Title - Cling and Clatter - Chapter 14 - Hope and Ale

Author  - Jules

Summery - On their way back to Rivendell, Aragorn and Legolas get holed up in a cave with a not-too-friendly group of orcs.

Disclaimer - I don't own tolkein's works, I just play with them nicely :) The lyrics in this chapter are from Robbie Williams' song Feel

Authors Notes - This is part 14 of a series, it would make sense to read the first 13 chapters before going any further.

Dedication - To Sonbon, the RatPak girls, Katie, and all my reviewers. THANKS!!! Special thanks to Snitter in Rivendell, Pheonix, Conn JS and Sonni for their continued support through the writing of this fic.

Hope and Ale

Come and hold my hand,

I want to contact the living

Not sure I understand

This role I've been given

  Aragorn steadfastly ignored the stabbing pain followed by the complete numbness of his shoulder as he set about removing the arrow from Legolas' shoulder. He silently thanked Iluvatar that the elf was unconscious as he tore at the tattered shirt, revealing the tip to be completely imbedded within the hard muscle of his friends' body.

The sounds of moving feet echoed down to cavern, reaching Aragorn's ears and making him bitterly afraid that there were more orcs coming towards them. It would make sense if the cave was a dwelling for a group of orcs, the main party would send out more scouts in the instance that the first lot failed to return from their mission. The King of Gondor shuddered at the thought of fighting yet more orcs and knew that he had no chance of defending himself and the still from of the elf. Gritting his feet he pulled the archer one handedly close to the wall, hoping his companion was out of sight and would be overlooked by the incoming creatures. Aragorn took up a defensive position, deep within the dark shadows and as far out of sight as he could possibly be. Yet it was not the shrill cries of orcs and goblins that greeted his ears, more though the rough abrasive voice of the dwarf people.

" Valin, Valin Cloudhammer! Holler if ye can hear me laddy!" the voice echoed down the passageway, making Aragorn nearly giddy with relief. The dwarves must have been excavating the caves looking for gems, gold and mithril when the orcs invaded. Still slightly apprehensive as to the intentions of the dwarfs the human remained hidden until the stocky folk unintentionally found the blonde hair of Legolas in the gloom and headed in the direction of his fallen comrade.

" Touch him and your lives will be forfeit" Aragorn growled as the dwarves poked Legolas none too gently, seeing if he was still alive. He drew out of his hiding place, brandishing his dagger dangerously with his right hand and advancing to where he had thought was a good hiding place for the elf. The dwarves reacted out of instinct, the few of them who had blades reaching for them at the unwelcome tone.

"And who might you be?" the lead dwarf asked suspiciously as he hefted his axe. Aragorn saw no need to conceal his true identity and revealed his name and the manner of their circumstance. The dwarves seem to consider this for moment before seeming to agree that what the ranger had told them was indeed the truth and reciprocated, each dwarf identifying himself. After the stocky folk were done with the introductions the leader of the small pack gave Aragorn the abbreviated version of how they had managed to be captured within their own tunnels by the orcs, and left bound hand and foot while the orcs plundered their treasures. When they were done taking all they thought of value the dark creatures had left, leaving the dwarves still bound and heading towards the cave entrance where they met the elf and the human.

" These are your caves then? You have supplies? My companion is injured more severely than what I can heal" Aragorn implored when the dwarves finished their tale, hoping to illicit some kind of sympathy from the raggedy bunch.

" Is he not an elf? With magical healing powers? Can he not heal himself?" the dwarves asked, a tinge of old hatred colouring their low voices.

" Aye he is an elf, but one who has been through much torment. If we do not tend to his wounds soon, he will surely perish" Aragorn said quietly, not exaggerating the seriousness of the situation the Elf was in. Aragorn had only been partially able to remove the arrow from his friends' body, leaving a large bleeding wound and the arrowhead still firmly imbedded within the strong muscle. The dwarves muttered among themselves for a moment, their disdain for the elf and his kind obvious and they mulled over their options.

" I suppose he might die here and leave a horrible mess" the one who called himself Bombur spat, still not comfortable at the thought of helping an elf. "Bring him back, we have a few supplies that might in saving the miserable creatures' immortal life" Bombur indicated towards the tunnel from where they had appeared and gestured for his fellow dwarves to aid Aragorn in carrying the still form of the elf Prince back to their spartan living quarters.

A short time later the small group entered what was left of the dwarves' living area, and the sight was not one Aragorn wished to lay eyes upon often. Broken belongings lay everywhere and what little furniture the dwarves had created for themselves lay shattered and strewn about the small cavern. Cabinets were smashed, jewel boxes pillaged and heirlooms raided, yet the dwarves seemed not intent on revenge; yet. There was another small group of dwarves in the area when they entered, each tending to each other's wounds and trying vainly to sift through the wreckage in hopes of finding their things intact.

Their eyes were instantly suspicious as the elf was carried into the cavern, their pain-filled gazes following the pale form constantly as he was hefted through the room and onto a small bed that was almost intact. With a surprising amount of care the dwarves lowered the limp elf onto the thin mattress, minding his bleeding shoulder and stepped quickly out of the way as Aragorn gingerly lowered himself to finish working on the wound. He drew his blade again, still stained with orc blood and elvish blood and rinsed it in a bowl of clean water that appeared next to him before sitting the sturdy dagger in the heat of the fire that had been built up behind him. The small fire flickered as the dwarves moved about, gently warming the frigid air and casting a warm glow around the chamber. Once the blade was glowing the King removed it from the flames, and motioned for a several of the dwarves to aid him for a moment.

" Hold him down if you could, he may resist" Aragorn said quietly as he mentally prepared himself for what he was about to do. The arrowhead had gone deep into the muscle of the elf's shoulder, and being an orc arrow, it would have barbs that caused more injury when the arrow was removed. The dwarves seemed unconvinced that the limp and silent elf could resist much in his current state, but did as the human bid, one each holding a shoulder down, while another held the elf's hands and yet another knelt on his legs. Pressing the blade down into the muscle surrounding the tip Aragorn forced the bile down in his throat and steadfast ignored the smell of roasting flesh, continuing to work even as the elf's body bucked and writhed beneath him, even in unconsciousness his friend's body reacted to the new trauma and fought to rid itself of the new intrusion.

Finally the barbed tip was removed and the human packed the rapidly bleeding wound with clean rags that were handed to him by Bombur. The body beneath him stilled and the dwarves released their strong grips, allowing Legolas to recline unrestrained on the mattress. A needle and thread were pressed into one of Aragorn's hands and he quickly thanked the dwarf for his thoughtfulness. The small needle was placed in the warm fire for an instant, and removed the instant it glowed bright orange and was then set to work in casting a small series of stitches across the bleeding wound into the fair skin on either side of the gaping hole. Finally finished the human tied off the last of the stitches and sat back from his unconscious friend, utterly spent with the effort of saving the elf's life.

Meanwhile Bombur had not missed the humans' virtually one handed stitching effort and had also noticed the way the man's left arm barely moved. Walking up behind the exhausted King he gentled felt the tight and swollen muscle that was the man's shoulder. The dwarf ignored the sharp hiss of pain when his fingers probed the socket of the joint, and knew instantly what had to be done. He pressed one of the few unbroken bottles of ale into the man's good hand, instructing him to drink as much as he dared before the stout dwarf pushed the joint back together. The human moaned in agony as the bones shifted then popped back into place, almost passing out completely as the rush of blood returned to his battered hand, sending a fire of pins and needles down his arm and through his fingers. He groaned again as the dwarves maneuvered a large crate behind him, pulling him back to rest against the smooth surface and covering him with a blanket as the waves of darkness took the man completely.

 To Be Continued