“Legolas come down, you are injured and your balance is off. If you fall you will only hurt yourself further.”

Legolas masterfully jumped down from the tree, startling a flock of birds, and skipped to the cliff edge to await his friend.

“You are so slow, if you are in such a hurry to return you should try moving quicker. Truly Strider was the wrong name for you.” Legolas’ impatient look turned to one of delight, as he gazed at the view.

“If you do not take it easier I will end up carrying you home, for you certainly cannot fly there.”

“I can fly Estel!”

“Jumping from tree to tree does not count. Now come away from the edge, please; you are already in pain and I would not like to return you to my father with more injuries than you have now.”

“No Estel, I can fly, like those birds. Hear me Estel I am a bird!”

Aragorn was not impressed by the sounds that trilled forth from Legolas, recognising them as signals used by the Mirkwood elves. Legolas however was pleased by his birdsong, and unslinging his bow, fired an arrow into the air above the lake below.

“I will prove it to you my doubting friend, I will catch that arrow before it hits the water.” Without pause, he leapt backwards over the edge of the cliff, hands flung out on both sides, his left to catch the now falling arrow, and his right still grasping his bow.

For a few short moments no sound was heard, no birdsong; even the wind seemed to have paused in horror. Aragorn, stunned into silence, took a half-step forward and, breaking out of his paralysis, flung himself onto the ground by the cliff edge, arms reaching out in vain towards the falling figure of his friend. The silence was broken by Legolas’ happy cries below, contrasting sharply with the despair above.

“NOOOO!”

It was a sorry sight that approached Rivendell, by moonlight. Had anybeing looked through a window they would have seen a deformed figure stumbling slowly towards the house. Both Legolas and Aragorn were still damp, the elf from his flight into the lake, and the human from the hours of searching the lake below the cliff, for any sign of his friend.

Aragorn, racked with exhaustion and worry for the elf, carried the corpse-like figure towards the safety of his father’s house, as he had ever since his frantic search had uncovered the half-submerged form, stopping only to tend his wounds. Aragorn had long passed the limits of human endurance in his struggle; it was only his stubbornness that enabled him to push forward, keeping up a litany of teasing as comfort.

“Damn elf, should have left you in the water, I knew you were heavy before, but a waterlogged elf seems to triple in weight.”

Expecting no answer he paused anyway, and after a moment of silence continued on. “Should just leave you here, at least then I won’t be in trouble from Ada for bringing you back injured.”

He stumbled then, sank to his knees gently lowering his friend to the ground, and was unable to stop a sob. “Please Legolas be alright. It was all my fault…I’m sorry…please wake-up…Wake-up! Wake-up!”

No amount of shaking however could cause Legolas to stir, and Aragorn sat back, his burst of energy exhausted. Tears running down his face he took deep breaths to regain self-control. Knowing he could no longer lift Legolas he forced himself to rise and walk the remaining yards to his home.

Finally, Aragorn leaned against the wall his strength gone. Lifting an abnormally heavy hand he banged repeatedly on the door until, at last, it swung inwards.

Aragorn, his fist raised and his reflexes dulled by fatigue, was unable to prevent his knock catching Elladan below the eye and flooring him. Elladan rose with a cry, ready to tackle his assailant, before recognising his brother. He flung his arms around the human welcoming him home whilst surreptitiously feeling for rips in clothing and body. Aragorn leaned into his brother’s embrace, then thrust himself away with a cry,

“Legolas!”

Fortunately the scuffle had disturbed Elrohir who needed only one look at the scene before he raced away to awaken their father.

Elladan refocused on Aragorn, who was explaining his unexpected appearance.

“Orcs…attack…Legolas…injured…leg…cliff…fell…unconscious…carried…Elrondhelp.”

Elladan translated the exhausted speech and, with a mild shove to get Aragorn moving, ran outside and scanned the grounds. His keen eyes detected an unusual lump, and he gathered up the limp form of the prince, turning rapidly and rushing Legolas upstairs to his room. As he laid the elf down Elrohir appeared with his father’s herbs, towels, and a steaming bowl of water; shocked at the bloodied sight of their friend.

“What happened to him?”

“We will not know until Estel tells us. Where is father?”

“I’m right here. Are you an elf or a mortal now that your ears cannot detect my footfalls?”

Elladan swung around to face his father, startled, Elrond’s amused look slipped as he took in Legolas’ injuries. Stepping forward to closer examine him he asked, “What happened? Where is Estel?”

All three of them swung around at the voice emanating from the chair in the corner. “It’s all my fault Ada, I’m sorry, I couldn’t stop him.”

A low chuckle burst from Elrohir, “It appears we are all mortal today, it is well we are safe in our home else all manner of creatures might have slain us by now.”

His humour died as he recollected that Legolas was injured. Elrond, after visually confirming Estel’s well-being, turned again to Legolas and, with Elrohir’s help removed his clothing and began to clean his wounds.

“What happened Estel?

When no response was forthcoming Elladan knelt beside his human brother and pleaded with him to answer. “Estel, we need to know what happened to help Legolas.”

A fearful exclamation from Elrond caused them to swivel towards the bed where he was cleaning a leg wound with a concoction of herbs.

“This was caused by an orc-blade Estel! What happened?”

Aragon and Legolas sprang to their feet, meal forgotten, as they prepared to defend their camp from the orcish raiding party. Three approached the human and he moved to face them sword in hand; Legolas rapidly loosed a series of arrows at the remaining beasts felling all five. He refocused on Aragorn’s battle, noting that he had slain two but was being hard pressed by the third. As Legolas watched, Aragorn stepped backwards and unexpectedly slammed into a tree. Stopped, he was brought into range of the orc’s axe, flinching in readiness for the bite of steel.

//

--- “A tree! Estel surely we taught to you fight better than that! Always be aware of your surroundings.”

“Elladan hush. Please continue Estel.” ---

Aragorn blinked in surprise as the orc fell.

“I grew tired of waiting Estel, mayhap in future you could finish your battles more efficiently, I believe our dinner is getting cold.”

Aragorn glanced up ruefully,

“Legolas!”

Reading the horror in the human’s eyes, Legolas spun to one side. The motion, whilst saving his life, exposed his leg. He fell with a cry of pain, echoed by the orc who now sported an elvish dagger in his chest.

“I’m alright Estel ‘tis but a scratch. Where did he come from?”

Aragorn removed his dagger, cleaning it and examining the corpse. When he turned to face Legolas he held a familiar object in his other hand. Legolas groaned.

“Yes Legolas it is your arrow. Perhaps next time you will exercise a little more accuracy and a little less haste. I’d rather have a cold meal than have you dead.”

//

“The wound is not deep and has been well-tended, yet he remains unconscious. How did Legolas achieve this head-wound?"

“Estel? Father said the wound was well healed why so tense?”

Estel refused to look up, “It was my fault!”

“Estel it was a wound received in battle, the orc was at fault not you.”

“You misunderstand me Elladan, though in truth that wound is also my fault. I tended him ill, and because of this he will not wake.”

Elrond, who had been examining Legolas’ pupils, narrowed his own eyes at Aragorn’s words. “What did you treat him with Estel?”

“I…”

“Estel!”

“It is not fine Legolas.”

“It would be if you stopped prodding it. Honestly I never hurt until you start treating me!”

“It is not too deep, but I would prefer it if my father tended it.”

“Then let us aim for Rivendell, I would also prefer your father to you.”

Aragorn gaping with amusement at his friend’s attempts to stand caught him as he wavered and lowered him back down. “Unless you are able to fly Legolas I do not believe you will be going anywhere until I have eased your pain. And don’t tell me you are fine for it is plain you are not.”

“I was only going to point out that your pack appears to have been kicked onto the fire during our skirmish, ergo no herbs.”

“Then you will rest here while I gather some more.”

Legolas, ready to object, stopped at the look upon Aragorn’s face, knowing from experience there was no arguing with it. “I will remain here Estel, perhaps you would be good enough to hunt down some painkiller for me?”

Aragorn’s frustrated relief at Legolas’ co-operation was tinged with worry and guilt for his pain.

His worry increased as he realised that the area was sparse with herbs, and after nearly an hour’s search he could only return with Rucin, an herb used by the Dunèdain to numb pain.

//

“You gave him Rucin? Are you mad? Have you learned nothing from my teachings?”

“There was nothing else Ada, he was in pain.”

“What is Rucin father, I have never come across it before? What are its effects?”

“Rucin induces euphoric feelings in elves, and affects their sense of reality.”

“That is different from usual, how?”

“Be silent Elrohir! What did you let him do, Estel?”

“Let? He convinced himself he could fly, and in attempting to prove it to me threw himself of a cliff into a lake! I well know it was my fault for I even mentioned flying.”

“Only you would be so foolish as to give Rucin to an elf and then prompt him with ridiculous things to do.”

“Ada stop!” Twin cries of shock echoed through the room, both brothers immediately defending Estel.

“Do not defend him, Legolas could have been seriously injured through Estel’s idiocy.”

“Could have been?”

Elrond, calmer now he had vented his anger, nodded gravely. “Yes, Estel fortunately he will recover. He should awaken soon, although he will have a headache for many days, and require rest. Thankfully, despite appearances, he is not much hurt.

Estel, head still bowed in exhaustion and guilt, nodded slightly as Elrond left.

“It was not your fault Estel, he needed something for the pain, you haven’t strength to carry him all this way.”

“You certainly smell as though you had, Estel.” The brothers moved towards the bed, Aragorn kneeling beside Legolas, as the elf opened his eyes.

“How do you feel?”

“A slight headache, nothing more. It is you who appear more in need of tending.”

The twin’s glanced at each other, “It is fortunate that he is uninjured for Ada doesn’t seem overly interested in his health just now,” muttered Elrohir, too low to be heard by anyone else.

Estel, relieved from much of his worry, was unable to stop his yawn.

“I see you are still unappreciative of my company, Estel,” Legolas’ laugh belied his statement.

“Go sleep Estel, I am well.”

He lay back drifting off to sleep. The twins grabbed Estel, towing him towards his own bedroom. At the doorway a sleepy question, followed by a gentle snore, caused them to laugh softly in relief,

“Estel, what happened to my bow?”