Chapter Four

It had been back on the fourth day after Estel’s and Legolas's return that Elrond had mentioned contacting King Thranduil and telling him of Legolas's condition. Aragorn, despite understanding the right the elf King had to know about his son, had argued vehemently against it. He had insisted that Thranduil would either come himself or send one of his other sons to get Legolas and take him back to Mirkwood. There were no healers in the woodland realm who had anywhere near the healing ability that Elrond possessed. Aragorn had argued all this, despite the fact the elf Lord hadn’t as yet been able to do anything for the prince. The ranger had gotten so upset that Elrond had relented---for the time being, at least.

He and the woodland King were already less than friendly. They had clashed more than a few times in the past. So, having to face Thranduil’s fury, when he finally did learn of all this, would hardly be a new experience. Still, it was not something Elrond was looking forward to. As always, however, he could well hold his own.

~*~*~

Aragorn's life became strictly regimented, something of his own devising. Every morning, he got up and went immediately to Legolas's room, relieving whomever it was that had stayed the night. It was usually one of the twins, but Elrond also stayed occasionally, as did Glorfindel.

The ranger would feed Legolas, bathe him, wash and brush his hair, and change his nightshirt. He would then lay the elf out straight on top of the bed and carefully massage his muscles back and front to keep them firm. It didn't replace normal activity, but it would help keep them from wasting away---for a time anyway. Next Aragorn would put the elven prince into the chair out on the balcony in the sun. It was only then that he would eat his own breakfast.

The ranger would sit in the other chair and talk to Legolas, as if the elf was capable of listening, which was something Aragorn had wondered about. In fact, he had even asked Erond if it was possible that deep down Legolas could hear and understand everything that was done and said around him. Elrond didn't know, but told his son it couldn't hurt to talk to Legolas, in hopes something he said or the sound of his voice might get through to him.

These same tasks were performed day after day, one following the next with no deviation until they became like a ritual. There was no light or dark in the ranger’s life as it existed now, only a dull shade of gray. He sometimes despaired, and he sometimes cried, but in his heart, he never gave up hope. And, he never resented what he did for the elf. Legolas was his best friend in the entire world, and his heart was too full of love, loyalty---and guilt---to ever allow that to happen.

Legolas, however, remained unresponsive, and Aragorn remained determined to bring his friend back from wherever his spirit had fled to. For that is exactly what the ranger came to believe. There was no evidence of a physical reason for the elf’s continued unconsciousness, so Aragorn became more convinced, as the days advanced and he had much time to think on it, that some truly horrible evil had befallen the elven prince. He could see no other reason for his courageous and stubborn friend’s spirit to retreat. Whatever had caused this had somehow driven the elf to seek sanctuary deep inside his own mind. Or perhaps, it was forced into retreat against the elf‘s will. All of this sounded logical to the human, but he still had no way to reach Legolas except through what he was already doing, hoping against hope, something would eventually work.

~*~*~

On the morning of the ninth day, Elrond had gone out on the balcony and pulled Aragorn back into the room and steered him over to the far side of the bed. He quietly insisted that Thranduil had to be notified. This time the Lord of Rivendell refused to give in to Estel's protests. The elven King would be told what had befallen his son and that was that.

After Elrond left the room, Aragorn began to panic. He knew the king would take Legolas away to Mirkwood, and he might possibly never see his best friend again, especially since he was sure Thranduil would blame him for everything. *Even though it is my fault.* He had steadfastly refused to discuss his deep sense of guilt with his father or his brothers. Even Glorfindel, who had always been a confidante and mentor to the young human, couldn't get him to speak of it.

All of this turmoil was taking a toll on Estel. Everyone saw it, though no one outside of the family, Glorfindel, and several of the servants ever laid eyes on Aragorn during this time. If the people of Rivendell hadn’t known about Legolas's condition, a fact that had spread quite quickly, they would have assumed the two friends had left again. When the human son of Elrond and the Mirkwood prince were together in Rivendell, everyone knew it, especially if the twins were with them.

The ranger had been steadfastly holding himself together through all of this. Now, with Elrond's decision to contact King Thranduil, it was almost too much for the young human to bear.

The day after Elrond had said he was notifying the King of Mirkwood, Aragorn was sitting glumly on the balcony with Legolas, as usual. He looked around and his eye was caught by the delicate blue flowers that grew in the large wooden flower box that sat at one end of the balcony. The flower resembled a day lily, only smaller. It had a strong fragrance and was Legolas's favorite. These flowers bloomed for only a short while in Spring. Wanting to be close to them while they were in their glory was why Legolas had them near his room. He had planted them himself, tended them lovingly, and they always bloomed hardily for him.

Aragorn picked one. Then he went over and knelt down beside Legolas. He held the flower up under the elf's nose, waving it slowly back and forth, hoping that the rich fragrance would somehow penetrate his subconscious. Estel knew it was probably a futile gesture, but he had long ago vowed that he would continue to do whatever he could think of to try and rouse the unconscious elf.

After a few minutes, Aragorn sighed. It wasn't working, as he had really believed it wouldn't. With a sad smile, he put Legolas's hands together, palms up one on top of the other, and gently laid the flower there. He shook his head to think that if Legolas were awake, such would be the power of the elf’s love for Nature, that he would be totally delighted and yet awed by the simple beauty of this one single flower.

He could almost hear Legolas's laughter floating on the wind.

It was suddenly more than the ranger could bear. Right then, he couldn't bear to see the elf's fair face upturned to the sunlight, when he wasn’t even aware of it, his loose hair cascading over his shoulders and down his chest. He couldn’t bear to see his friend’s eyes closed, hiding the light that should be shining there. He couldn't bear....

Aragorn stood up, emitting a strangled cry, and ran into the room, intending to keep going. But, he couldn't abandon his friend, even as grief overtook him. So, he stopped at the door, leaned his head against it and sobbed, tears overflowing and shoulders shaking with the emotional outburst.

So it was that he didn't see the forefinger on Legolas's right hand jerk. Nor did he hear the soft moan that accompanied the movement. What he did hear was a blood-curling scream.

Aragorn whirled around and ran back to the balcony. When he reached the open doorway, he stopped dead in his tracks. What he saw horrified him. Legolas, eyes still closed and head still tilted back, was clawing at his open mouth with fingers that were now covered in blood.

TBC