Aragorn awoke slowly. Darkness surrounded him, and for a long moment, he was unsure if his eyes were open or closed. He blinked. They were open, then. The darkness around him was absolute, impenetrable. Had he gone blind? What had happened to him? He couldn't remember. He didn't know where he was, what had happened, or why he was unable to see. Taking a quick panicked breath, agony exploded through his being as he choked on the thick, dust-filled air. It was a struggle to control his breathing. Each cough sent daggers of pain stabbing through him. He knew that pain. In the part of his mind that was still capable of rational thought, he diagnosed his condition as broken ribs. Nothing else felt quite like that pain. After a seeming eternity, he managed to stop the coughs that wracked his body. Once he was able to breathe, he tried to force his sluggish mind to think clearly. How had his ribs been broken and why was the air so thick? He had so many questions and no answers. He had to think; to remember.

Before he did that, however, he should determine how badly he was hurt. If he had broken ribs, he may have other injuries. Knowing that sitting up with broken ribs would be extremely painful, he first tried to move his arms and legs, one by one. Panic shot through him again when he found he was unable to move. He was paralyzed! Before the panic could set in, he forced himself to calm down. He counted each shallow breath. One, breathe in, let it slowly out. Two, repeat the breath in, then out. Three…four…five.

* All right now. Think. Why can't I move? *

He concentrated, and after a moment of effort, he felt the fingers on his left hand move. With a little more effort, he moved the fingers on his right hand and all of his toes. He gave a sigh of relief when he determined that he wasn't paralyzed after all. Still, if he could move his fingers and toes, why not his arms and legs? Tensing the muscles in his arms, he made another attempt to move. He groaned aloud as pain swept over him, leaving him gasping for breath. Now that he was able to feel his body once more, he wished he couldn't. Everything hurt. Throbbing, stabbing, aching and shooting; it was hard to believe that there were so many ways to hurt. Gritting his teeth, he tried to ride out the pain. It had to end sometime, did it not? Surely it could not continue indefinitely. Time lost all meaning as he waited for the pain to end. After endless moments, it began to fade. Eventually, it receded enough for him to push it to the back of his mind.

"Very well," he whispered to himself. "Trying to move is not a good idea." Closing his eyes, he tried to clear his mind. It was easy to sense that he was in a tight space. Without moving, he tried to get a clearer sense of his surroundings. He seemed to be lying on his side, with one arm up over his head. There were rocks underneath him, and some poking him in the back. They were surrounding him, pressing down upon him. Only one explanation made sense, he must have been in a cave-in. The thought triggered his memory.

He was heading home to Imladris after nearly a year's absence. He had been busy with the Rangers, patrolling the lands east of the valley he still called home. A rainstorm had prompted him to take refuge in a cave. Sounds of an anxious horse had woken him. Aráto had been neighing and stamping his feet just outside the entrance of the cave. Thinking that Aráto was warning him of wolves or other enemies approaching, Aragorn began to get to his feet. Before he was able to do that, the ground began to shake beneath him.

*Earthquake! * Aragorn barely had time for this thought before the ceiling of the cave came crashing down upon him. He had automatically curled up and thrown an arm protectively over his head. That was the last thing he remembered before waking up in darkness. Judging by the sluggishness of his thoughts and the throbbing in his head, he had taken a blow to the head in the cave-in. It felt like every inch of his body had taken a horrible beating. It was impossible to tell what was broken and what was merely bruised without moving, but he knew he wasn't in very good shape. He needed help. Unfortunately, he knew that no help would be forthcoming. None knew to expect him. When he left the Rangers, he had told them that he would be gone for weeks, perhaps months, and no one in Imladris knew he was coming. It was to have been a surprise. If no one knew he was here, there would be no rescue. It was not in his nature to simply give up, to lie here and wait to die, but he did not see that he had any choice in the matter. He was unable to move. Even had he not been injured, he still would have been completely stuck. Though he fought it, he could feel the darkness creeping into his mind, insistently tugging him away from the waking world. Closing his eyes, he relaxed back into his prison.

//"Aragorn? What are you doing just lying there on the ground?"

"Legolas?" Aragorn asked in amazement. "What are you doing here?" The unexpected voice had snapped his eyes open immediately. He had closed them for some rest after all his struggles proved futile.

"I was on my way to visit you. Now, if you will get up, we can go find a more comfortable place to finish our conversation."

Aragorn gave Legolas a wry look. "Believe me, Legolas, if I could get up, I would. I have been trying to do just that for some time now."

"You cannot move at all?" Legolas asked.

"No, Legolas. I am well and truly stuck. If you would care to lend a hand, I would greatly appreciate it."

Legolas walked around Aragorn, studying his situation with more than a little amusement. "And just how did you happen to find yourself flat on your back beneath a fallen tree?"

Aragorn's face reddened slightly. "How do you think I ended up here?"

The tone of Aragorn's voice and his sheepish expression gave Legolas his answer. "The twins?" Legolas asked, not bothering to hide his grin. Aragorn nodded. "What did they do this time?" Legolas questioned.

"It was a wager. They marked a specific path and left several hidden markers along the path. I was to follow the signs, retrieve the markers, and return within a set time. One of the markers was on the underside of this tree. I had to crawl under here to retrieve it. When I pulled it free, the tree shifted, trapping me. I am quite sure this was exactly what they intended. They knew I could easily track their trail, so they cheated in order to win the wager."

"I do not know why you took their wager, Aragorn. You are their favorite victim. You should have expected something like this." He walked over and took a seat near Aragorn's head.

"They claimed that their ability to conceal their trail was greater than my tracking ability. I challenged them, and they accepted." He paused. "Do you intend to get me out of here?"

Legolas looked askance at him. "That tree is rather large, Aragorn. I doubt I could move it without help."

"They would not have set a trap that they could not get me out of. There must be a way to easily move this log. If I get out of here quickly, I still have time to win the wager."

"What was the wager?" Legolas asked in interest, getting slowly to his feet.

"Three days of servitude. If you help me win the wager, I will let you have one of them for your personal servant. I do know how to share with my friends."

Legolas grinned at the thought. In answer, he walked carefully around the log, inspecting it from all angles. At one end, he found the log resting on the ground beside a pile of rocks. He pushed on the log, and found that it rolled easily. Aragorn would not have been able to move the log because he was at the wrong angle. For one who was standing, though, it was easily pushed up the ramp made by the rocks, which allowed Aragorn to wriggle out from underneath it.

"Hannon le," Aragorn said, rising to his feet. "Now, let us run. We have a wager to win, and not much time left." He grinned at Legolas, and they took off running for Imladris. They arrived with ten minutes to spare, and the twins did not dare protest Legolas helping Aragorn win. For the next three days, Aragorn and Legolas enjoyed the mostly uncomplaining servitude of the twins. Of course, once the three days were up, they had to put up with the twins playing many pranks on them for payback. //

Aragorn awoke to darkness with thoughts of Legolas on his mind. He could not help wishing, for a moment at least, that Legolas were here with him.

* But no, * he thought. * Legolas despises caves. If I had led him into a cave-in and gotten him trapped like this, he would never enter another cave with me. But then, he won't be doing anything with me again as it is. This dark cave will be my tomb. I am going to die here. I will never see Legolas, or anyone again; not my brothers, Ada or Arwen. Oh, Arwen. I am so sorry. *

He thought back to that evening in Lothlorien when she had pledged to join with him and renounce her immortality. He could remember each detail as clearly as if it were happening now. The love shining in her eyes, the way the moonlight seemed to caress her raven tresses, the soft touch of her hand on his face; that night would live always in his memory. A sigh escaped him at the pain that stabbed through his heart. The very thought that he and Arwen would never be wed, that he would die and leave her behind, hurt him more than all his physical injuries. He knew his death would grieve all those who loved him, but it would be the worst for Arwen. She was ready to give up her immortality to be with him. She would never recover from his death. But…if he were dead, she would be free to join her people as they sailed to the Undying Lands, and would never have to experience a mortal death. As much as he loved her, perhaps it was better this way. She would live forever, and perhaps his Ada would finally forgive him for falling in love with Arwen and trying to take her away from him.

* Now stop this, * Aragorn ordered himself. * You may be about to die, but you do not need to be quite so morose. Your family loves you. Ada would never want you to die just so that Arwen would never have to choose between you and staying with him. He loves you; you know that. Elrond has shown you many times over the years that he loves you just as much as he loves Elladan and Elrohir. You do him a great injustice by saying that he would be relieved at your death. *

Aragorn was so adamant about proving his point to himself that he forgot the pain that accompanied every small movement. He tried to gesture to underscore his point, and the pain at the attempted motion caught him unawares. Gasping, he closed his eyes, once more falling into the abyss of unconsciousness.

// Aragorn became slowly aware of his surroundings as he felt a cool cloth being laid upon his brow. Aragorn's eyes opened to see the face of his father bending over him.

"Ada?" His voice was hoarse as if from long disuse, or perhaps illness.

Elrond smiled down at him. "I am glad to see you awake, my son. You had us quite worried for a time."

"What happened?" he asked. His mind was still a little fuzzy, as if he were not fully awake yet.

"You have been quite ill for many days now," Elrond said, the smile falling from his face as he sat down in a chair near Aragorn's bed. "You were injured in a battle on Imladris' borders. In the chaos of battle, an orc archer went unnoticed by the patrol until after there was an arrow protruding from your back. The wound was a serious one, and you were brought home as quickly as possible. But even with all their haste, I feared it was too late. It took all my skill to keep you here with us. When I had done all in my power, you lay so still and pale, that I thought I had failed." Elrond's voice broke slightly, and he lowered his gaze from Aragorn's. A light touch on his hand brought his eyes back up to meet those of his son's.

"I am alive, Ada," Aragorn said softly. "You did not fail me."

"I was not so sure of that as I watched you wander for days in fevered dreams, unaware of the world around you. It was due only to your own strength and persistence that you survived. You simply would not give up. Your fever broke only last night, and I finally began to believe that you would win this battle." Elrond leaned forward and grasped Aragorn's hand. "I am all too aware of the fact that you are mortal, Estel. One day, we will part for the last time. Do not hasten that day, ion-nin, for when you die, you will take part of my heart with you. I am not ready to lose that part of myself."

Aragorn's eyes brimmed with unshed tears at the pain in his father's voice even as a wry grin crept onto his lips. "I will do my best, Ada." //

Aragorn felt a tear seep out from beneath a closed eyelid. * I'm sorry, Ada. I tried. * He lay there unmoving, unable to think, lost in the darkness for an endless time.

*thoughts or internal voices*
// memories //

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Chapter Three - Hope in the Darkness

Aragorn lost track of time as he lay quietly in the darkness. Eventually his mind latched onto one thought. Why was he still alive? It was miraculous that he hadn't been killed when the rocks fell on him, though he had obviously been injured. And yet, he had not succumbed to one of those injuries. Perhaps none of them were life threatening; at least, not initially. But he knew that the longer he lay here, the more likely it was that one of the numerous cuts he had sustained would become infected. So he would either die from an infection or from thirst. A human could only survive for so long without water.

Now that he was thinking about it, though, why hadn't he suffocated? The small pocket of air around his face created by the arm he had placed over his head had surely been exhausted by now. There must be a fresh supply of air reaching him for him to still be alive. He concentrated on the sensations coming from his body, cringing at the pain this brought. Why was it that simply thinking about an injury always made it hurt worse? After many long moments, he realized that his left hand felt cooler than the rest of his body. It was hard to judge accurately, for most of his body was either screaming in pain, or had gone numb from his forced stillness in an awkward position. But if his hand was cooler, it could mean that it was close to a draft, a source of fresh air. His left hand was probably closer to the outside. If he were able to dig, he now had a direction to move toward.

Gritting his teeth and ignoring the pain caused by the movement, he moved his hand as best he could. He felt the rocks around him, and as his hand closed around a loose rock, he pulled experimentally on it. The rock fell and came to rest against the back of his head. Wincing, he felt the new edge jabbing into his body. That brought one point quickly home. Even if he could dig with one hand and the limited movement that he had, he had no place to put the rocks that he could pull loose. Unsettling the rocks around him was also a very real danger. He could end up cutting off his air supply, or causing more rocks to settle down upon him. All in all, he knew his only choice was to wait for help to arrive, or for death to take him. But, Valar, he hated being helpless! Lying still with his eyes closed, he waited for sleep to steal over him. At least in his dreams he was not alone, stranded in the dark. In his dreams, he could be with the people he loved, even if they were not real. A smile curved his lips as Arwen's beautiful face drifted through his thoughts.

// They were standing on a balcony overlooking the gardens, but all of Aragorn's attention was focused on the elf in front of him. A frown curved her full lips downward and her brow was furrowed in worry.

Aragorn cupped her face in his hands and looked into her eyes. "What worries you?"

"I fear for your safety," she replied softly.

Aragorn chuckled gently. "I am standing with you on the balcony of our father's house. What could happen to me here?"

"It is when you are not here that I fear for you. Your life is fraught with danger and peril. Too many times have you been brought back here near death, and how many times have you been injured that I do not know about?"

Aragorn stroked one hand gently through her silken tresses. "I am sorry to worry you, Arwen, but you know my life can be no other way. Darkness is sweeping over these lands. Would you have me cower here in safety and leave my battles to others? You know very well that I cannot do that."

"No," Arwen agreed. "It is your destiny to battle this darkness. You will do that, and you will one day defeat it. Do not let my concerns prevent you from fulfilling your destiny, my love. I simply do not wish to lose you."

"You will not lose me," Aragorn said gently. "Not if I have any say in the matter." He pulled her close and pressed his lips to hers.

She sighed against his lips and relaxed into his embrace, twining her arms around him. When the kiss ended, she remained in his arms, resting her head on his shoulder. He barely heard her whispered words. "Stay with me, Aragorn. You can't leave us all yet…hold on just a bit longer. Help is coming. Hold on for me, please, Aragorn."//

* thoughts or internal voices *
/ memories/

---------------------------------------------------

Aragorn opened his eyes slowly to the darkness surrounding him. * Strange, * he thought. He could still see Arwen's face in front of him as she pleaded with him to hold on, assuring him that help was on the way. Now the memories and dreams were insinuating themselves into his waking mind.

* Those are called hallucinations, * his mind informed him. * One of your injuries must have become infected. You're sick and don't realize it. * Aragorn frowned, but struggled to move his hand enough to touch his forehead. It was hot. He was right, he was running a fever. * Of course I'm right, * his mind spoke up again. * You're sick. You probably don't have long now. None of your injuries have been treated, infection is setting in, and you haven't had anything to eat or drink for however many hours or days that you've been here. What would you say your chances of survival are? *

* Things are not all that bad, yet, * Aragorn protested.

His other self sounded amused. * You are currently arguing with yourself. Does that tell you nothing? *

*Do not listen to him, Aragorn. You have this tendency to doubt yourself. You are much stronger than you realize. *

* Legolas? * Aragorn groaned. He must truly be ill. Now he was hearing not only his own voice, but also that of Legolas.

* I am not truly Legolas, * the voice said. * I am the part of you that believes in your strength, your hope of surviving. Is it any surprise that I would take on the voice of Legolas? He has ever been your friend, your greatest support. Is he not the one you turn to when all seems lost? No matter what has occurred in your life, he has always believed in you. Think of me as your hope, your optimism. *

*If Legolas represents my hope, why then does the voice that tells me how dire my situation is sound like my own? *

* Because you doubt your own strength. You give hope to so many others, but you hold very little for yourself. When faced with physical peril, you fight for every moment of life. But ever since finding yourself here, you have given up and simply waited for death to take you. You cannot give up so easily, Aragorn. Fight for every moment of your life. Trust in those who love you. Have faith in them. They will come for you. You just have to be patient. *

* How will they even know I need help? *

* Do not worry about that. Just focus on staying alive. Do not give up, Aragorn, no matter what the other voice may tell you. Do not give up. *

Aragorn nodded slightly in his dark prison. Even if the voice in his head were the product of delirium caused by infection, he had to listen to Legolas. He was ashamed of how quickly he had given up. Though he did not know how they would find him, he had to trust that he would be rescued. This would not be the end for him. It could not end here. Hope burned within him once more.

He had to admit, though, that the other voice had made some valid points as well. If help were to reach him in time, it would have to come soon. Pain dominated his every waking moment. Try as he might to ignore it, there was no escaping the fact that he was badly injured. The fever was an indication that an infection was raging through his body. Dehydration was a serious problem as well. His mouth was parched, he was thirstier than he'd ever been, and though he had a high fever, his skin was dry. He didn't know how long he had been here, but he knew that he had already gone without water for far too long.

A small smile crossed his face. The voice listing his injuries and other medical problems sounded suspiciously like Elrond. Hearing the voices of his family and friends might be a sign of delusion, but it helped him feel that they were here with him, helping him through this. Now, if he could just manage to find some water to drink, he would be better able to wait for help. As if his thoughts had conjured the sound, and perhaps it had, he heard the faint sound of dripping water. He groaned in misery. Either his mind was playing tricks on him, or there was water somewhere in this cave, far out of his reach. All other thoughts gradually fled from his mind as he listened to the drip…drip…drip of the substance he needed most. It nearly drove him mad, knowing that he could hear the water, but not reach it. As time passed, his thoughts grew more clouded, distorted. Aragorn knew the infection was claiming him, but could not find it in himself to care. All he could hear, all he could think about was the steady dripping. Drip…drip…drip…drip.

//Drip…drip…drip. The water droplets splashed on Aragorn's face.

"What are you doing?" Aragorn asked lazily. He was too contented to open his eyes. It was an idyllic summer day. He and his brothers had spent most of the afternoon swimming and diving into their favorite lake. After a leisurely lunch, Aragorn had stretched out on the bank and closed his eyes. And apparently, one of his brothers thought that he looked too peaceful.

"You looked hot, brother. I was merely trying to cool you off. We can't have you getting overheated, now can we?"

"I thank you for your concern, El." Aragorn was hoping that if he did not respond, his brother would get bored and leave him alone. But he was not to be so lucky. Drip…drip…drip. Aragorn opened one eye to see Elrohir leaning over him, holding a dripping cloth directly over his face. Opening his other eye, he looked up at Elrohir. "Do you have plans on stopping any time soon?"

"No," Elrohir replied with an unrepentant grin.

"Very well," Aragorn said. He launched himself from his reclining position into his brother, propelling the both of them back into the lake. When they surfaced, they spent the next few minutes trying to dunk each other. Elladan, not wanting to be left out, jumped into the water and joined in the game.

As Aragorn climbed out of the water once more, he turned to find the twins staring at him from the water. "El?" Aragorn asked, looking at them in confusion. This wasn't how the day had gone. This wasn't right.

"We are coming for you," Elladan said somberly.

"Hold on, Aragorn. Just wait for us," Elrohir said.

Suddenly, Aragorn found himself lying on the ground, surrounded by dead orcs. He frowned. How did he get here from the lake? He turned his head to look around, and groaned as pain spiked through his head.

"He's over here, El! I found him!" Elrohir knelt by his side. Aragorn tried to look at him, but found himself unable to move. Elrohir must have seen the attempt, for he placed his hand on Aragorn's brow. "Don't move, Aragorn. You are badly hurt. The battle was won, but at high cost. Relax now. We will take you home and Ada will heal you. Just rest, you are safe now."

Aragorn gave in and surrendered to the darkness as a feeling of safety settled over him. He was hurt, but he was safe in the arms of his family. All would be well.//

Aragorn floated in an endless void, lost in a sea of memories and fever induced visions. In his mind, he held lengthy conversations with those who were not there. Voices drifted to him across distance and time.

"He's here! I found him!" A hand touched his, stroked gently through his hair.

"Is he alive? He's not moving." The voice sounded worried.

The hand that had stroked his hair encircled his wrist, feeling for a pulse. "He's alive." The relief in that voice was great, but tempered by concern. "He's warm, though, and he hasn't reacted to our presence."

"Let's get him out, then, quickly."

The voices faded away, and for a time, there was silence while Aragorn drifted calmly in the void. He knew the voices were only in his mind, but he felt rather lonely without them. Then the voices spoke again.

"Are you ready?"

"Aye."

Hands were upon him, then, pulling him across a bed of rocks. The pain was excruciating. He was unable to scream, and a soft gasp was all he was capable of.

"Gently now," came one of the voices.

He felt the movement cease as he was laid on the ground.

"He looks terrible. Will he survive? Did we arrive too late?"

The pain of being moved overwhelmed Aragorn's mind and he fell back into the void and knew no more.

The voices intruded upon his dreams once more.

"How is he doing today?"

A hand rested gently on his forehead before brushing the hair back from his face. "The fever has broken. I think we finally have the infection under control. He should be waking soon."

Aragorn's brow furrowed. "Ada?" he whispered, his voice hoarse. He struggled to open his eyes, expecting to see only darkness again. He winced as the bright afternoon light penetrated his eyes. He quickly closed them again. Was this another dream, a memory, a delusion?

"Aragorn, are you awake?"

He recognized that voice. "Legolas?" He made another attempt to open his eyes, and once they had adjusted to the light, he was rewarded with the sight of his father and Legolas looking down at him.

"How do you feel, my friend?" Legolas asked, smiling.

"Is this real?" Aragorn asked in confusion. He tried to sit up, then fell back against the pillows, breathing slowly through the pain. "This has to be real. Dreams do not hurt nearly so much."

Elrond placed a hand on Aragorn's shoulder to hold him still. "I would not recommend trying to move just yet, Aragorn. You were injured very seriously. It will be many days yet before you will feel well enough to leave your bed."

Aragorn settled back into the softness of his bed. After being forced to lie still on a bed of rocks, he couldn't imagine anything better than staying in bed for a while. "For once, Ada, I will not argue with that." He looked over to Legolas and opened his mouth to ask a question.

A dark haired head peeked around the doorframe. "Did I hear Aragorn's voice?"

Aragorn looked over at his brother and smiled. "Yes you did, Elrohir."

A wide grin spread across Elrohir's face, and he looked back into the hallway. "Elladan, he's awake!"

Two identical elves came rushing through the door, wearing identical grins. "Aragorn!" they exclaimed, as they came to a stop at his bedside.

"You had us worried," Elrohir accused.

"Do not do that again," Elladan added.

"I'll try not to get trapped in another cave-in, Elladan. Thank you for your concern."

They just grinned at him, happy to see him awake and recovering.

Aragorn looked up as Arwen appeared in the doorway. "Ada, is something wrong? I heard shouting." She looked toward the bed and saw Aragorn gazing at her. A smile spread across her face, and she walked over to stand beside his bed. She reached out and gently touched his face. "How do you feel?"

Aragorn's grin was slightly crooked. "As long as I do not move, I feel quite well." He looked at those surrounding him. "I have a few questions." He looked toward Legolas. "What are you doing here in Imladris?"

Legolas smiled at him. "My father needed a message delivered to Imladris. He knew I had wanted to come for a visit, so he asked me to deliver it. I had just arrived when your horse returned without you. Knowing your penchant for finding trouble, we formed immediate search parties. Aráto had thrown a shoe, so he left very distinctive tracks, and it was not hard to find you. But when we had found you, we were afraid that we had come too late. Your condition was quite grave."

Aragorn grinned slightly at Legolas' inadvertent word choice. "For quite some time, I thought that cave would * be * my grave." He turned serious. "I had given up hope of rescue. I thought that since no one knew I was in trouble, there would be no help forthcoming."

Arwen squeezed his hand. "That must have been horrible for you, being all alone in the darkness." Even before his horse had shown up without him, she had known Aragorn was hurting and in serious trouble. But her visions had only shown her darkness. She had not known how to find him, and was greatly relieved when his horse had found his way to Rivendell. Though she had had several visions of him, she did not think that she had been able to reach Aragorn and reassure him that they knew he was in danger.

Aragorn shook his head slowly. "But I wasn't alone. You were there." He looked from Arwen to Legolas, to his brothers, then to his father. "You were all there. In my dreams and memories, you were there, keeping me company. I could hear your voices, giving me hope, telling me to hold on, that you were coming for me. You were all there with me in that small space. You kept me alive, kept me sane."

Arwen caressed his cheek. "And we always will be with you, Aragorn. You will never be alone."

"Yes," Legolas said. "We will always be with you, even in the small spaces you may sometimes find yourself stuck in."

Aragorn could feel weariness overtake him. He was still weak, but he would recover. As he drifted off to sleep, he murmured softly. "Friends in small spaces. I like the sound of that." He smiled to himself. He was safe now, with his family. So many times in that cave he had gotten lost in his memories and had been sure he was home. This time though, it was real; it was no fevered dream, no hallucination.

A frisson of doubt shot through him.

Or was it?