CHAPTER 7
The irritated elf led the rest of the amused company back to find, to all of their surprise, a smiling Frodo. Despite his smile though, Frodo turned a concerned gaze towards the elf. "Are you alright Legolas?"
Having had enough, but still touched by the little one's worry, he gave a weak smile. "Do not worry, I shall heal." He knew it was true, he simply didn't know how long it would take, now that he had the poisons running through his body. They could only wait and see. "How fare's our Pippin?"
Merry answered. "Better, much better." As soon as he had seen Frodo, he had run to join his friend by his cousin. "Even his breathing seems to have eased, come and see." Doing just that, Legolas and the rest came forward and crowded around the still unconscious form. The elf found that indeed, the little one's breathing seemed slightly less labored. But neither his lung nor the other wounds seemed any better. With the poison now gone, the angry lines had faded and had drawn back away from his heart to where the initial wounds lied. Without the poison running though his system, the sturdy hobbit's body should be able to heal itself.
Seemingly following the elf's train of thought, they all heard Pippin's slight groan, and his face wrinkled in pain. Now would come the time to see if he would survive the ordeal. Merry, seeing his friend beginning to awaken, leaned back over him. "Pippin, oh Pip, can you hear me?"
Not receiving any response besides more groans, Merry sent a panicked look at the elf. "What's wrong, why doesn't he awaken."
The elf, busy looking over the hobbit, left it to Aragorn to answer. "Merry, you must realize how injured he really is. The only reason it wasn't bothering him before was because the poison blocked his pain. But now, his system is free, and his wounds are going to behave as they should have, when initially inflicted." He hated talking about such dark things, but it was better to be prepared and know the truth if Pippin indeed did die. And that was still a very large possibility. Even now, in his unconsciousness, the hobbit seemed to be in great pain. Not wanting to face Merry, he instead went to the elf's side, to see if he could help.
"Is he still under the poison's control?" He felt his heart drop.
"From what I can tell, no." The elf kept his face calm. "I believe, if he receives enough rest and peace, and time, he will heal. But he has been in such a horrid state for so many days, that his body's strength is gone. We can now only hope that his spirit remains strong enough to pull him through."
Not needing to say anything, both elf and man looked down upon Merry, holding Pippin's limp hand, speaking softly into his silent ear.
Come on Pippin, I know you have the strength. For some reason, Aragorn knew that the little one would pull through. The simple fact that he should be thrice dead didn't make him think any differently. From his experience on this journey, all four of the hobbits had shone that even if not particularly brave, they had in them some of the fiercest loyalty. With Merry at his side, Sam and Frodo not much farther away, and the rest of the company as near as possible, Aragorn knew that Pippin would have a hard time abandoning such friends.
His attention was drawn away, when he noticed the elf stiffen. Glancing to his side, he found the elf's face drawn taut, and his eyes closed. Wondering how much his wound was actually paining him, he began to protest as the elf walked off, but thought better of it. If the elf needed time, he would get it. Without trees about, he wouldn't be able to disappear as easily, but he knew that if Legolas didn't want to be found, he wouldn't be. Returning his gaze to the rest of their group, it was decided that they would remain in their camp, for it seemed relatively safe, to let everyone recover. Boromir now picked up Pippin, and they all found themselves back in their camp, and within a few minuets, had Sam cooking up a good breakfast. The night had been long and full of turmoil, and they needed their rest, so after setting up watches, the group lied down.
Aragorn took first watch. The hobbits, now somewhat satisfied from their meal, and their hearts eased by the fact that their friend seemed to be recovering, rested together. Gimli was off alone, as was Boromir. Legolas had yet to return. Under the light of day, sleep was not easy to come by, but they managed, simply due to their extreme exhaustion. The sun, having broke through the ominous clouds of the night, was now rising in the sky, heating the cool ground. It was to be a pleasant day, and Aragorn found it a bit amusing that the weather reflected their spirits.
After a few hours, he went to wake Gimli, to take over his watch. The elf had yet to return, and telling Gimli this, he decided to forgo his sleep, at least until he could check on the elf. That was, if he could find him. He walked away from the camp, heading in the direction he assumed the elf had gone. His instincts, as usual, were correct.
Sitting besides the knoll where they had found Pippin's body, he now found the elf, simply sitting in silence. Aragorn was sure that he missed his home, and fields such as these, though full of nature, were not the trees of his home. Still, it seemed that the elf was resting, so Aragorn turned to leave him peace, when the elf spoke up. "Do you need my assistance?"
Keeping his back turned, the man decided to return to camp. "No, I was just, scouting, for my watch is near done." It was a feasible truth, but if he knew his friend, he knew that it would be seen right through. He was right, as usual.
"No, you were looking for me. I'm sorry that I left in such a state, but for some reason I could not stay." Now he lifted his head to meet the man's gaze. He returned the piercing gaze in kind. "I know that you feel the same. He scared you, as he did I, but he will pull through. You know as well as I that his strength lies not in body, but in heart."
Taken slightly aback by the elf's sudden words, Aragorn stood still. The elf continued a bit more lightheartedly. "Come over here, I'm not poisonous."
Smirking at the elf's well-chosen words, the man went and sat besides his friend. He sobered quickly when he got a good look at Legolas. The elf's face was always pale, but now it lacked that inner light. The pain seemed to have dimmed his elven glow, which was noticeable even in the daylight. He kept still, moving as little as possible, and his breaths were shallow. His eyes though were what betrayed his true pain, for in them Aragorn could see a tumult of emotions raging. Not only from his injury, but also from the ordeal he had been recently put through, not to mention their entire situation. Elves were prideful beings, and rarely showed their emotions, but sitting besides his friend, Legolas let down his barriers, and let the man see what he had been raised to hide. As future ruler, it was not proper to allow emotions to sway decisions, as such was seen folly, and could prove dangerous. But for this one brief moment, he was free of his duties, thus free to share his feelings. Still though, he was an elf, and by nature, not one to be open about his emotions.
Aragorn could see that the elf was hurting, but that his pride wasn't allowing him to show, so he tried to help him out, starting with an obvious source of the pain. "How does your injury fare?"
Fully aware of the man's intentions, he was grateful, and decided to respond in kind. "The wound itself is not in the greatest condition, but now I know how to rid myself of the poison, and have been doing so."
For the second time he was taken aback by the elf's words, but this time they also angered him. "Legolas, you can't risk yourself doing this alone. You saw how close Pippin came to death, he actually did die, in a way, and he was amongst friends. We don't even know if it will have the same affect on you as it did on the hobbit. You can't expect to heal alone Legolas, at least not in this case."
Done with his rant, he looked upon the elf. He had to ask. "Has it worked?"
Grimacing a bit, the elf looked up. "Yes, a bit."
"Let me check."
"No, I'll be fine in a few hours." He pulled away.
This could be fun the man thought to himself. "No, I shall not leave you until I check and see."
"I can take care of myself."
"Sure you can, in normal circumstances, but not now, not here, alone, poisoned." He quickly grabbed the elf, so he couldn't escape. He felt bad for taking advantage of his friend's weakened state, but not bad enough to let him risk injuring himself more. "Now, let me check it Legolas." His voice took a stern tone, and the elf, not feeling at all up to fighting off the strong man, finally gave in. He lifted his tunic aside and pulled away the leaves he had placed there. The man hissed. "Legolas."
The elf refused to look at his friend's eyes. He knew the wound looked bad, even he had been surprised at how quickly the poison had decayed the tissue, but he also knew that Pippin had been able to rid his body of the toxins, as would he. Also, he had started within a few hours of being infected, and had hoped it wouldn't spread so quickly. He had been wrong.
"Heavens Legolas, this is worse than Pippin's. Are you sure that what you are doing is helping?"
"No, but it's all there is." He was too tired to resist any longer, "Aragorn, I can feel the evil of it. It seems to enjoy destroying anything good that my heart holds." He placed his slim hand over his chest. "I'm cold, Aragorn." Shamed at his words, the elf no longer wished his friend to remain with him.
Worried at his friend's words, along with his wound, the man looked into the elf's eyes and saw only a dim shadow. "Does it pain you?"
"Yes. I seem to have yet become numb, as Pippin."
"How lucky." Not really realizing his sarcastic comment to have been made aloud, he kept searching his friend's face. The elf, for his part, managed not to wince as the man continued to probe his wound, but his pain was apparent. As was his weariness. "Legolas, neither you nor I know the exact nature of the poison, how could you be sure you would heal the same as our hobbit friend. Elves are much more fragile when it comes to their souls, even more so than hobbits."
He had hoped for some angry retort, knowing how much his friend prided himself on his strength, but he received none. He only sensed his friend's inner anguish deepen. Nice move he berated himself. Stopping his ministrations, he took the elf's hand, which still was placed on his heart, into his. "My friend, even Pippin needed his friends near by to fight off his illness. There is strength in numbers."
"I know, but it is not right for me to bring any more problems to our already restless company. Tis selfish, and I will not be so inconsiderate, no matter what state I am in." He glared at the man, daring him to disagree.
"You aren't a problem, listen to me." He grasped the elf's slim fingers tighter. "Listen to me. You're starting to sound like Pippin, so I know that you know not what you are speaking of. It's something to do with the nature of the poison, Legolas, these dark thoughts you harbor." By the slight tensing, he figured he had guessed correctly. He rushed onwards. "Don't you dare even entertain a single notion of killing yourself, to help the fellowship. You have brought a light to our lonely group in the darkest of times, my friend. If you were to abandon us, I know not how long out fellowship would last."
The elf remained still, thinking. He realized his friend spoke truth, but he couldn't shake the immense weight of guilt that had recently descended upon him. It confused him as to where this guilt came from, but the presence in front of him, the warm strength around his hand, held his thoughts from plunging into the dark waters of his inner turmoil.
In those fingers, wrapped around his, he felt such strength and compassion that he let his eyes wander to the man's. What he saw could not be described in words alone. They man's eyes were clear, as if made of the purest waters, and for the first time in their long friendship, Legolas was allowed to truly see the soul behind the warrior. It humbled him, the fact that the man would allow such intimacy. He had always known that Aragorn was a great spirit, and had seen the man's inner beauty on many occasions, although Legolas doubted the man was aware of his secret being known. But Legolas knew. Aragorn loved. He loved that which was right and those who were righteous. He cared deeply for those who cared naught for him, and carried many of their burdens upon his shoulders, without complaint, and without redemption. It was that inner passion that Legolas saw now in the man's eyes. It was not unlike the fire which Legolas had come to realize fueled many a warrior in battle.
Except, that passion was now not directed towards and enemy, but rather a friend, a close, and dear friend. Aragorn knew, as he steadily met the elf's gaze, that he had let his guard down, but he didn't care. For that slight moment, he didn't care if he seemed weak. He was to worried over Legolas' situation, for an elf's inner spark of life should never be taken away so quickly, or so insidiously. He never had heard of an elf committing suicide. Their kind treasured life and considered all nature to be sacred. Taking one's own life was a direct desecration of such beliefs, and Aragorn could only find blame in the poison for his friend's current reasoning. Those clear eyes, usually so bright, remained dull and clouded with pain and confusion. I'm sure such foreign feelings and thoughts are confusing to him. He had always considered Legolas to be one of the greater models for the elven way of life; the graceful dignity he always carried, the simple composure he held, no matter the situation. The embracing compassion for all light and good in the world. He was strong, but his skills lie not so much in the physical, but in the strength of will. As a friend, he would not allow the elf to stand alone against a foe which neither fully understood.
The moment between the two, the shared link, where both studied and saw in each other the same strengths and weaknesses, long suspected but never proven, was broken suddenly when Legolas took a sudden, shuddering breath, and doubled over. He gasped as his hand tightened in a death grip around Aragorn's. "Aragorn, it's working," is all the managed before he was too overcome to even think straight.
The man recognized the symptoms of the body's ridding itself of the poison, but it made it no easier to watch or endure. The elf's eyes were clenched shut, and tears, those precious drops that were practically never shed, ran down his pale, drawn cheeks. Aragorn, still holding onto his friend's hand, tried to comfort the ailing elf, but at the whimpers quickly went to kneel besides the hunched form.
The wound in his side began to flush out its infection and sooner than expected, the elf's shuddering, tense form went limp. Catching the elf's body before it collapsed to the ground, he cradled the elf within the his protective embrace, startled when Legolas' body felt like air itself. Aragorn's heart stopped when he felt the breath leave his friend's body, and for a moment he began to panic that indeed his elf friend had not survived the ordeal, but as he bent his head to look at the pale face, he seemed to see a slight flush returning, and thought he could feel a heart beat. After a few moments, the elf's eyes gently opened again. Aragorn could tell that now his friend was truly asleep, and not unconscious.
"Rest my prince, rest." So he stayed, laying back against the knoll, his friend in his arms, asleep, and he slowly drifted into dreamless sleep.
It was Frodo who found them, while on his watch. Worried, he had went around, but when he came upon their slumbering forms, he paused, silent. His heart gladdened as he looked upon them, for their faces were relaxed, their expressions peaceful, relaxed. The hobbit then left them, knowing they would be safe, even when asleep. Returning to camp, his swept his gaze over the other members of the fellowship. Merry and Pippin were lying together, fast asleep, their hands clasped together. Boromir and Gimli slept alone, but even though both kept their weapons nearby, neither seemed tense. Sam was the only one who seemed fitful, but Frodo knew that was because he no longer was besides his dear friend.
Sighing, he looked towards the south. That was where they were headed, that land of darkness, but for some reason, he didn't sense that usual foreboding. As he returned his gaze to the west, he looked over the camp and at the sunset. These others were his protectors, his friends, and he would not fail them. If some tragedy should occur, and they should fall, as Gandalf, then he would not fail their memories, their spirit. The spirit of the fellowship would live on. Soon they would be heading again towards that land of evil. But for now, they rested, and that was enough.
Looking down once again, he saw that Sam watched him. With a slight smile, he returned to his friend's side, and sat. Night would fall, they would continue their travels, and the fate of Middle Earth would be decided.
.The End.
A/N: I hope you liked this. I wrote it about two years ago, and had actually forgotten how it had ended.I had to re-read it after I posted the first few chapters. * sheepish * All reviews have been wonderful, I hope you all enjoyed! I'll post more of my fiction later, along with editing my previous posting of Tears.
The irritated elf led the rest of the amused company back to find, to all of their surprise, a smiling Frodo. Despite his smile though, Frodo turned a concerned gaze towards the elf. "Are you alright Legolas?"
Having had enough, but still touched by the little one's worry, he gave a weak smile. "Do not worry, I shall heal." He knew it was true, he simply didn't know how long it would take, now that he had the poisons running through his body. They could only wait and see. "How fare's our Pippin?"
Merry answered. "Better, much better." As soon as he had seen Frodo, he had run to join his friend by his cousin. "Even his breathing seems to have eased, come and see." Doing just that, Legolas and the rest came forward and crowded around the still unconscious form. The elf found that indeed, the little one's breathing seemed slightly less labored. But neither his lung nor the other wounds seemed any better. With the poison now gone, the angry lines had faded and had drawn back away from his heart to where the initial wounds lied. Without the poison running though his system, the sturdy hobbit's body should be able to heal itself.
Seemingly following the elf's train of thought, they all heard Pippin's slight groan, and his face wrinkled in pain. Now would come the time to see if he would survive the ordeal. Merry, seeing his friend beginning to awaken, leaned back over him. "Pippin, oh Pip, can you hear me?"
Not receiving any response besides more groans, Merry sent a panicked look at the elf. "What's wrong, why doesn't he awaken."
The elf, busy looking over the hobbit, left it to Aragorn to answer. "Merry, you must realize how injured he really is. The only reason it wasn't bothering him before was because the poison blocked his pain. But now, his system is free, and his wounds are going to behave as they should have, when initially inflicted." He hated talking about such dark things, but it was better to be prepared and know the truth if Pippin indeed did die. And that was still a very large possibility. Even now, in his unconsciousness, the hobbit seemed to be in great pain. Not wanting to face Merry, he instead went to the elf's side, to see if he could help.
"Is he still under the poison's control?" He felt his heart drop.
"From what I can tell, no." The elf kept his face calm. "I believe, if he receives enough rest and peace, and time, he will heal. But he has been in such a horrid state for so many days, that his body's strength is gone. We can now only hope that his spirit remains strong enough to pull him through."
Not needing to say anything, both elf and man looked down upon Merry, holding Pippin's limp hand, speaking softly into his silent ear.
Come on Pippin, I know you have the strength. For some reason, Aragorn knew that the little one would pull through. The simple fact that he should be thrice dead didn't make him think any differently. From his experience on this journey, all four of the hobbits had shone that even if not particularly brave, they had in them some of the fiercest loyalty. With Merry at his side, Sam and Frodo not much farther away, and the rest of the company as near as possible, Aragorn knew that Pippin would have a hard time abandoning such friends.
His attention was drawn away, when he noticed the elf stiffen. Glancing to his side, he found the elf's face drawn taut, and his eyes closed. Wondering how much his wound was actually paining him, he began to protest as the elf walked off, but thought better of it. If the elf needed time, he would get it. Without trees about, he wouldn't be able to disappear as easily, but he knew that if Legolas didn't want to be found, he wouldn't be. Returning his gaze to the rest of their group, it was decided that they would remain in their camp, for it seemed relatively safe, to let everyone recover. Boromir now picked up Pippin, and they all found themselves back in their camp, and within a few minuets, had Sam cooking up a good breakfast. The night had been long and full of turmoil, and they needed their rest, so after setting up watches, the group lied down.
Aragorn took first watch. The hobbits, now somewhat satisfied from their meal, and their hearts eased by the fact that their friend seemed to be recovering, rested together. Gimli was off alone, as was Boromir. Legolas had yet to return. Under the light of day, sleep was not easy to come by, but they managed, simply due to their extreme exhaustion. The sun, having broke through the ominous clouds of the night, was now rising in the sky, heating the cool ground. It was to be a pleasant day, and Aragorn found it a bit amusing that the weather reflected their spirits.
After a few hours, he went to wake Gimli, to take over his watch. The elf had yet to return, and telling Gimli this, he decided to forgo his sleep, at least until he could check on the elf. That was, if he could find him. He walked away from the camp, heading in the direction he assumed the elf had gone. His instincts, as usual, were correct.
Sitting besides the knoll where they had found Pippin's body, he now found the elf, simply sitting in silence. Aragorn was sure that he missed his home, and fields such as these, though full of nature, were not the trees of his home. Still, it seemed that the elf was resting, so Aragorn turned to leave him peace, when the elf spoke up. "Do you need my assistance?"
Keeping his back turned, the man decided to return to camp. "No, I was just, scouting, for my watch is near done." It was a feasible truth, but if he knew his friend, he knew that it would be seen right through. He was right, as usual.
"No, you were looking for me. I'm sorry that I left in such a state, but for some reason I could not stay." Now he lifted his head to meet the man's gaze. He returned the piercing gaze in kind. "I know that you feel the same. He scared you, as he did I, but he will pull through. You know as well as I that his strength lies not in body, but in heart."
Taken slightly aback by the elf's sudden words, Aragorn stood still. The elf continued a bit more lightheartedly. "Come over here, I'm not poisonous."
Smirking at the elf's well-chosen words, the man went and sat besides his friend. He sobered quickly when he got a good look at Legolas. The elf's face was always pale, but now it lacked that inner light. The pain seemed to have dimmed his elven glow, which was noticeable even in the daylight. He kept still, moving as little as possible, and his breaths were shallow. His eyes though were what betrayed his true pain, for in them Aragorn could see a tumult of emotions raging. Not only from his injury, but also from the ordeal he had been recently put through, not to mention their entire situation. Elves were prideful beings, and rarely showed their emotions, but sitting besides his friend, Legolas let down his barriers, and let the man see what he had been raised to hide. As future ruler, it was not proper to allow emotions to sway decisions, as such was seen folly, and could prove dangerous. But for this one brief moment, he was free of his duties, thus free to share his feelings. Still though, he was an elf, and by nature, not one to be open about his emotions.
Aragorn could see that the elf was hurting, but that his pride wasn't allowing him to show, so he tried to help him out, starting with an obvious source of the pain. "How does your injury fare?"
Fully aware of the man's intentions, he was grateful, and decided to respond in kind. "The wound itself is not in the greatest condition, but now I know how to rid myself of the poison, and have been doing so."
For the second time he was taken aback by the elf's words, but this time they also angered him. "Legolas, you can't risk yourself doing this alone. You saw how close Pippin came to death, he actually did die, in a way, and he was amongst friends. We don't even know if it will have the same affect on you as it did on the hobbit. You can't expect to heal alone Legolas, at least not in this case."
Done with his rant, he looked upon the elf. He had to ask. "Has it worked?"
Grimacing a bit, the elf looked up. "Yes, a bit."
"Let me check."
"No, I'll be fine in a few hours." He pulled away.
This could be fun the man thought to himself. "No, I shall not leave you until I check and see."
"I can take care of myself."
"Sure you can, in normal circumstances, but not now, not here, alone, poisoned." He quickly grabbed the elf, so he couldn't escape. He felt bad for taking advantage of his friend's weakened state, but not bad enough to let him risk injuring himself more. "Now, let me check it Legolas." His voice took a stern tone, and the elf, not feeling at all up to fighting off the strong man, finally gave in. He lifted his tunic aside and pulled away the leaves he had placed there. The man hissed. "Legolas."
The elf refused to look at his friend's eyes. He knew the wound looked bad, even he had been surprised at how quickly the poison had decayed the tissue, but he also knew that Pippin had been able to rid his body of the toxins, as would he. Also, he had started within a few hours of being infected, and had hoped it wouldn't spread so quickly. He had been wrong.
"Heavens Legolas, this is worse than Pippin's. Are you sure that what you are doing is helping?"
"No, but it's all there is." He was too tired to resist any longer, "Aragorn, I can feel the evil of it. It seems to enjoy destroying anything good that my heart holds." He placed his slim hand over his chest. "I'm cold, Aragorn." Shamed at his words, the elf no longer wished his friend to remain with him.
Worried at his friend's words, along with his wound, the man looked into the elf's eyes and saw only a dim shadow. "Does it pain you?"
"Yes. I seem to have yet become numb, as Pippin."
"How lucky." Not really realizing his sarcastic comment to have been made aloud, he kept searching his friend's face. The elf, for his part, managed not to wince as the man continued to probe his wound, but his pain was apparent. As was his weariness. "Legolas, neither you nor I know the exact nature of the poison, how could you be sure you would heal the same as our hobbit friend. Elves are much more fragile when it comes to their souls, even more so than hobbits."
He had hoped for some angry retort, knowing how much his friend prided himself on his strength, but he received none. He only sensed his friend's inner anguish deepen. Nice move he berated himself. Stopping his ministrations, he took the elf's hand, which still was placed on his heart, into his. "My friend, even Pippin needed his friends near by to fight off his illness. There is strength in numbers."
"I know, but it is not right for me to bring any more problems to our already restless company. Tis selfish, and I will not be so inconsiderate, no matter what state I am in." He glared at the man, daring him to disagree.
"You aren't a problem, listen to me." He grasped the elf's slim fingers tighter. "Listen to me. You're starting to sound like Pippin, so I know that you know not what you are speaking of. It's something to do with the nature of the poison, Legolas, these dark thoughts you harbor." By the slight tensing, he figured he had guessed correctly. He rushed onwards. "Don't you dare even entertain a single notion of killing yourself, to help the fellowship. You have brought a light to our lonely group in the darkest of times, my friend. If you were to abandon us, I know not how long out fellowship would last."
The elf remained still, thinking. He realized his friend spoke truth, but he couldn't shake the immense weight of guilt that had recently descended upon him. It confused him as to where this guilt came from, but the presence in front of him, the warm strength around his hand, held his thoughts from plunging into the dark waters of his inner turmoil.
In those fingers, wrapped around his, he felt such strength and compassion that he let his eyes wander to the man's. What he saw could not be described in words alone. They man's eyes were clear, as if made of the purest waters, and for the first time in their long friendship, Legolas was allowed to truly see the soul behind the warrior. It humbled him, the fact that the man would allow such intimacy. He had always known that Aragorn was a great spirit, and had seen the man's inner beauty on many occasions, although Legolas doubted the man was aware of his secret being known. But Legolas knew. Aragorn loved. He loved that which was right and those who were righteous. He cared deeply for those who cared naught for him, and carried many of their burdens upon his shoulders, without complaint, and without redemption. It was that inner passion that Legolas saw now in the man's eyes. It was not unlike the fire which Legolas had come to realize fueled many a warrior in battle.
Except, that passion was now not directed towards and enemy, but rather a friend, a close, and dear friend. Aragorn knew, as he steadily met the elf's gaze, that he had let his guard down, but he didn't care. For that slight moment, he didn't care if he seemed weak. He was to worried over Legolas' situation, for an elf's inner spark of life should never be taken away so quickly, or so insidiously. He never had heard of an elf committing suicide. Their kind treasured life and considered all nature to be sacred. Taking one's own life was a direct desecration of such beliefs, and Aragorn could only find blame in the poison for his friend's current reasoning. Those clear eyes, usually so bright, remained dull and clouded with pain and confusion. I'm sure such foreign feelings and thoughts are confusing to him. He had always considered Legolas to be one of the greater models for the elven way of life; the graceful dignity he always carried, the simple composure he held, no matter the situation. The embracing compassion for all light and good in the world. He was strong, but his skills lie not so much in the physical, but in the strength of will. As a friend, he would not allow the elf to stand alone against a foe which neither fully understood.
The moment between the two, the shared link, where both studied and saw in each other the same strengths and weaknesses, long suspected but never proven, was broken suddenly when Legolas took a sudden, shuddering breath, and doubled over. He gasped as his hand tightened in a death grip around Aragorn's. "Aragorn, it's working," is all the managed before he was too overcome to even think straight.
The man recognized the symptoms of the body's ridding itself of the poison, but it made it no easier to watch or endure. The elf's eyes were clenched shut, and tears, those precious drops that were practically never shed, ran down his pale, drawn cheeks. Aragorn, still holding onto his friend's hand, tried to comfort the ailing elf, but at the whimpers quickly went to kneel besides the hunched form.
The wound in his side began to flush out its infection and sooner than expected, the elf's shuddering, tense form went limp. Catching the elf's body before it collapsed to the ground, he cradled the elf within the his protective embrace, startled when Legolas' body felt like air itself. Aragorn's heart stopped when he felt the breath leave his friend's body, and for a moment he began to panic that indeed his elf friend had not survived the ordeal, but as he bent his head to look at the pale face, he seemed to see a slight flush returning, and thought he could feel a heart beat. After a few moments, the elf's eyes gently opened again. Aragorn could tell that now his friend was truly asleep, and not unconscious.
"Rest my prince, rest." So he stayed, laying back against the knoll, his friend in his arms, asleep, and he slowly drifted into dreamless sleep.
It was Frodo who found them, while on his watch. Worried, he had went around, but when he came upon their slumbering forms, he paused, silent. His heart gladdened as he looked upon them, for their faces were relaxed, their expressions peaceful, relaxed. The hobbit then left them, knowing they would be safe, even when asleep. Returning to camp, his swept his gaze over the other members of the fellowship. Merry and Pippin were lying together, fast asleep, their hands clasped together. Boromir and Gimli slept alone, but even though both kept their weapons nearby, neither seemed tense. Sam was the only one who seemed fitful, but Frodo knew that was because he no longer was besides his dear friend.
Sighing, he looked towards the south. That was where they were headed, that land of darkness, but for some reason, he didn't sense that usual foreboding. As he returned his gaze to the west, he looked over the camp and at the sunset. These others were his protectors, his friends, and he would not fail them. If some tragedy should occur, and they should fall, as Gandalf, then he would not fail their memories, their spirit. The spirit of the fellowship would live on. Soon they would be heading again towards that land of evil. But for now, they rested, and that was enough.
Looking down once again, he saw that Sam watched him. With a slight smile, he returned to his friend's side, and sat. Night would fall, they would continue their travels, and the fate of Middle Earth would be decided.
.The End.
A/N: I hope you liked this. I wrote it about two years ago, and had actually forgotten how it had ended.I had to re-read it after I posted the first few chapters. * sheepish * All reviews have been wonderful, I hope you all enjoyed! I'll post more of my fiction later, along with editing my previous posting of Tears.