Thank you Jaya-Avendel spectra6 EstelElfstone dobblewolf Definitely-Lost daring_dorees for your wonderful votes and awesome comments too! Hope you enjoy this next chapter:
The wind howled in an unceasing screech, its freezing breath whipping up clouds of icy snow, sending them high into the air before whirling and pounding them down to join the white blanket which smothered the craggy peaks and deep gullies of the Misty Mountains.
From fierce dark clouds, blinding flashes of white lightning crackled as they spiked unforgivingly into the snow-covered peaks, sending showers of white flurrying in masses back into the air to rejoin the raging blizzard.
For the four travellers, the storm was a nightmare. Barely being able to see their hands when held before their eyes, it was impossible to know whether their companions were even still there or not. The only way they could keep together was to shout, which Îdhír and Tinu had been doing consistently so as not to lose each other. Legolas' cries, however, had grown more and more faint, but from distance, exhaustion or any other factor, the two Noldor couldn't tell. Was the elfling dead?
Îdhír found himself wondering if the child was alright, although he had agreed to leave him behind if he was unable to keep up. No, I don't care about him. Estel's our main priority.
But he did care.
"Tinu! We have to find Dagnir; he'll die out here!"
"It's a risk Îdhír. If we're out here too long, Estel... Estel might not make it." Tinu warned. He hated having to face the truth of it, but the human was dying. And right now, Lord Elrond was the only one who could save him. "Are you prepared to take that risk?"
Îdhír paused. "I know Estel's our main priority but that's not just any old... any old animal out there, Tinu. That's an elfling! And an injured one at that. He'll never make it without us! We have to go back."
Tinu looked ready to argue his point when a weak voice cut through the freezing mountain air and howling blizzard.
"That won't be necessary." Both Noldor watched in awe as the small figure of a very ill elfling struggled through the whirling snowstorm towards them. "I'm here." And he collapsed into the thick white powder beneath his feet.
Sharing a look of astonishment and concern, the two elves hesitated. Tinu looked down doubtfully at the elfling's still form.
"He'll slow us down..."
"Tinu, he made it this far. We have to bring him." Îdhír was determined, and so, picking up the elfling in his arms, Tinu trudged on through the howling blizzard, towards the place he had always called home. Towards Rivendell, and Elrond. Towards healing.
Towards salvation.
✧ ★ ✧
Legolas cracked his eyes open, and was met with white. Everywhere he looked, white. He felt himself be lowered gently into his feet, but continued to look around in awe. Of course he'd seen snow before; some of it had even fallen down into the cell, but this... this was on a scale he could never have imagined.
White. White sky, white ground. Turning, he saw the tall figure of Tinu standing behind him. The memory of being slapped by the elf replayed itself in his head and he shrank back.
Gulping, he glanced around at Îdhír, standing behind him. Trapped.
No. I'm free, remember?
Free.
With Aragorn. Where's Aragorn? Then he saw again the human falling, and the feeling that had accompanied the horrifying vision... it was as though a piece of his heart, the only part uncontaminated by Thranduil's 'punishments', had been ripped out.
And if the human died, he would never recover that lost part of himself.
Legolas was jerked from his reverie by a hand on his arm. It was Îdhír.
"You alright lad?"
Legolas turned, nodding numbly and saw what Îdhir held in his arms.
Pale, lifeless seeming skin was stretched tautly over prominent bones, as though the wound had sucked all being from the body, and lifeless silver eyes were glazed, staring blankly into the white sky. Dark hair framed a too-pale face, bringing out the whiteness even more prominently A tattered cloak fluttered weakly, hopelessly in the powerful wind.
Legolas stumbled, falling to his knees. He can't be dead... I can't have... I can't have killed him, can I?
Murderer. The word which had haunted him for most of his life echoed dully in his mind. Aragorn was gone. Dead. The world was empty without the only person he could trust. He was alone, alone in a strange world he had never known, and so helpless. So small.
So alone.
A gentle hand on his shoulder made him glance up, instinctively flinching away from the touch of another who wasn't Aragorn. He glared at Tinu, then shrank back, an apology which had been drilled into him on his tongue, not because he knew what he had done wrong this time: he didn't, but because it was best to pretend that he did, when Tinu spoke, his voice low and dangerous.
"You say you did this? It's you're fault he's..." his voice trailed off, and Legolas could only stare at him in gut-wrenching fear and guilt.
"Y-Yes. He took the arrow for - for me." He finished miserably. This elf reminded him too much of Thranduil with his harsh words and violence, although Legolas sensed something different about him, something buried beneath the stress and anger. Something beautiful to Thranduil's ugly, light to Thranduil's dark. Something pure to Thranduil's evil.
And when he put it like that, he realised Tinu wasn't like Thranduil. It didn't mean Legolas liked him: he didn't. It didn't mean Legolas wasn't terrified of him: he was. But it did mean that Legolas could bear him, at least for now. Even if it was difficult.
Legolas turned his attention back to the elf in question, because Tinu was talking again. "I swear to the Valar, if he dies, I'll kill you! I'll kill you!"
He made to smack Legolas again, but the elfling ducked, and Îdhír grabbed the fuming elf's hand.
"Stop it! We have bigger problems to worry about. Look at..."
But Legolas didn't hear the rest. Tinu had said "If he dies". If he dies. He wasn't already dead?
The moment the realisation hit him he scrambled to his feet. Not alone! Not alone!
He stumbled towards the human, and upon reaching him, took in the deathly pale skin, breathless chest and glazed eyes. Was he really-
But then he breathed. It was a shaky, shallow breath, almost unnoticeable, but it was there. Aragorn was there. Aragorn was alive!
Legolas sank to the snowy ground once more as the rush of adrenaline left him. Sighing contentedly, he slipped unceremoniously into a fevered unconsciousness.
✧ ★ ✧
Legolas awoke to the sound of soft snowfall. He was lying in a roughly crafted snow cave, surrounded, as far as he could see, by empty, snow-covered wasteland from which high, craggy peaks rose into the sky and disappeared into pale white clouds. It was beautiful, but Legolas saw none of it as beauty. His mind was preoccupied with the ranger's critical condition. Had he died in the night?
Bolstering his courage, he turned to Îdhír. "Is he-"
He was cut off by Tinu's gruff voice. "He's alive, or you'd know about it."
Legolas allowed himself a sigh of relief before they had to set off once more. As soon as he stood, the world span around him, and he struggled to say on his feet.
Dizzy and sick, Legolas trudged on through the snow. Ahead of him he could see Îdhír, carrying Aragorn, and Tinu walking beside him. They were tiring, all of them.
And yet still they toiled on through the snow, between high crags and deep valleys on a route so complicated Legolas couldn't fathom how it could possibly be remembered.
It was late that night that Îdhír broke the news to the rest of the company.
"Estel - Aragorn - he isn't doing well. If we don't reach Imladris soon... I fear for his life. We are merely a day away, and I can't take him alone. Tinu cannot either, he has little experience as a healer. And of course we cannot leave you alone, Dagnir. Do we must hurry. Estel's life depends on it. As soon as morning comes, we'll go, and be warned, I'm setting a fast pace. He's far more important than any of us, do you understand? As soon as morning comes."
When the others nodded their agreement, Îdhír sat. Silence was all that followed as each drifted off into individual thoughts, individual dreams. Individual worries.
Îdhír woke Legolas roughly, shaking his shoulders hard.
"Wake up boy. We're going."
They set out not five minutes later. The wind howled in despair and the mountains seemed to watch in anticipation as the three set off once more.
It went on for hours. Legolas watched as, bit by bit, Aragorn's last strength drained, and the human became weaker with every passing moment. He was fading, and Legolas had no idea how far they were from Rivendell.
And still it went on. Every peak they passed, every stunted tree or scraggly bush. Every white cloud and every dark rock looked the same.
But Estel was fading. With every breath he took, Legolas thought it would be his last, and every time he moved in Îdhír's arms, Legolas could see the pain written clearly across his face.
And with every struggled breath, another piece of Legolas' heart was torn away. Another important piece of who he was, of what he was. His soul, his very fëa, was shredded as he watched his saviour dying before his eyes. He couldn't look any more, couldn't bear to see the pain on the human's face, the desperation in his glazed eyes.
I'm sorry. He looked away, and started. Because there, before him, nestled in the roots of the mountains, was beauty. Light. Song. A large house, seemingly built into the mountains themselves, welcomed him with an orange glow and an enticing aura about the place. Somehow, Legolas knew this was Imladris. A smooth waterfall ran down the deep cliff as the Bruinen flowed on its course away and to the South, and the soft lullaby of its waters soothed the elfling in much the same way as the forest had. Legolas could see a forest just to the West of the house, and felt his spirit lighten at the thought of walking beneath the treetops once more, although the situation muffled his joy with fear, guilt and sadness.
Îdhír broke into a run, sprinting in a burst of final energy toward the last homely house, and taking his precious burden with him. Tinu and Legolas were not far behind.
When they raced, panting, into the stone courtyard of Rivendell, Lord Elrond was there to greet them, face drawn in worry and deep lines of concern on his brow.
Legolas stumbled in last, falling to his knees beside the human in utter exhaustion. Elrond gave him a quick look, then turned back to his son.
"Estel! Estel, what have I done?"
His hands worked furiously as he spoke, unfastening Aragorn's tunic and inspecting the wound, then checking for breath. He checked once. Twice. A third time.
Then he sat back in his heels, shaking his head, a look of utter defeat upon his face.
"I'm sorry, you were too late. He's gone." His face crumpled in despair.
"He's dead."
Thank you for reading and sorry if you were routing for Aragorn's survival! It wasn't his lucky day :)
Next Chapter: Can Legolas deal with the guilt?
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