Aragorn entered Legolas’ room alone, his brothers remaining outside the door to allow him some privacy. He was carefully balancing a tray containing some kind of stew for Legolas, and another large selection of food that he could only assume was for him; Elrohir had presumably remembered that he had not eaten earlier. Thankfully he had not needed to venture far into the house, Elrohir had fetched the meal and Legolas’ room was but a few doors away from his own. With his brothers scouting ahead, there was no danger of him meeting with his father accidentally.

The thought of food repulsed him. His stomach was knotted with his worries, and the sight and even the smell rising from the plate was enough to nauseate him. Gladly setting the tray down, he crept over to the bed careful not to make any loud noise and so disturb the sleeping figure. Looking down at Legolas, his eyes were first drawn to the bandage that was wrapped over the top of his head, tucking his ears to the side of his head. Aragorn was thankful that the wound was hidden from his sight, if he could see the blood then he knew he would be unable to prevent himself from imagining just how much worse this situation could have been because of him; a broken and bloody body, twisted at the foot of a cliff, no lake to catch him. He shuddered. Drawing his eyes away from the pristine wrapping, he lowered his gaze to that of the face of the sleeping elf.

Aragorn was shocked to discover such a change in Legolas’ features from the last time he had seen him sleeping, just a few hours ago. Then he had appeared peacefully content in his dreaming, untroubled by pain or remembrance; that image was now nothing but a distant memory. The soft smile, and aura of peace that had graced Legolas’ features was now replaced with a haunted tension. The overly pale face was creased in pain; whether physical or mental it appeared terrible. He almost seemed to have lost the ageless appearance of the elves, and resembled a mortal man with approximately sixty years of life behind him. As Aragorn watched, Legolas appeared to wince as he shifted uncomfortably in his sleep. The twins were mistaken; this was not a healthy elf.

Frowning, lips thinned with worry, Estel grew more concerned that Elrond thought Legolas was going to die, and this was why he had acted so out of character. Unable to bear the expression of pain any more Aragorn reached out and gently smoothed away the creases, seeking to comfort Legolas; letting him know that someone was there, watching over him, that he was safe. Hopefully this would ease him, and allow him to enter a healing rest. He stepped back with a muttered oath as Legolas turned his head into the motion, waking up. Cursing, he silently berated himself. He really hadn’t intended to wake Legolas up, any sleep was better than no sleep; his experiences of the night before had left him in no doubt of this.

“Estel?” At the sound of the sleep-rough voice, he stepped forward again, frowning. There was a tone in Legolas’ voice that disturbed him but, as yet, he was unable to pin it down.

“I am sorry Legolas, it was not my intention to waken you. You were restless and I sought to ease you. My apologies.” Guilt was plain to hear in Aragorn’s voice.

Legolas squinted up at Aragorn, trying very hard not to move his head, or open his eyes any further than was necessary to glimpse his friend. “It is as I told your brothers, I knew you would not be able to keep quiet if you came in here. Ai!”

Aragorn’s head lowered in despair, nothing he did was right; all he did was injure his friends, hurt his family, it would be better if he left. With Aragorn to think was to act, and he immediately turned to leave. Legolas saw the motion and reached out to grab Estel’s hand as he withdrew it.

“It is good that you woke me, I am doing far too much sleeping. Come, sit down.” Legolas patted the bed beside him, swallowing hard to keep the discomfort he felt as the bed rocked, from his friend. Noticing that Aragorn was reticent to be seated, glancing almost longingly to the door, Legolas studied the human’s features and then spoke again.

“I said sit down, I promise I will not bite you!” He tugged on Aragorn’s hand, unbalancing him and forcing the ranger down onto the bed. Before he could turn away, Legolas reached out a hand to touch the deep bruising below his pale eyes.

“You look as though you had spent the night seated where Elrohir was. Actually I’m rather surprised that you weren’t. What has happened to you?” he asked.

Aragorn tried to look away, but Legolas still had a hand to his face, and he would not force the elf in this condition. “I wished to stay!” he cried. “I was forcibly removed by my brothers else I would have. When I tried to return Elrohir was here and I knew he would just evict me again, probably waking you in the process. I would not have that happen when you are so much in need of rest.”

“No, that would be far too embarrassing a situation for you.” Legolas’ gaze, even through half-closed eyes and dilated pupils was still penetratingly acute. “What is it that has caused you such distress? It is obvious that you have not slept well. If your insomnia was on my behalf then you have my apology, for I am well, and have been resting while you suffered.” Legolas dropped his hand to the bed, unable to keep it raised any further without the trembling of his muscles betraying his weakness; something he would not do with the human in this state.

“It was not your fault, my nightmares are of my own making.” Once he had started to unburden himself, all of Aragorn’s guilt began pouring out of him. “You have done nothing which requires an apology, although I wish the same could be said of myself. I am sorry, it was all my fault. I should have looked after you better; you were the injured party. I…”

“Estel, stop!” Legolas interrupted, hand raised to his head, rubbing at the pain. “I am sorry, would you please speak slowly, lower your voice a little, and explain more.” He regretted his words at the look of guilt that flashed across Aragorn’s visage. “I meant nothing by that. I have received a very brief account of the events from your brothers, and I would have all the information at hand before you begin convincing me you are at fault for situations I have only the vaguest memory of, or the vaguest description for. Your brothers are not the most helpful of people.”

Aragorn was unconvinced by Legolas’ words, but was unwilling to argue with the fatigued elf. ‘Surely this is more than just fatigue? Especially since he claims to have been sleeping all this time,’ he thought worriedly. Much as he wished to conceal his guilt from his friend, Aragorn also relished the chance to unburden himself, and receive Legolas’ forgiveness, though he did not deserve it.

Legolas, frustrated by the human’s scrutiny, was concerned that he may misinterpret the state of his health and take on further guilt. He begged him to continue. “Please go on Estel, I wish to know exactly what happened, I remember very little at all.”

Aragorn began again, as he was bid. “Do you remember sitting down to eat?” At Legolas’ affirmative nod he continued. “ So you remember the orcs that attacked us? Where I got you injured?”

“I remember nothing of the sort!” Legolas cried. Aragorn’s eyes widened in horror at this sign of memory loss in his friend. “You did not get me injured, the orc did that.” The horror in Aragorn’s eyes eased, mild anger flashing at being provoked to such fear.

“But you would not have been distracted had you not had to save me,” He muttered to himself.

“Oh mellon nin, why do you always do this?” Legolas spoke, in exasperation. “As you pointed out at the time the error was mine; I should have made sure of my kills. I was hungry and, though I am loath to admit it, I was showing off. If I had acted at all sensibly I would have made certain my arrows had struck fatally, not just momentarily downed the orcs. You and I both know that.”

Aragorn ducked his head in embarrassed agreement.

“Estel?” Legolas asked, unconvinced that the human really believed that. “It was not your fault, do you understand?”

The human’s faint whisper was barely loud enough to reach the hearing of Legolas. “Yes, I understand.”

“Finally!” he exclaimed. “So what happened after that? You weren’t hurt were you?” Sudden alarm sprang into Legolas’ voice, and he heaved a deep sigh of relief as Aragorn nodded. Even so, his eyes searched other the figure before him looking for injuries that his friend would try to conceal from him.

“No, I was not hurt, that pleasure was left for you.” Aragorn raised his head, and caught Legolas’ eyes in a penetrating look. “How do you feel this morning? Are you in pain? You do not look as well as I would have expected given the nature of your injury.”

Legolas tried to disguise his discomfort further, unsuccessfully he suspected. “I am as well as one could expect who chooses to dive off a cliff.” Again he regretted his ill-chosen words as Aragorn yet again turned his face from Legolas’.

“You cannot be blaming yourself for that surely!” Legolas cried in disbelief. “If I had not been contemplating flying, I would not have been tempted to jump. And it is hardly your fault that I was attempting to show off again.”

Legolas sank backwards after this monologue; the energy expended on his speech was too draining for him to remain supporting even what little weight he had been previously. The movement was not lost on Aragorn, who leant closer towards the reclining figure.

“It is my fault. I was the one who mentioned flight and gave you the idea, but do not try to change the subject.” He thrust his face close up to Legolas’ then, emphasizing his last three words. ”Are You Well?”

Legolas pushed away at Aragorn’s hand, which had risen to his forehead checking his temperature. “Do not mother me,” he muttered irritably. “I have a mild headache, and I ache from where I hit the water. It is this and fatigue that is all. And it is you who are changing the subject, not me. Seek you to turn me from your ridiculous statement.” At Aragorn’s puzzled look he clarified. “I know not of what it is you claim to have said to start me believing I could fly. Continue from there please.” When Aragorn did not remove his gaze from Legolas’ eyes and do as he asked, Legolas pinched his arm.

“Ow! What was that for?” Aragorn rubbed his arm more in surprise than pain.

“You were not listening to me, I needed to get your attention somehow. This seemed appropriate.” Legolas managed a grin then, poor compared to some, but the sight of it eased Aragorn’s fears tremendously, though not his guilt.

“You may not remember what I said now, but that does not make what happened any less my fault. If I had not wished that you could fly home rather than walk on that leg, then you would not be here now.” The pain in Aragorn’s eyes was enough to soften Legolas’ exasperation with the human, but it did not prevent it entirely.

“Sîdh! You surely cannot believe that just that one mention of flying would be enough to twist my mind. I have often wondered what it would feel like to fly, name me an elf who has not? I could tell you of the time when your brothers decided that they could fly. Oh it was most amusing.” The look of guilt on Aragorn’s face did not even waver at this so Legolas sighed and sobered. “I was looking at the birds Estel, I clearly remember that. They were chasing each other across the surface of the lake, a multitude of colours glinting in the sunlight. They made me want to sing, to fly. It Was Not You.”

Aragorn’s gaze did not waver from Legolas’ half-lidded stare, until eventually he perceived the truth in the statement and relaxed his features to ruefulness. “Then I have your forgiveness for giving you this herb?” Shuddering, he was unable to pronounce its name.

“There is nothing to forgive, you could not have known that there would be any ill-effects; you would not have used it if you had been aware of them. Or at least you would have leashed me to you so I could do nothing foolish.” Legolas’ voice wavered at the end of this and Aragorn was quick to notice it, glad to change the subject. Most of his guilt had eased at Legolas’ words, but he was still concerned for the elf’s health, and for Elrond’s words. Anxious not to show this to the elf he cast around for something else to talk about.

With a look of horror at his forgetfulness he suddenly rose from the bed and brought the plate over. Legolas eyed it with trepidation. He had managed to keep the contents of his stomach firmly where they belonged up till now, though it had been a battle, but the sight and smell of the food threatened to overcome him.

“Surely you cannot expect me to eat all of that, there is enough there to feed you, me and your brothers.” He turned his head ever so slightly away from the plate, but the motion caused the room to swim, so he stopped turning.

Aragorn did not miss the movement, but attributed it to the concussion. “No, I do not expect you to eat it all, I fear most of it is for me, yours is the stew.” As he lifted the bowl from the tray he picked up the spoon in his hand, and prepared to feed Legolas.

“Do not think that you will be spoon feeding me, I am far to old for that,” Legolas tried to back away but found himself pressed more tightly against the pillows by the movement. He glared back at Aragorn. “I am not too weak before you even try to suggest that. If the stew were not cold I would gladly take up that spoon right now.”

“Cold? I am sorry, I should have given you this earlier, I will get some fresh from the kitchens.” The affected eagerness in his voice belied his true feelings about venturing further into the house than he had so far today. As he stood to leave he was held back by Legolas’ hand.

“Do not leave. Please, there is no need, for I am very weary and would likely be asleep before you return,” Legolas said, pleased to have found a convincing way of avoiding the meal. “Sit and eat yourself though, for if the amount of food is anything to go by you have not eaten since we returned.”

Aragorn glanced to the door, knowing the twins were waiting behind it on guard for their father. “It would not be any trouble, I can send Elrohir, and keep you awake until he gets back.

Legolas yawned. “No, I am tired, I should like a glass of water before I rest though.”

‘I think I can manage that, and if I do not take something he will only worry further,’ the prince thought. After drinking, he lay down insisting that Aragorn retire to the soft chair by the fireplace for he looked weary and would likely sleep there. As he lay back to rest he sighed softly, in pain. ‘At least that is out of the way; hopefully I shan’t have to speak to him for another day. Fool of a human to poison me. I should never have trusted him.’

Aragorn, seated himself in the chair, and picked at the plate of food. His hunger returned to him after a few bites, and he demolished half of the food before sinking into a peaceful sleep, finally.

~*~*~*~*~

Outside Legolas’ rooms two voices could be heard conversing.

“What is happening? It’s too quiet in there, I cannot hear voices anymore,” Elladan sounded concerned.

“Do you think Legolas has killed him, ‘Dan?” Elrohir joked.

Elladan laughed in exasperated relief at his brother’s joke. “No, It is my belief that they both sleep, finally.”

“We could just go in and check, return the dishes to the kitchen?” Elrohir’s voice was full of pride for his suggestion.

Elladan sounded equally impressed. “Good idea; that shall be our story if they are awake.”

He pushed open the door, and peeked his head around, face lighting up with a smile as he spotted both Aragorn and Legolas sleeping. He entered the room abruptly as his twin shoved him from behind. Scowling at Elrohir he crept to where Aragorn slept and gathered up the tray, smiling fondly at his brother, who had been greatly eased of his troubles by the elf.

“Perhaps we should have let him sleep here after all last night, maybe he would have gotten more rest, and had this out a lot earlier?” He whispered quietly.

When he got no response he turned to Elrohir who had stepped closer to the bedroom and was gazing down at Legolas with a worried frown upon his face.

“Ro? What’s wrong?”

As his brother lifted his stare to him, he put the tray down and practically ran over to the bed. “What is wrong? Is Legolas…” he was unable to say dead.

Elrohir firmly shook his head at his twin’s statement, and raised a finger to his lips hushing him and indicating their sleeping brother. “Do not disturb him, he has been worried enough for one day. Have more care.” Turning back to Legolas he placed a hand on his brow, frowning. “He does not have a temperature, but he does not appear well.”

Elladan agreed, “He looks much worse than he did this morning, and his food has not been touched. I am worried.” His twin looked back at him, equal concern glinting in his dark grey eyes.

Elladan paused in contemplation, and then nodded decisively. “Go and fetch Adar, he needs to know of this, is it high time he checked on his patient.”

“What about Estel?” Elrohir nodded at Aragorn.

“We must hope that he does not wake, I cannot conceive of any way to get him from this room without worrying him.” Elladan frowned as he spoke; this situation was not to his liking.

“And Adar?” Elrohir voice shook a little with anger at his father’s behaviour.

Elladan sighed at the reminder. “Just do not anger him, then perhaps he will not further injure Estel.”

Elrohir graced him with a look of disbelief before accepting his brother’s decision. The twins nodded in agreement and Elrohir turned to leave when he was stopped at the door by a messenger coming in.

“My lords,” the she-elf bowed her head to recover from the unexpected collision. “Glorfindel has returned from the wilds; I would inform the Lord Elrond, but he is resting in his study. He is injured, would one of you please tend him?”

Elladan frowned, it had been his intention to remain with Estel and protect him should their father do anything untoward. Alas that was not to be. Glorfindel needed help, and so he must go. All three left the room together, the door swinging silently shut.

The fire crackled in the hearth, temporarily drowning the light breathing of the two sleeping figures remaining behind.