instructed. “I have an idea.” He stood up, bending over slightly, so his head wouldn’t hit either of the slanted slabs only inches above him.

Keeping his hands on the rock, the ranger straightened one leg out behind him and the other he bent at the knee. “Let’s go again,” he said, when he was set.

It wasn’t the rock that moved. It was the ranger. The rain coming down from the top of the shelter had turned the ground inside into a sheet of mud. It wasn’t thick, but it was extremely slippery, and it caused both of Aragorn’s feet to slide out from under him.

Instinctively, he reached out and latched onto the only thing that was there to keep himself form falling. To his utter horror, it turned out to be Legolas’s left shoulder.

Legolas was startled by the intense pain that exploded inside his shoulder. It was so sudden and so different from the throbbing he had been living with that he gasped and tried to jerk backwards. If his head hadn’t been bent forward, he would have hit it yet again.

Instantly, Aragorn let go, and as a consequence, he slammed down face first into the mud. His mind was reeling by what he had done to Legolas, and thus he didn’t notice the blood trickling from his nose, as he raised his head.

Despite several failed attempts to rise, Aragorn finally made it to his knees and then to Legolas’s side. “Oh, mellon nin, I am so sorry. It was slippery and...” The man stopped. He had just hurt his friend worse than the trolls had done, and offering excuses wasn’t going to make matters any better.

Still speechless from the pain, Legolas shook his head. Then, almost breathless, he said, “Not your fault.” Black spots danced across his already impaired vision, while he fought to hang on to consciousness.

Aragorn let the elf catch his breath, knowing that fussing over him would only upset him more. And he certainly dared not touch him. He closed his eyes and cursed himself in three languages for being ten kinds of a fool.

Keeping his distance, Aragorn opened his eyes and stared at Legolas’s shoulder. The look did not go unnoticed by the elf.

“It is not dislocated again,” he offered weakly. He refrained from saying that it was so swollen by now, the bone couldn’t have moved no matter what was done to it. He knew that was an exaggeration but not much of one.

Aragorn did mention it. “It’s probably too swollen to move,” he said, his voice choked with regret and guilt.

“Are you all right?” Legolas inquired of his friend.

“Me?” the ranger asked in surprise.

“Yes, you. You fell, did you not?”

“In the mud. It hardly did any damage.” Aragorn sounded as if it would have been better if he had done something to himself. He deserved it.

“Are you sure? Your nose is bleeding.“

Aragorn rubbed his fingers over his upper lip and then looked at them. There was mud and blood mixed up together.

After taking his thumb and forefinger and placing them on each side of his nose, he cautiously moved them from side to side, trying to determine if there was a break. He triumphantly declared, “It isn’t broken, just mashed a bit.”

Relieved, Legolas said, “We must still move the rock, Estel. The need for that has not changed.”

Legolas was being as practical as ever, Aragorn noted, and he was right. “But how?” the man inquired. “We couldn’t do it before I hurt your shoulder again.”

“It is only pain. No further damage was done to it.” He had no idea whether or not he was lying about that, but he continued quickly before Aragorn had time to say otherwise. “We will push on the rock again.”

“Legolas...”

“We will push again,” the elf said firmly, reaching out with his good arm and placing his hand on Aragorn’s shoulder. “We must.”

Conceding, Aragorn said, “We push again.”

The two companions again moved up to the rock and placed their hands against it. There was one difference this time, something Aragorn thought of by accident. As he moved forward, again standing, he came up against the rock slab at his back.

Despite the water running down its surface, it wasn’t slippery, and there was a small amount of friction between the rock and Aragorn’s clothing. He decided he would use it as the leverage he needed.

“One thing,” Legolas said, as he looked up into his friend’s eyes. “We do not stop until the stone has fallen. Stopping and restarting will not accomplish the task. It will only drain our strength.”

“Agreed,” the man replied.

It was now or never, and they both knew it.

Aragorn placed both of his feet against the top of the rock next to Legolas’s right hand.

At a nod from Aragorn, the two began exerting as much force against the stone as they could muster.

The angle at which the ranger was forced to work made the maneuver more difficult, but it was more than offset by the added strength of Aragorn’s legs rather than that of his hands.

Legolas and Aragorn were pushing as hard as they could, but at first, nothing was happening. Both friends were holding their breath, not willing to use even the tiniest bit of strength on anything but pushing on the rock.

Just when it seemed both elf and ranger would collapse in a heap of exhaustion, the stone moved. It wasn’t much, but it encouraged them to keep going.

Then, in deceptive silence, the rock began to fall. When it hit the rock behind it, there was a dull thud rather than the loud crash that was expected. It was raining harder, and black, rolling clouds, once again covered the sky.

The two friends crouched down and looked out before turning to look at each other and grin.

Aragorn was still grinning broadly, as he swept his hand forward, indicating that Legolas should go first.

Gratefully, the elf crawled through the shelter entrance, actually happy to have the rain hit him in the face, as he emerged.

Aragorn was right behind him.

They stood up and looked at one another again.

“Shall we?” Aragorn asked. “I want to leave this place.”

They took two steps in the direction of the forest upriver that they had left so long ago, before a deep voice said, “Goin’ somewhere, scum?”

TBC