Chapter 3, Starting Home

Aragorn began the journey home with the confidence that only youth can truly know.  Astute enough to expect a few setbacks, he was still full of hope and expectation as he and Elrohir left the rangers and turned toward home.

The first few weeks of their journey seemed to reward that hope as they passed uneventfully.  It was easy going as Elrohir was still fully under the spell of the drugs and readily obeyed his brother’s gentle commands.  The miles quickly passed beneath their feet as the brothers made their way through the desolate countryside.  Throughout their journey, Aragorn would engage in light-hearted, one-way conversations, watching his brother to see if there was any spark of response in the dull, unfocused eyes.  A couple of times he thought there might be a flicker, and that was enough to encourage him to continue his tales of their family and life in Imladris.

No, the first few weeks had been so peaceful, that Aragorn was lulled into a false sense of security and was unprepared for the beginning of real trouble.  It came after they’d finally left the barren wastelands and entered a deep, cool forest.  It was only mid-afternoon when they came to their first stream, but Aragorn dropped his packs and said unexpectedly, “We will stop here for the day.  Set your packs down.”

Elrohir promptly obeyed and dropped his packs, then waited patiently to be told his next task. 

Aragorn looked at the deep pools along the edge of the swift-moving stream.  It was perfect!  With satisfaction, he regarded his brother.  Truth be told, Elrohir was...well...ripe...and he was in dire need of a good scrubbing!

The young ranger grinned over at his brother, “Alright, big brother.  We shall take this opportunity to give you a long overdue bath.  Come here.”

There was still no warning of the impending trouble as Elrohir walked over to his brother.  Aragorn knelt down and rummaged through his pack, pulling out a couple of bars of soap that he’d had stashed in the bottom.  They weren’t always able to get clean while on the trail, but he was ready for the chance when it was presented.

Handing one of the bars over to his brother, careful of course not to touch him, he said, “Follow me,” as he walked over to one of the pools.  Elrohir followed behind, but then stood there watching as Aragorn began to untie his own tunic.

Pausing when he noted that Elrohir wasn’t moving, Aragorn patiently gave his brother further instructions, “Come, Elrohir, you must get out of those filthy clothes.”

He went back to untying the laces of his tunic and once he’d pulled it over his head, he noted that Elrohir still hadn’t moved.  Starting to get exasperated, he tried once more, “Elrohir, remove your clothes!  You cannot have become bashful!”

As he started to untuck his undertunic, he saw that Elrohir still wasn’t moving.  His brother seemed...well...alarmed was the only thing that Aragorn could call it.  He snorted inelegantly as he thought of how much this disgustingly dirty creature differed from the perfectly groomed elf that was his brother.  He was afraid of a bath!

“Ro, don’t be ridiculous,” said Aragorn, starting now to become amused.  “The water’s not that cold and you’ll feel much better afterward, I promise.”  ‘And be much better company,’ he added to himself, smiling.  “Now, take...off...your...tunic,” he said, ensuring that there was no misunderstanding what he expected.

Aragorn’s smile faded as his brother backed away, looking more alarmed than before and making absolutely no move to do as he was told.  Weeks of dealing with a compliant brother had made Aragorn forget the cardinal rule of dealing with him.  Without thought, he grabbed Elrohir’s arm, intending to stop his retreat and help him remove his tunic. 

It was a mistake.  Where there had just been a docile, though alarmed elf, there now was a vicious whirlwind as Elrohir twisted violently away from his brother and roughly shoved him to the ground before turning and running down the forest path.

Only a moment passed between when Aragorn was knocked down and when he leapt up, giving chase to his brother.  Elrohir may have had the initial advantage since he had a head start, but his flight was only a mindless escape with no clear direction except ‘away.’  Aragorn, on the other hand, had been trained by both the elves of Imladris as well as the rangers in tactics to be used to take down prey and he was easily able to spot a shortcut that would bring him out ahead of the fleeing elf. 

Elrohir didn’t even see his brother on the path ahead of him as he ran headlong into the human, knocking the two of them into a tangled heap on the ground.  Without even waiting to get to his feet, Elrohir began to punch and kick at the human, desperate to get away.   Stunned by the strengths of the blows, Aragorn still held back at first, not wanting to hurt his brother, but after receiving a brutal blow that made his head ring, he realized that Elrohir wasn’t pulling his punches and seemed perfectly willing to pummel him into dust!  His brother was clearly as strong as ever and Aragorn grimly decided that he’d have to fight using all the tricks he knew to subdue the powerful elf.

Even after that decision, however, Aragorn still had trouble trying to control his brother.  Elrohir may not remember his life as an elven warrior, but centuries of training obviously had conditioned his body to respond to attacks with fierce precision.  Aragorn’s one saving grace was that this was, after all, Elrohir, a brother with whom he’d trained innumerable times.  He knew many of the elf’s tricks even before he used them, and thus was able to find the opening he was looking for.  When Elrohir grabbed him by the wrist and turned to throw him over his back, his brother instantly recognized the move and used the countermove that Elrohir himself had taught him.  Rolling into his brother rather than away from him, he was able to throw Elrohir off balance and landed on top of him, an elbow to the stomach knocking his breath away for just long enough to finish him off with a firm uppercut to the jaw.  Elrohir’s head snapped back and then he lay limp on the ground, his little brother breathing hard as he carefully climbed off the unconscious elf.

“Well, that was fun!” he said wryly as he slowly got to his feet.  “Now what do I do with you?” he asked to no one in particular, his brother certainly not able to hear him.

Aragorn looked at Elrohir as he rubbed a very sore jaw.  ‘At any rate,’ he reflected, ‘no doubt your jaw will hurt worse than mine.’  It was little comfort, though, as he tried to decide what to do next.  What would happen when Elrohir awoke?  Would he still be upset?  Would he try to escape?  Would he attack?  Aragorn didn’t want to tie up his brother--it would certainly not help out in his attempt to gain the elf’s trust.  However, he also knew that with a little more luck, Elrohir would have been able to escape from him today.  And while in the past his brother would have been more than capable of taking care of himself, Aragorn was not about to let the confused elf wander off on his own in unknown territory.

The young ranger grimaced as he rolled his shoulders and twisted his back...he’d have some glorious bruises from that little wrestling match with his brother.  By tomorrow he’d be feeling every one of them, too.  An unexpected thought suddenly put him in a good mood as he looked at Elrohir, still slumped on the ground.  Even hampered by drugs, Elrohir was clearly a powerful adversary and was capable of doing a lot of damage to his opponent.  Reflecting on this, the young man was able to appreciate how just careful his brothers must had been during all their training matches to teach him to fight such an adversary without themselves hurting him.

“Alright, big brother,” said the ranger, with obvious affection, “We should return to the camp where we can decide where to go from here.”

Suiting actions to words, he carefully slung his brother over his shoulders, wincing just a bit as the weight pressed down on his new bruises, and started back toward the little clearing by the stream.

During the slow hike back, he decided that he wouldn’t tie up his brother or in any other way restrain him.  He’d just be more careful in the future and hope that Elrohir could, in time, come to trust him.

They eventually made it back to the camp and Aragorn gently laid his brother down on the ground.  Seeing that Elrohir was still fully unconscious, Aragorn went to the stream and quickly washed up.  He was going to give up on the idea of getting the elf clean, but after all, there was no reason for him to stay dirty.  He kept an eye on the recumbent form of his brother the whole while, however, making sure that he didn’t awaken and take off again. 

By the time his brother stirred, Aragorn had finished his bath and was completing the preparations for their evening meal.  Typically, the elf made no sound to indicate that he was awake.  The first sign that Aragorn had that his brother had regained consciousness was when he glanced over and saw two eyes looking back at him.

Careful to make no startling moves, he said quietly, “Glad to have you back.  Are you well?”

Aragorn looked closely at Elrohir, keeping his outward posture calm, but ready to spring into action if his brother looked ready to bolt.  The look he got back reassured him that Elrohir, at least for the moment, wasn’t planning on running.  The eyes didn’t show that unglazed confusion that would have indicated he was in one of those drug-induced hazes, but the look he got was one of cautious appraisal rather than hostility or fear. 

Keeping his voice calm and low, Aragorn said, “If you are feeling well enough, I have some food ready.  Come over and join me if you’re hungry.”

He was gratified when his brother slowly pulled himself up and, after pausing just a moment to keep his head from spinning, came over and sat down next to him.

The ranger handed his brother a plate that he’d just prepared.  It had held a rather unappetizing mixture of trail foods, but they hadn’t had any chance yet to hunt in the forest and all they had were some of the supplies Aragorn had been carrying with him.  Elrohir took it without complaint, however, and slowly cleared his plate.  The younger brother had to keep from grinning as he saw how carefully Elrohir chewed each morsel.  It was obvious that the last blow had made his jaw incredibly tender.  As he felt his own aches and pains stabbing at him more with each minute, he couldn’t help but feel a little satisfaction that he’d given as good as he’d got!

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The next week was thankfully trouble-free as the brothers once again set off down the trail.  A short hunting trip had provided them with much more appealing meals, and it seemed like things were looking up.  Not only did the elf seem less dazed from the drugs, but day by day, Elrohir was losing more and more of his wariness around his brother.  He still wouldn’t speak, but his eyes showed an acceptance of his companion, sometimes even to the point of friendliness. 

It was thus that Aragorn was walking along the trail without expecting any kind of problem.  True, Elrohir’s increasing clear-headedness had created a minor issue earlier in the day, but he thought the potential problem had been resolved.  Three times that day he had turned around to find Elrohir not behind him, but off following another path.  He had no way of knowing just why his brother had decided to leave the trail, but before he let it annoy him too much, he’d finally given up trying to make him follow and decided instead to use the path that Elrohir seemed to prefer.  It was headed in the same general direction, so it wasn’t a great problem.

No, the little deviation on the trail wasn’t the issue.  The real problem came when Aragorn decided it was time to make camp for the day and called ahead for Elrohir to stop.  The obstinate elf didn’t even slow down.  Ignoring his brother’s commands completely, Elrohir continued his way up the path without pause.  Several more calls had no effect.  It took Aragorn actually running ahead and jumping on the path in front of him to make him stop--a move which was clearly against Elrohir’s plans, for he slipped past his brother and continued down the path.  Annoyed and starting to get angry, Aragorn tried once more to stop his brother by getting out in front of him and standing in his path.  He crouched down, ready to tackle his brother if necessary--this time Elrohir wouldn’t get past him!  When the elf saw his path firmly blocked, however, he simply frowned at his little brother before springing into the trees and continuing in the same direction as before.

With an oath, the young ranger raced through the forest and one last time cut in front of his brother.  He was ready this time, though.  As he’d run, he speedily assessed and discarded all options but one that promised to take down his brother with as little injury as possible.  Lying in wait, he sprang up as the elf approached and then, with the consummate skill learned as a little boy, he knocked his brother out of the trees by hitting his ankle with a perfectly-aimed fist-sized rock.  Elrohir fell to the ground with a crash, but was on his feet almost immediately.  Aragorn had planned for this, however, and before the elf could attack or run, the ranger dropped a rope around his shoulders, pinning his arms to his sides.  The elf struggled in vain for a short while, but when he saw it would have no effect, he stopped and waited quietly as his brother warily approached him.

Aragorn was careful not to touch Elrohir...he did not want to get into another fight with him...as he moved in closer.  With a glare of his own for his troublesome brother, he said, “Now, we are going to do things my way.  First, we shall go back to that nice area where I wished to stop, and then we will camp for the night.  You’re to come with me just the way you are, and after a time, if you behave, I shall let you loose, understand?”

The two brothers stood about two feet apart as the younger waited for some kind of response.  Getting none, he shook his head in disgust and grumbled, “Just once, a nod would be nice, you know!”  With still no response, he shook his head once more and with a short tug on the rope said, “Come!”

The short walk back to Aragorn’s chosen campsite wasn’t far and the two brothers made it without incident.  Elrohir’s gait was not as graceful as usual, due to the rope continuing to pin his arms to his sides as well as a rather large knot that had swollen up on his ankle.  Still, he made no complaint as he reluctantly followed his brother and then watched as the ranger set up their camp for the night. 

An hour later, Aragorn was wondering what to do about dinner since he had still not let his brother loose.  The elf had had a few of his usual periods of dazed incomprehension as the drugs worked their typical havoc, but during the in-between times he had been edgy, clearly unsettled and Aragorn thought he would bolt if given the chance.  He just didn’t want to let the elf loose for dinner, only to find him using the opportunity to escape.  And of course, he didn’t think that Elrohir would allow himself to be fed, either.  Frustrated, the human was wondering just what was keeping his brother so jumpy when he heard a sound that brought his head up with a snap.  Wolves!  A large pack of them, too, from the sound of it, heading this way.

Cursing, he ran to untie his brother, cursing even louder when the anxious elf fought him.  “That is what this was all about, wasn’t it?  You knew about them!  Could have warned me, you know!....Dammit, hold still!  Stop it...I’m trying to help you but I can’t get these ropes off without touching you!  Blast it, Elrohir, HOLD STILL!”

He struggled in vain to loosen his brother as his fine-tuned senses heard the wild pack getting closer.  Finally, he was forced to give up as the first of the wolves rushed into their camp.  The young man felt an uncommon bolt of fear as he swiftly pulled his sword and faced the large beast.  Elrohir lay on the ground, trussed up and completely vulnerable and he wasn’t sure if he could protect him!  Uncaring of his own danger, the determined ranger took up a position in front of his brother and faced the first predator.

The beast leapt at Aragorn with nary a pause and the ranger, with no time left to curse his fate, slashed out at the wild creature with a ferocious yell.  The deadly dance that followed between him and the beast lasted only a few seconds as he slipped his sword through the wolf’s throat, spinning to slash at another one that raced into the fray.  Aragorn would never completely remember the next several minutes.  He worked on instinct alone as the fight became a blur of motion.  Hampered by his need to keep between the attacking animals and Elrohir, he fought as if possessed while he took out the enemy, one by one. 

Against the odds, Aragorn began to feel victory in sight when a snarl behind him warned him that one of the beasts had slipped around his guard.  Turning his back on his remaining two attackers, he leapt forward just as the wolf pounced on the still-struggling elf.  Aragorn, at the limit of his reach, stabbed at the creature as its jaws were descending down to crush Elrohir’s throat.  It wasn’t a clean blow, though, and he had to follow it up with a final thrust through the chest.  A wild look at his brother, who lay buried under the wolf, didn’t tell him if any of the flowing blood belonged to him, but that was all he had time for as he felt one of the remaining wolves pounce on his back and knock him flat!

The sword flew from his hands as he hit the ground, landing just outside his reach.  Without even trying to retrieve it, he reached down and pulled a short dagger from his boot, raking it across the wolf’s face in one seamless motion.  The wounded animal pulled back, snarling in pain, but then came at him again, more angry and vicious than ever.  Scrambling to regain his feet, Aragorn kept the wounded beast in his sights while he also ensured that the other wolf hadn’t crept around behind him.  He feinted a couple of times, managing to score a couple more strikes against the wounded wolf while a worried glance noted that the last beast was circling around to his brother.  Determined to save Elrohir at all costs, he made a quick decision and unerringly flung his dagger at the stalking wolf.  Aragorn had but brief moments to be grateful as he saw the beast fall just short of Elrohir, but throwing the dagger had left Aragorn weaponless and he faced the final wolf bare-handed.

The wolf was preparing to spring when Aragorn yelled at the top of his lungs and dove to the ground.  The beast leapt at the downed man, but instantly found himself impaled on the upraised sword that Aragorn had pulled from the ground in his daring roll. 

The beast fell limp.  Dead.  Then with a hiss, the blood-soaked ranger pulled himself out from under the heavy animal and withdrew his sword.  He looked around the camp, ready to face any further danger, but instead the clearing was completely silent, with nine animals lying dead.  Reaction set in as the adrenaline faded from his veins and he sunk wearily to the ground.  It had been so close!

Aragorn sat with his head bowed and eyes closed, breathing deeply.  Once he felt his energy return, he lurched to his feet and staggered over to Elrohir.  A relieved smile broke over his face as he saw his brother struggling to get out from under the wolf.  He wasn’t having much luck, as the rope pinning his arms had somehow become impossibly tangled around him and the wolf carcass. 

“Be still,” said Aragorn, so grateful to see that his brother was okay.  “Let me help.”

Heaving the dead animal off of his brother, he bent down to untangle the ropes...and was caught completely off-guard when his brother shoved out violently with both feet and kicked the ranger in the stomach, knocking him backward onto the ground.

OW!!  His head hit the ground with a whack!  Now winded and sporting a raging headache, the young man’s emotions consumed him.   

Enough was enough!  Aragorn had just fought off nine wolves, earned a whole series of new scratches and gouges in the process, had undoubtedly saved his brother’s life, and now the wretched elf was kicking him?!!  He got to his feet and stormed back to his brother’s side, the unwarranted attack infusing his body with rage.

“I have had it with you!  I try to be patient, but you are impossible!  I manage, against great odds, to save you but your only thanks is to kick me in the dirt!  I should just leave you here!!!” screamed the enraged young man.

He walked away, desperately trying to calm himself.  Exhausted, sore, and shaking with reaction, the young man struggled to control himself, but eventually failed in his attempt and he stomped back over to Elrohir.

“If that is how you wish it, fine!  I will not touch you!  You may lay there all night and let the ropes choke you for all I care!  And now I plan to wash this blood off of me--all of which I received as I ensured none of the wolves got to you!  And...if you’re not here when I come back...well...fine!  Don’t expect me to come after you!  I should have left you where I found you!” he shouted.  He kicked at one of the wolves in his need to release some of the fury he felt and then turned his back on his brother without a second glance and stormed off to find the little stream he’d seen nearby.

It was unfortunate that he didn’t spare the time for a second glance, because he might have seen the sorrow, that just for a moment, his brother had been unable to keep from his face.  A show of feelings, no matter how brief, would have been enough to show Aragorn that his brother was still in there somewhere and might have done much to help the hurting young man understand that Elrohir was facing demons of his own. 

The elf hadn’t even been thinking when he’d kicked out at Aragorn.  He was reacting to a terrifying vision in which reality mixed with nightmare.  He’d felt the wolves nearby all day and had been trying to get far away from them, but his companion hadn’t understood when he tried to lead them away.  Instead, he’d somehow angered the man and had ended up trapped and helpless as the wolves closed in, unable to do anything as the snarling beasts had first attacked Aragorn and then him.  His mind’s way of drifting between truth and nightmare was made all the worse when they merged together in horrifying reality!  When the last of the beasts had been killed, Elrohir had still been caught in the nightmare.  His mind had been screaming at him to get the foul beast off of him and Aragorn had unfortunately been caught in his struggle before he’d even realized that the wolf was no longer on top of him.

None of this explanation was available to the young ranger, however, as he crashed through the brush to the stream.  Oh, he could move with the silence of the elves when he wanted, but right now it felt good to stomp and make loud noises.  He was so fed up!  He couldn’t believe that, after saving his life, Elrohir had kicked him away!  He angrily wiped a tear away from the edge of his eye.  He would not cry!  So what if he’d been scared to death for his brother’s life?  So what if that same brother was showing him that he no longer cared for his little brother?   He would not cry!  He was a ranger now.  Yes...a ranger who was simply escorting someone to the elves.  From now on, that would be his mission.

He threw his pack to the ground and then yanked his blood-covered cloak off, grateful that it had spared most of his clothes from the terrible gore of the battle.  He next ripped off his boots, flinging them against a nearby tree.  The rest of his clothes came off a little more carefully.  The wolves had come close enough to him to give him several nasty gashes and he moved a little more slowly as he peeled the cloth away from them.  Wounded in body and spirit, the young man waded into the water and sucked his breath in as the cold water stung his wounds.  He cleaned them up as much as he could and then climbed out of the stream, dried off, treated his cuts with soft bandages pulled from his pack, and finally put on a fresh set of clothes.

He had gone through all these motions without thinking, not allowing his mind to dwell on the scene he’d just had with his brother.  Once he was done, however, and feeling much better physically, cool sanity flowed back in to him and he let his thoughts slide back to what was awaiting him in the clearing.  He sat down on a fallen log and put his head in his hands.  Oh no!  He couldn’t believe he’d said those hate-filled words to Elrohir.  He didn’t mean them.  Oh, maybe he’d meant them at the time, but it was reaction speaking rather than his true feelings.  He’d been so scared that he’d be unable to protect his brother from the wolves.  And then Elrohir’s reaction had just...hurt.

Now what should he do?  Not for the first time, he wished Elladan were there.  As the thought crossed his mind, he gave a choked little laugh.  For years he had wanted so desperately to prove he was grown up and resented the twins telling him what to do, but right now all he wanted was his big brother to come along and make things better, just like he’d done a thousand times before.  Of course, in the past he’d had two big brothers to turn to for help, but for now Elrohir was the one needing him.  Oh, Elrohir!  The ranger sighed.  Steeling himself for whatever was to come next, he packed up his belongings and trudged wearily back to the clearing where he’d left his brother.

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Aragorn walked quietly back into the clearing, his initial reaction one of immense relief as he saw his brother still lying on the ground, hopelessly tangled in the rope.  He had obviously been struggling, trying to free himself, for he was tangled even worse than before.  In other circumstances, he would have found this endlessly amusing and would use this to tease Elrohir without mercy for weeks.  Now, however, he stood there, unknowing how to fix things.  If the elf didn’t let him touch him earlier, what would his reaction be now after the awful things he’d said?  However, he had to touch his brother in order to get those ropes off.  What should he do?  He approached Elrohir cautiously and knelt next to him.  Before he did anything else, he knew he had something to say.

“Elrohir,” he began quietly, “I’m very sorry for what I said.  I was upset.  That is no excuse, I know, but I truly did not mean those awful words.  I love you, brother, and I am very glad you’re with me.  I only wish to help.  Please allow me.”

Elrohir looked at human.  What was he saying now?  The young elf tried to concentrate, but was finding it difficult at the moment.  The scratches he’d received from the wolf would normally have helped him keep his mind focused, but there were too many conflicting thoughts and feelings flitting through his mind.  Being knocked out of the tree while trying to lead his companion to safety.  Laying helpless while wolves attacked.  Aragorn standing between him and the wolves.  Fangs inches from his face.  The crushing weight of the dead wolf pinning him to the ground.  Words of hate shouted at him.  Endless aggravation as he tried to free himself from the strangling ropes.  He closed his eyes, and turned away from the young man talking to him.  The swirling images were making his head pound and he couldn’t process whatever the man was saying now.  Probably that he should sell him to the next person they came across!  He had slowly begun to like the young man and just couldn’t bear to hear what terrible things he would say next.

Aragorn sighed when Elrohir turned his back on him.  What a mess he’d made of things!  How was he going to ever gain Elrohir’s trust now, after the things he’d said?  A lesser man may have given up in frustration, either giving Elrohir a dose of drugs or stopped even trying to reach the elf, but Aragorn was determined and decided that he’d do whatever was necessary to bridge the gap that he had just helped to widen. 

He steeled himself for a violent reaction as he cautiously tapped Elrohir on the shoulder, “Elrohir, please look at me,” he said.

The expected reaction didn’t come, to Aragorn’s surprise.  The elf tensed up, but didn’t try to struggle or strike out.  Of course, the fact that he was trussed up tight enough to make him practically immobile may have had something to do with that, but Aragorn was still pleased that he didn’t have to deal with any kind of new resistance.  However, he was disappointed that his brother also didn’t turn over or look at him again.  Indeed, it seemed like the elf was simply going to ignore him.

Sighing, Aragorn tried again, “Elrohir, will you please look at me.”  Still no response.

“If you won’t look at me, then at least you can listen to me,” he continued.  “The first thing we need to do is get you loose.  Now, I must use my knife to cut the ropes--they are far too tangled to get you out any other way.  Please just lay still so I don’t cut you by mistake.”

Except for more tensing of his body, the elf still gave no other indication that he had even heard the ranger.  Taking a chance that his brother would not start to fight him, Aragorn carefully started to cut through the first of the ropes.  Making quick work of that, he went on to the next tangled heap and also quickly cut through it.  He moved cautiously, trying not to brush up against his brother and set the elf off, but he continued to get no reaction as he moved on to the next rope--his brother simply lay stock-still on the ground while the ropes were removed, one by one.

When the last of the ropes were removed, Aragorn sat back and once more wished for Elladan to magically appear.  Now what should he do?  Elrohir was freed from the ropes, but hadn’t made a single move since he’d turned his back on him.  With the carcasses of the wolves littering the clearing, they certainly couldn’t stay there for the night, but would Elrohir even follow if he suggested they leave?  Would the elf run away the minute he realized he was freed?  Oh what a mess!

Finally, Aragorn decided that he’d never find out the answers to his questions by just sitting there and the stalwart ranger got up and briskly said, “Elrohir, you are free of the ropes now.  However, we need to be heading out of here.  Before long, the forest predators will come, attracted by the smell the blood.  You must get up now and follow me.”

Although his words were matter-of-fact and confident sounding, the young man peeked uncertainly at this brother from the corners of his eyes as he began to pack up his things.  He allowed himself just a moment of relief as he saw Elrohir slowly roll over and get to his feet.  The elf bent down and picked up his pack and waited for Aragorn’s next move.  The ranger hoped for a moment that all was well and he’d been forgiven, but the look he saw in the elf’s eyes told him otherwise.  Elrohir was wary, unsure.  That cautious friendliness that had started to appear in Elrohir’s eyes was completely gone, replaced by distrust and...perhaps anger.  It was clear from the fact that he was prepared to leave that he had understood the need be far away before the blood brought unwanted company, but it was also clear that the elf wasn’t yet ready to trust his companion again.

As the two of them walked away, Aragorn noted with surprise that Elrohir was limping.  He winced as he remembered just why.  He’d forgotten about knocking him out of the tree and was unhappy to see that Elrohir’s right ankle was black and blue and quite swollen.  He sighed as he looked at his brother, knowing that the elf would not accept any kind of help in making the injured ankle feel better.  He supposed he should be grateful that the healing powers of the elves would fix it up easily by the next day, but he felt guilty since he was the one that had inflicted the injury in the first place.  Finally deciding to stop dwelling on it since out of his control, the young human continued down the path with the quiet elf following behind.

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Several weeks later, Aragorn felt like beating his fists against a nearby tree.  Elrohir was frustrating, stubborn, mulish, obstinate, ....arrrgh!  They’d been traveling now for a total of six weeks and he was no closer to bridging the gap between the two of them.  Nothing had improved since that wolf incident.  In fact, things seemed to be getting steadily worse rather than better as the drugs continued to slowly wear off.   Granted, he had made one little mistake in yelling at Elrohir--was he going to have to pay for it forever?  That one stupid incident seemed to have set off a chain of little mini disasters.  First Elrohir was distrustful, so he had run away when the opportunity presented itself.  So...Aragorn, of course, had to track him down and capture him.  So...that meant more fights and bruises.  So...he had run away again.  Several times, which meant more fights and bruises.  So...that meant that Aragorn had finally been compelled to keep his brother tied at all times!  And that obviously didn’t lead Elrohir to trust his brother.  Sigh!! 

During the day, the elf had to be pulled along by a rope that was tied around his hands and during the night, his feet had to be bound as well, or he’d simply run off as soon as Aragorn fell asleep.  Elrohir made it perfectly clear that he had no intention of getting along with the human.  Except when made compliant by the drugs, he moved when he was pulled along, he ate when food was put in front of him, and he slept when he was tied, hand and foot, at night.  The quiet, friendly acceptance of before was gone and nothing the ranger said or did, not even in kindness, made any difference to the increasingly hostile elf...nothing!

This was not how he’d pictured his journey home with his brother.  And where was Elladan?  The older twin must have received his message by now and should have caught up with them ages ago.  If he’d been here, maybe they could have avoided the latest scuffle when Elrohir had tried unsuccessfully to once again escape from Aragorn.  Only dumb luck had allowed Aragorn to catch him when the rope trailing from his hands had become tangled in a root on the path.

Grumbling under his breath, he grabbed the end of the rope and with a quick tug, announced to his brother, “Come along.  The sooner we get you home...”

The beastly overseer had been right, Aragorn reflected as the two brothers walked along the forest path.  Maybe he did need the drugs to keep Elrohir under control until they got home.  He had, after all, been painfully obedient for the first few weeks and had certainly been an easier traveling companion.  But Aragorn just couldn’t do it.  He couldn’t give him another dose of the drugs.  Somewhere beneath that hostile shell was Elrohir, and he’d put up with as many bruises and sleepless nights as need be to wait out the last of the drug’s effects and hopefully, at some point, see a glimpse of his adored older brother.

The young ranger sighed for the hundredth time at day as he looked over his shoulder at his brother following him quietly.  From the unfocused, calm look in Elrohir’s eyes, the drugs obviously had the upper hand for the moment.  He gratefully accepted the peace it gave him for the time being.  He knew that without notice, the eyes would suddenly sharpen with intelligence, and then he’d have to be on his toes to see what the difficult elf would try.  He was becoming increasingly clever in his escape attempts and Aragorn was afraid he wouldn’t be able to control him much longer without having to seriously hurt him.  Where was Elladan, anyway?!!  

He paused as he felt a tug on the rope.  Elrohir had stopped, glancing sharply behind them down the forest path.  Someone or something must have alerted his elven senses before Aragorn’s human ears could pick up anything. 

“What is it?” Aragorn asked, not really expecting an answer.  Then, praying that Elrohir would obey him this time, he whispered, “We must back up and wait quietly in the brush.   Whatever is out there may be more than I can fight alone.”

Aragorn looked at Elrohir hoping to see relaxed compliance, but saw his brother’s jaw tighten as he turned his head away from the human.  By the Valar!  The blasted elf had done one of those mood switches and now he might alert whatever was out there just to be annoying.  Arrghh!!!  He didn’t have time for this!  He looked around quickly for some way to secure his brother back in the trees while he scouted around.  He couldn’t trust him alone, that was for certain.  Just over a week ago he’d had to deal with a forest predator--that time a wild boar--and even with his hands tied, Elrohir had used the distraction to slip quietly away.  It was two whole days of frustration and anguish before he found the twin, who had apparently fallen down a rocky hill and had twisted his knee.  He didn’t enjoy seeing his brother hurt, but thanked the Valar anyways for his injury.  Without it, the ranger may have never been able to find the clever elf.  After that incident, however, he made sure that his brother was never left unsupervised unless he was firmly tied up somewhere.

He continued to pull Elrohir deeper into the bush, but their retreat was stopped by the wide stream that had skirted their path throughout the day.  Afraid that Elrohir would make too much noise splashing through the water, Aragorn looked frantically about for something to do with him.  Then, seeing a solution that would answer his needs, Aragorn pulled Elrohir to a tree and, with a short apology for rough treatment, quickly shoved him up against it, looped the rope around an overhead branch, and tied it off well out of Elrohir’s reach.  He fleetingly considered gagging his brother as well, but then almost laughed at the thought.  No, the obstinate elf hadn’t made a single sound the whole time they’d been together.  Not once!  If he opened his mouth now to alert whoever or whatever was out there, Aragorn would consider it a triumph just to have made him say something.  He stepped back and looked at his handiwork, satisfied.  Elrohir’s arms were tightly pulled above him--even on tiptoe he’d barely have any slack.  Aragorn hated to manhandle his brother and certainly didn’t like leaving him so vulnerable or uncomfortable, but he didn’t have time to make any other arrangements that would keep Elrohir from running off while also leaving him free to deal with whatever danger awaited them.

Aragorn noiselessly slid his sword out, hoping that he wouldn’t have to use it, but still not hearing whatever had alerted Elrohir.  He stealthily circled around back out to the path, moving without making a sound.  Waiting for long minutes, he finally felt, rather than heard, someone approaching.  Whoever, or whatever, was equally silent as they moved through the forest.  Waiting....waiting...Aragorn held his breath as a tall figure on a horse at last appeared around the corner.  The instant he was close enough to recognize, Aragorn couldn’t help his cry of relief, “Elladan!”

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