Chapter Twenty Five

Unlike Legolas, Aragorn had the full use of both arms, so he was able to hold his head above water more often than not. However, even that didn’t keep him from taking a sound dunking far too many times for his liking.

He tried to reach a kind of rhythm where he could inhale when he was above the surface and exhale when he went under it. The river’s wild thrashing was unpredictable, so he wasn’t always successful, but it worked enough to keep him from drowning outright.

Aragorn was able to avoid most of the rocks that lay in his path. Sometimes he managed to push off from one of the larger one, only scraping the skin on his hands. At other times, he was swept away by the strong current just as it appeared there would be no way to avoid a painful and possibly fatal collision.

Futilely Aragorn tried to reach Legolas, but the river would begin taking him toward the elf and then would pull him away at the last instant seemingly in a cruel form of teasing. Frustrated, the man had to settle for just trying to keep an eye on his friend, whenever his head was turned in the elf’s direction, although he knew that if he saw Legolas in more trouble than he was already in, there would be little he could do to help.

Catching a glimpse of his friend once in a while only heightened his concern during the occasions he wasn’t able to find the archer’s head above water.

To his great consternation, the ranger soon found himself being spun around too often to be able to track Legolas’s progress down the river. Aragorn would have panicked had he known what had befallen Legolas mere yards behind him.

Forced to turn his full attention back to the river, Aragorn found himself entering the section of river that held the huge boulders he and Legolas had sought shelter in and had so recently vacated. Facing the shore, he clearly saw three trolls standing on the shore. One of them was Tack, who Aragorn assumed had most likely become the new leader.

The creature was looking straight at him and shaking his fists, which were raised in the air above his head. Tack was obviously shouting something, but the ranger could only hear the roaring of the water in his ears, so he didn’t know if the troll was angry that the captives were being hurtled away from his grasp or if he was simply rejoicing that they were about to be killed by the raging river. It was easy to believe that Tack would think it was exactly what they deserved.

Another thought came to the man. He realized he would rather drown or be smashed against a rock full force than have his life taken by any of those disgusting trolls. He felt like giving the loathsome creature a mocking wave but couldn’t manage to get either arm above the water to do so. Still, as a parting shot, he silently shouted, ‘I hope I never see your ugly excuse for a face ever again!’ It was with only a small measure of regret that the troll couldn’t hear him.

The scene of what Aragorn hoped was Tack’s total aggravation was the last thing the ranger saw, as he was suddenly slammed against a large rock, and everything went black.

*~*~*~*

Legolas could feel his life slipping away. The utter blackness he saw was not because he had closed his eyes. Everything had gone numb except his lungs, which burned with a fire that he ruefully thought wasn’t able to offer him any warmth. He knew it was his body shutting down from the lack of air and the freezing water. If his mind followed suit, he would die. This was not the way he wanted to leave Middle-earth.

The elf suddenly thought of Aragorn. He knew the ranger would blame himself for the rest of this own life for the archer’s death. ‘I will not do that to you, Estel.’ Had he known what had just happened to his friend, he would have been even more desperate than he was already.

Exhausted, hurting, close to drowning, and desperate he may be, but Legolas was still one of the Firstborn, gifted with endurance beyond the measure of men. And it was doubtful that any man, even Aragorn, with all of his physical strength, would have been able to escape the fierce current now trying to take the elf’s life. Legolas’s will was even more fierce.

Forgetting everything else, including the pain in his fast-numbing shoulder, which was ironically the only relief he had had from the constant ache there, Legolas reached down and placed both palms flat against the rocky riverbed and pushed upward with all the strength he still possessed.

At first, it didn’t seem that anything was happening. The force of the water was still pinning the elf down against the base of the boulder. Then the current rushing past the rock grabbed at his outstretched legs and began to tug at him.

The two sections of the current battled for possession of the elf‘s body, as if in a game of tug-of-war. Both were strong, but the one coming over the boulder had Legolas’s torso, which was much more substantial than his legs. It was that part of the current that was winning - at first.

Once Legolas added the leverage from his arms pushing against the riverbed, the water that held his legs in its icy grip began to move the elf away from the boulder.

When Legolas’s body came free, it was jerked out into the main stream of the river and sent bobbing like a cork around the bend in the river Aragorn had observed when they had first sought refuge in the boulders. Legolas’s concussion had erased all of that from his memory.

Luckily, the archer was right side up and, despite having water splash in his face, he was able to suck air into his tortured lungs. However, it seemed that with every one breath he took came two coughs, as his lungs worked to eject the liquid trying to fill them. If only he could make his way to the shore before he passed out, which he realized he was on the verge of doing. ‘Try to reach the riverbank, Greenleaf,’ he told himself. ‘You must try.’

*~*~*~*

When Aragorn opened his eyes, he had to blink several times due to the strong light that assailed them. He stared up at the sky for several minutes before he realized that he was no longer bobbing in the water.

A quick glance to the left showed him a row of trees a good ten yards away that remained steady, instead of flying past as they had done... ‘When?’ The man frowned. ‘How long have I been here? And where exactly is here?’

An attempt to sit up met with searing pain along the ribcage on his right side. ‘I must have hit a boulder,’ Aragorn theorized. ‘Hard,’ he added with another wince.

Carefully the man rolled over onto his left side, trying not to breathe too hard. He couldn’t help it, he grinned when he saw that his first assessment was right - he was on dry ground.

It was logical to assume the current had somehow thrown him up where he now found himself. That thought lingered for about thirty seconds before he realized that he was a good ten feet from the edge of the water. ‘That was some throw,’ he said. But in truth, it made no sense, especially when he eyed the river and saw that the current along this area was swift but not violent. “How did I get here?” he questioned, aloud this time.

When he looked down at his feet to better see the distance from him to the water, he noticed two long ruts that ran from the water to where his heels had come to rest. Drag marks. “I was dragged.” That realization made him sit up suddenly, and he paid the price for it, as his ribs screamed in protest. He wanted to wrap his arms around himself but was afraid to touch the injured bones.

Aragorn ignored the agony. There was only one way he could have gotten to where he was. Legolas. The elf had to have found him in the water and dragged him onto the bank. That meant that his friend was all right. Legolas had survived the river.

The next question that entered his mind made him frown. Where was Legolas now? Why was he not here beside an injured friend, as he most surely would be, if all was indeed well with the elf.

Something, not a sound or a movement really, but something made him turn and look to his left. Aragorn took in a sharp breath, though it had nothing to do with the pain in his side.

Lying on the ground facing the ranger was the object of Aragorn’s concern. Legolas’s hair had come loose and was lying across his face, completely covering it.

Aragorn’s heart lurched, as the thought that Legolas was dead struck him like a physical blow. He turned, again ignoring his ribs, and reached a shaky hand down to touch the elf. “No,” he whispered in shock and denial, when he felt the coldness of the alabaster skin on the back of the elf’s hand. “No, Valar, please. You cannot have taken him like this.”

Fighting back the urge to scream, Aragorn pulled the wet, golden hair away from Legolas’s face. The pale complexion that was revealed did nothing to ease the man’s mounting heartache. The elf's lips were blue, as were the bruises that stood out in stark contrast. He held his breath, as he placed his fingers against Legolas’s neck and waited. Was the stillness he felt the result of his own cold, stiff fingers or...? He refused to even complete the thought.

As time moved on around him, Aragorn seemed stuck in a silent and unchanging nightmare. Even the roar of the river had faded far into the background. He shook violently from the effects of the icy water that had gripped him in his wild ride down the river. One tremor followed another through his body. But it was cold grip of grief that had taken his mind and heart. Irony could be a cruel thing. Now that he was in the open air, he felt like he was suffocating.

How could this have happened? How could Legolas, an immortal elf who was not meant to die, be dead? The ranger looked toward the river. When he saw the drag marks in the dirt, he groaned. That was the answer. Legolas had used the last ounce of strength left to drag him to safety, even at the cost of his friend’s own life.

It was not fair. It was not right. It was...

Aragorn’s head jerked around, and his eyes got very wide. There was a bump against his fingertips, which he hadn’t realized he still held against Legolas’s neck. He held his breath and felt it again. Then again. It was slow, but it was unmistakable. The ranger leaned down and placed his ear under the elf’s nose, rejoicing when he felt the faintest breath of air.

There was still no color in the archer’s skin other than the bruises, and he was as cold as the river had been, but he was alive! Aragorn placed his hands on each side of Legolas’s face, hoping to transfer some warmth. He had to laugh at himself when he realized that his hands were as cold as the skin he was touching.

Being a healer, Aragorn realized that Legolas was not out of danger just because he had survived drowning. He had to admit that conscious though he himself was, he wasn’t exactly in the best of health, either. His trembling body was trying desperately to keep his core warm, even at the cost of his extremities, which were almost completely numb.

Aragorn had no idea if he and Legolas had left troll territory or not. He had no desire to fight those creatures again, but right now, they were the least of the problems that beset the two friends.

The storms were long gone, but darkness would soon be upon them, and the wind had picked up again, adding more chill to their already half-frozen bodies. As wet as they were, they could easily freeze to death overnight. They needed to get out of the open and into the trees where they could find some shelter.

The only problem was that he didn’t think he would be able to get himself there much less carry Legolas. There was simply no way it could be done. He could crawl, though his broken ribs would surely cause a great deal of pain. It galled Aragorn to know that Legolas had given his all to drag him to safety, but he hadn’t the ability to return the favor.

A small groan brought the ranger’s attention back to the elf at his side. “Legolas? Can you hear me?”

Another groan, though Aragorn couldn’t tell if it was meant as an affirmative answer or if it was just the elf’s simple reaction to regaining consciousness. The man leaned over and called to Legolas softly.

“I hear you,” came the raspy reply. Those three words seemed to take a great deal of effort to utter.

“You have no idea how joyful it is to hear you speak. I thought you were dead.”

“So did I.”

Despite himself, a grin broke out on the ranger’s face. “I’m glad we were both wrong.”

TBC