Chapter 2: If Legolas Should Die...

The first thing Aragorn found upon waking was that he was being held. It was neither unpleasant nor it was uncomfortable. In fact it was like when he had a nightmare many years back, and was being held and comforted by either one of his brothers or his father. The one holding him right now had the presence not of his family but...

Aragorn opened his eyes, ignoring the throbbing headache and was greeted by a lock of limp, golden hair. He craned his face upwards. It was Legolas, all right. The elf's face was serene, but even from where Aragorn was he could not see his friend's eyes, shadowed beneath the blond bangs.

He could not fathom the reason so as to why Legolas held him in this manner; so protective, but he decided to voice his bafflement. "Legolas... I am all right now... so could you please let me go?"

No response. Aragorn cleared his throat, realizing that he was rasping the question. He tried again, and was again replied by silence. Worry filled his heart.

"Legolas?"

He gave the elf a gentle nudge. To his horror the arms encircling him fell away, and Legolas collapsed back with a heavy thud. Petrified Aragorn scrambled off from Legolas's legs and rushed to his side.

The ranger cradled Legolas and shook the unconscious Prince of Mirkwood roughly. "Legolas? Legolas, what is wrong? Legolas, answer me!"

Still no reply, not even a groan. Aragorn gently put Legolas back down. Assuming the role of a healer he was, Aragorn deftly removed the upper tunic of the wood elf. He had to suppress a grimace. Legolas had attained a bad shoulder wound, some nasty-looking bruises across the pale chest and a severe gash on the side, jagged, deep and still weeping crimson fluids. From the mere glance at the wound one could easily conclude that it was poisoned, and was not treated at all.

Aragorn ran a frustrated hand through his unruly mob of tangled dark hair. If the elf were not in a dire situation the ranger would have strangled him cheerfully for neglecting his health. Surely the elf must at least know a little bit of healing skills after spending years around him!

Now was not the time to rant at Legolas's foolishness and stubbornness. He would definitely do that later, once the elf had awakened and was well on the road of recovery. He looked around desperately, hoping to find something, anything, to salvage the situation and oh, there it was! His worn leather rucksack, lying half-buried in the dirt. He lunged for it like a hungry beast after a long-awaited prey. He emptied the whole pack on the dusty cave ground, and was delighted at the sight of familiar herbs. He immediately set to work.

Once done, he sat back at his heels with a weary sigh. He had done all he could, and the only thing left for him to do was to fervently pray to Valar that Legolas could still be saved. Like he had done so many times before. He stared at the still figure, eyes misted with concern and brotherly affection. Though the elf's face was too pale, the expression was calm. Peaceful. And there was even a slight smile on the bluish lips.

Aragorn frowned. Something was wrong, and his heart was screaming at him to do something. Now. He got back to his knees and reached out a hand to feel Legolas's pulse. It was there, but was faltering fast.

No, mellon-nin, Aragorn thought, alarmed. You have to fight! You cannot die on me yet, Legolas!

There was little he could do. Stranded in a place with no proper healing equipments the chances of Legolas recovering enough to return to the realm of consciousness was almost slim to none. He clasped the cold hand, using his other hand to rest on the elf's forehead. He closed his eyes; concentrating, hoping, praying.

It wasn't working. Legolas became weaker still, and getting colder with each passing minute. His deteriorating condition sent knives of fear stabbing into Aragorn's heart. Could it be... could it be that their friendship was to end this way? That Legolas was to die like this, warrior and a prince he was?

"No!" Aragorn said fiercely, furiously blinking back tears that threatened to spill. "You cannot leave me like this, you arrogant elf! You cannot leave me yet! As the King of Gondor I command you to come back to me!"

He faltered, sniffling as a memory not long ago flitted through the jumbled train of his troubled thoughts.

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"Legolas! I command you to get down from that tree, now!" Aragorn roared, glaring up at the grinning elf perched on a tree branch 5 feet directly above him.

Light, musical elven laughter rang out in the atmosphere, mixing in harmony with the joyful sounds of rustling leaves in the whispering breeze. "What if I refuse, Estel? You cannot climb up after me."

"I will get a ladder," the ranger answered defiantly.

To which the elf prince replied, non-plussed. "I will be long gone by then. Or even higher up the tree. You will have no ways and other means to catch me."

"Legolas!" Aragorn cried, running his hand through his dark hair in a combination of exasperation and frustration.

"Estel," came the calm comeback.

"Just get back down here. I promise I would not harm you."

"I would be a fool to believe that sort of promise, mellon-nin," Legolas retorted, amused.

"What if I make the request as a friend?" Aragorn tried.

Another musical laughter. "All the more I would not heed you."

"Fine," Aragorn turned up his chin. "Then I shall order you as the future King of Gondor."

Aragorn's eyebrow twitched when the musical laughter raised a notch higher. "That would not do, Estel, for you are only King in the future, not at this very moment. Even if you still are, you have no right to give orders, not when you are in the realm of Mirkwood."

In desperation, Aragorn tried again, "Just get down here. You will fall!"

This time Legolas was laughing so hard the branch rattled precariously below him, showering the irate ranger with leaves that swayed gently towards the ground. In between laughs, the elf managed to say, 'Wood-elves do not fall off a tree!"

That elf would pay, Aragorn seethed. They could argue all day and night and the elf would not climb down the tree and Aragorn could not unleash his vengeance at the prince's unprincely prank. Not when the elf was still smirking up there, daring him to make his move.

An idea struck him. Slowly, he schooled his exasperated features into those of a wary ranger. Legolas, predictably, saw his change of expression and went instantly alert, the light humor and mischief all gone.

"What is it, mellon-nin?" Legolas asked worriedly.

Unexpectedly, the ranger's eyes went wide as he pointed at the space behind Legolas. "A spider! Behind you!"

Legolas spun around nimbly, but a little too fast, for the elf missed his footing and he fell. Immediately he righted himself on air, landing cat-like on the ground, arrow already notched on his bow as his sharp elven eyes carefully scanned the thick foliage for the said spider. There was none. The branches only swayed with the afternoon breeze.

Puzzled, Legolas turned to face Aragorn, only to be drenched with a bucketful of water. There was a moment of paralysis and shock, but when he realized that he was dripping wet, and that Aragorn was grinning with a bucket still posed in his hands, the shock gave away to ire.

"Aragorn son of Arathorn!" Legolas seethed, barely managing not to yell. "What in Elbereth's name do you think you are doing?!"

The infuriating human just gave a casual shrug of his shoulders and raised an amused eyebrow. "Drenching you?"

Legolas glared at Aragorn. "Why, pray tell?"

Unfazed by the prince's anger, the ranger's grin broadened a little more. "It is obvious, is it not, mellon-nin? That was for filling my boots with mud from the swamp, and having made me chase you all over the Halls, making muddy footprints on the floor, angering Adar, and having to be laugh at by my own brothers after getting reprimanded severely by Adar when it is clearly not MY fault in the first place!"

At that Legolas broke into a grin, anger temporarily forgotten. "Oh, really, Estel? If you decided not to chase me around Rivendell and proceeded to wash your feet immediately after the prank, you would not have decorated the pristine tiles of the Hall with your muddy footprints and triggering your father's anger."

"And what do you expect me to do, elf?" Aragorn snarled, eyes narrowing at the unruffled prince. "Thank you for irritating me and causing me much grief so early in the morning?"

This time, Legolas's grin broadened. "Aye. You ought to thank me, ranger, for motivating you to wash your feet. Besides, it is your reaction that has gotten you into further trouble."

"If you have not done it in the first place I would not have to chase you around," Aragorn retorted. "And must you run around the Hall instead of the courtyard?"

A light chortle that emerged from the elf's throat only heightened Aragorn's suspicion that it was part of Legolas's plan to get himself into trouble. Aragorn shook his head, silently berating himself for easily falling into the trap.

"I swear, Legolas, next time I get my hands on you it will be more than a bucket of water," Aragorn sighed.

Another of the elf's maddening grins blossomed on the fair features. "Yes, of course. You can do anything you want to me, but first," Legolas winked at Aragorn, "You will have to catch me." A slight pause, before he threw in his bait. "Clumsy human with stinky feet."

Aragorn blinked, not expecting the prince to pull yet another one of his pranks. "I am NOT clumsy and my feet do NOT stink!"

He shot off after the swiftly running Legolas, determined to inflict some 'serious' harm to the elven archer. As Legolas's unbridled, delighted laughter rang throughout the falling dusk, Aragorn smiled.

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As the memory faded away like the morning mist, tears spilled down on Aragorn's cheeks. Legolas's laughter still echoed at the back of his mind, but like the memory and the morning mist, it was fading away. Fading away like the life of Legolas in front of him.

Aragorn could not imagine a life without Legolas. Legolas had been with him all his years ever since he was a mere child. The elf had been patient and accommodating for whenever he was being intolerable, especially when he was at the peak of his mischief. For when they were traveling together, Legolas had been very observant of his well-being, stopping occasionally so that he could regain his strength even though he had adamantly insisted that he was perfectly fine. For when Aragorn was in his darkest mood, Legolas had been the one to bring up the cheer in him, the hope, the light and warmth of friendship he had forgotten in times of despair. Even when he was not in danger, was not troubled, was not in pain, Legolas had always been by his side. Legolas had always been with him to share his joy and sorrow, to brace the storm and darkness, come hell or high water.

But now Legolas was fading, and with each passing moment Aragorn felt as if the ever-present light that shone on his life was fading too, and the darkness that lurked just beyond the radiance was creeping in to fill up the vacuum. Aragorn shook his head harshly, obstinately denying the fact that Legolas was… leaving him, and would never return.

Strong, callused but trembling hands took Legolas's limp right hand, sandwiching it between their warmth. Anguished silver eyes watched the prone form of the elf, remembering how it used to fill with so much vitality, youth and life. Now it was lying cold and unresponsive, devoid of anything but the promise of waiting death.

"Legolas, you have vowed never to leave me before my passing," Aragorn whispered. "Open your eyes, mellon-nin. Open your eyes and look at me. I am alive and well, and definitely not dead yet. You have not broken any of your vows or promises… no reason for you to break one now. Return to me, mellon-nin. Return to me and fulfill your vow."

Weary eyes slid close. It was impossible, almost laughable. How could one command someone who was on the brink of demise to return back to the land of living? If he had the power to do that, he could have brought those dear to him back to life long ago.

Yet, Fate chose that very moment to interfere, as if She decided to pity the Hope of Men. With a gentle breeze, Legolas's hand started to twitch.

Aragorn's eyes snapped open. He looked at the hand in between his, then his gaze roved upwards to stare at the pale face. The elf showed some obvious signs that he was struggling to return to the realm of consciousness.

"Legolas?" Aragorn asked anxiously, barely able to restrain the immense joy and relief that threatened to burst his heart.

After a strenuous battle with the insistent lethargy, Legolas finally opened his eyes. The blue orbs were hazy with pain and fever, but Aragorn was delighted at the spark of life he now see.

"Estel?" The voice was weak, then a small smile tugged at the pale lips. "Estel… I have finally found you."

Aragorn's questions on the elf's well-being were abruptly halted at the strange sentence. He could not help but raised a baffled eyebrow. "Found me?"

The exhausted smile did not falter. "Yes, Estel. I have finally found you. You left for the Halls of Mandos. I allowed the darkness to claim me so that I can find you." The smile increased a little more, and the glow of life in the elf's eyes flared.

Aragorn was stupefied. "I left for the Halls of Mandos?" He shook his head. "Legolas, Legolas… I did not go to the Halls. I am not yet dead. And so are you. This is not the Halls, my friend."

Confusion creased the brows of the weakened prince. "Then where are we?"

"A cave, it seems," Aragorn replied, glancing around before returning to fix Legolas a sharp glare. "But not in that place."

"It makes little difference to me," the elf muttered. Aragorn had to smile, remembering how much Legolas despised caves. "But how…? I thought… I thought…"

Aragorn sighed. "Elf, I do not know you wish for my death so badly."

"That is not what I –"

"I know," the ranger interrupted quickly. "I am merely jesting, Legolas. You have been with me for as long as I breathe. Surely you must realize that I do not die that easily."

"Humans are unpredictable, Estel, especially if it concerns their mortality," Legolas murmured. "Just now when I saw you collapse, I thought your life had been taken away."

Aragorn sighed again, this time in exasperation. "Have it ever occurred to you to check for my pulse?"

Sudden silence fell, and Aragorn was pleased to notice that the elf's cheeks were reddening slightly. "You cannot blame me, Estel. I was overcome with the irrational fear that you had died. No mortal had taken such a blow and survived." Legolas squinted at the ranger. "Much less survived without any grievous injury."

"I am always happy to prove you wrong, Legolas," Aragorn smiled warmly and was rewarded with the prince rolling his eyes. Had he not be so tired he would have framed a scathing retort to counter the flippant remark.

"How are you feeling now?" When Legolas opened his mouth to reply, Aragorn continued sternly, "And no, I want the truth."

Legolas managed to present an annoyed glare at the ranger. "How do you think I am feeling right now, human?"

"Exhausted, weak and in a considerable amount of pain," Aragorn replied cheerily.

Because Legolas had a stubborn pride and a strong will, he refused to give Aragorn the satisfaction that he was correct. "You forgot one thing."

A cheeky grin. "What have I left out, mellon-nin?"

Legolas closed his weary eyes. "Happy, and indescribable relief, Estel. You are alive and well."

"You are too," A hesitant pause. "Even though you are not well at the moment. You almost gave me a severe heart attack, do you know that? As you were lying unresponsive I was frightened that Death had managed to win you over to his side."

"That was exactly how I felt when you were the one lying unconscious," came the lighthearted retort.

"Quite a pair we make, are we not?" Aragorn smirked. Legolas smiled and nodded his head.

The elf fell into an exhausted silence, closing his eyes for a moment. They had done it again. Defying the call of Death. Death had persistently come forward to claim their lives, but every time He attempted to do so, the best friends had put up a brave fight. Even as He thought He was succeeding, the elf and the human never failed to prove Him wrong.

"Do you think our friendship can transcend even beyond Death?" Legolas asked softly, breaking the brief tranquility.

Resisting the urge to cuff the elf on his head because of the elf's condition, Aragorn glared at him instead. "Of course, mellon-nin. How do you think I came back to you? You never stopped calling me, as annoying as your voice is. I fought against the darkness towards your voice, your light. That had to mean something, right?"

A quiet sigh. "I guess what you are saying is true, Estel. Your voice desperately calling my name is what brought me back, so do not, under any circumstances, stop your heart from calling my name. I might never know when I am going to need it."

"Do the same for me?" Aragorn asked, hoping.

"Aye, of course."

Another short pause. Then Aragorn said, "Answering your question, elf, I do believe our friendship can transcend even beyond Death. Our friendship is immortal, just as you are."

A slight shake of the head. "I think not, Estel. As immortal as elves are, we can still die nonetheless, either from broken spirit or grievous injuries. Our friendship is not as immortal as elves, as me, but as eternal as time. Time will not die."

The elf trailed off, his eyes shutting once more. "Forgive me, Estel. I am weary. Allow me to rest for a moment."

Aragorn nodded. "Rest, my friend. Rest, and regain your strength. I will be right here by your side."

As Legolas once again surrendered into a healing sleep, a stray thought skittered into his mind. Aragorn, my friend. My friendship. My immortal.

He did not know that the said human was thinking exactly the same thing as he watched the elf slumber on.

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Yay! Finally done! Sorry for the delay. Been very busy. Anyway, I hope you will find this satisfactory… just tell me what you think of this, okay?

Hannon le!