Disclaimer and Acknowledgement: As in Chapter 1

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Chapter 3 – Decision and Pain

Consciousness tugged at the corner of his mind, probing and teasing him but no matter how hard he tried, he could not seem to reach it. He struggled to move his fingers or open his eyes but his body refused to obey his command. He felt someone’s finger pressed against his neck and understood that the person was checking for a pulse. He tried calling out to the person but no voice came to him. And then he was flipped onto his back and the agonizing pain that shot through his chest dragged him back into the darkness again.

Minutes passed, or perhaps hours. Time had no meaning to him at this moment. A man was calling his name begging him to wake up but wake up from what? Was he dreaming? He couldn’t remember. The voice stopped momentarily and he struggled to wake but the closer he got to consciousness, the more pain he felt. He managed a small whimper and the sound brought the man back to his side in a flash. The man shook him on the shoulder, his action sending a stab of pain down his arm and across his chest causing his mind to scream in agony. Then he heard the man apologize profusely to him. Who was that man? He tried to think but the name refused to come. Then an image flashed behind his eyes, the image of a man with dark brown hair and piercing silver-green eyes and a name accompanied the face. Aragorn.

"Aragorn…" The word was a mere whisper but it was loud enough to catch the man’s attention.

Lifting his head, the ranger found himself staring into a pair of pain filled eyes. "You’re awake! I was so worried!" the young man brushed a lock of stray hair out of the elf’s face. Then he noted that the elf’s pupils were dilated at different sizes, a sure sign of a concussion. "How do you feel?"

"Terrible." Came Legolas’ shaky reply. A sharp pain lanced across his chest at every breath and he felt like his brain had grown two sizes too big for his head. "H-Hurts…" Legolas managed before his body seized up in a convulsing cough, blood leaking out from the corner of his mouth.

"I need to get you down but you have to help me," Aragorn explained to the injured elf. "Can you sit up?" The ranger placed a hand behind the elven prince’s neck prompting him to try. "On the count of three." The man prepared for the pain that would follow. "One… Two… Three."

Legolas cried out as Aragorn aided him to a sitting position; his eyes clamped shut trying to block out the pain. The sudden change of position sent another spasm of coughing through Legolas’ battered body. Loud ringing in his ears made his head hurt even more and he swallowed hard, trying to fight off the dizziness and nausea that assailed him.

Aragorn gasped as his bruised ribs protested angrily against his latest stunt. The pain shot up from his chest all the way to his head. The man grabbed his chest with his free hand took a shuddering breath hoping that some fresh air would clear his befuddled mind but all he received was hot agonizing pain. Aragorn stood motionless, leaning slightly forward against the ledge. His head swam from lack of oxygen but eventually; he managed to get some air as the pain dissipated. Locked in their current position, the two friends took some time to regain part of their strength in silence before proceeding to their next task.

Still supporting Legolas by his back with one hand, Aragorn helped the elf swing his legs over the ledge. Reaching out, the ranger grasped the elf by his lower arm but Legolas yelped causing Aragorn to recoil from his touch. The wood-elf’s face contorted with pain as he cradled his left arm in his right hand.

"I’m sorry! I didn’t know…" the ranger started but was cut off in mid-sentence by the elf.

"S’kay," the elf interrupted, his slurred speech heightened the ranger’s concern.

"I need you to get off the ledge. Can you manage?" Aragorn asked the almost breathless elf while eyeing him intently. Legolas did look terrible even in the dimness of the room. His skin was pale and clammy and his lips still stained dark red. The elf’s head drooped slowly to his chest and his breath was coming in short rasps, cold sweat dripping from his face and neck, soaking into his tunic.

The pain in his head and chest was making it hard to concentrate. He vaguely heard the words ‘get off’ and guessed that his friend wanted him to lower himself from the platform that he was currently sitting on but he didn’t think he could do it. Each move he made tore at him from the inside like daggers slicing at his heart. He didn’t think he could survive another fall. All he wanted to do now was to curl up somewhere and let the darkness embrace him. The four feet drop seemed to him like forty feet at the moment.

"Legolas??" Frightened by the silence, Aragorn placed his hand lightly on Legolas’ knee trying to catch his attention. He knew that he was asking a lot from his friend and hated himself for not being able to give him more help.

Legolas raised his head with effort and locked his gaze with the human’s. "Can’t. Hurts too much," the elf ground out, his body trembled violently under Aragorn’s hands stressing his point.

"You have to try," the dark haired man insisted. "I will not let you fall," he promised his friend. "I will catch you." Aragorn extended his hand towards the Silvan elf. "Do you trust me?"

"With m’life." Legolas took the ranger’s outstretched hand in his right and gripped it tightly. With the man’s help, he slid forward and dropped off the edge.

Aragorn caught the elf in his arms as he slipped off the ledge. The human groaned as the additional weight put more stress onto his own injuries but he brushed it aside ruthlessly, the well being of his friend took precedence over his own. Lowering the elf to the ground, Aragorn laid him down gently and made a quick assessment of his injuries. A broken arm and concussion was what he saw at first glance. Lifting the elf’s tunic with care, he grimaced at the sight that greeted his eyes. The entire left side of Legolas’ chest was badly bruised and judging by the wheezing breath and the amount of pain he was in, Aragorn was certain that one or more of his broken ribs had punctured his lung. Although Aragorn was a competent healer, he could not help his friend without the appropriate healing herbs. The only thing that could be done was to set his broken arm and bound his chest to avoid aggravating his injuries.

Feeling around their vicinity for something that he could use as a splint, his hand came into contact with a solid object. Further probing revealed that he had found Legolas’ quiver. The arrows were scattered around the empty quiver and Aragorn quickly scavenged a couple of them. Breaking off the arrowheads and fletchings, he laid the bare arrows aside and proceeded to rip his cloak into narrow strips and prepared for the gruesome task.

Legolas felt the ranger fuss over him. His usually bright eyes now dull with pain and his vision had become unfocused. His chest pained him beyond words and he never thought that breathing could be such an agonizing task. The headache was worsening and he longed to close his eyes and drift into the comforting silence but every time he closed his eyes, Aragorn would wake him. Why wouldn’t the human leave him alone?

"I need to set your arm," the young man explained patiently to the semi-conscious elf. "It’s going to hurt." He had no idea if Legolas understood him even though he groaned in acknowledgement. Lifting the broken arm, Aragorn pulled on the bones, twisting them into the correct position before applying the modified splints to it. Legolas’ sharp cry tore at his heart and his chest constricted tightly sending a spasm of pain through his own body but he tried to ignore the pain and focused on his job.

The injured elf’s cry was cut off by a bout of violent coughing. The woodland being gasped frantically and tried to draw breath into his burning lungs but he could not seem to do so. Panicked, he called out for Aragorn.

"Strider... ca-can’t breathe…"

*****

To Be Continued…

That’s all for now. More to come later… :D