Disclaimer: we do not own any characters, places or storylines you recognize, it belongs to Prof. Tolkien, Tolkien Enterprises, New Line Cinema and other lucky bastards.

Author´s notes: thanks to all who reviewed and/or put the story on alert or even on their favourites list, it´s highly appreciated! On to the new chapter: lots of h/c in this one!

A Long Time Coming

Summary:

Time passes, but old hatred remains strong. A misunderstanding from the past is about to claim Aragorn´s life. But it is not his battle alone because Legolas is involved as well...

~o~

Part 2: The Longest Night

The Elf made to rush down to the water when he registered a swishing sound nearby his head. He immediately threw himself onto the ground, barely avoiding a second arrow. He did not even notice the cold mud, but was scanning his surroundings. Someone was shooting at him, and his instinct told him that it was the same person who probably had loosened the logs. There was no mistaking it for coincidence.

When he scrutinized the area from which direction the arrows probably had come, he could make out some movement between the trees; a fraction of a pale face was visible for a few seconds.

Legolas did not hesitate; he jumped to his feet gracefully and headed back to the trees. With one fluid motion he pulled himself up onto the lower branches; while he quickly climbed higher, more arrows were whistling past him. As soon as he was standing securely between the foliage, he reached for his bow and notched an arrow. The fire had ceased momentarily, as Legolas had vanished out of sight, but the elf could still see someone, partially hidden behind a tree. Taking aim, Legolas wasted no time and let his arrow fly. His thoughts were with Aragorn, yet he had to take their attacker down first.

His arrow apparently had struck home, for he could hear a strangled cry, and then the man fell with a thud.

Legolas made his way up the slope; even though he did not sink into the mud and therefore made quick progress, yet it seemed too long. He wished to help his friend, but he had to make sure the attacker was not endangering them anymore.

He could see that the man was wearing the garb of the Ithilien Rangers; his hood had come off as he fell, and a shock of bright red hair was spilling out from underneath, a stark contrast to the dark mud. With a jolt of surprise, Legolas recognized the face. He had seen it before, but could not place it at first. He leaned over the fallen, aware that his arrow had instantly killed him when it had hit his heart; the face was young, younger than he remembered it. He frowned in confusion while he took the beardless features in, the eyes which were still open, widened in shock, and then, slowly, memories came back to him. A cold night on the road, a fire, two strangers asking whether they were welcome in their camp. And then, the wolves...

Legolas felt uncomfortable. He had nearly died that night, if it had not been for Aragorn. Aragorn... his heart twisted painfully. He cast one last look at the dead man, then turned to find his friend. Anything else would have to wait.

The riverbank was barely visible in the approaching darkness. If it had not been for Legolas´ exceptionally good eyes, he would have found it hard to make out where the muddy line of grass descended into the water.

One single log was still lying next to the river, the others had been washed away by the swiftly flowing waters. Legolas´ heart sank; of course Aragorn would have been carried away by the current as well. Even if he had drowned.

Legolas feared that his friend had been knocked unconscious by one of the logs, but even if he had not was it most likely that he would not have managed to swim against the current. The Elf felt a wave of almost physical pain at the thought that Aragorn might be beyond his reach. He took a deep breath and clenched his fists while angrily shoving those thoughts away: he must not despair, he told himself, his friend needed him to be strong. With fresh determination born out of anguish, Legolas began his search.

-

The world had been reduced to coldness and pain. Aragorn had unsuccessfully tried to move once more, but whatever it was that was trapping him did not budge. With an effort, he fought to free one hand; the pain which errupted in his shoulder at doing so nearly sent him back to unconsciousness, but after a while, he was able to feel around. Though his whole body was meanwhile throbbing with fierce steadiness, the main weight of what appeared to be a large piece of wood was lying across his chest and his right hip, effectively pinning him to the cold ground. A second, seemingly similar piece was lying across his legs, and a third was pressing against his left foot. Trying to move it into a more bearable position only brought him an even stronger wave of pain. Tears shot into his eyes unbiddenly at the cruel onslaught.

He blinked as he suddenly remembered the sensation of losing his balance and falling into the river, and then a profound bout of panic... something massive had kept him underwater, preventing him from breathing, from saving himself... he wondered what exactly had happened and where Draumur was now. It was still raining heavily, and he just hoped that the horse´s reins had not gotten caught somewhere, rendering it helpless.

A sudden wetness pulled him out of his thoughts. Water was engulfing his feet, he could feel the cold through his already sodden boots.

Only now did he realize where he was: lying on the riverbank, unable to move, and the river was most likely swelling from the rain. A shudder ran through his battered body: no one knew had befallen him, thus no one would come to his rescue. He was on his own; he had to free himself or he would soon be dead.

-

Legolas looked up at the sky, longing to see the stars; he was desperate for someone to console him, tell him everything would be fine. Yet there was no comfort to be had, for the heavens were cloudy and only told of more rain to come. An hour past midnight the rain had abated a little, only to come back with a vengeance.

The elf´s head was swimming: what if he did not find Aragorn? Who would bear the news to Elrond, who would tell him that his son had been killed in a cowardly ambush? Or, worse: what if he did find Aragorn, but it was too late?

The elf paused for a moment, closing his eyes and taking another deep breath, perhaps the hundredth within the six hours he had been searching already. He had been very thorough, following the river´s meandering bank and stopping ever so often to scan the dark waters. Sometimes he had thought he had seen a floating body, but it had proven to be pieces of wood every time, mostly branches which had fallen into the water during the storm.

He was even more desperate now; the chances of finding Aragorn were diminishing, and his time was running out. Human bodies were so very fragile, and he did not know what his friend had been put through during the past hours.

-

Aragorn had been struggling with the logs for an unaccounted amount of time. The water was rising steadily around him, and his limbs felt numb with cold once more. He could barely think because of the pain, therefore he had not realized that the rising water would probably lift the weight off him; all he could think of was that he had to get out of there, and that he had to keep breathing to will the pain away.

At one point, his body simply gave in to the exhaustion and strain, and suddenly could not move anymore. Unable to distract himself from his despair, Aragorn´s thoughts turned to those who would very likely never learn about his fate. He could see Elrond in front of his inner eye, standing on the balcony of his study and watching the gates of Imladris, ever waiting for his missing son to return.

The faces of Elladan and Elrohir appeared in his mind, looking troubled; he could see them, searching for their missing brother but never finding him. Or maybe one day finding his mangled remains, only recognizing him by the ring he was wearing.

Legolas would wait for him in this very forest, wondering why he did not appear. He would perhaps find Draumur, if the horse had survived; the Elf did not know the horse, but if he looked into the saddle bags, he might find Aragorn´s belongings, some of which he would certainly recognize. Thus he would know something had happened, but it might lead to a desperate and endless search.

And, last of all, Arwen Undómiel. During all his years abroad she had often visited his dreams, and he had longed to be near her, to hear her sweet voice and look into her unfathomable eyes. This would never come to pass now; with a pang of regret he wished to see her face one more time before the end, but this was not to be. He would die alone, far away from those that he loved.

Defeatedly, he gave up the already lost battle to free himself. His eyes closed as though on their own account, and he let himself be soaked up in the darkness which had been lurking for him ever since he had first found himself in the dire situation he was in.

-

Legolas ran one hand over his eyes to dry them. Tears of frustration and weariness had mingled with the rain. He halted and peered through the darkness over to the opposite shore; even if it might be futile, he was considering searching the other side of the river as well. He slowly moved on, contemplating how to cross the water; after a while of mute brooding, he reached another bend. His heart sped up as he saw a large, dark shape which apparently had been washed up there, but upon approaching it, he realized it only were a few of the logs. He passed by them; he had forsaken his hope of finding Aragorn alive, thus he did not consider the possibility of his friend also having ended up in the same place.

He was looking at the trees, wondering whether there were any whose branches were long enough to reach the other side, when he heard something, a sound which differentiated from the usual rushing noise of the water.

He halted once more, listening attentively. There it was again, a soft gargling, followed by a weak cough and a moan.

Legolas froze for a moment, a rush of adrenaline running through him. He cautiously moved in the direction from which the sounds had come, hardly daring to breathe: "Aragorn?"

He did not get a response, but now his eyes had locked onto the shapes of the logs, which were now moving a little. The water level had risen above the bank. Only when the elf reached the logs, stepping into the knee-high water without hesitation, did he see the pale face of his human friend, nearly submerged. It seemed that Aragorn had somehow been trapped underneath the logs, and was in the danger of drowning.

"Aragorn," Legolas´ voice nearly broke as he fell onto his knees next to the man, slender hands cradling the wet and cold face for a moment: "Hold on. I am here now. I will stay with you."

He then, reluctantly, got up again; with all his weight, he tried to push one of the logs aside, but it did not move. Aragorn however gave a small, pained and watery groan. Legolas ground his teeth; he did not wish to hurt his friend even further. He would have to wait until the logs would be floating a little more.

The Elf usually was very patient; he could persevere motionlessly in a tree for hours, waiting for a deer to show up or simply enjoying the solitude, yet now that his friend´s life was at stake every minute seemed to stretch endlessly. He wanted to get up and shout out his frustration, but he could not leave his friend´s side. He helplessly watched the water rising further; he tried to keep Aragorn´s face above the surface, but feared to bend his neck too far. The man was unresponsive, and Legolas could not even see whether his chest was still rising steadily.

Fear gripped him anew. If he did not prevent it, Aragorn very likely would breathe in instinctively, inhale water and drown. While he used one hand to support his friend´s head, he very cautiously put the other one over the man´s mouth, using his fingers to close his nostrils. He counted to ten, feeling his own heartbeat mingling with Aragorn´s, or maybe he only imagined it, then bent down to share his breath with the human. The water was so cold it tingled on his skin.

He had done so a few times when unexpectedly the log lying across Aragorn´s chest suddenly moved, slowly sliding sideways. With renewed energy, Legolas quickly moved as well; using his knee to support Aragorn now instead of his hand, he began to push at the piece of wood with all his might. For a few, agonizing moments, nothing happened, but then he felt how the log eventually began to give way.

The others followed a little easier, seeing as they were lying further down where the ground was lower. Legolas gasped as he had finally managed to free his friend. He pulled him up and out of the water, lifting him on his arms as soon as he had gotten a firm hold on him. He hoped he did not aggravate the man´s injuries by doing so, but he had to get him away from the water.

He tried to find the utmost shelter available, setting Aragorn down underneath the low branches of an aged pine tree.

His hands sought his friend´s face again, quickly stroking over his temples; he had to feel him in order to be sure he was safe with him. With trembling fingers, he felt for Aragorn´s pulse.

A small, butterfly movement against the tips told him the man was still with him. His skin felt icy though, and his face was so pale that it looked horribly lifeless, the lips tinted blue. Legolas looked around as though hoping for a miracle: they needed shelter and warmth. The nearest settlement was miles away however, and they would never get there in time.

Tears of frustration were streaming down the elf´s face once more as he saw the forlornness of their situation. He screwed his eyes shut, his hands still on Aragorn´s face and neck as though anxious to let go, and tried to come up with a solution.

He knew that there was a rockface which was housing a cave; he and Aragorn had camped there years ago. He had passed by it while searching for his friend.

He decided to try his luck and bring Aragorn there; it was their only hope.

-

A lone figure was kneeling next to Fingaer´s body, cautiously closing the dead man´s eyes with gloved fingers.

The newcomer was clad in the same garb as Fingaer, marking him as a Ranger of Ithilien; his eyes were shadowed by the hood of the cloak, but if anyone had approached him in that very moment, he would have been met with a bright, angry glare.

He lingered for a moment, debating the question whether he should bury the body. It would be right and prudent to do so, yet he had no time to spare if he did not want to risk losing the murderer´s tracks in these weather conditions.

"Forgive me," he murmured, addressing Fingaer. "Rest in peace; I will avenge your death."

With that, he got to his feet and swiftly descended the slope towards the riverbank.

-

Legolas would have loved nothing more than to lie down and sleep once they had finally reached their destination. His arms were burning with the strain of carrying Aragorn, and his legs felt like lead after struggling through the undergrowth for what he estimated to be two hours. Despite his exhaustion he clung to the human while nearing the cave. If only it was unoccupied by any living beings!

It took the Elf another ten minutes to climb up to the entrance of the cave, a large gaping hole in the stone wall. After a few meters, the spacious opening began to narrow down into a low tunnel. Legolas followed it into the cave that was lying behind it. To his great relief, it was empty. The air was cold and clammy, but at least the ground was relatively dry. He tried not to think of the massive amount of stone and rock which was surrounding him; Aragorn was all that mattered now.

He sank onto his knees, suddenly shaking all over; his arms nearly gave out, and it was all he could do to not drop his friend ungently onto the ground. The Ranger was breathing shallowly, and his skin was still icy cold.

Legolas needed to warm him; he had to try and build a fire, otherwise he might lose Aragorn even after bringing him out of the rain. Reluctantly, he got to his feet again and went back outside. As the entrance of the cave was so wide, the storm had carried some branches and twigs inside, which were only a little wet. Legolas was confident he would be able to light those. He quickly went outside and collected another armful of wood; it would hopefully dry next to the fire until it could be burned as well.

After he had done so three times, he brought it all inside.

He needed a few more attempts to set the meagre pile alight than usual, but after a while, the first flames were flickering through the darkness.

Legolas arranged the rest of the wood near the fire, then turned back to his friend.

He cautiously peeled the Ranger´s cloak and tunic off the lifeless body, then proceeded to undress him. Nearly all of Aragorn´s torso and legs were heavily bruised, and the skin over his ribs, his shoulder and his right hip was swollen and angrily red.

The Elf gingerly probed the Ranger for broken bones and found what felt like a dent in his collarbone; it seemed one of the halves had shifted a little. There was a swelling as well, showing that the bone was visibly disfigured. His hands were trembling; Aragorn gave a soft moan as Legolas was examining his ribcage, which only increased the tremors. He did not find anything else, and he would not have known what to do about it anyway. He dimly remembered that he had to do something about the collarbone, however, he could not leave it like that. If he did not set the bone right, it would grow back together in the wrong way and might cause great discomfort or even affect the arm´s ability to move.

Legolas eyed his friend unhappily before turning to open his pack. If he wanted to get Aragorn warm, he could not rely on the small fire alone. His own blanket was only little clammy but not wet; he pulled it out and used it to wrap Aragorn in, leaving his shoulder free.

When he set the bone, the man gave a strangled cry of pain, arching away from the firm hands. Legolas knew he could not let go, otherwise he would have had to start again. He could feel Aragorn trembling underneath his fingers and hurried to finish his task. After he had secured the arm so that his friend would not subconsciously aggravate the injury, he crouched down next to the Ranger. The man had not come to, yet his face was still contorted in pain, and he was breathing rapidly.

"Aragorn," Legolas soothed, stroking his friend´s ashen face, "it is over, you are going to be all right... I had to set the bone, otherwise it might have pained you even further..." He continued to talk to the unconscious human for a long time, all the while stroking him gently in order to calm him down. He only paused to kindle the fire further. A comforting warmth was spreading from the flames, and Legolas thought he could feel Aragorn´s skin getting warmer as well. The man´s hands and feet were still icy, so the Elf started massaging them to restore the blood circulation. While he was rubbing Aragorn´s left hand, he could feel a touch of cold metal against his own warm skin; his friend was wearing his ring again.

A few hours later though, Legolas had realized that the increasing warmth in Aragorn had another source than simply the life returning into the Ranger´s body: the man was running a fever, and it was rising worryingly quick. The Elf had done his best to keep the fire burning steadily, and the blanket had meanwhile dried. He made sure that it was thoroughly covering Aragorn, keeping him warm; he had furthermore boiled some water for tea, which he was currently trying to feed to the man. Aragorn, however, was fitful; he moaned and tried to move away from the Elf´s ministrations. It took the greater part of half an hour to empty the mug.

Legolas took a soft cloth and gently wiped the sheen of perspiration off Aragorn´s forehead; he wished that the man would wake up, so he could talk to him. He had no idea how to get him to safety in the state Aragorn was in, and he was not sure whether he had discovered all of his injuries.

Apart from that, they had little food; Legolas had only packed some deer jerky and lembas, which would not be sufficient to keep an ill man alive. He had been confident that they would be able to hunt or else provide themselves with food in a settlement.

For a moment, he allowed himself to sag in exhaustion and hopelessness, pressing his forearm against his brow. He felt uneasy in the cave, as though someone was applying pressure on his temples; he was certain he would have been able to ignore it, if it had not been for the knowledge that his friend was dying, and that he had no means of saving him.

He kindled the fire once more, unable to stop his hands from shaking. When he returned to the spot at Aragorn´s side he had been occupying for most of the night, the Ranger gave a small groan. Legolas leaned forward as the man´s eyelids opened a fraction. His gaze was glazed over, and the Elf was almost convinced that he would not recognize him, yet he laid his hand against Aragorn´s cheek: "Estel," he said quietly, for suddenly his voice was trembling. "Av-'osto. Im sí."

To his surprise, Aragorn´s face was lit by the ghost of a smile, ever so faint and only visible if one knew him.

"Guren linna gen cened." His voice was barely audible, but the words were clear to Legolas, whose heart rejoiced and clenched in pain at the same time.

He could not lose Aragorn, it would shatter him forever. Yet the man´s eyes fluttered close again as unconsciousness claimed him once more; he had no strength left, and the fever was visibly devouring him.

His elven friend´s shoulders hunched as he sought to be as close to him as possible. If there was nothing else he could do, he would at least let Aragorn feel that he was not alone.

A sound had Legolas straighten up instinctively, though he was immersed in praying.

It had come from the cave´s entrance. The Elf listened intently; nothing else was to be heard apart from the rain and the wind for a long time, yet his back prickled unpleasantly, as though trying to warn him. He sat motionlessly, hardly breathing; there it was again, followed by what seemed to be a small slide of stones.

Legolas got to his feet in an instant, taking his bow as he rose. Anger and hope welled up in him simultaneously; he did not need anyone to intrude, not now, for he wished Aragorn´s last hours to be peaceful. On the other hand, maybe his prayers had been heard and help was coming, as unlikely as it seemed.

He slowly advanced the tunnel; a person´s shallow breathing was resounding through it now, clearly audible to the Elf´s superiour hearing.

Legolas positioned himself, so that he would have whomever it was at arrowpoint the moment he emerged into the cave.

-

The Ithilien Ranger believed himself unnoticed. He had heard no commotion upon tiptoeing through the tunnel; the light which was visible at its end seemed to belong to a fire. Maybe Fingaer´s murderer was very probably sitting in front of it, warming himself and believing himself to be safe. Yet something was odd, something the Ranger could not quite grasp.

He had followed the person for the better part of six hours; the tracks had been hardly visible due to the weather, but he had evidently moved strangely slow. Furthermore, he had been down to the riverbank before he had come to this cave, and even though his tracks had been better readable afterwards, it did not make sense. Maybe he had tried to cross the river at that point, and had retreated to the cave after finding it impossible.

Still pondering this, the Ranger had reached the end of the tunnel. He lifted his bow which he had been holding in his hand with an arrow ready, and slowly readied himself. As he stepped out of the tunnel however, his bow taut and his arrow waiting for release, he was met by the sight of an Elf, equally aiming at him with his own bow.

The man could not stop himself from gasping in surprise. The fair being opposite of him, however, remained composed: "What is your business here?" he asked in Common. His voice was calm, yet his tone reminded the Ranger of a beast ready to strike.

"I would ask the same of you, had I not seen the evidence of your ´business´ already," he answered, not willing to let himself be intimidated so easily.

The Elf´s eyes narrowed: "What do you speak of?"

"I speak of murder." The Ranger´s eyes never left his face: "Gondor has no love for such crimes."

"Then why does Gondor commit such crimes?" Legolas retorted.

As the man gazed at him, something akin to curiosity mingled with the coldness in his stare: "Your words do not make much sense to me," he replied. "A fellow Ranger of mine lies dead, an arrow piercing his heart, fletched with the same yellow and green feathers as the one you are currently pointing at me."

"I regret the death of your companion," Legolas said, choosing his words carefully. "Yet it was not I who broke the peace. I merely sought to defend myself and my friend, who has fallen victim to the red-haired Ranger´s wrath. He ambushed him without provocation, and then tried to shoot me."

The man hesitated. There was no denying that Fingaer had been a short-tempered man. Yet he had had to have profound reason to attack the Elf in front of him and the man he could see lying by the fire in the background now, though the Elf was obviously trying to shield him from view.

His arms were beginning to tremble from the exertion of holding his bow at the ready. The Elf seemed to have no such troubles, but was eyeing him attentively.

"If Fingaer has attacked your friend, then he must have deserved it," the Ranger said.

The Elf´s eyes hardened.

To Be Continued

Av-´osto, im sí: Don´t be afraid , I am here

Guren linna gen cened: My heart sings to see you