Hurt and Comfort, a lord of the rings fanfic

Disclaimer: It all belongs to the Tolkien Estate or some other lucky bastard, I´m just borrowing...

Author´s Note: This is just a little fic I´ve written a while ago when I was in the mood for some intense Aragorn h/c, so there. Takes place while Aragorn is in his late forties. Please note that this is AU and that the focus is entirely on what the title says.

Enjoy!

Hurt and Comfort

On his way to Rivendell Aragorn has been ambushed by Orcs; they have shot him off his horse, who then ran off in a panic.

Fortunately, the horse was found by some of Rivendell´s guards, who have immediately set out and come just in time to save Aragorn, who was defending himself with his remaining strength.

The guards brought him to the Last Homely House...

~o~o~o~

Aragorn breathed rapidly while he tried to control the white hot pain that seared through him; sweat stood upon his brow, and his hands clenched tightly around Elladan´s.

Elrond leaned over him, smoothing the Ranger´s damp hair out of his face: "Estel", he said softly yet firmly and only continued to speak when he was sure to have the man´s attention: "I am going to put you to sleep now." After a few seconds, Aragorn nodded; the thought of escaping the agony was more than welcome.

Elrond saw the defeat in the man´s eyes and swallowed; he must be in much pain if he gave in so readily.

The elf could still feel the heart-clenching fear which had gripped him when a group of Rivendell´s guards had ridden into the courtyard, their captain holding a nearly unconscious man in front of him. Elrond, having been alerted by an envoy, would have recognized him at once even if he had been as battered and bloody as he was, two arrows protuding from his upper body.

As Elrond had stepped up to the horse, pain-filled grey eyes had met his own. The guards had helped Aragorn dismount; his legs would not support him, however, and he was shaking badly, looking as if he was going to pass out any moment. Elrond quickly had supported him, feeling his foster son´s body tremble. "Ada," Aragorn´s voice had been but a ghost, pain evident in the way his breathing hitched: "Orcs, near the borders..." "Do not worry, Estel," Elrond had tried to soothe him, speaking to him in a gentle voice without thinking about his words. "They will not come any nearer, the guards will see to that. You are safe now..."

Sorrowfully, Elrond now nodded towards the twins: he needed to work quickly. The arrow wounds were deep and had bled profusely; one of them was quite near the heart, too. And the knee looked bad; Elrond could see that blood had clutted underneath the skin and the bone, and he knew that he would have to cut it open to clean it. It did look like an older injury, though, which seemed to have nothing to do with the Orcs; the skin was bruised and coloured severely, something which could not have occured so fast.

Elrond and Elrohir now lifted Aragorn´s upper body up. He gasped when he was being moved and weakly leaned against his brothers. Elladan soothingly stroked his temple just as he had done when Aragorn had been little; they helped him drink the sleeping potion Elrond had prepared, then they gently eased him back down.

It did not take long for the potion to take effect; Aragorn´s body gradually relaxed and his breathing calmed down; after two more minutes, his eyes closed.

The elves quickly removed his torn and bloodied clothes, then Elrond turned his attention to the injuries while Elrohir monitored the Ranger´s breathing and Elladan assisted their father. Both of them cast worried glances on Aragorn´s white face several times.

Elrond had lost count of time, he did not know after how many hours the arrows had been removed and the knee had been opened and treated.

When Aragorn finally had been cleaned up and the wounds were cared for, a heap of bloodied cloths lay on the floor.

Elrond and the twins cautiously moved Aragorn over onto the bed; they laid him flat on his back, with only a soft folded cloth to support his head due to the concussion, then propped his knee up on some pillows and carefully covered him with a thick blanket.

Only now did Elrond start to shake slightly, an unpleasant sensation and an unfamiliar one. He tenderly stroked Aragorn´s hair and his pale face; the man´s features were drawn and pallid.

Elladan brought a chair; he had seen his father´s weariness and knew how hard this must be on Elrond, who gratefully sat down.

Silently, the twins started to clean up; after all was done, they settled down in a pair of chairs as well. Neither of them would even have considered leaving now.

Outside it was getting dark. They lighted a single lamp in case Aragorn woke up, for he should not find himself in the dark in a room which might be unfamiliar at first. Whenever he had been sick he had been in his own room, and on most occasions in which he had been injured Elrond had seen to it that he did not have to spend more time in the healing quarters than necessary, since the elf knew how uncomfortable Aragorn felt there; it too strongly emphasized a vulnerability he did not wish to admit, thus he had never spent more than one or two nights in there.

It was well past midnight when the Ranger stirred. Elrond was relieved, as the sleeping potion had been strong and he had feared that it might send the man into too deep a sleep to awaken from out of his own power, considering how weakened his body was.

The elf got up and leaned over his foster son, gently stroking him: "Estel", he said tenderly. "Come back to us, child..."

Tired eyes opened and tried to focus on Elrond, who felt tears of relief in his own eyes: "Estel", he repeated. "There you are."

Aragorn tried to say something, but could not find his voice. He did not exactly know what happened, but his head and knee hurt terribly, and his whole body ached.

Elrond must have seen the pain in his eyes, though, for he quickly retrieved a cup with a pain-relieving solution and helped Aragorn drink it. The man soon fell back asleep. He was feverish, and Elrond was worried; even more so when Aragorn woke up in the morning and was violently sick to his stomach.

He could not keep anything down, not even water, so there was no way to decrease the pain or the fever.

Sweat stood upon Aragorn´s brow, and his whole body was tense in the effort to fight off the pain and nausea. He was half-aware that at one point Elrond was there, holding him and stroking him soothingly as he had done when Aragorn had been little, but breathing in and out alone to keep the nausea at bay took too much energy for him to be able to concentrate on anything else, and apart from that did the fever stifle him. Elrond´s heart clenched when he thought of the pain his youngest son was in; Aragorn was trembling, and his body felt unusually frail. The elf cautiously eased him back onto the pillow, knowing that Elladan and Elrohir would stay there, and went into his study. Something had to be done.

Two hours later he returned; he had found the recipe for a herbal solution which was supposed to settle the stomach no matter what. Elrond hoped it would help, for Aragorn needed his strength.

When he entered the healing quarters, he found the twins occupied with another bout of sickness on Aragorn´s side; Elladan supported their brother, who feebly leaned against him, shaking, while Elrohir was just clearing away a basin. Sitting up only increased the nausea and the pain in his wounds, but Aragorn was helpless against the sickness. Elladan stroked his brother´s hair back: "You will be all right", he soothed, despite looking slightly panicked. "It will pass, Estel..."

Aragorn´s eyes closed from sheer exhaustion. His face was grey, dark shadows lay under his eyes, and lines of pain and fatigue were edged into his features.

"Estel", Elrond knelt down in front of him. "Drink this. It will help against the sickness." Aragorn complied wordlessly; he did not really care anymore, all he wanted was for it to be over.

Cautiously, so as not to aggravate his wounds, the elves eased him back down onto the bed. He dared not close his eyes, for the nausea seemed to worsen every time he did, and just stared ahead under half-closed lids, waiting for the feeling of queasiness to abide. It did not however, and he was unable to keep the potion down.

Only after two more attempts did the draught started to take effect, and the queasiness gradually decreased, finally allowing Aragorn´s exhaustion to overwhelm him; his eyes closed, and he slept, severely worn-out from the ordeal. He woke only once, in the evening, but did not really come to; his brothers fed him some broth and a pain-relieving potion, and he quickly fell back to sleep afterwards.

The twins had managed to persuade Elrond to go and rest for a bit; Aragorn needed him fully alert. Elrond thought he would be too anxious to calm down enough, but as soon as he had lain down on his bed did he drift off to sleep.

Both of the twins stayed with their brother; they decided to take watch in turns. Elladan offered to take the first one, thus Elrohir lay down on the spare bed to get some rest as well while his twin sat with the Ranger.

Distressed, he reached out and stroked the Ranger´s hair. His hand wandered to his brow and temple, confirming what he had already known: the fever was still high. Aragorn´s face was tense, his breathing slightly laboured; Elladan could not remember ever seeing him looking so helpless. He proceeded to cool the man´s forehead with a cold cloth and felt himself musing about how fragile humans were once more.

The fever lasted well into the following day; towards evening it finally started to subside. When Aragorn woke up, his eyes were still glazed, but he was not so dazed anymore. He blinked, for a second wondering what had happened; he was lying flat on his back, and his right leg was propped up on some pillows. His whole body felt stiff and ached somewhat, and he felt strangely weary. A hand pulled him out of his thoughts; it was Elrond´s, who now leaned into Aragorn´s range of sight, smiling warmly. Aragorn returned the smile: "Ada", he said, barely audible. "I do not know what happened..."

Elrond stroked the Ranger´s exhausted face: "You had an encounter with Orcs; I will tell you the details in time. You need to drink something first of all." He lifted Aragorn´s head and helped him, then he felt his forehead again: the fever was nearly gone.

"Orcs?", Aragorn repeated feebly. Elrond subdued a chuckle; he should have known that the Ranger would not leave it at that. "All in good time", he repeated softly, "right now all that matters is for you to recover." He eyed Aragorn attentively: "Are you in pain?" "Barely", Aragorn replied. "Only my knee hurts."

Elrond nodded. The knee was still infected, and he feared that he might have to cut it open once more; there was nothing to be done about that presently, though. They would have to wait.

"I can give you some more pain-relieving potion", he said. "But you will have to eat something first."

Aragorn turned his face away, grimacing; he did not feel like eating, his stomach still felt unsettled. Elrond managed to coax some bread into him, nevertheless, and this time, no nausea assaulted him.

In the following morning, Aragorn´s eyes had lost their unnatural glaze.

Elrond was there when he woke up; the twins had taken the nightwatch.

"I am going to have a look at your injuries", Elrond said while he helped Aragorn drink some tea and eat some more bread. "Erestor will help me, if you do not mind." Aragorn did not mind; he had known Erestor all his life, and besides he knew that he himself would not be of much use, since he could not even support his own head.

Elrond and Erestor gently helped Aragorn out of the nightshirt. Elrond looked after the injuries and redressed them, then they washed him and dressed him in a fresh nightshirt. Somewhere in the back of his mind Aragorn thought that this would have made him uncomfortable if he had not been so weary, and really, it did not matter.

He sighed when he finally lay back down, even though his back felt stiff, since he could not turn to the side due to his knee, which his father was examining now. But lying in general felt good; sitting up made him dizzy, and he had started to tremble from the effort.

Elrond´s face was rigid; his fears had been confirmed, the knee did not look good. The infection had hindered it to heal properly, and some liquid had gathered under the skin, putting pressure on the stitching and on the bone, making it stiff and tender. The way Aragorn winced everytime Elrond touched it ever so slightly only proved this fact.

The elf frowned; he loathed the idea of having to put Aragorn through the whole procedure again; he was sure that the terrible nausea had derived from the sleeping potion. He would have to find another recipe, and soon; he could not postpone the surgery very long.

Aragorn, despite his weariness, noticed the look on Elrond´s face after the elf had renewed the bandage. When he spread the blanket over his son, Aragorn met his gaze: "Something is the matter with it", he said. His voice was still very low and faint, making it even more difficult for Elrond: with a small sigh, he sat down on the edge of the bed: "The knee has been very infected", he explained. "I had to cut it open to clean it, but it is not healing properly. May I ask what has happened to it?"

The Ranger sighed: "It is because of the knee that I came here in the first place at this time of year, otherwise it would probably not have been before autumn. It was rather silly, really... Ragnar was startled by a deer while I was saddling him, and he accidentally kicked me." Elrond nodded in sympathy, knowing full well how much something like that must hurt.

Aragorn closed his eyes for a moment: "Will you have to cut it open again?" "Aye", Elrond said uneasily. "I will. But that means putting you to sleep once more, and I am afraid that it was the sleeping potion which caused the awful nausea the other day."

Aragorn took that in silently; finally, he sighed. "Maybe I could stay awake this time", he suggested.

Elrond shook his head: "No, Estel. I would not have you undergo the pain which you would thus have to go through. You have been through enough already. I will try to find another recipe for a sleeping draught." He reached out and laid his hand against the side of Aragorn´s face: "I will not have you suffer unnecessarily, squirrel."

Aragorn smiled at this; every now and then, Elrond still called him by this childhood-nickname, and it always felt like an embrace.

With an effort, he freed his arm from the blanket and laid his hand on Elrond´s; he held on to it until he had fallen asleep.

Erestor, who had busied himself in the background, stepped up to Elrond and laid his hand on his shoulder: "He will be all right", he said. "He is strong."

Elrond nodded: "He is indeed... I only wish he did not have to prove it so very often. I would wish for him to lead a normal life, Erestor, free of the dangers that he is facing, dangers which come with the way of living he has chosen..." Another, very unwelcome thought entered his mind: the Orcs who had attacked the Ranger had been uncommonly close to Rivendell´s borders. He grimaced at the thought of what this meant.

Erestor smiled in sympathy. He knew how much it burdened his lord that Aragorn from the very beginning had had no choice but to comply to his origins and whichever hardship they might bring.

"He has accepted it, my lord", Erestor thus replied. "I believe that that is where part of his strength originates from."

Elrond looked up at him in mild surprise: "Yes", he then said. "You speak the truth." They fell silent; all that could be heard was the faint sound of the waterfalls, the birds´ songs outside and Aragorn´s quiet breathing.

Erestor stayed with Aragorn while Elrond went to his study in order to seek a recipe for a sleeping draught.

The counsellor had brought a book; he settled down in a chair and started to read. Every now and then did he look up from it, but Aragorn was sleeping quietly.

At midday, the twins came in to look after their brother. Aragorn had not woken once, but now he stirred. Elladan sat down on the bed and pulled something out of a pocket in his robe, which he gingerly placed on Aragorn´s chest, careful for it not to touch the wound.

Aragorn slowly opened his eyes; he sleepily looked at Elladan, then he noticed that someone else was staring at him. He looked down and found Brown sitting on his chest, his old stuffed horse.

He lifted his good arm, still with an effort, and laid his hand on the animal: "That´s unexpected."

Elladan´s heart clenched at how feeble Aragorn´s voice was, how laborious his movements; he knew how close they had been to losing him, and the thought still horrified him. He reached out and laid his hand on Aragorn´s, forcing himself to smile: "I hear he is a good comforter."

Aragorn suddenly looked distraught: "Ragnar", he breathed, confusedly. "I dreamed of him. Is he here?"

Elladan squeezed his hand comfortingly: "He is here and all right," he soothed. "He calmed down once he got here, and he is well cared for."

Aragorn sighed in relief: "He did not get injured then?" "No", Elladan stroked his hand with his thumb. "His running off has probably saved his life." Aragorn nodded, closing his eyes: "I am glad..." Elladan exchanged a glance with Elrohir. Rarely had they seen their brother like this after he had left childhood behind. His fingers now curled around Brown, subconsciously taking comfort in the familiar feeling of his old friend.

Sighing, Elrond closed the book he had been reading; he had at last found something, but it contained at least two ingredients he did not possess and would not be able to obtain within the next 24 hours. He had no choice but to use the same draught again, hoping that Aragorn had by now gained enough strength to allow his body to cope better.

That night, Aragorn hardly slept; the pain in his knee woke him past midnight and subsequently kept him awake, despite the pain-relieving potion his father had given him in the evening and the lingering scent of Athelas which filled the air. Erestor was sitting with him again, seeing as Elrond and the twins would perform the surgery in the following morning.

He noticed that Aragorn was awake even though the man tried not to give it away, but his hands clenched into the sheet he was lying on and his breathing was slightly hitched as he tried to control the pain.

Cold sweat stood upon his brow; Erestor took a soft cloth and gently wiped it away, then dipped the cloth in a bowl of water and cooled the man´s brow; the fever had come back, if not as strong as before, and he was well aware that nothing could be done about it presently.

Elrond did not want to give Aragorn any draught at all before the morning; he feared that they might help the nausea along once the sleeping potion would have taken effect.

Aragorn tried to concentrate on the pleasant coolness on his forehead; he needed something to distract him from the pain, anything.

As if he had read the man´s mind did Erestor sit down on the edge of the bed: "Estel", he said softly. "I know you are awake."

Aragorn opened his eyes and looked at the counsellor, who returned the gaze full of sympathy: "Are you in much pain?" "Aye", Aragorn replied in a whisper.

Erestor searched his charge´s hand and took it, stroking it; to his surprise, Aragorn´s fingers curled around his own at once, holding them as tight as he could at the moment: "I am sorry", Erestor said, and sorrowful was his expression indeed as he realized how badly the Ranger was suffering. "Would you like me to read to you?" "Yes", Aragorn sounded relieved. "I would like that very much, Erestor."

So Erestor took the book he had been reading in, containing stories of the First Age, and started to read.

Aragorn did his best to concentrate on the elf´s melodic voice and the tale he was reading, and at some point, his eyes closed and he fell asleep. Erestor read on nevertheless, for he feared Aragorn might wake again.

Dawn was breaking already; not long afterwards did Elrond and his sons come in. The Elf-lord was worried when he heard of what had transpired.

"We might try not to wake him", he said. "We just need to feed him the potion."

Thus it was done. Elrond gently stroked Aragorn´s head while he waited for the sleeping draught to take effect; he hoped that this time, everything would turn out fine. He could feel the fever which had returned, and sighed; Aragorn was not out of the woods yet.

When Aragorn awoke four hours later he was too confused to tell Elrond wether he felt nauseous or not; all he was aware of was a dull throbbing in his knee and the stifling heat which had returned. He was indeed running a fever again; Elrond threw all caution to the wind and made Aragorn drink a strong draught against the pain and the fever. His body was too depleted to fight it all at once, and the most important task was to get rid of the inflammation now.

Fortunately, no nausea occured this time, but Aragorn was awfully weakened, thus the fever remained. Elrond would not leave his side; whenever the Ranger woke up, he was dazed and did not fully come to. The elf applied cool cloths to his brow, made him drink water and broth, and above all, held his hand to give him strength.

Elrond knew that his touch could convey more than warmth, and if anything, this was what Aragorn needed. So he held on to him, watching over his son and providing a lifeline.

The twins found him sound asleep in the chair next to the bed when they looked in on them at dusk; smiling fondly, Elrohir took a blanket and spread it over their father.

When he awoke the next day, Aragorn was coherent, and his knee felt much better; even the fever had vanished some time during the night.

Elrond leaned over him: "How do you feel? Are you well?" "I am well", Aragorn replied, though barely audible. It was the truth: he could still feel his wounds, and his back felt stiff from lying all the time, but his head seemed clear for the first time since he had first awoken.

Elrond stroked his hair: "Good", he said, smiling. "Your knee seems much better as well. You are on the mend, squirrel."

Aragorn returned the smile; Elrond looked slightly haggard, and the man could imagine what the elf had gone through during the past few days.

He was grateful; he would have believed himself to be stuck in a bad dream many times during the past few days, had it not been for his family and Erestor, who had stayed with him. Whenever he had woken up in a haze of pain, someone had been there to hold his hand, to cool his fevered brow and to speak soothing words; most often it had been Elrond. Aragorn had rarely before been so ill, but the comfort he had taken out of his family´s and especially Elrond´s presence had been strangely familiar.

He was pulled out of his musings when Elrond got up: "It is time for you to get something other than broth and dry bread into your stomach. I will go and get some breakfast for us."

After having had breakfast, having his injuries examined and seen to, having the nightshirt and the bedding changed and finally been helped to drink some more pain-relieving potion, Aragorn felt more drained than after a day long walk.

He despised feeling so helpless, lying on his back like an overbalanced ladybird, without being able to move freely and severely restricted by his injuries and weakened body, but admittedly was unable to do otherwise.

At least Elrond had given him a pillow now that his head felt better, which added a lot of comfort, since it lessened the feeling of helplessness.

The potion made him drowsy, but as his wounds had started to make themselves known again, he did not mind. Elrond had gathered the used linen in his arms: "I will take these to the laundry", he said. "Do you need anything?" "No", Aragorn smiled sleepily at his father.

"Ada", he asked, just as Elrond turned to leave: "Can I not be in my own room?" Elrond broke into a smile as well: "Soon, squirrel. I know you do not like to be ill, but as long as you had been feverish and the knee was not improving I deemed it better for you to stay here, where I had everything I needed in immediate reach. If you feel well tomorrow and the knee proceeds to heal, we shall move you." "Good..." Aragorn whispered, closing his eyes, "tomorrow..."

In his dreams, he remembered; pictures of what had happened were coming back to him, haunting him. He vividly recalled being surrounded by Orcs, creatures which he had not encountered very often before; he knew he was bound to lose against their superiour number, and he felt weak and queasy due to the pain which flared through him, but he was determined to fight as long as he could. He would not go easily. Then he found that he could not move, and his resolve turned into panic.

He could feel the Orcs closing in on him, making it impossible to breathe, restricting his chest. He desperately tried to free himself, gasping and panting, but one of them held on to his arm and shoulder, holding him in place... and then he could suddenly feel air in his lungs, and the Orcs were gone.

All he felt now were two gentle hands, stroking him gingerly, and a soothing voice caressed his hurting soul. With an effort, he opened his eyes and found Elladan hovering over him, trying to calm the trembling Ranger down.

"Estel", he said, relieved to see him awake. "You were dreaming."

Aragorn, still lingering between the dreadful dark images of the nightmare and waking up, stared at Elladan as if he were an apparition. The elf was the exact opposite of the Orcs: while they were ugly, dark and evil, he was a creature of light, strong and beautiful yet gentle. He sat down on the edge of the bed and took Aragorn´s head in his hands: "It was but a nightmare, Estel", he said.

"But they were there", Aragorn panted, breathless. "They attacked me-" "They did, yes. They did not kill you, though." Elladan spoke insistently, for he did not want Aragorn to relive the nightmares he had had as a little boy. "You have proven to be stronger than they are!" "No... Elladan, if the guards had not found me-" His brother interrupted him: "Tiriel said that you have defended yourself masterly, Estel."

Aragorn looked down, but Elladan reinforced his grip, if gently, to redirect the man´s attention on himself: "There were hardly any Orcs left for them to kill when they arrived." He shook his head: "You beat them, Estel. You truly did." He smiled.

Aragorn blinked; he had yet to comprehend all this. Elladan stroked his hair: "The fear is nothing but a memory", he added, softly. "Do not let it into your heart, for nothing good derives from it."

Gradually, Aragorn relaxed into his brother´s care. He was not entirely convinced that he would manage to control his fear, but he knew Elladan was right; it would devour what little strength he had right now. He was safe while he was in Rivendell, and he tried to concentrate on that very reassuring thought.

In the following morning, the elves brought Aragorn into his own room just as Elrond had promised.

The twins helped him to sit up and put on a dressing gown, then Elrond cautiously lifted him up into his arms to carry him upstairs. Aragorn looked embarassed, evidence of how humiliating he considered having to be carried, even though he knew he would not be able to walk on his own. And he had asked for this, had he not?

It was a relief to lie down in his own bed; being moved had strained his injuries no matter how careful Elrond had been. It was good to be out of the healing quarters, too, since he felt less like a patient now.

He had not been in this room for a long time, but it looked exactly like it had when he had last seen it, and a smile broke on his face when he looked around, taking comfort in the knowledge that there had been a place for him to return to all the while he had been away.

The End